Chapter Twenty
His presence loomed. His weight sat, his khaki clothed knees slid below Robin’s armpits, and his thin legs trapped her arms inside her thighs. Her breath compressed, and an overwhelming excitement caused her body to tremble.
“Hello, Slut54,” said a voice Robin expected never to hear again. “Been playing squeeze and squish with the kid outside, have you?”
Robin bucked, twisted, and strove for freedom. She recalled his shouted words. “Let’s see her face, Thick Rod.”
“You bastard,” Robin screeched. “It was you.”
Her recognition delighted Claude Jorgensen. He yanked the blindfold from her eyes and silenced her mouth with a hand. “Long John8 at your service, Ma’am,” he groused, his contrived western drawl, not the slow speak of a friend, nor the drawn out word span used for
