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”He threw up another plan, this one involving a series of pulleys. “You picked him.”“I did not. All Art’s idea.”“I’m sorry, do I look ...ike the type completely unaccustomed to and thus vulnerable to your bullshit? Do I look like that fucktard?” He pointed at Art, who was drooling into his pillow, bare pale ass procumbent, snoring.“Don’t call him that.”“Hey, don’t get me wrong—I like him. We may go out sarging together later; he might even be able to teach me something. But don’t change the. My heart was racing a mile a minute, and I actually felt dizzy. He just sat there, quietly looking at me, for a while. I was still rubbing the monster in his pants, and he was enjoying it. Finally he reached down and started to undo his belt. The feelings just kept intensifying, and my brain was spinning. He sort of pushed my hand away, and pushed his pants all the way to his ankles. I was just looking straight ahead, still. He slid the big bench front seat back, and flipped up the console,. Hill was already there. It wouldn’t do to have them arrive and find it missing. They were too good at covering things up for that to be considered. We also had the pictures, and I would threaten to go to the media with the pictures if we weren’t paid.While Thorne and Grace enjoyed a pleasant supper, a bit of sex, and a good night’s sleep, Mr. Hill and those at the Los Angeles offices of the CIA and elsewhere did not. They were even too busy to get something to eat and subsisted on coffee.“Where. Peaches tried to play it cool, “Just lookin’ for a ride, driver! Don’t you worry ‘bout me!” “N’aright then. You best get on up here fore you drown!” He waved a thick arm and straightened back up in his leather seat. She didn’t need any more coaxing to throw her backpack up onto the floorboard of the truck and haul herself into the passenger seat, instantly drenching its soft black upholstery with her wet jean shorts. “Sorry ‘bout the water.” She chirped, settling into the warm seat. The trucker.
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