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Created on: August 13, 2010
She was a tangled, sweaty mess. The hotel sheets she was intertwined with were stained and, now, damp. Opening her eyes, Sydney watched the dust floating in the one ray of sunshine coming in through the broken, yellowed blinds. It looked like a pickup had driven down a dirt road running right through the middle of the room. And, as if that wasn’t disturbing enough, the slowly turning ceiling fan, grinding out each exhausting rotation, was growing spider webs of fungus.
Sydney had woken up in this disgusting room two mornings in a row. She knew there wouldn’t be a third. The charade was over. Mission accomplished. The man in the bed next to her was gagged and bound. He’d been laid and played. All in all, he probably couldn’t have hoped for a better takedown. Two women, two nights in a row. Most guys could only dream of the scenario: a Friday night, a half-empty bar, two beautiful lesbians who just happened to be in to him. She laughed at the thought. Two beautiful lesbians were tough to find, but in this town you’d be lucky to find two decent looking people of any orientation.
Her partner walked out of the bathroom dressed for business. Business attire for them was totally job dependent as far as the actual clothing was concerned. The mainstay, however, was the weaponry. The weaponry sometimes varied by job and always by mood. As bounty hunters, they took liberties . . . for their own protection, of course.
Still laying in the bed, Sydney watched her partner slowly mount the fugitive so that she was straddling his chest. Shifting her weight slowly from knee to knee she searched his face. Sydney didn’t know what she looked for when she did this. Remorse? Fear? Whatever it was, she must have found it or reached the conclusion that it wasn’t there. Her dismount was swift and smooth, and before Sydney had time to move, her partner had topped her.
“What say we put this one in the trunk?” she purred.
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