Free Blood Games by Richard Laymon

it.’
        ‘Okay?’ Cora asked.
        Vivian groaned.
        ‘We’ve stuck with you,’ Helen reminded her. ‘Like traipsing all over New York City. Not to mention that time with the Sigs.’
        ‘Low blow,’ Finley commented from the hood.
        ‘Yeah,’ Cora said. ‘It’s not like she owes any of us. She’s done plenty.’
        ‘We’ve all done plenty,’ Abilene added.
        ‘I’ve just got a bad feeling about this place.’
        ‘We’ve all had bad feelings about some of the crap we’ve done,’ Cora said. ‘But we always stuck together.’
        ‘And had a gas,’ Finley said.
        ‘And we’re all still alive and kicking,’ Helen said.
        ‘Some kicking more than others,’ Abilene put in.
        Vivian nodded. ‘Why don’t we at least hoist a couple before we go back in?’
        ‘Now you’re talkin’,’ Finley said.
        Cora squinted into the trees to the west. ‘Looks to me like the sun’s over the yardarm.’
        Everyone but Finley went to the rear of the Wagoneer. Helen found the keys in her pocket and opened the tailgate. Cora climbed in, spent a while searching, then shoved the ice chest down past her feet. Abilene picked it up. Moments later, Cora crawled backward dragging the box of plastic glasses, liquor, mixes and snacks.
        They carried the ice chest and box to the front of the car.
        ‘Ah-ha!’ Finley said. ‘Goodies!’ She scooted down off the hood and joined them.
        Abilene opened the chest. Before leaving the motel that morning, they’d packed it to the brim with ice. Some had melted. But plenty of the ice remained - enough for tonight, at least.
        They scooped up cubes with their glasses. Cora opened a bottle of pre-mixed margarita and poured some for each girl.
        ‘To us,’ she toasted.
        ‘The daring young maids,’ Finley added.
        ‘On our flying trapeze?’ Abilene said.
        All five touched the rims of their glasses, and drank.
        ‘Isn’t this just the greatest?’ Helen said.
        ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Vivian said. ‘The margarita sure hits the spot, though.’
        ‘We really oughta be imbibing down at the bar,’ Cora said.
        ‘Too hot,’ Abilene told her.
        Finley climbed back onto the hood and sat with her feet on the bumper. Cora, following, looked over her shoulder. ‘Do you mind if I sit on your blouse?’ she asked Abilene.
        ‘Help yourself,’ Abilene said.
        Cora dragged the blouse toward the front of the hood, then climbed up and sat on it.
        ‘We oughta get good and polluted,’ Vivian said, refilling her glass.
        ‘So we can watch you throw up?’ Cora asked.
        Helen laughed. ‘Just like she did in Hardin’s office. Remember?’
        ‘Good ol’ Hardass,’ Finley muttered.
        

CHAPTER SEVEN
        

BELMORE GIRLS
        
        Meredith Hardin, Dean of Women at Belmore University, chose the wrong time to throw a fit of shrieking indignation.
        It was in May. Almost a full month of classes remained before the end of the semester, the start of summer break. The weather was warm, the air rich with moist and flowery aromas. The girls were restless.
        Meredith Hardin also chose the wrong girl to crush.
        The girl was Barbara Dixon, Finley’s roommate.
        Abilene returned to the dorm late from Benedict Park, where she’d spent more than an hour pressed between the trunk of a tree and the body of Robbie Baxter. Her back felt a little sore from the rubbing bark. Her face felt hot and raw from Robbie’s whiskers and too much kissing. So did her breasts. Robbie was crazy about them. Since Abilene wouldn’t allow him any liberties below her waist, they’d received the brunt of his attention. They’d been caressed, kissed, squeezed and sucked so much that they itched and burned.
        Entering