Ratio(102)

“He left?”

“Yeah. He decided to walk since it’s so close.”

“That dumb shit.” He looked beyond June toward the far end of the yard. “This ain’t no picnic.”

She got up to him. “You could go get him if you want. It looked like he was going at a pretty good pace though.

He pushed June into the house and slammed the door shut behind them. June took an immense amount of pleasure knowing one of the three had been eliminated, even if Georgie was the dumbest one of the group.

“While we’re waiting for him to get back, can the girls go in and lie down for a while?” she asked Reagan.

He was fully engaged in the TV, which had been changed from the Disney movie to a men’s programming channel. She looked at the two girls on the couch, who looked either bored or emotionally stunned, June couldn’t tell.

He nodded them toward the side of the house with the bedrooms.

With little prompting, she followed the four year olds into the guest room and watched as they tucked themselves under the top blanket. Clinton watched from the doorway.

“Be quiet, okay?” she admonished them with kisses. “We’ll have lunch in a little while. But stay in here until I come get you, okay?” She pecked kisses at them several more times. “And please please please be quiet.”

With the door closed, she went back to the living room and stood facing Reagan, still plunked down on the couch intently watching the TV. She stood in his line of sight.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Park it somewhere.”

“Can I use the bathroom?” she asked.

“How ya gonna get your pants down?” Clinton asked with a leer.

“I can do it,” she said back with a hard glare at him.

She didn’t need to go, but she had another idea in her mind. It was working already.

Reagan nodded her off again. “Go with her, Clinton. Make sure she stays out of trouble.”

June waddled to the bathroom next to the master bedroom, Clinton following right behind. She heard the bedroom door shut behind them. It was exactly what she wanted.

When she got the toilet, she struggled to get her jeans button undone and the zipper down because of the plastic ties. Just as she was getting the button open, he reached for her.

“I’ll help with that, doll.”

He tugged on the zipper, lowering it slowly, his gaze intent on her eyes. When the zipper hit bottom, his fingers dallied a moment before giving the slick nylon of her panties a gentle stroke.

June tried to hide the shiver.

“Let me piss and you can have more,” she whispered.

“Finally coming ‘round to seeing things my way,” he said back with a grin. He took a step back and let her do the rest. Before she pulled her pants down, she looked back at Clinton, leaning against the doorframe watching with a new smile.

She pushed her pants down and sat. “Enjoying the show?”

“Oh yeah.”

She waited for a moment then stood again.

“Stage fright?” he asked with a laugh.

“Just looking forward to knowing you better.” She waddled to the door, pretending to have a hard time getting her pants back up. “Come on.”

“Let me do that, little missy.”

He reached for her pants, and she let him take hold. She let out a gasp. He started to tug them further down, then stalled. She watched his thick fingers tremble, and for the first time smelt the scent of old tobacco on his breath. What he hadn’t noticed about her was that she had worked her hand loose from the ties again.

As he began tugging at her pants again, she reached up between his arms and grabbed him under the jaw. Using the element of surprise, and with as tight of a grip as she could muster, she pushed him backwards into the bedroom. Only able to scurry her feet a few inches at a time, she shoved as hard as she could when they got to the doorway. He stumbled backward, pulling her with him.

His gun fell to the floor when he was pushed, landing far from his reach.

They both landed on the bed. By then Clinton was fighting back, but she was straddling him. Keeping as much of her body weight on top of him, she landed hammer strikes to his collarbones, mixed with punches to his face and neck. With the last strike to a collar bone, she felt it snap, a grunt gusting from his throat. That arm fell away, useless to him. Just as she felt his one useful hand get a grip on her chest and push her away, she landed one last fierce blow to the center of his masked face.

He fell back, landing motionless on the bed.

She waited for Reagan to burst through the door, but he never did. Instead, he called out from the other room with a laughing tone to his voice.

“Not so rough in there, Clinton! We still need her later!”