After returning the board, I made my way back to my room for a shower and a nap. Several days later, on the eve of my move to Ewa Beach, I sat at the outside bar under the huge banyan tree. Thinking, of all things, of loneliness, I paid no notice when someone sat on the stool next to me, I just gave a slight body shift to allow more room. Pulling my pack of Camels out of my shirt pocket, I carefully selected the last of my self-allowed daily smokes. Twirling the ‘cancer pill’ slowly, I thought back to Martha’s ‘Dear Jerry’ letter. Idly thinking about betrayal, I stared at the slowly turning white cylinder, flipping the lid of my Zippo with the 8th Army insignia on it. Open, closed, open, closed, like a mantra: ‘betrayal, betrayal!’ A voice, low, sultry, breathed in my ear, ‘you gonna smoke that thing, or play with it all day.’ Snapping out of my reverie, I saw the bikini girl sitting on the next stool, cigarette poised in her slim hand, waiting for a light. With a sudden show of. He climbs in with me. “Look at you, a whore in sheeps clothing. Well lace in your case, but a whore none the less.” He says his hands groping my breasts. I arch my back into the touch and moan in pain/pleasure a mixture of both.“You like that don't you bitch.” He says placing his hand on my pussy. “Oh yeah your sopping wet.” He said laughing. “No, please.” I beg. Pointless I know, but I have to try anyway. He is going to fuck me, I can feel his hardness against my leg as it is right now. I want it, I need it so badly... but not like this not on the side of the road with some cop just because he can. Oh but lord do I want it. I feel his fingers enter me and I grind down on his hand as a response, the need to feel him in me overwhelming my need for this not to happen. Damn that pill and damn that vibrator. He can tell what is making my body respond the way and acts accordingly. Before I can think about what he is about to do he has moved my legs above my head giving him access to my.
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