another hot dog

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Here
we are at Chapter One (I). Meet Sara and enjoy!!

pharmacide # 4!!


 

I
“SARA”

One-point-Zero:

 The fourteen year old homeless girl held the older man’s too-soft hand. She led him down the central Phoenix alley-way and to the back of the empty store. The store had sold fine foods in its heyday, but now it stood abandoned. Progress had come and gone. The older man seemed a bit nervous to Sara. She supposed by the way he kept looking all around that he didn’t want to be seen with a girl that’s so young.

Sara had met the man earlier that day in front of a convenience market. She’d purchased two hot dogs for her sick mother. The dogs cost Sara the last of their money.
“Are you alright there, Goldilocks?” he’d asked her as she emerged from the market.
“Why do you care?” she responded tersely. She was in no mood for this crap.
“Because you look like you could use some help,” he’d said to her. The older man must’ve been almost fifty years old, Sara guessed. He had a polished, confident look and manner about him.
Sara stepped up to him and noticed the four-door big, black Lexus that he was leaning against. He’s got cash, Sara thought as her empty stomach growled at her. Sara set her plastic bag of hot dogs down on the sidewalk and pulled the fraying knit cap from her head. She let the thick, blonde hair fall free down the back of her tattered jacket.
“I can always use some help,” she stated coyly, sizing him up. Sara could tell by the way he was smiling deviously that he wanted to have her. He wanted to fuck a child.
“Those clothes you’re wearing are getting themselves all worn-out, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, they sure are,” she replied. Her head was slightly bowed and her eyes were doleful. Sara knew how to play this game. The stakes were high, but Sara and her mother had nothing but lint in their collective pockets. So, she came across as demure, stating, “My mom said I couldn’t have any new ones.”
“Why is that?” he asked. Specks of drool collected in the corners of his mouth, the sick fuck.
Then, the hook: “Because my mother said I was bad.”
Bad?” the man asked, voicing creaking a little. He swallowed hard then and shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes,” Sara replied, “Bad.” Sara was always proud of the ability of her young mind to read people. She’d been able to glean motives for as long as she could remember. And this guy wasn’t all that tough to figure out. He was a simple fool and an open book to someone like Sara. “She’s right, you know.”
“Who’s right, little girl, your mother?”
Sara nodded. “I have been bad and my mommy says that I can’t have anything new until I’ve been,” she looked up and gazed deep, right into his greedy eyes, “schooled properly by a stern hand.”
The older man began to shake. Sara could see that he had to close his eyes and grip his car to retain his balance. Sara realized this must be the man’s first time with a child. He seemed to be reeling from the decadence of it all.
The man went to reach for Sara, but snapped back his hand in one liquid motion when a father and his kid emerged from the market. The father and his little boy swapped play punches at each other while laughing. They were, more or less, heading toward a nearby city bus stop. When they came to the residential avenue they had to cross, the father reached down and scooped up his boy. He carried the child across the street, blowing bubbles on the toddler’s ample tummy. The boy squealed in delight.
The older man and Sara were watching this small bucolic scene of joy. The man seeing this display of the ordinary caused him to drop his head. Sara knew she was losing him. Seeing how adults and children were supposed to behave together had left him with guilt. It was written large all over his face. Sara could not lose the budding pedophile. She needed his Notes. Sara knew just how to get them.
“That little boy over there has been good,” Sara told the man, being as convincing as possible. “But I haven’t been good, mister. I’ve been bad.”
He looked down at Sara. She could see the flames returning to the man’s eyes. His demons were back.
“Yes,” he told her, “You have to learn your lesson, young lady.”
“Tell me what you like to do to bad little girls,” Sara replied in a sheepish, little-girl voice, “Or, would you prefer to just show me?”
“Yes,” he replied with a mouth gone dry, “Get your little ass in the god damned car.”
Sara squashed the hot dogs as she stepped over to the older man’s car. She got in and this was the part that always frightened Sara the most. Getting in a stranger’s car left her the most vulnerable. There was never enough room to maneuver a defense if things got ugly, even with the surprise she carried. Sara glanced casually around the car. Her eyes were open for any weapons that could be used on her. Sara didn’t see any. All that she saw was an infant’s car seat, a hand-held video game and a long brown leather top coat.
That’ll be perfect for Mom, Sara thought. Her eyes held onto the warm looking coat. Maybe it’ll keep her from getting sick next time. Sara’s mother will first have to get well from this current round of illness.
The man stared straight ahead, over the top of the big sedan’s large steering wheel. He steadied the wheel with one tightly gripped hand. The other hand was massaging his member. Sara watched the man out of the corner of one blue eye and chuckled to herself. They are so predictable, every last one of them is the same.
“Where’s the turn?” he asked Sara. He slowed the self-love. “Is it up ahead?”
Right here,” she said and pointed to the alleyway.
The man turned into the deserted alley and parked the car where Sara indicated. They both got out of the car together and walked, hand in hand, to a small alcove. The abandoned store’s dumpster was kept there. The older man seemed quite scared. Sara could see the wrestling match going on in his head. She had to tug hard on his hand to guide him. She pulled him past the dumpster and into a secluded corner.
The man began tremble and shake intensely as he leaned against the cold block wall. Peels of ancient paint were dotting the backs of his immaculately pressed twill slacks. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Come here,” the man ordered. He was barely able to manage his dry, creaking voice.
Sara stepped forward. She knelt before him, reaching for the zipper. “I’m going to show you how my big brothers like it,” she told him as the zipper dropped.

— end excerpt PHARMACIDE #4. NEWER POSTS for #5!!

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