Thursday Night – Phil and Phyl in Orbit
The white cargo van, dinged and dented by ten years of service, slowly eased into the mega-apartment parking lot near the largest college campus in Little Rock. The driver selected the parking space which strategically provided a view of the apartment fronts and parking spaces but was shaded from the parking lot lights by branches from a venerable oak tree. At 10 PM, the night clouds had begun their descent to earth and most people were inside for the night.
In his late thirties, the driver was still handsome but as shop worn as his van. The last jail description put him at 6 feet tall and 238 lbs., brown hair and brown eyes. Phil wore his hair in a flat top, crew cut. His career as an itinerant auto mechanic demanded that he be physically fit. After parking, Phil rolled down the van windows and sat on a lawn chair inside the cargo area and fired up a cigarette.
He had followed her several times and knew that she would soon come home from her job as afternoon shift, store manager. She was beautiful to him, the type of classy girl who did not go for greasy mechanics, even when they were cleaned up. He guessed she was 22 to 24. She was tall, about 5' 8" and normal weight; not athletic but not flabby, either. She wore her long brown hair straight past the middle of her back. He did not know her name. He never knew their names, unless he saw their pictures on cable news later.
His mind had constructed lots of scenes with her: What she would look like with her long straight hair just barely covering her breasts. What those breasts would look like and feel like as his hands squeezed. What those long legs would look like if she wore only a black bikini bottom. How soft her butt would feel to his face and hands as he circled her butt cheeks and reached around to run his fingers through the thick hair of her bush. How soft those thighs would be when he spread them. Her wet aroma. How her wet pussy would surround and suck his cock into her. How deep he would thrust. How she cried out in pleasure. How she cried in mortal terror. His penis was fully erect. He licked his dry lips. He popped open a beer.
There was more to this; he had been to this circus many times before. There was location and disposal. Phil would park his van on a hillside fire trail, just outside something like a state recreational park. They would walk down an easy embankment to a small clearing. Afterwards, he would roll the body down the steep embankment, where the autumn leaves would cover it up and animals would dispose of the remains. The descent was too steep to willingly hike and too high up from the flowing creek below.
He met chicks in bars and elsewhere and got it on with them, like a regular man. Few men have seen either the look of terror in the eyes of a bound and tormented woman or the look of resigned desperation, when she knows she's dying. It is a different kind of sex, where physical arousal is not required. It's more powerful and more addicting.
In Phil's mind, it was the classy girls, like this one. The first night he observed her, she dressed in a light linen jacket, light, buttoned blouse, navy blue pencil skirt, pumps, and accessories to go out on the town. This was the woman he had to have. Phil had been in town three months and he ached to do a girl like this again. His van was packed tonight and he would not return.
Her car nosed into the parking space. In the fog shrouded, dim light, Phil could see her long brown hair and retail uniform. She was shapely, pretty, and walked with confidence. She unlocked the door and went inside. The wheel was turning.
The Storm Inside
Phyllis unlocked the door and entered meekly. Her sister, Louise, looked at her and turned away.
"Hi Lou," said Phyllis. "How are you?"
"What do you think? I'm still furious. How could you, Phyl?"
"I said I was sorry. I didn't mean it. The doctor says I'm sick."
"That's a load of crap and you know it," Louise responded. "This pain in my chest is killing me." She turned her head slightly, "I know I said mean things; will you still be my bride's maid this Saturday?"
"Yes, Lou," Phyl answered contritely.
"I haven't told anyone. The parents are expecting it," said Louise looking at Phyl with disgust. "I don't know. I just don't know. Ben and Ron? Ben. How am I to trust Ben after this? I can see you fucking Ron; he's a hunk. But my fiancé Ben?"
"I told you I'm sorry. I can't do anything to change the past. The doctor says I'm a sex addict. My brain starts undressing every mateable man I see. I can't control it. That's why I'm going away for therapy in two months."
"That's a lot of crap. Let's not talk about it any more, okay?"
"Okay," said Phyl gathering a change of wardrobe, "but you said that this morning, too. Besides, you've been to therapy." Phyl turned away, "Look Lou, I'm going out. I think it's better for us."
Phyllis entered the bathroom and removed her clothes. She put on a sexy pair of black panties and then covered her body with tingly baby powder. Next, she put on a low cut, black bra, which pushed the girls up and together. After donning fresh socks, Phyllis struggled to pull up a tight pair of jeans, which displayed faded seat and thighs. She put on a tightly fitting, country style, long sleeve shirt and she left the top buttons unfastened to show off her charms. Phyllis generously sprayed perfume and fussed with her hair. Lastly, she slipped on cowboy boots and perfectly positioned her cowboy hat, with the sides curled up.
Leaving the bathroom and tossing her worn clothes aside, Phyllis looked to Louise for approval. Louise's expression said it all, "Tramp."
Phyllis answered her look, verbally, "I'm going out to get laid. Maybe I'll get fed first." Louise remained speechless. Phyllis locked the door behind her and headed into settling fog of the parking lot. She did not notice the white van parked next to her car with the cargo door adjacent to her driver's door.
Phil and Phyl Collide
In the dim light, Phyllis searched the wad of keys when Phil silently approached from around the front of his van. "Hello," he said. Phyllis jumped a half step back and gasped for breath. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Phil smiled. His brain whirled in the conflict of anticipation and disappointment. This was not the classy girl he expected. This was a slut. This was the same girl but her looks are all wrong. What to do?
"You were so quiet," she replied and then she smiled. "Are you new here? I haven't seen you before."
Phil stepped closer, to within two feet, and replied. "No, I'm camping out. My apartment was foreclosed. They ordered me out. I was gonna leave in a few days anyway."
"Damned luck. Oh, I'm Phyllis; Phyl for short."
"That's funny; I'm Phillip but no one calls me that. It's always Phil. Phil and Phyl. Where you heading, if I may ask?"
"I was heading out to get dinner and perhaps stop off for a drink or two. I just got off of work."
"Well then, can I buy the lady a drink?"
"You sure can, Phil. Do you mind if we take both cars? I'd feel safer."
Returning to the Apartment
After dinner and too many drinks, they returned to the parking spaces where their chance meeting began. "I'd invite you to stay here tonight but my sister's here with me. It's a small studio apartment." She studied his face and continued, "Although I hate to think you're sleeping in that van." He seemed all right. "Do you mind sleeping on the couch?"
"Phyl, I'd much rather sleep with you," with that he bent to kiss her. She eagerly opened her mouth and he ran one hand along the cheek of her face and the other hand along her butt cheek. She bent into him and embraced him.
