textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/parker17.txt

                        REPLACEMENT VALUE
                            By Parker

     WARNING: This story involves a certain amount of sexual
     activity in which real consent probably does not exist. If
     you are offended by this sort of story, you should stop
     reading now. You have been warned.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute this story
as you wish (unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

     Sandra Todd lay back, stretched out on the canvass deck
chair, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin. She had only
been in Mexico for a day now, and her skin, which had been left
pale by the mid-western winter, was only just beginning to tan.
By the time Scott returned, she wanted to be all "golden" for
him. That was his pet name for her: "golden". She wanted to
surprise him when he got back; making the name a reality.
     The sun beat down...
     The thought of her fiance's absence cast a cloud over her
feeling of well-being. Sandra and Scott had become engaged just
over two months ago, and planned on getting married as soon as he
got his business up and running. She wanted to make it sooner,
but he was so busy these days, getting things set up. He had such
big plans... Well, it was difficult, but if everything worked out
for him in Mexico City over the next four or five days, his
business would be off to a flying start. 'You deserve the best,'
he always told her, 'and I'm going to make sure you have it.'
Sandra sighed. He was always so worried about money. Still, if
things worked out as he planned, they'd be very wealthy.
Extremely wealthy. Sandra, whose family had died when she was
only six and who had been raised, poor, in an orphanage, couldn't
help but look forward to that. All her life, she had envied
people with money. The style... the confidence... She had always
wished that she could be like them one day. And now, with Scott,
that dream was coming true.
     "If you don't turn over, you'll burn on the front."
     Startled from her thoughts, Sandra shielded her eyes from
the sun and looked upwards from where she lay. The speaker was a
woman. She appeared to be somewhere in her mid-twenties - about
the same age as Sandra; slender and long-legged, with small, firm
breasts. Sandra sat up in order to get a better look at the
woman. Without the sun in her eyes, Sandra saw that the other
woman had an attractive, if not beautiful face, with a large,
generous mouth and wide, blue eyes. Her face was nicely set off
with short, blonde hair, swept over her forehead in a boyish
wave. She looked vaguely familiar, but Sandra couldn't place her.
     "I'm sorry." The woman smiled. "I didn't mean to embarrass
you. You seemed to be falling asleep in the sun. Getting burned
to a crisp is a bad way to start a vacation."
     "Uhmm... it's OK. I, uh..." Sandra immediately felt tongue-
tied and shy. From the expensive cut of her swimsuit and the
confident tone of her voice, the woman was obviously one of those
rich, beautiful types Sandra had just been thinking about. She
always felt like such a bumpkin around such people.
     The woman just laughed, though, ignoring Sandra's stutter,
and held out her hand. "My name is Theresa," she offered.
"'Terry' to my friends."
     Sandra blushed. She pushed herself to her feet and took the
hand. "Sandra," she offered, shyly.
     The two women shook hands.
     "Why don't you join me in the bar," Terry suggested,
smiling. "You look like you've had enough sun for a while."
     Sandra couldn't help but return the smile; her face *was*
beginning to feel a bit sore. She wanted to be brown for Scott;
not red. "Sure," she answered. "That sounds great."
     Terry nodded at this acceptance. "Shall we invite your
fiance to join us?"
     Sandra was startled for a moment. "How did you..."
     Terry laughed and pointed to Sandra's hand.
      Of course.
     The ring.
     Sandra blushed again. "No," she said, smiling ruefully.
"Scott's in Mexico City for the next few days. Business."
     Terry shook her head as she put her hand on her new friend's
shoulder to guide her back into the hotel.
     "Men," she chuckled.

                              *****

     Men.
     The bar was packed.
     Men... mostly, with only the occasional woman, someone's
lover, mistress, tourist women out for a wild time; pretty much
what one would expect in a place like this. Despite the fact that
the bar was on the grounds of a fairly popular beach resort in
Mexico, it was a smoky, poorly lit place. Except for the catwalk,
of course, where the dancers bumped and ground their way through
a seemingly endless sequence of cheap strip teases and explicit
sexual acts. All to the drunken jeers of the men.
     The strippers/waitresses were white girls.
     Mostly were fairly young.
     All beautiful.
     And, what their acts seemed to lack in polish, they made up
for with the half-hidden sense of panic and fear in their eyes.
The men sensed it, and it drove them wild. Even as the bar sluts
shook their tits and wiggled their asses under the hot lights,
bright red lips pursed in more-or-less successful simulations of
lust, their eyes would stray over to the corner of the room where
*he* stood. Even as they filtered through the room in whatever
skimpy costume assigned to them that night, gathering drink
orders and crude propositions, their eyes would stray to that
corner of the room. And often, after a brief conversation with a
customer, a conversation during which the girl would smile and do
her best to act seductive and eager, the man would stand and the
girl would lead him over to where the man - Pedro - stood.
     And, after a certain amount of money had changed hands, the
girl would take the man through a curtained doorway into a back
room...

                              *****

     First one drink.
     Then two; then three...
     Over the course of the afternoon and then into the evening,
Sandra and Terry chatted happily with each other. Sandra
eventually got over her shyness, and, with the aid of a few
drinks, was soon telling her new friend her life story. Sandra
was flattered that the other woman was so interested. In fact,
Terry seemed to be hanging on every word, listening intently and
always ready with a question or prompt whenever Sandra began to
run down. In a way, it was this interest that drew Sandra out.
The fact that a woman as obviously experienced - perhaps
"worldly" was a better word - as Terry was so interested in her
life gave Sandra the courage to talk freely.
     And so, Terry listened patiently while Sandra recounted her
upbringing in the small American town of Easton, Illinois. About
how her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was
only six; about how she had no family and had been raised in an
orphanage; about how she had worked her way through college; and,
finally, about how she had met Scott.
     Scott.
     Her fiance.
     About how Scott was now in Mexico City, trying to take
advantage of NAFTA and put together a business deal which, if it
closed, would make him a very rich man. Sandra had wanted to get
married before the trip - *she* didn't care about the money
(well, not much anyway) - but Scott was kind of old fashioned. He
wanted to *know* that he would be able to support a family.
     If Sandra hadn't been drinking, or if she hadn't been so
flattered by all the attention, she might have noticed that her
new friend was as reticent about her own background as she was
forthcoming about her's. She might have noticed that the few bits
of information the other girl did give out - that she was born in
raised in Bakerville, California; that she had come down to
Mexico on vacation and met a handsome, young Mexican with whom
she was "unofficially" engaged - were relatively vague and
uninformative. No details; just hints and shadows.
     She didn't notice, though, and the two girls laughed and
talked into the night.

                              *****

     The girl hustled along as best she could in the high-heeled
cowboy boots, her firm, round ass wiggling invitingly beneath the
tight, fake-buckskin mini-skirt. A tiny cowboy hat sat on top of
her thick, shoulder length brown hair, and a pair of pasties
shaped like big stars - with the word "Sheriff" on them - stuck
on her nipples completed her costume. Other than the pasties, her
firm breasts hung free, bobbing and swinging as she walked. A
wide, inviting smile creased her pretty face as she took orders,
all the time joking and flirting with the customers. It was
extremely busy in the bar, and, having finished her nightly stint
on the catwalk, she was fully occupied taking orders and serving
drinks, all the while trying to avoid the slaps and pinches that
threatened to turn her tits and ass black and blue.
     And all the time smiling... joking... flirting...
     Twisting away from a particularly vicious grab at her
bouncing tits - careful, as always, to keep a smile on her face;
didn't want any complaints reaching Pedro's ears - she backed
into a table. There were three men and two women sitting there:
two couples and a friend. One of the men, the one who was not
part of a couple, snaked a hairy arm around her waist and pulled
her close, while his other hand stroked her ass through the mini-
skirt. She tried to ignore him as she took orders, but he jerked
her right up against him, slipped his hand down the front of her
mini-skirt and pushed a finger into her pussy. It was still wet
with the juices of the man she had fucked only fifteen minutes
earlier. The guy commented on this as he fingered her. The rest
of the table, including the two women, watched with amusement as
she squirmed in his grip, still keeping the smile plastered on
her face, trying to look like she was flirting, rather than
trying to escape.
     Wouldn't do to let any complaints reach...
     "Hey..." The man slurred his words. He was obviously drunk,
and playing up to his friends. "Ya know wha' these slu's like?"
The man forced a second rough finger up her sopping pussy.
     "What?" giggled one of the girls.
     "Yeah," the other girl laughed, putting her arm around her
boyfriend. "Show us."
     The cowgirl swallowed uneasily, still smiling as the man;
she strained to pull away, but didn't actively fight.
     It wasn't allowed.
     "OK." The man leaned forward. "Wash..."
     Even drunk, he was much stronger than the cowgirl. Using the
two fingers in her pussy as a handle, he forced the girl to her
knees and then pulled her under the table. Once she was
completely under, he slipped his fingers out from inside her and
used them to undo his pants while the other hand kept a firm grip
in her hair.
     "C'mon, honey," he slurred. "Give it a li'l suck."
     "I... I can't," the girl whined, the smile gone from her
pretty face. "N-not here. Pedro will..."
     "Sure y'can," the man told her. "I'll pay."
     He gripped his cock and rubbed it against her face and lips.
She was completely under the table now, and the other people had
shifted their position so that she was surrounded. She couldn't
be seen from the bar, so no one came to her aid when the man
forced her mouth onto his cock. Helplessly, she began to suck it,
bobbing her lips down on his dripping cock.
     "Jimmy," came a female voice from above, "are you sure we
won't get into..."
     "Don' worry," the man. "Th' sluts lov't."
     The girl felt a foot on her ass. "This *is* kind of fun,"
came another female voice from above. The foot ran along her ass
and then, twisting sideways, slid in between her legs. If her
mouth hadn't been full of cock, the cowgirl would have screamed
as she felt the toes sliding underneath her mini-skirt and into
her pussy.
     She wasn't wearing panties.
     Anxious to finish before things got worse, the girl sucked
as hard and as skilfully as she could, slurping and licking at
the man's prick while fondling his balls with her fingers as he
kept his hand tightly bunched in her hair. The toes penetrated
deeper and deeper, until it felt as though the woman had inserted
half her foot into the girl's pussy before the man finally came,
spurting jets of hot, sticky cum down her throat. Only after she
had swallowed it all down and then licked his cock clean did the
man release his grip on her hair and allow her to crawl out from
under the table.  The bar was so crowded and dark, no one even
noticed as she straightened her little cowboy hat, wiped the cum
from her lips, and hurried off to fill the drink orders.
     Still smiling...

                              *****

     Sandra and Terry quickly became inseparable. They spent
their days lounging around the pool together, or wandering along
the beach into the resort town. Terry's skin had at first been
much darker than her new friend's, but Sandra tanned quickly and
the two girls were soon equally brown. In fact, Terry had made a
contest of it: who could tan the fastest.
     Sandra won.
     Early evenings were spent in expensive restaurants. Sandra
had, at first, balked at the prices, but Terry had just laughed,
telling her friend to "get used to it". She seemed confident that
Scott would succeed. On the first night, Sandra tried to pay for
half the meal, but the other girl quickly pulled out some sort of
Gold Card and sent the suddenly-even-more-obsequious waiter
scurrying away with it to total the bill.
     "I can't let you do that," Sandra protested, impressed.
     "Oh, don't worry about it," Terry told her. "Once that deal
comes through for Scott, you can take me out."
     Sandra smiled. "Deal."

     After dinner, Terry usually insisted on going out to some
fancy nightclub for dancing. She seemed to know them all and,
more than that, be known at them all. Once again, Sandra had
tried to protest - too expensive; nothing to wear; don't know
anyone - but the other girl brushed off all attempts at refusal.
She just pulled out the Gold Card, and, when clothing became an
issue, she loaned Sandra whatever she needed.
     Sandra, overwhelmed by the attention, capitulated, and let
the other girl take the lead. And so, each night was spent at a
different resort 'hot spot'. For Sandra, the nights became a blur
of loud music, flashing lights and too much alcohol. Usually, by
the time they got to the clubs, the two girls had shared a bottle
of wine, a cocktail or two and a special coffee. Sandra was
unused to alcohol, and was usually pleasantly buzzed by the time
dinner was over. Hence, she offered little protest when her
friend dressed her up in expensive clothing and pulled her along
to whatever club struck her fancy.
     And, of course, there was the dancing.
     Terry seemed determined that Sandra was to have a good time
at the clubs. She would make certain that her friend had a new
drink in her hand whenever the old one was finished. As well, she
was constantly finding partners for her friend to dance with. At
first, Sandra felt a little guilty; Scott was away working hard
in Mexico City while she was at the resort dancing with strange
men. But, after a while, she began to enjoy it. Even the flirting
that inevitably accompanied the activity on the dance floor.
     Nothing ever came of it, though.
     Just a lot of fun.
     If she had been watching, Sandra might have noticed that
Terry never joined in the dancing.
     At the end of each evening, usually the small hours of the
morning, Terry would take her friend back to her hotel. Sandra,
exhausted and more than a little drunk, would collapse giggling
into bed and quickly fall asleep.

     This pattern continued for the four days that Scott was in
Mexico City.

                              *****

     "Hey babe," the man cried, laughing, "have a seat." He
grabbed her shoulder and pulled so that she fell back onto his
lap, her cowboy hat sliding off her head and hanging by the chin
strap. A look of panic crossed the girl's pretty face, but only
for a moment. Letting out a loud, high-pitched giggle, she turned
to him and, careful first to shake her star-covered tits in his
face, she brought her lips down to his for a long, passionate
kiss. When it finally broke, their tongues were intimately
acquainted, and the man was breathing heavily.
     "Hey," he whispered, looking up at her as she sat on his
lap, "what's your name?"
     "Sindy," she purred, shaking her thick, brown hair back on
her shoulder, "with a capital 'S'." Keeping one arm wrapped
around his shoulders, she slipped her hand down under his pants
and gave his cock a quick squeeze, careful to slide her long,
slender fingers along the moist tip of his cock. Smiling a pouty
little smile, she brought the hand up to her lips and gave it a
long, slow lick. "Mmmmm..." she moaned, running her tongue along
the outside of her finger. "Tastes yummy."
     The man swallowed. "Uhm... is there anywhere we can... can
go?" he stuttered.
     "Yes," she told him, still running her tongue along her
lips, "but you have to talk to him first." The girl, Sindy,
pointed towards the man standing in the corner: Pedro. Without
another word, the man pushed her off his lap and began pulling
her across the room.
     Towards Pedro.
     The look of lust on Sindy's face was immediately replaced
with a look of relief. If she earned less than her quota...

                              *****

     Finally, the call came.
     It was Scott. The trip was a success. The deal was signed
and would close within the month. He'd be on the next flight back
from Mexico City, arriving at 5:00 p.m. that same day.

     Sandra was beside herself. Despite the fact that it was only
10:00 in the morning (the two girls had been out at a club until
nearly 4:00 a.m. the night before), she immediately called Terry.
The other girl answered the phone, still groggy with sleep. She
quickly woke up and seemed equally excited when she heard the
news, and suggested that Sandra do something special to welcome
her fiance back. She suggested that Sandra get a full makeover
before going to the airport. Sandra balked, thinking, as always,
of the cost, but Terry said that it would be her treat. Sandra
quickly agreed, thinking about how she would like to greet her
fiance looking her best.
     About an hour later, Terry picked her up and drove her to a
nearby salon. Terry seemed to know the receptionist, and, to the
glares of a number of other waiting clients, the two girls were
immediately ushered into a private room at the back. Once again,
Sandra was impressed by this treatment.
     Amazing what money could do.
     Under Terry's instructions, they gave Sandra the full
treatment: makeup, hairstyling and colouring (Sandra had
protested, but Terry insisted); nails... the works. It seemed to
take hours.
     Finally, they were done.
     Sandra looked at herself in the mirror and gasped. She
looked almost exactly like...
     "It's amazing, isn't it?" Sandra whirled around to see her
friend grinning at her. She was holding what looked to be some
sort of a... a wig? "I didn't really notice it until they cut
your hair. That's why I suggested the colour."
     Sandra was torn between being anger and laughter. She did
not really like the way the other girl had imposed on her, but...
well, she *had* always admired the other girl's sophisticated
look; she just hadn't realized how much she actually resembled
her friend. They could be sisters.
     Or twins.
     "And look at this," Terry grinned. "I found it next door."
She pulled the brown-haired wig onto her head and adjusted it
over her short, blonde hair.
     "Oh my god." Once again, Sandra was stunned. The wig looked
almost exactly like her own hair before it was cut. With the wig
on, Terry now resembled Sandra, just as Sandra now looked like
Terry. The two girls stared at their reflections for a few
moments and then burst into a fit of giggles as they tried to
imitate each other's expressions and mannerisms.
     It was Terry who suggested that she accompany Sandra to the
airport in the wig and in Sandra's clothes while Sandra was to
dress like Terry. Sandra agreed, laughing. It would be a great
joke to play on Scott. The thought of her fiance arriving at the
airport to be confronted with the two identical women dressed as
each other was impossible to resist. Besides, she was curious to
see if Scott would recognize her.
     Terry arranged to pick Sandra up from her hotel later that
afternoon and drive her out to the airport.

                              *****

     Ted Trumble sighed happily, looking around the crowded bar.
It was always good to take some time off, particulary after a
long circuit through mid-west. The way things were with farms
these days, a guy couldn't sell a shovel, much less the John
Deere tractors and other machinery that were Trumble's stock in
trade. Still, the sales trip hadn't been a complete failure, and
Trumble had decided to reward himself with a quick vacation at
Pedro's.
     Now, which slut did he...
     His eye landed almost immediately upon the girl dressed as a
cowgirl. She was hustling across the room with a 'client',
shaking her tight ass in the sexy, exaggerated manner common to
all of Pedro's girls. He had seen her on stage earlier in the
evening, and had felt a strong attraction. It was not that she
was more beautiful than the other girls - quite the contrary;
there were a number of available girls who were much better
looking than she was. It was just the sense of... well, newness.
     And fear.
     Almost innocence.
     She was clearly new to Pedro's establishment.
     And Trumble wanted her.
     He watched as she said goodbye to the other man with a long
kiss, and, when she turned in his direction, he waved her over.
He watched cynically as she arranged her face in a welcoming
smile and then walked over, hips swinging and breasts bobbing.
     "Hi there," she purred. "What can I do for you?"
     Trumble smirked. Almost convincing... but he didn't have
time for the foreplay. He didn't want to talk to these girls; he
wanted to fuck them.
     "Well," he drawled, "for starters, you can take my fat cock
up your slut ass. How does that sound?"
     The girl's smile slipped for a second, but was quickly
replaced by a look of lust. Not bad, Trumble admitted; she was
learning fast. He hoped he wasn't too late.
     "That sounds gooood," she purred, "but first we have to..."
     "I know all about Pedro, slut. Let's go."
     He turned and walked across the room towards the corner
where Pedro sat waiting. Trumble didn't turn around. He knew the
girl would follow...

                              *****

     Terry's Mercedes sped across the long, level stretch of open
land that separated the airport from the resort, powerful and
silent. As they had planned, Terry was wearing Sandra's
clothing - a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt - while Sandra had
chosen some items from Terry's closet - an elegant, knee length
skirt and white blouse. Sandra grinned happily as they drove; she
couldn't wait to see Scott's reaction.
     They approached and then passed a car stopped at the side of
the road. The hood was open and two men were peering inside. One
of them looked up and waved as the Mercedes approached. Terry
immediately applied the brakes.
     Sandra looked around, worried. "I don't think this is a good
idea." There were no other cars in sight.
     "Oh, it's OK," Terry answered, dismissing her fears. "I know
them." She pulled her Mercedes onto the shoulder just behind the
other car. "Let's just see if they need a ride, or something."
     Reassured, Sandra got out of the car and followed her
friend. She came around behind the other vehicle and was just
about to speak when she felt an arm encircle her neck from
behind. Trembling, she opened her mouth to call for Terry, but a
thick wad of cloth was placed over her face. It smelled funny.
She tried to hold her breath, but it was no use; she felt herself
getting weaker and weaker.
     As her senses faded, she heard:
     "...and do it right." It was Terry.
     "Are you certain... real damage... might..."
     "I know what..."
     Everything went black.

                              *****

     Trumble wasn't subtle.
     As soon as the cowgirl entered his hotel room, he grabbed
her arm and spun her around, sending her tumbling onto the bed.
She fell heavily, knocking his jacket and overnight bag onto the
floor.
     "Slut," he sneered, "You like it up the ass, don't you?"
     He watched as the girl fought to maintain her smile. This
was what he loved; taking the new ones and fucking their hot
little asses off.
       And watching them pretend to like it.
     "Oh yes," she breathed, voice trembling slightly. "Please
fuck me in the ass."
     "Whore." He grabbed a fistful of hair, knocking her
ridiculous cowboy hat to the floor, and jammed her face up
against his crotch. "You've got about thirty seconds to get it
wet before I shove it up your shithole."
     Moaning, the girl reached up and fumbled with his zipper.
Thirty seconds; she was new, but she knew what it felt like to be
dry-fucked up the ass. After a few moments of frantic effort, she
got his zipper down and slid his cock free of his pants. It was
already hard. Panting with fear or lust, she slipped her lips
over his cock and began sucking at it, trying desperately to get
it as wet as possible. Trumble smiled as he looked down at her
face, almost entirely covered with a curtain of thick, brown
hair. Even now, even in her near panic, she was moaning as she
sucked, trying to make it sound like she was horny - like she was
enjoying herself.
     Poor bitch.
     "That's enough." He shoved her back onto the bed. Her lips
made a soft popping sound as they slid free of his now glistening
cock. "Roll over." The girl, turned over onto her stomach. "Up
you go," he ordered, deliberately phrasing his orders to sound as
though he was addressing a dog. "C'mon... on all fours. That's
right... wiggle your ass... good girl..."
     He climbed on the bed behind her where she was crouched on
all fours, legs splayed and asshole completely exposed. Just at
the perfect height for him to... shove... his... cock... into...
     "Ahhhh...."
     Despite her training - despite her dire fear of Pedro - the
girl couldn't help but let out a cry of absolute horror and pain
as Trumble buried his cock deep in her tight ass with one brutal
shove. Completely encased in her tight, quivering shithole, the
salesman leaned forward and held his position, giving her time
adjust. Not much fun if she fainted...
     After a few moments, her breathing steadied. He leaned back
and slapped her on the side of her ass. "Slut," he growled. "You
love it, don't you?"
     "Yesssss," she panted, trying to sound sexy, "I love it."
     "Just an ass slut, aren't you?"
     "Yes," she groaned. "I'm an ass slut. Please fuck me."
     Trumble grinned.
     Whatever the little lady wanted.
     With another slap on her thigh, he began plowing his big
cock in and out of her ass. Trying to lessen the pain, the girl
widened her legs, and was soon pressing back against him. Her
breath came in short bursts as she grunted in time with his
thrusts.
     Simulated passion: "Uh... Uh... Uh..."
     "Fuckin' bitch," he groaned, picking up the pace, "gonna
ream you out. Gonna fuck you so bad..." He thrust harder and
harder, slapping his thighs against her upturned rear, lurching
back and forth as he sawed his cock in and out of her stretched
asshole. The girl groaned and panted for breath, still trying to
sound excited as the salesman steadily increased the tempo.
Gradually, her grunts became higher and higher, eventually
resembling the squealing of a pig more than groans of lust:
"Eee... Eeee... Eeeeee...".
     Finally...
     "Take it, bitch!" He stiffened, leaning forward and
clutching hard at her tits, as he came, groaning in pleasure as
he shot rope after rope of jism up her abused asshole. In
response, the girl wiggled her ass and gave out a loud wail:
faking an orgasm as best she could under the conditions.
Eventually, he eased up, sighing. Giving her ass a final slap, he
slipped his rapidly deflating cock from her shithole. A thin
trail of sperm joined his cock to the hole in which it had
recently been buried, but fell away down her thigh as he got up
off the bed. Spent, he had no more use for the bitch.
     "I'm goin' to the can," he told her as she panted and
groaned on the bed. "When I come out, I want you gone. Got that,
cumbag?"
     "Yes sir." No longer even trying to be sexy, her voice
sounded small and frightened.
     Defeated.
     Grinning to himself, Trumble ambled into the washroom and
closed the door...

                                    *****

     When she awoke, her hands were bound tightly behind her back
with rope and her mouth was stuffed with a foul smelling rag.
Coughing, Sandra tried to spit it out, but it seemed to be tied
in place. She twisted her wrists, trying to pull them free, but
they were held fast. A sob of fear racked her body as she
struggled to sit up. She was lying on a hard pallet in some sort
of wood hut. The room was dark, but she could just make out the
shape of a cheap wooden table and a heavy chest set back against
the wall.
     Groaning behind the gag, she tried to swing her legs off the
pallet. Maybe she could...
     The door banged open.
     Sandra gasped and cringed back. Squinting against the light,
she watched as a small man walked slowly into the room. He
appeared to be Mexican, with dark hair and skin, but she didn't
recognize him. It was hard to make out the details in the
darkened room. The man walked up to the pallet and stared down in
silence, a dark, menacing shape in the shadowed room. Then,
without warning, he bent down and struck her hard across the
face.
     Sandra squealed, more in shock than in pain, and tried to
roll away.
     "Bitch," the man spat, straightening. He spoke with a
heavily accented english. This confused Sandra even further; she
didn't know any Mexican men. "You think you can leave me just
like that?" The man turned and began to pace angrily in the small
room. "I told you; I warned you... yet you disobeyed me; laughed
in my face. I come back from business to find that you've been
whoring yourself at half the meatmarkets in town while I've been
away. And putting it on my card!" He tore a piece of paper from a
pocket. "And then this! Do you think you can say goodbye like
this? Tell me that I'm a..." He glanced at the paper for a moment
and then looked up. "...a 'lousy lover.'" The last two words were
spat out like poison. The man tore the piece of paper in two and
tossed it away. He fell silent for a moment while Sandra quietly
sobbed on the pallet. She didn't understand what was going on
here; all she knew was that she was frightened and wanted to go
home. Where was Scott? Why didn't he...
     "OK." The man spoke again. His voice was calmer, but he was
tightly wound. "Alright. You don't want me. Fine. You say you
want to see other men. That's fine too. That can be arranged."
The man strode over to the side of the pallet, gripped Sandra's
face in his hand and shook it. "I'll see you get all the men you
can handle," he whispered.
     Abruptly, he let go and straightened up. With a sigh, he
walked back to the door. He stood for a moment, framed in the
opening, and then turned back. "I... I..." He muttered something
in Spanish and then turned away. "Theresa," he whispered, closing
the door. "Theresa."
     Theresa!
     "Mmmmm." Sandra sat up on the bed, trying desperately to say
something, to protest, but it was too late. The door closed,
leaving her in darkness...

                              *****

     Ahhh...
     That was better.
     Trumble eased himself off the toilet and flushed.
     All in all, it had been a great evening. Almost enough to
make up for the last few weeks spent driving across the mid-west
trying to sell...
     The big man froze as he walked out of the washroom.
     The girl was still there! She was lying, half-dressed on the
bed, staring at the front page of some sort of newspaper.
     "What the fuck are you..."
     The girl looked up. Tears streamed down her face and the
newspaper trembled in her hand. She seemed to be trying to say
something, but nothing came out.
     Caught off guard, Trumble almost felt sorry for her.
     Almost.
     "I told you to get the fuck out of here, bitch," he yelled,
striding forward and grabbing the paper from her trembling hand.
"Now get!" He grabbed her by the hair, dragged her to the door,
and shoved her, still half dressed, out into the hallway. "I'll
be talking to Pedro in the morning," he promised her, and slammed
the door.
     Shaking with anger, the salesman walked over the bed and sat
down heavily. What the fuck was the little cum sack reading about
anyway? Curious, he picked up the paper she had been holding. It
was some two-bit weekly rag from one of the numerous hick towns
he had been hitting the last few weeks: place by the name of
Easton.
     He looked at the front page and grunted.
     Nothing much there.
     Just some hokey story about a local wedding; about how a
hometown boy - a self-made millionaire from the story - was
marrying a girl he'd met at college: Sandra something-or-other.
There was a short bit about their recent vacation in Mexico that
Trumble thought might point to some connection - something about
the girl being mugged and suffering temporary amnesia; and about
how the guy had stood by her - but that was it.
     Trumble shrugged his shoulders and tossed the paper into the
bin. It was a mystery to him.
     Stupid bitch.
     Ah well... not that it mattered. He'd talk to Pedro in the
morning. Pedro was always extremely concerned with the comfort of
his guests.
     Extremely concerned.
     Pedro would remind her who she was...

                             THE END
=================================================================
That's it. All comments are welcome.



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Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"