I spit on your graves Read Online Free

the few blurbs they carry are just the ticket for the sort of readers you find in this town. The main office used this system for all books of a somewhat sexy nature, and they were usually all gone a few hours after I displayed them.
    To tell the truth, I wasn't really bored. But I was beginning to get the hang of the routine in the place, and I had time to think about other things. That's what bothered me. Things were going too well.
    The weather was nice. It was river, toward the end of summer. The dust hung in the air over the town. Down along the it must have been cool under the trees. I hadn't been out once since I'd come, and I didn't know anything about the surrounding country-side. I felt that I needed a change of air. But one thing really bothered me. I wanted a woman.
    That afternoon when I pulled over the collapsible iron-latticework at five o'clock, I didn't go back into the store to work as usual, under the fluorescent lights. I took my hat
    -13-

    Boris Vian
    and, carrying my jacket on my arm, I went straight across the street to the drugstore. I had a room upstairs. There were three customers in the place, a boy of about fifteen and two girls of about the same age. They looked at me absently and turned back to their milk shakes. The very sight of the shakes gave me the shakes. Fortunately I had a good remedy for that right in my jacket-pocket.
    I sat down at the counter, a seat away from the tallest of the two girls. The waitress, a homely looking brunette gave me a vague look.
    "What have you got besides milk drinks?'
    "Lemon and lime," she suggested, "Grapefruit juice, tomato juice, coke?"
    "Grapefruit juice," I said, "and don't fill the glass up, either."
    I felt in my jacket-pocket, and unscrewed the flask-cap.
    "No liquor here," the waitress objected meekly.
    "It's alright. It's my medicine," I gave a laugh. "Don't worry about your license."
    I handed her a dollar. I had gotten my check that morning. Ninety bucks a week. Clem sure knew the right people. She gave me my change, and I left her a dime tip.
    -14-

    I Spit on Your Graves
    Grapefruit juice and bourbon isn't exactly a drink, but its better than nothing. I felt better, -1 'd snap out of it. I was snapping out of it. The three kids were looking at me. For kids like that at twenty-six I was an old man. I smiled at the little blond. She had on a sky-blue sweater with white stripes, no collar, the sleeves pushed up above the elbow, and little white sox in thick crepe-soled shoes. She was cute. Nice breasts. Probably firm to the touch, like ripe plums. She didn't have a brassiere on and the nipples stuck out through the fabric. She smiled back at me.
    "Hot, isn't it?" I said to break the ice.
    "Awful," she said, stretching herself.
    There were sweat-stains under her armpits. That did something to me. I got up and slipped a nickel into the slot of the jukebox near the window.
    "Feel like dancing?" I said, coming over to her.
    "It'll probably kill me," she said.
    She pressed up against me so hard I lost my breath. She smelled like a freshly washed baby. She was slender, and I could reach her right shoulder with my right hand. I reached out with my arm, and slid my fingers in just under her breast. The others had been watching us, and they danced too. It was the
    -15-

    Boris Vian
    hit-song "Shoo Fly Pie" with vocal by Dinah Shore. The girl hummed the melody as she danced. The waitress had lifted her nose out of her magazine when we started dancing, but turned back to it after a minute or so.
    She didn't have a thing on under her sweater. I could feel it right away. I was glad when the record ended. Another two minutes and I wouldn't have been able to control myself any more. She let me go, went back to her seat, and looked at me.
    "You don't dance at all bad for somebody as old as you are."
    "It was my grandpop who taught me," I said.
    "You can tell that easy," she returned the kidding, "Not the least bit hep."
    "You won't find me so handy with your jive,