Battle of the Pool

By Peggy Buxton

Jean's life with the motorcycle gang hardens her but does not prepare her for life to come. She hooks up with Bobby and robs banks but gets caught stealing from the loot. Punished the old mob way, she is on the run missing two fingers. It was better than the hand. Across the border near a stream, Kate befriends her. Together they meet the drug lord Carlos and his wife Rosita who is missing a leg.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peggy Buxton
• Release date: Jan 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466143142

Peggy Buxton

Author, wife, lover, and amputee. I have been missing my left leg for years. Growing up I felt that it should not be there, and it is has been a blessing to have it gone. Today's term for this condition is BIID and in the past simply referred to as being a 'wannabe'. I am a full-time crutch user. Like my husband, I find amputees fascinating. 'Devotee' is the frequently used term. My stories have characters that mirror my life in some manner - wanted/needed to be an amputee or want to live with an amputee. I make no apology for my descriptions of these people and there is no intent to take away from the suffering of some amputees. I love feedback on the stories, but I cannot promise to reply.

Book preview

Battle of the Pool

Peggy Buxton

Copyright 2011 by Peggy Buxton

Smashwords Edition

* * *

Jessie sat by the campfire in the hills above Red Rim, a miserable desert town. She flexed the remaining fingers of her right hand. Bobby had cut the last two off as a reminder not to steal from him. It was better than the whole hand, which he was going to do until she talked him into just the fingers. The night was cold and that made the short stumps hurt. The scars around one wrist and one ankle itched.

Jessie had a hard life. At thirty, she looked older.

As a teenager, she used to crawl into bed with her Uncle John as her way of passing the night. He didn’t seem to mind and helped her refine bedtime skills that would benefit Jessie over the years.

In her twenties, she hooked up with Roy, a member of the Badass Motorcycle Club - BMC. He passed her around, but she usually ended back up with him. Jessie knew she was better in the sack than the other hags that rode with them were. At least her breasts were firm and tight just the same as her ass.

The members fought among themselves when they weren’t sticking up liquor stores and gas stations. Linda had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when the sheriff’s shotgun fired. None of the gang wanted her when she got out of jail with one leg, so she turned to whoring in Los Angeles. The last anyone heard she had died in an alley at the hands of a client.

Years with the gang had left Jessie’s skin brown from riding on the back of a motorcycle. Roy was dead from a crash trying to outrun a sheriff. She had almost gone with him that afternoon to pickup some whiskey.

After BMC, she changed boyfriends the way most people change clothes. It was hard to tell which was fouler: her mouth or her temper. It didn’t matter the setting - she could let loose a string of profanity that would shock the hardest of the men. She could brawl with anyone. Being good in bed was her redeeming quality. Most men came quickly once she them in her mouth.

The fire crackled, and sparks shot high in the air as she tossed another stick of wood on. She had been there almost a month, hiding from Bobby. She kissed the two finger stumps then leaned back and watched the stars.

She had met Bobbie one night in a bar. He had been a smooth talker. She was horny, and it didn’t matter, she was going to have him that night no matter. Few men had refused Jessie. She figured if they did, it was their loss not hers. Besides, there was always another man just a stool away.

Bobby was better than most so they shacked up for a few weeks in a sleazy motel outside of town. She had heard the phone calls and talk of several bank heists. It didn’t scare her in the least. Out in a quarry, she showed him she could hit five out of five targets dead center. Impressed, he introduced her to Slick and Martin, the other members of the team set to rob the bank. It helped that she fucked all three the next few evenings.

They were in and out of the banks before anyone knew what had happened. There was more money in the bag than she had ever seen at one time.

Must be one-fifty maybe two hundred thousand, Martin said as they raced along the highway deeper into the forested area above the last town.

Yeah, asshole, Slick began while looking at Bobby in the backseat with Jessie, You can split your third with the broad.

I took the same risks, Jessie protested. She knew it would do no good.

After fifty miles, they parked by the second set of cars, wiped down the surfaces, and drove off in three separate vehicles.

Why didn’t you stick up for me? Jessie screamed at Bobby after ten minutes of silence at highway speeds.

Next time.

"Yeah, why should I trust next time would be any fuckin’ better?"

You don’t have to stick around you know.

Fuck you Bobby.

He slapped her face and shook a finger at her. Cut the shit!

Stop the car.

You want out, just open the door. The car was still traveling at highway speeds.