"Shit, are we driving off the fucking planet?" Jay muttered from the back as the van bounced on the pot-hole laced road that snaked from the highway.
"Nah," LaTroy said easily as he kept the steering wheel from jolting in his beefy hands. "If our man says it's here, then it's here. Right, Miles?"
The thin man in the passenger seat tapped at the GPS display on his phone, seemingly ignoring the question.
"No digitalized road," he read from the screen. "Hmph. We're probably close. Oh, yeah. There. Look over there!"
LaTroy spared a look from the pocked road to the small hill by the entrance to the Knobby Shoals Mobile Home Estates. Scattered about the slope were some of the younger female residents of the dusty trailer park, their bare legs shining in the sun below their shorts and skirts.
"Oh yeah," he said, urging the van forward with a little more gas as he was eager to get a closer look. "I'm getting hungry for some down-home, white trash cooking."
"Hairless Heaven, bro," Jay cackled as he leaned forward between the two front street. "Oh damn, look at all of that sweet young pussy. We're gonna make some sequels, right?"
"Yeah, if you don't scare off the talent," Miles scolded. "Just be cool, okay?"
"Oh, man. I think that's your girl, Miles. The one Jonesy talked about."
A slim girl had stood up as the van approached and she walked down the slope in a way that made the boyish hips beneath her cut-off shorts sway provocatively. It didn't seem possible for a child to pull it off, but she was doing it with grace.
Miles licked his dry lips as he watched her. She was a golden girl all the way - from her wavy blonde hair to her smooth and lightly tanned limbs. Her eyes twinkled and her pouty mouth held a knowing grin as the white stick of a lollipop protruded from between them.
The three men were going to make a porn video, starring LaTroy and Jay and some young co-star. Miles was the manager and had obtained a lead on where to find some cheap and highly illegal talent. His contact, a man whose real name might or might not have been Mike Jones, had recommended this place and, in particular, a ten year-old named Sandra who was the nominal leader of this little band of preteen tarts.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Thursday, February 04, 2016