Page 41 - Leather Blues

Leather Blues 29

“Just a picture,” the man said, “of my cruel master who
is so cruel he won’t even whip me. Take my card!”
Den threw the truck into reverse. “Jesus H. Christ,”
Denny said. “Whatever happened to normal perverts?”
“Think about the money,” the man said. He followed the
truck. “Just a picture.”
Den peeled out of the lot leaving the man standing alone
in the blazing shimmer of asphalt heat.
“You’re late.” Martin wiped his hands on a purple rag.
“Good customer relations take time,” Den said. “The
old gal will be filling up here from now on.” He meant the
woman whose tire he had changed.
Martin swatted Den’s tight butt. “Okay, kid. Okay!” He
turned back to his wrenches. “Keep pumping that gas.”
“Sure.” All afternoon Den chucked nozzle after nozzle
into tank after tank. It was like shoving cock in asshole. He
checked oil. He wiped windshields. He ignored the spread-
knee muff shots some of the girls offered for free as they sat
wedged in behind their steering wheels.
“Did you see anything?” a standard-option blonde girl
asked.
“Naw,” Den said. “Your oil and tire pressure check out.”
“I mean that you liked,” she said.
“Now where would I see that?” he asked. Her five-dollar
bill was stuck in her crotch. He loved to drive them crazy.
American girls! For some of the really beautiful ones he was
the first time they had ever received no for an answer. It really
blew their trump card away.
“Hey, good-looking, you want to see more?” she asked.
“I want to eat out your pussy till you scream for mercy,
sweetheart.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I mean you can’t.”
“Can’t? Shit! You raggin’ it, bitch? Fuck, slut, I’ll suck
you dry and earn me another Red Wing patch.”
Her little foreign job roared out of the station, tires

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