Chapter 4

I don’t know if all you readers like my style of writing because I use words like I speak the King’s English and if you don’t like it, go fuck yourself.

I recommend you read the first three chapters of this narrative because if you don’t, you won’t understand what the fuck is going on.

Sure, I am an escaped felon from Folsom Prison, but I am a pretty good guy despite my questionable background in criminal activities. After all, the judge that sentenced me was a biased ex-girlfriend still sore because I dropped her like a hot potato when I found out her day job.

It is a quiet Sunday morning, and I am down at the Waffle House on Flamingo soaking up the bottomless coffee and munching on the hashbrowns, scattered, well done like some nameless dork just looking to get his belly filled with my customized soul food.

One of my sources of paid tips called Sydney slid into the other side of the booth and he kept his head low, and his eyes averted as he told me his tale about the hot trail of the missing girl.

He gave a lot of dope on the girl’s name = Sandy Smith, her job = student at Sacramento State University. He had her stats = Hair, blonde, height, 5 foot 5, weight, 110, measurements 34, 22, 36. He told me that she was close to being a virgin with only two reported sexual partners, both students at the same school. She had a quick breathless fling with a cheerleader who checked out as a non-suspect because she had moved on to a football player with an oversized dick. Her grades were come-see, come-sa with a mixture of excellence down to just barely passing. She was a reported “Hottie” with a cock teasing attitude. In other words, a typical sweet young thing these days sitting in boring classes in higher education.

I was ready to tell him to put a cork in it when he pulled out his little black book and read off a list of names of middle aged successful men with time on their hands and inquisitive fingers looking for loose pussy.

Sydney told me their sexual preferences and how much she charged them for the “full girlfriend experience.”

We exchanged the book for a “C” note and both of us felt he had gotten the better of the deal.

I headed out of the strip to Henderson to hook up with my former cellmate’s sister Tracy to bump noggins with her over the fresh leads in the informant’s book. I am not being completely honest here because deep down in my lust-laden soul, I was hoping Tracy might come through with some happy ending honey to make us more up close and personal.

I knew she was packing some hidden assets under her tight skirt and her upper body filled out quite nicely inside her sheer blouse with frilly lace. I only hesitated because there was a sizable age difference and we had only shared some under the table hand jobs on her visits to the prison to see her brother. In fact, I hadn’t even let my cellmate in on his sister’s generous ministrations because he was always lamenting the fact, they wouldn’t allow his ex-wife to do a conjugal visit because they were officially separated.

We somehow discovered our mutual liking of doing it “doggy” style with her beautiful ass up in the air for rear entry. No, I didn’t stick my dick in her ass because she was on the young side, and I didn’t want to do anything to scare her away from my perversions until we knew each other a lot better.

Fortunately, we worked well together and had narrowed our list down to about a half dozen likely leads that might give us some dirt on the missing girl’s location.

Hopefully for her parents, it would be a happy ending with her being shacked up with some perverted asshole cheating on his wife.

We headed to the first stop on our new lead list and drove over to the area behind Sam’s Town Casino to a luxury condo with a real live doorman guarding the entrance.

His name was Tony and he looked more like a gangster than a doorman despite the resplendent uniform. I managed to pass him off on Tracy much to his greedy delight and went up to the penthouse suite where Mister cheating husband had an in-town honeytrap for his close female friends.

He opened the door expecting a pair of outcall broads from some sleezy phone number you could find on every corner.

“Who the fuck are you, buddy? This isn’t the service I was interested in.”

I put my foot in the doorway and quickly explained I was merely trying to get some info on the missing college cutie Sandy Smith. Of course, I knew she was probably using some phony name for her “dates” and showed him a picture to tickle his memory bank.

He was already three sheets to the wind and one glance at the photo caused him to point out with his finger and shout out, “That’s not a Sandy, that is Sheila with the fantastic bum. That girl could make a Saint come with her big ass.”

I was overjoyed to discover he was being cooperative but hesitated to pass on his words verbatim to her parents.

We sat down on the curved couch, and he poured me a shot of Wild Turkey as we discussed the relative merits of young pussy for rent in the local area.

“Could you tell me the last time you saw Sheila, sir? I asked this question with little hope of getting further information but to my surprise, he pulled out his phone and looked at the calendar and told me it was exactly four nights ago, and she had stayed for two hours doing a sensuous “Around the World” with excellent results.

Strangely, that was only one day before she was reported missing, and it gave me hope that she might still be alive. He told me he had booked her for the following night but that the agency had called him back and told him that she was not available and sent him a much inferior substitute who spoke limited English.

“In fact, if I remember correctly, she had to go out of town to State Line to take care of her sick aunt in State Line on the California side. I wrote everything down and made my exit as a pair of young things came swishing into the luxury apartment all giggling and looking for free drinks to get their “Engines going.”