Pervert #16 part 5: Pervert #2
by Keith Rawson
Caleb and Sara went looking for pervert #2.
They compiled a list of places where old men who might want to watch teenagers fuck would possibly congregate:
1) Mill Avenue , the hipper than thou bar strip running through the heart of ASU.
2) The bowling alley off of University and the US 60, nothing but dirty old men.
3) Arizona Mills Mall, tons of kids and pervs galore cruising them.
4) The Tempe public library, because they figured guys who read a lot had to be lonely.
They spent three months looking for pervert #2.
An entire summer of Sara wearing nothing but low riding halter tops and short-shorts that rode so high and tight she couldn’t wear underwear with them; Caleb dressed similarly, except he stuck with close fitting muscle shirts and baggy jeans that sagged below the belt line revealing his stylish Joe Boxer’s.
Three months and all they got out of it was sun stroke and:
1) College kids on Mill Avenue ignoring them and being chased off by the cops for loitering.
2) Dirty old men doing nothing but bowling.
3) The pervs at the mall were only interested in kids under the age of ten (yuck!)
4) The only guys at the library were homeless dudes who would leer at Sara and rub themselves through
their filthy pants.
Three months and they gave up. Caleb’s idea was a good one, but it was too much work; they probably would have been better off spending the summer working part time jobs at shitty fast-food restaurants making minimum wage. It was when they finally gave up that pervert #2 found them.
It was two days after school began; their first year at Tempe High, and just like pervert #1, pervert #2 pulled up to them as they were walking home from school. Pervert #2 drove a Ford Suburban with a toddler seat anchored into the back bench and a Jesus fish stickered to the bumper. Pervert #2 was a squat fat man, nervous and sweaty; he said his name was Lowell . He had a case of warm Bud light and he talked a mile a minute. Sara made the mistake of sitting in the passenger seat; Fat boy Lowell nearly wrecked them because he kept his eyes on her pubescent tits and summer tan legs instead of the road.
He drove them to Mesa , to a house in the once ultra exclusive Dobson ranch area. Lowell’s house was the type of place you’d see one of those perfect house and gardens magazines Sara’s mom occasionally read when she started thinking about trying to be a normal mom instead of a whore; a Tom Sawyer white picket fence; huge green lawns; the house painted a gentle sky blue trimmed in white; the house stood on a corner lot directly across the street from a Mormon temple. The interior was just as immaculate as the exterior; spotless show room furniture; every flat surface free of dust or debris; if it wasn’t for the all of the family photos cluttering the walls, you’d think they were the first human beings to ever step foot inside the house.
The fat ass sat them down in the living room and excused himself, saying he was going to the kitchen for some cold beers. They sat in silence, staring at all the framed photographs; most of them featured Lowell, a pudgy, plain looking woman in glasses with a glazed tooth paste commercial smile and a gaggle of cute children.
Creepy.
He came back from the kitchen toting three more Bud lights and a smile cracking his face in half.
“I think my wife would kill me if she knew I was drinking,” Pervert #2 said as he cracked the beers. “But, hey, what she doesn’t know isn’t going to kill her, right.”
“Sure.” They said in unison.
“But, ya know, she’s up in Utah with the kids, visiting her folks. Usually the house is fulla people, ya know. I guess I’m just lonely.”
They sat in silence, sipping the piss in a can for . . . 5 . . . 10 . . . 15 minutes. Finally Caleb leaned forward, belching and blowing the stink into Pervert #2’s face.
“What do you really want?” He asked.
“I want . . . I just want to see you kiss. . .ya know. . . maybe. . .”
“You wanna see us fuck?”
It took a couple of minutes for him to spit it out:
“Yeah.”
“Two hundred bucks. You got two hundred bucks?”
“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute.”
He bolted up from his spot on the couch and practically ran into another room. Sara’s legs trembled; Caleb put a hand on her knee. They weren’t prepared; Caleb had been carrying around an athletic sock full of marbles all summer to roll the perverts with or incase they tried getting violent; he’d left it at home because he didn’t want to get caught with it at school. She could tell Caleb was just as nervous, but he was trying to work something out; a way of getting out of the house with Pervert #2’s cash without actually screwing.
Pervert #2 came back clutching a loose wad of crumpled twenties; he pushed them into Caleb’s hands.
“There, there you go.”
Caleb took his time counting, smoothing out each bill before pocketing the bills.
“So what do you want first?”
Pervert #2 licked his lips.
“Undress . . . Get undressed.”
They worked out of their clothes, Pervert #2’s breathing going ragged and asthmatic. His breath caught in his throat as soon as Sara’s panties came off. She’d gone Brazilian with her bikini line all summer, although she’d been letting it slip over the last couple of weeks leading up to going back to school.
Pervert #2 spoke up for the first time in 30 minutes:
“Spread her. Spread her out for me.”
She was dry, Caleb’s finger’s hurt.
“There, that’s right, wider.”
Pervert #2 reached into the back pocket of his chinos and pulled out the thing. It was jade green and oblong; it looked like it was carved out of stone. He moved forward, wanting it to push into Sara’s vagina, his eyes wide and stupid.
“What the fuck, man” Caleb jumped off of the couch and tried blocking Pervert # 2’s path. The fat man swatted Caleb aside like he wasn’t even there and threw his weight on top of Sara.
God he smelled.
She’d always remember it:
Rotting teeth, cat food, boiling hot dogs, overwhelming body odor, like he hadn’t showered in days, weeks; he pushed the rock thing towards her center, muttering:
“Come on, come on, just let me.”
Blood rushed to her head, her ears filling with the sound of static and ocean waves; she stared into Pervert #2’s tomato red face and then watched it go slack, his skin turning pale green, a wash of blood started to pour onto her.
Caleb pulled Pervert #2’s unconscious body off her; clutching her shuttering body hard to his chest..
He’d broken a table lamp over the top of Pervert #2’s head. At first they thought Caleb had killed him, but then the fat man started to snore. Caleb found a roll of duct tape in the garage, stripped Pervert #2 naked and bound his legs and feet and gagged him. They ransacked the house, grabbing anything that wasn’t nailed down and throwing it haphazardly into the back of Pervert #2’s SUV; Caleb grabbed the stone dildo; Sara gave him a sour look, but didn’t stop him.
As they left, Pervert #2 had regained consciousness and was trying to yell at them through his gag.
Sara kicked him in the balls as hard as she could.
BIO: Keith Rawson lives in the Phoenix, AZ suburb of Gilbert with his wife and daughter. He has had fiction published (or waiting to be published) in such venues as DZ Allen’s Muzzle Flash fiction, PowderBurn Flash, Flashshots, Darkest before the Dawn, A Twist of Noir, Bad Things, Crooked, Pulp Pusher, CrimeWaV.com (podcast), Plots with Guns, Flash Fiction Offensive, and Yellow Mama. He is also working on the final draft of his first novel which is tentatively titled, Retirement. Check out his blog http://bloodyknucklescallusedfingertips.blogspot.com/
