Even as he tugs at her buttons, he covers her hand on his crotch to stop her. “No,” he gasps. “Deanie, no. I don’t have a—any,” and she shushes him. “It’s all right. I’m on the Pill.”
Though his hand relaxes, letting her continue to unbutton him, he falters. Her hand is inside his shorts, and he closes his eyes at her direct touch, her fingertips on the head on his cock. She hovers over him, her face in his. When she gives him her mouth, he drives his tongue into it. Her Levi’s are undone, and he drags at them, at the tights underneath, and she’s so close, heat under his fingers, the yielding heat.
A burble of colored light sweeps over the truck from behind and the burp of the police cruiser’s siren makes a mocking raspberry.
The beam of Lonnie Woods’s flashlight catches Sam with his fingers working frantically at his own fly buttons, and the Mutant against the far door. Slow to grasp what is happening, she is still bare-tit, her Levis and tights halfway down her hips and the edge of her pubic hair exposed. Sam flops his jacket over her. She giggles. An idiot can tell she’s wrecked.
“Hi, Sam,” Rick’s father says. “Saw your truck down here, thought it might be stuck or dead or something. You want to shut off the engine? Deanie, honey, where’s your top?”
She can do nothing but snicker.
“On the ground on the other side of the truck,” Sam answers for her.
The policeman gestures with his light. Sam opens the door and gets out to retrieve the shirts. Sergeant Woods coaxes the Mutant from the far door; surprisingly, she cooperates. While she sits on the edge of the seat, Sam tugs her tights and Levis up around her waist, puts her arms into her shirts and pulls them over her head.
Lonnie looks Sam over casually. “Been drinking too, Sam, or just smoking?”
“I wasn’t smoking. She was.”
“No kidding. You got any more dope in the truck?”
Sam shakes his head. “Maybe there’s some in her gear.”
“Deanie, you got any more dope?” Woods asks her.
“Ooops,” she snickers. “Sorry, have to get your own.”
The cop laughs. “You want me to trust you about that, honey?”
She smiles. “Check my stuff. There’s no more shit.”
While the cop is tossing her gear, Sam presses his crotch and winces and then looks up to realize Woods has seen him do it. Woods grins wolfishly. Sam looks quickly away. It takes only a moment more for the cop to toss Sam’s gear too and have them empty their pockets.
“Okay,” he finally sighs. “It’s goddamn cold for this shit, kids. What I want you to do, Sam, is take this girl and then yourself straight home—no stopping to finish what you started either. This is gonna stay between me and you. You better not let me catch you down here again. It’s a public park, not a motel.”
Sam chokes out a thank you.
The policeman studies him a moment as if he were considering saying something else. Then the two of them bundle the Mutant back into the truck and Woods closes the door and leads Sam a few steps away.
“Sam, I’m surprised at you. You can find yourself better company to keep. I’m sure you weren’t thinking about anything but getting laid. But that girl’s legally intoxicated and I don’t need a test to know it and neither do you. It don’t matter she’s easy and willing, if she’s impaired enough, she can’t give consent, legally. Maybe it’s not likely this one would ever claim it was rape but she’s not going to be the last girl you’re ever around who’s impaired. You could find yourself with a lot more serious worries than keeping your eligibility to play basketball. Don’t get yourself in this situation again, son. It’s not worth it.”
Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Yessir,” he mutters.
“Go on, now.”
The cop walks away as Sam restarts the truck.
“Whooo,” breathes the Mutant. “Thank you, ‘god, for making me lose that roach. Any amount’s enough to get me booted off the team.” And she laughs and claps her hands.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny.”
He swings the truck around and climbs the access road to Mill Street.
The Mutant finishes rigging up her chains again and slides across the seat to drop a hand onto his thigh.
He lifts it off. All he can think of is he’s never gonna let the druggie bitch into his truck again. “Don’t touch me again.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a handjob, make you feel better.”
“Get away from me, just go back on the other side.” His voice rises with fury. “I never wanted to do it in the first place, I didn’t want to, Deanie, so get away from me! Get the fuck away from me!”
Only then does he realize he’s frightened her again. Cowering on the floor of the cab with her coat yanked high over up the back of her head to protect herself, ribbons of streetlight spilling over her huddled form, she’s like a porcupine on a back-road stretch of midnight. Abruptly, Sam’s eyes brim and his throat locks. He reaches down and tentatively touches the crown of her head. The brocade under his fingertips is both silky and pebbly. She
