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Sanguine
As freshmen at the U, Tina and Bridget were both raped. Neither reported it. But they got to talking a couple of years later at their sorority, sharing secrets, and the past came out. "We should get some revenge," Tina declared.
"Right," Bridget agreed, "but how? Become lesbians? That'll teach them. The thing is, I like sex with men."
"Me too," Tina declared. "There's got to be a way."
After graduation, they managed to get good jobs in the city, and soon they could afford to buy a small, rundown farm some thirty miles from their old college campus. They let the land go wild, but they fixed up the house, making it into a cheery place. It included a party room in the storm cellar. On weekends they'd visit their old school, dropping by one or another of the many pubs in the town. It wasn't hard to pick up a good-looking guy, especially when they hinted they weren't averse to some three-some action. "We've got a very private place, if you're interested," they'd tell the guy. The guy was almost always interested. "But it's kind of complicated to get to. You can follow us, okay?"
With the guy trailing, they'd pull into the first Interstate rest stop. "Tina's gotta pee real bad," Bridget would explain. "I told her she shoulda gone before we left. Anyway, why don't you ride with us? That way we can do some fooling around on the way. Sound good?"
It always sounded good.
For the remainder of the trip, one or the other of the girls would make good use of the guy in the back seat while the other drove. "Just make sure you don't come," they'd warn their guest. "We don't want our car getting all messy. There'll be plenty of time for that later."
At the house, the partying got more serious. Guys in heat will drink anything. Between the two of them, Tina and Bridget would have the guy naked, ardently erect, and more than a bit groggy in no time. "You just lie down here and we'll do the rest," the girls promised.
The girls' cat, Sanguine, loved liver. Pretty much everything else went into the garden.
story and illustrations by Mat Twassel |
