Chapter 2: apologetic
The sun was a punishing white coin in the sky the next afternoon, baking the cracked asphalt of the Gas ‘n’ Go lot into a shimmering mirage. The same beat-up convertible screeched to a halt, kicking up gravel.
Inside, Earl was wiping down the counter with a rag that smelled of kerosene. He didn’t look up as the bell jangled, but his shoulders settled into a familiar, waiting tension.
They filed in with a completely different energy. The brash defiance was gone, replaced by an exaggeration of contrition so transparent it was offensive. Brandy led, her platform heels clicking with a timid rhythm she’d never used before. Crystal followed, hands clasped demurely in front of her, lower lip trembling in a practiced pout. Amber brought up the rear, her eyes downcast, a single, glistening fake tear tracing a path through her foundation.
“Mister Earl?” Brandy’s voice was a saccharine whisper. “We… we come to apologize.”
Earl slowly folded his rag, set it down. He said nothing. His river-mud eyes watched, patient and utterly unconvinced.
“We was just terrible,” Crystal piped up, one hand drifting up to anxiously knead her own breast through her neon-green tube top. “Just awful, awful girls. We couldn’t sleep a wink.”
“Not a wink!” Amber echoed, nodding so hard her red curls bounced. She was already chewing on her own thumb, her wide eyes fixed on the formidable bulge behind Earl’s apron. “We was thinkin’… we gotta make it right. We gotta… apologize so hard.”
A long silence stretched. The ice cream freezer hummed. A fly buzzed against the window.
“Apology accepted,” Earl rumbled finally, turning as if to go back to the stockroom. “Now git.”
“Wait!” Brandy blurted, the act crumbling for a second. She recovered, plastering the simper back on her face. “See, we was talkin’ to Lacy-May down at the Piggy Wiggly? You know Lacy-May? Well, she had an interestin’ story.”
Crystal sidled closer to the counter, her pout becoming genuinely curious. “She said you got somethin’ back here. Somethin’… big.” Her eyes were huge. “She said it was a foot and a half of… apology.”
Amber moaned softly, her hand moving from her mouth to between her own legs, rubbing slow circles over her shorts. “A foot and a half,” she breathed, as if reciting a holy measurement.
Earl stopped. He turned his head, just slightly. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his mouth. The first crack in his stone facade. It wasn’t interest. It was the look of a fisherman who feels the first tentative nibble.
“See?” Brandy pressed, her confidence surging back. She looked at Amber. “Show him how sorry we are, Amber. Show him how… accommodatin’ we can be.”
Amber didn’t need to be told twice. With a giggle that was all hunger and no shame, she pulled a large, cherry-red lollipop from the pocket of her microscopic shorts. She tore the plastic with her teeth and shoved the candy sphere into her mouth. She didn’t suck it. She worked it, her cheeks hollowing and bulging grotesquely, her lips stretching into a wide, wet ‘O’ as she pistonned the stick in and out with sloppy, rhythmic urgency. Globs of thick, crimson saliva dripped down her chin onto her crop top.
Brandy watched for a beat, then grabbed Amber’s face. She slammed their mouths together, plunging her tongue in to wrestle with the slobber-covered candy. The sound was a wet, obscene schlop of shared spit and sugar. They broke apart, a rope of pink spit connecting their gloss-smeared lips. Brandy popped the dripping lollipop into her own mouth, demonstrating the same gross, deep-throat motion before handing it back to Amber, who resumed with gusto.
Crystal watched, mesmerized, one hand fully inside her top now, pinching and twisting her own nipple. “We’re so sorry,” she whined, her voice trembling with arousal.
“Yeah,” Brandy gasped, pulling away from Amber again, both of them breathing heavily, faces slick. “Sorry enough to…” She nodded at Crystal.
In unison, all three grabbed their clothing. Tops were yanked up to chins, shorts and skirts were shoved down to ankles. They stood there in a line behind the counter, a ridiculous, lewd display of penitence: heaving breasts, perfectly coiffed pubic hair in blonde and fiery stripes, all offered under the flickering neon glow.
“See?” Brandy panted. “We’re puffy with regret.”
Earl’s eyes moved slowly from one to the next. The earlier smirk was gone, replaced by a flat, assessing stare. He let the silence build until their confidence began to waver, until their provocative poses started to feel silly under the unwavering weight of his gaze.
Then he moved.
It wasn’t fast, but it was inexorable. He stepped out from behind the counter, his boots heavy on the linoleum. He didn’t say a word. He simply reached out, one massive, calloused hand clamping around Brandy’s upper arm, the other snatching Crystal by the scruff of her sheer top. He shoved them toward the darkened doorway marked ‘Private’ behind the counter.
Amber, lollipop still dangling from her mouth, let out a squeak of surprise and something like triumph. She scrambled after them, her bare feet slapping on the floor, as Earl propelled the two stumbling, half-naked girls forward. He kicked the door open, revealing a steep, narrow staircase descending into shadow.
The last thing visible before the door swung shut behind them was the immense, tented outline in the back of Earl’s jeans, leading the way down into the darkness like a gruesome compass needle.