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hoodie, getting
underneath it and sliding up his ribs, all nails and scratching.
His hand pushed up the little skirt of her uniform, reaching behind
to squeeze her ass. Nice and hard, on her feet all day.
    “Fifteen minutes,” she breathed, breaking the
kiss and unbuttoning his jeans.
    Fritter pulled a condom out of his pocket,
tore it open while she watched, her hands on his zipper forgotten,
panting. “Get me ready there, darlin’,” he teased, and she was on
it, fast. Her hands were fucking cold but it didn’t matter. He
rolled the rubber on, and then in a fast move that made her gasp
she was face-first against the stucco wall. One hand was between
her legs, pulling her underwear out of the way, the other went up
to brace himself against the wall.
    Lowering his hips he got in position then
thrust up, straightening as he did so. She cried out, head going
back to rest on his shoulder. She was tight, wet, and perfectly
warm. A few experimental thrusts and she was whimpering around a
bit lip. He kept one hand on the wall, hips snapping into her
faster now that he knew what she wanted. His free hand slid down
the front of her underwear, pressing onto her clit and circling
hard.
    Just like that she came, screaming through it
while he shoved his face into her hair and bellowed out himself,
coming hard. Fast, rough, dirty, and in public. Five minutes tops.
Hell, she even had time to clean up.
    Stepping back he pulled free, tore the condom
off and tossed it onto the pile of cigarette butts. A few scattered
on impact. He tucked himself away, his aching back forgotten as the
waitress smoothed her skirt back down, adjusting her panties
again.
    She turned back, face flushed, a bit
fucked-drunk. He had to smile.
    “Holy shit,” she gasped, hand on her chest,
eyes falling closed.
    “Thanks darlin’,” he said, giving her a kiss
on the cheek. “I gotta go wash my hands. You good?”
    “I’m great,” she answered with a smile, eyes
still shut.
    “You absolutely are,” he agreed with a wink,
then headed around the diner the way he’d come. Throw in that
hillbilly accent and panties literally fell to ankles. Knuckles was
fucking insane taking that bet.
    Before he headed to the men’s room he
approached their table, Buck and Mickey already grinning and
shaking their heads. Knuckles looked pissed, and before he was even
at the table within polite distance he was snapping, “No fucking
way. That smile doesn’t mean shit .”
    Fritter grinned and shoved his hand in
Knuckles’ face. “Smell that?”
    Knuckles hit his arm away. “Fuck off. Fine.
Hope you got crabs from her.”
    With a chuckle Fritter went to wash up, a few
bucks richer and much more relaxed.
     
    -oOo-
     
    There was a knock at his motel room door, but
he was already up. In his jeans and bare feet he pulled the knob
inward, scratching his chest and yawning. “What’s up? Thought we
were leaving at ten?”
    Buck’s eyes went from Fritter to the motel
bed. Yeah, he’d let two of the working girls stay the night. They
seemed tired. And they were still out, although that might
have been the bottle of Jack they killed without any help from
him.
    Word to the wise: don’t get blackout drunk
with whores in your room. They will steal your shit.
    “We gotta go,” Buck said softly, apparently
feeling sympathy for the women in his bed. “Got a text from Gertie.
Cops found her dad’s body.”
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah. Ready in twenty?”
    Fritter was already pulling on a T-shirt.
“Absolutely. Make it ten.”
    “Thanks.”
    He left the door open and headed to Mickey’s
room next. Fritter did up his belt, pulled on socks and boots then
shrugged on his kutte. As an afterthought he pulled out his wallet
and dropped two more fifties on the nightstand. They’d been fun
girls.
    He balled his hoodie up under his arm and hit
the walkway, closing and locking the door behind himself. Mickey
was out of his room already too, and they both fell in step behind
Buck.
    The Red