Free Savage Rage by Brent Pilkey Page B

his jeans.
    Jesse stepped out onto the rickety front porch and paused to pull at his dick, trying to find a comfortable position. On the sidewalk, a woman pushing a baby stroller saw him and frowned.
    â€œWhat the fuck you looking at, bitch? You wanna suck it?” Jesse unzipped and the woman hurried off. He laughed at her fleeing back. “Bitch prob’ly never saw one as big as mine.” Fuck, yeah, he was feeling fine!
    He zipped up, careful not to snag the equipment and pulled his jacket tight. Still fucking chilly. “Thought it was s’posed to be spring. Fuck.” But not even the brisk air could dampen his mood. He had a good coat, army surplus, with lots of pockets to hide things. It was fucking warm and kick-ass black. Jesse liked black. It was tough, cool. Fucking kick-ass fine.
    That green-haired chick — what was her name? Linda? Leslie? Fuck her name — usually hung out around Queen and Sherbourne, so Jesse headed south on Sherbourne, following in the steps of the cocksucking bitch with the stroller, though he had already forgotten her. As he was about to cross Shuter Street, who did he spot but the green-haired whore. She was working the corner over on Seaton. One glimpse of her lime spikes and he was steel-hard again. He crossed Sherbourne, his dick leading him like a blood-pumped divining rod.
    She was watching the cars cruising by and didn’t see Jesse until he was beside her.
    â€œHey, Greeny.” Jesse grinned, proud of the nickname he made up. What the fuck was her name?
    She jumped when he spoke, but by the time she turned to look at him she had a twenty-dollar version of a come-hither smile on her face. “Hey, baby, you looking to party?”
    â€œFucking A, I am.” Fuck, but she was skinny. Even skinnier than the last time he’d fucked her and that couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago. She must be seriously hooked on rock and that was just fine with Jesse. Fucking kick-ass fine. Any whore who needed crack that much would be more than willing to spend the night fucking and sucking. And for a lot less rock than he had originally thought about sharing.
    â€œTwenty for a blow, forty if you wanna fuck too.” She opened her ratty old raincoat to show him her stuff. She had on a grungy T-shirt cut off just below her itty titties and Jesse could see her hip bones jutting out above the sagging waist of her jeans. Fuck, she was skanky. Smelled skanky, too. But Jesse’s dick had only one thought in its head and it was saying that Greeny, small tits, skanky smell and all, was just what he needed.
    Jesse stepped close, digging into his pocket. Shielded by their bodies, he opened his hand to show her six pieces of rock, each pea-sized piece individually wrapped in tiny twists of plastic wrap. Her eyes flared and her ashen tongue darted out, licking her cracked, pale lips. Jesse smiled. He was going to have fun tonight.
    â€œWhat say we go back to my place and party there?”
    â€œYou’ll share?” Her voice was no more than a shocked whisper. She sounded like a devotee enthralled in a vision.
    â€œThree for me, three for you, baby.” Which would leave him with plenty more for himself after he kicked her out on her skinny ass. “Let’s go.” Jesse grabbed her by the arm, but she dragged her feet to a stop after only a few steps.
    â€œI can’t,” she whined.
    â€œWhat the fuck you mean you can’t?”
    â€œI . . . I’m not supposed to go anywhere.”
    â€œWhat . . . oh.” Jesse snickered. “Been caught keeping a bit more than what’s yours, eh?” Fuck. If her pimp had her under orders to stay in one place, which he would do so he could keep an eye on her and collect after every trick, then her coming back to his place wasn’t going to happen. But Jesse’s balls were about to blow out the front of his pants. “All right. Twenty for a blow. But you ain’t