They should never be where no one can hear them scream

I had slipped a pair of fine tipped tungsten scissors into my pocket just in case I sealed the deal.

She was maybe a 4, but the pleasures of the flesh were secondary in this situation as I had my eye on the "Fall Foliage" bundle tucked behind her ear while I ordered her another chocolate martini.

My fingers traced the outline of the snipping instrument in my front right pocket.

I could go for it here, the crowd is thin and I am two steps closer to the door than the only guy in the place that might give me any trouble. In her state she might not even notice.

She turns and smiles, thanking me with a little sway in her voice as she downs the drink and places her hand on my chest, biting her lower lip.

No need to rush, I think with a smile.


FineFeatherheads: Spring 2011 from Dakota Hills on Vimeo.