Beneath the Bones Read Free Page A

son-of-a-bitch in the county, he’d never really thought he had a shot. Until tonight.
    He still couldn’t believe his luck. He’d stopped in at the Burrito Bungalow after classes for a Coke and a taco-burrito combo, and
she
was there. He knew she was a Cross girl right away. Not because of her clothes — while she looked smokin’ hot in her blouse and shorts, they weren’t anything fancy or expensive — but because of the way she carried herself, as if she owned the world and the world damn well better know it. She’d been in line ahead of him, and he’d been checking out her ass and thinking about how there was no way in hell a girl like her would even look at him, let alone talk to him, when she turned around and asked if he had a light for a cigarette. He didn’t smoke, but she hadn’t seemed to hold that against him.
    Soon after that, they were sitting down at a table outside and eating together. Well, he’d eaten. She’d just had a Diet Sprite. They made small-talk about how the high school football team would do this year, about the Harvest Festival coming up in a few weeks, and Ray was working up the nerve to ask her out, when she suggested they meet again at the Burrito Bungalow later that night and “go for a drive or something.”
    So if she wanted the windows down, he’d put them down, grin as he did it, and say,
Thank you, Ma’am, may I have another?
if he had to. Putting up with a little attitude was a small price to pay for a chance at some prime Cross pussy.
    Of course, if he
didn’t
get it …
    She reached forward to turn the radio on, and Ray watched the fabric of her blouse stretch tight against her breasts as she moved. He could see the outline of her nipples, and he knew she was wearing a sheer bra. If she was wearing a bra at all.
    Just being out here alone at night with a Cross girl had already gotten him half erect, and now his penis stiffened the rest of the way, straining painfully against the constraint of his too-tight jeans. But it was a
good
pain, oh yes it was.
    She fiddled with the channel selector for a few seconds and stopped when a Black-Eyed Peas song came on. She glanced at his crotch then and smiled slyly.
    Damn, girl! See something you like?
    He wished he was bold enough to actually say stuff like that. Instead, he said, “So, you like hip-hop music, huh?”
    Lame, lame, lame!
    Her smile fell away, and she turned to look out the windshield. She shrugged. “It’s okay.”
    Ray feared he’d said something wrong, but he couldn’t think of anything else to talk about, so he continued in the same vein, figuring it was better to be talking about
something
— no matter how stupid — than saying nothing at all.
    “I like country mostly, but I’ll listen to just about anything. Long as it’s got a good beat, you know?”
    Despite the coolness of the evening, the girl had shorts on. Short-shorts. She’d been sitting with her shapely legs crossed, but now she straightened then out, spread them apart a little, and Ray caught a glimpse of inner thigh. He wasn’t sure, but it looked like she wasn’t wearing any panties. This was too good to be true! No one was ever going to believe that he’d hooked up with a hottie like this, but so what?
He
knew it was happening, and that was all that mattered.
    “So why the Farm?” he asked. He’d almost said,
Come here often?
but he’d corrected himself at the last moment. Wouldn’t be cool to imply she was a slut, even if it were true.
Especially
if. But he was genuinely curious. Parking here had been her idea, and while he’d have gladly driven to the lowest circle of Hell with her if it meant getting Crossed, the Devereux Farm did seem an odd choice of make-out spot for a high-class piece like her.
    The girl looked out into the night. The Deveraux property was overgrown with weeds and tall grass, and a strand of trees partially blocked the view of the abandoned house and lopsided barn. Even if it wasn’t dark out, they