Slipway Grey: A Deep Sea Thriller (5 page)

“No way. I couldn’t do that.”

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt anyone. It’s not like girls our age are still virgins.”

“Like us, you mean?”

“Speak for yourself, Luke. I’ve had my share.”

“You’ve had your share of porn and hand lotion.” Luke burst out laughing.

Glenn looked embarrassed but only for a moment. “That’s true, too.” He chuckled.

The singer sang the last line to a song praising no tan lines. A restaurant manager stepped up on stage as party music blared from the loud speakers.

“Good evening everyone. It’s midnight, and you know what that’s time for. Get ready for Frank Fabre’s, the forefather founder of Frank’s Fish House, feverishly fantastic phantasmagorical wet tee shirt contest. Girls, if you all would please come on stage.”

The crowd roared and patrons left their seats heading for the stage.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Glenn sprang from his chair and sprinted off. Luke finished his drink before following.

Eight girls danced onto the stage, wearing tight fitting tee shirts. Sarah, Serena, and Mandy were the last to arrive.

“So that’s what she had up her sleeve,” Chet said as he jockeyed toward the front of the stage.

“I don’t know if I like this.” Desmond took a long pull from his drink and stayed by Chet’s side.

Of the eight contestants, four wore jeans and had the bottoms of the shirts rolled up to their tits. Mandy, her friends, and another girl had extra-long tee shirts that cupped them right below the ass cheeks. They wore panties but nothing else. Serena’s athletic build had her at a disadvantage in the tit size department, but her rock-hard body and long slender legs made up for it. Sarah’s breasts were more than a mouthful, but not by much. For what she lacked in overall physical sexiness, she stole the stage with her fluid suggestive dance moves. Mandy stood out as the prettiest girl with the hottest body. Her tits were only a little smaller than a fat chick’s at the end of the line.

“Damn. Look at Sarah. I think a pole might be involved in her future employment.” Desmond found the straw with his tongue and drank, never taking his gaze away.

Chet’s gaze wandered across all the girls. He waved at Mandy and adjusted his crotch.

A waiter showed up with a bug sprayer and doused the girls across the chest with a stream of water. Whoops, hollers, and rebel yells rocked the night. The girls in the audience were as worked up as the men.

Shirts clung to breasts, molding into a formed fit, and turned translucent. There wasn’t much left to the imagination as more water soaked into fabric and nipples pointed at the crowd.

“Man, I think I’m going to come on myself.” Glenn clapped his hands to the beat and flexed his knees to the rhythm. “I love pussssssssssssay! Yeow!”

Luke stared at Mandy. His eyes widened, and his mouth slowly opened. “She’s so beautiful.” He spoke so low there was no chance of anyone hearing.

Mandy danced over by Sarah and shook her ass, trying to match her friend’s show-stealing performance. Sarah let out a squeal of excitement and took center stage, while most of the other girls swayed their hips in the background and watched.

The crowd came to a fever pitch. Sarah turned and rubbed Mandy’s tits in long, slow circles. Mandy contorted her face in mock  ecstasy  as  Sarah  rubbed  her  face  on  Mandy’s  chest  and casually lowered to her crotch.

Glenn screamed with approval.

Sarah raised her head back up. Mandy pulled her long blonde hair to the side and stuck out her tongue. Sarah moved her face closer, and the two seductively licked tongues. Mandy pulled Sarah in close and kissed her deeply with an open mouth. Sarah grabbed Mandy by the ass and they rubbed crotches.

The music abruptly stopped, and the restaurant manager fast stepped in front the two girls as they broke their embrace.

“Okay. Looks like we’re going to have to turn a hose on these two to cool them off. Nice job, girls. All of you.” He stepped away and motioned with his arm. “Everyone gather in front. It’s time to vote.”

The girls lined up, and the manager went to each and asked the crowd to vote by applause. Sarah and Mandy were the last two on the end. There was no question they were the two most popular and no doubt Mandy was the clear winner.

Chet and Desmond waited near the bathroom for the girls to get dressed. A few minutes later, Glenn and Luke joined the other two guys, holding drinks. Mandy and the girls walked out of the bathroom, giggling.

“Here, hold this.” Mandy handed a heavy plastic bag to Chet. “What’s this?”

“Wet shirts and panties. We’re going commando.” “What’d you win?”

“A tee shirt.”

“A tee shirt? After that performance? You girls could do that every Friday night and sell tickets.”

Glenn stepped up to Sarah and shoved a drink her way. “Here, Sarah. I thought you might be thirsty after all that…dancing.”

Sarah took the drink. “What is it?”

“A bushwhacker. It’s frozen and tastes kind of ice creamy.”

“I know what a bushwhacker is. Thanks, I love them.” She took the drink and brought it to her lips. After a sip, she shot Chet a look of indifference as he watched her, and then smiled at Glenn. “It’s delicious.” She slowly licked her lips at Glenn while watching Chet seethe.

Chapter 9

Six Months Earlier

The air conditioner on the bus doesn’t work. It hasn’t since one hour outside of Memphis. The ride is rough and the seats uncomfortable. The man sitting next to Chip snores, and the cadence is interrupted only when he passes gas.

Chip hasn’t eaten since breaking his last twenty to buy a burger off the dollar menu, minutes before departing on the 17 hour ride. His stomach rumbles, and his mouth is dry. A child crying adds hopelessness to his uncertain future.

His urge to urinate is strong. As he steps down the aisle faces turn and reflect the misery of reality. He searches for one—just one expressing hope. Many faces are blank, holding gazes toward a far off distance. The bitterness of life misshapes others into a perpetual scowl. A young woman on the verge of tears stares out the window. She wears no makeup, and her hair is a frizzy mess, but she looks kind. Innocent. He feels a compulsion to ask what’s wrong and console her. But what can he do? What can he say? He’s fourteen years old with an uncertain future. His depression only deepens.

The light outside the bathroom door switches to, ‘Unoccupied.’ A large woman turns sideways through the doorway and waddles toward him. She wears a flower print dress and has calves bulging over too tight socks. He leans over by a balding man that shoots a look of warning. The woman turns and passes. Her backside scrapes along his in a tight fit. Humiliation will become part of his everyday life.

The bathroom light is dim. The smell of urine and feces choking. The toilet is still half full of toilet paper and yellow-brown muck. He unzips his pants and aims for the bowl, raising his gaze to the mirror in front. He needs to go—badly. He pushes and grunts, but the urine doesn’t flow. He watches the pain in his face as his eyes twitch. A few drops fall followed by a weak stream that lasts only a few seconds. His money won’t carry him past a few days at best. He looks in the mirror and wonders if he can do it. He’s never had sex before and was unsure of what to do. It seems wrong. Appalling even. He is attracted to women, not men, but only a man will pay him for sex. Giving up on any further relief, he zips up, and washes his hands. For a moment he considers cupping a mouthful of water despite the warning taped to the mirror.

The bus turns, and he catches the wall with his hands. Once outside the door, people are up in their seats moving about. They are at the bus station. Chip’s new life begins.

***

She waits by a wall far enough from departing passengers not to be noticed. A small cooler by her feet contains bottles of water and sandwiches. Her white tee shirt displays, ‘Escambia County Outreach,’ in bold blue. Black hair hangs past her shoulders, and her jeans are ill fitting. Large dark sunglasses hide her face.

She watches a lanky teen boy step off the bus. He’s lost, bewildered, and hesitant to move in any direction. His bulging backpack is slung over his shoulder, and someone bumps his arm as they scurry around him. He moves quickly toward a drink machine, and she knows he is the one. She picks up the bag and meets him by the machine as he arrives.

“Hi,” her voice bright, her smile cheerful.

He looks as if he’s been caught stealing candy and waits a few seconds before he returns the greeting.

“My name is Alice Summers, and I’m part of Escambia County’s teen runaway outreach.”

“I’m not a runaway.” His denial quick.

She reaches and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re not in any trouble. No one is going to force you to go back home. I’ve been doing this a while, and I know a runaway when I see one. What’s your name?”

The boy gains color to his face, and answers, “Chip.”

“Pleased to meet you, Chip. Where’re you from?”

“Tennessee.”

“Tennessee. Wow. You must have been on a bus for a very long time.”

“Yeah. Feels like a whole day.”

“You must be hungry. I have some water and sandwiches.” She unzips the cooler.

His eyes widen. “A little.”

“The ones with the blue rubber band are ham. The others are turkey. Go ahead. Help yourself.”

Chip selects a ham sandwich and peels the wrapper aside before taking a bottle of water. He maneuvers the bottle under his arm and twists the cap off. He downs half before coming up for air.

“Drink up. There’s plenty.”

He thanks her with words muffled by the sandwich. It disappears as she patiently watches. He wads the empty wrapper and finishes the water.

“Would you like more?”

He clears his throat. “Maybe later. I ate too fast, I think. I have to wait for it to settle in my stomach. Thank you—for the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome. I’m in no hurry, but I would like to talk a bit.”

“Okay. Talk about what?”

“Your future. What kind of plans do you have? Where will you spend the night?”

“I’m not sure. I plan on working odd jobs. Maybe I can rent a garage apartment or something.”

“It’s going to be hard for someone your age to do that. Renters do background checks, and no one is going take that kind of risk with someone your age. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” He reads the expression on her face. “Fourteen,” and sighs in disappointment.

“The Outreach has apartments downtown where you can stay.”

“Really? How much?”

“No charge. However, they’re not going to let you just hang out all day. You’ll have to enroll in school, and you will be required to work. The Outreach believes that if you earn money you’ll develop a sense of worth. It will help keep you on the straight and narrow.”

“What kind of jobs?”

“Normal stuff for a kid your age. Cutting grass, weeding flower beds, cleaning boats, things like that. Some of it is community service, and some is for private donors. Either way you will be paid for your time.”

“That sounds like something I could try. When can I start? Where do I have to go?”

“How about this? One of our donors, a very rich man, called this morning and wanted to get his boat cleaned up so he can entertain a client tomorrow. We didn’t have anyone available to send. His place is just a few miles away. I can take you there, help you clean the boat, and then drive you to the Outreach.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so nice.”

“Yes, but you’d be doing the Outreach a favor too. We don’t want to disappoint a donor. The Outreach couldn’t operate without people like him.”

“Let’s go then. I’m going to work real hard so that he’ll want to donate even more money next time,” his sense of hope returning.

“My car’s around back. Follow me.” She turns and walks quickly away, hiding the curl of lips.

* * *

“All I see is sand. How much farther is the house?” Chip cranes his neck trying to look around the dunes bordering the Gulf. 

“Not far. The house is a little isolated from the nearest development. The owner spent a huge amount of money to have utilities run to his place. He likes his isolation.”

“He must be rich.” 

“One of the richest in the area. The house is coming up just around the curve.” She slows the vehicle, and the house comes into view.

“Wow. It’s awesome. Is the owner a doctor?”

“No. He’s a businessman.”

Chip sits on the edge of his seat and marvels at the opulence. The double iron gates open and the car comes to a stop in front of the garage.

“The boat’s in the slip. There’s cleaning supplies in the boathouse.” She unbuckles the seatbelt and leaves the car.

Chip bails out and follows close on her heels. “What do we have to do? I’ve never cleaned a boat before.”

“We’re going to swab the deck,
matey
.” She ends the jest with an, “Argh.”

Chip giggles.

“We’ll mop the deck and clean the windows. After that, we’ll polish all the metal. Salt water is corrosive, and you have to keep boats clean or they’ll ruin in no time.” She leads him into the back of the house past the pool and across the patio to the boathouse. The 36 foot Sea Ray is secure in the boat slip. 

“That’s the boat?”

“Yes.”

“It’s big enough to live in.”

She opens the door and enters the boathouse. The lights come on, and she points to a closet. “There’s a mop and bucket in there.” She opens a cabinet and removes a jug of cleaner and a stack of rags.

As he pulls the mop bucket from the closet, two darts propel through the air stabbing him in the back. 50,000 volts put him on the cement floor as he shakes like sizzling bacon. 

The stun gun drops as the hand replaces it with a ten inch butcher knife. She imagines a sacrifice on a stone altar waiting to spill blood to the gods above. The blade goes into the air and plunges down into the kid’s chest. It sounds dull, almost hollow, followed by the piercing cry of a wounded banshee. 

There is no struggle, only frozen horror gripping an innocent, angelic face. His soul leaves without protest in one last gasp. The dream of life ends. 

There is no remorse. There is no reveling. The kill was not to satisfy a lust. It is for her beloved Grey.