hellbentforleatherr
11-19-2007, 5:19 PM
<o></o>
A woman runs into her ex at a highway rest area, and buddy, she is in a shitty mood.
All I can say is: you were warned. And after all, it's only a smutty story.
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<o></o>
The white Chevy Tahoe SUV rolled across a flat two-lane highway, desert on either side. The lone occupant, a woman, peered out into the dazzle through a pair of oversized department store sunglasses. This lonely stretch always made her nervous and she fretted endlessly over a breakdown or a flat every time she took it. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. The appointment was at two pm; it was only eleven-fifty, plenty of time. This was the last one. Her divorce would be final, once and for all. Her attorney assured her that his attempts to reach the bastard, while completely unsuccessfully, were nonetheless perfectly legal. After he missed this hearing he would be cut out, completely out.
<o></o>
She had almost completely changed her appearance in the last two years. Gone were the leather vests and bracelets. She was straight. She had a steady job. She made up with her mother and they became friends. And then her mom had died, leaving her the ranch. It wasn't a big place, but it was in the tall pines in the foothills and did a steady trade as a dude ranch. There was a cadre of local cowboys who took the tourists out while she keep house and kept the books. Life looked good. And she had kept all of this hidden from him. She had him thinking that she was a waitress and stuck paying off his debts. One more day in court and he was out for good. And he could get drunk, get high, and ride his hog till it killed him. And the sooner the better, so far as she was concerned.
<o></o>
Shimmering heat waves rose off the endless ribbon of highway. The rest area was along here somewhere. She in distress, disgusted at the idea of the old rest stop, having to use the stinky pit toilets. But the waves of intestinal cramps, the pressure in her gut, were telling her she was never going to make it to the I-40 interchange. She'd learned to plan her stops to avoid this old monstrosity, but it didn’t work out this time and now she was in the desperate final stages of holding back a shit. Damn, I hate that place. Just grow up, deal with it, she told herself. There was the sign, one mile. Up ahead she could see a pack of motorcycles pulling out, heading her way. Damn! She didn't need this. They could be his old gang, and she didn't need to be recognized. Not only did she want to make the appointment in anonymity, but also more urgently she wanted to take a crap in peace. She lowered the sun visor and hoped the sunglasses obscured her looks. Though she didn't look much the same as back then. The bikers went roaring by, looking at her with a rapid-fire series of leers and sneering grins. There mush have been forty of them all told. It was them, the same wild bunch. She recognized a few. Luckily they couldn’t recognize her and they roared past. They continued to recede in the rearview mirror.
<o></o>
She pulled the Tahoe into the rest area, and was relieved on seeing the empty parking lot. Looking up and down the highway she saw nothing but the desert, heard nothing but the wind. She opened the door and the heat and light slammed into her. She walked with some discomfort to the concrete block building, and into the dark shadows of the "ladies room". Pushing her sunglasses up onto of her head she surveyed the unhappily familiar sight. Concrete walls, steel sinks, and two wooden doors, each revealing a worn wooden toilet seat atop a red ceramic pipe. The smell was bad, but better than she'd feared. They must have emptied the place for a change. God, this must be the last one of these horrible old things in the whole state. Why did it have to be here? She chose the farthest door, deepest and darkest, and opened the door. Her bowels shifted in anticipation. She heard something! Something down in the pit made a noise! She was gripped with a primordial fear; the idea of something was down there in the dark, something that might get her while she was sitting down. She reached for her keys and found the squeeze light. Lifting the lid cautiously with the pointed toe of a cowgirl boot, she shined the light down into the nasty abyss White bundles of used toilet paper showed against the nasty dark stuff. Oh god she had to shit! What the fuck was it? She didn’t see anything. "Help me..." a voice hissed quietly. She gasped, nearly dropping the light and running! "Help me.." it hissed again. She leaned forward and aimed the tiny light straight down the hole.
<o></o>
There was a person down there! My god! A man! She gasped. His face was bruised and swollen from a bad beating. She'd seen that kind of face before, beaten and kicked till the eyes were almost shut and the lips were think and puffy. This guy was bad. He was lying in several inches of unspeakable brown goo and there were tufts of toilet paper and easily recognizable chunks of human shit around his head. It had to be the bunch of biker she’d just seen leaving. This was some poor bastard that crossed them. And this was just their sort of sick joke. "Lady... please... get help... I think... I think I'm suffocating...," he coughed. “I think there’s gas or something.” She was overcome by another wall of shock. The voice! The beating was so bad that he hadn't recognized him. But it was him! It was her low life ex! Or her low life soon-to-be ex. Goddammit! Why here! Why now? Why her? Bastard! You fucker! This was the low life selfish psychotic motherfucker that had kept her high, sold all her things, chased away her friends, and even pimped her for a while so that he could get a new motorcycle. She’d gotten away from him about three years ago. And now he was intruding on her life again. Why now! Now she was about to be rid of him! She didn't especially want to save him! If she saved him her would eventually fuck her over for her troubles. For one thing, it would fuck up the nearly perfect divorce. He would find out about the ranch! She should just leave, now, just walk away. Just leave the bastard to his fate. Drive away... never look back and never say a word. He coughed again. She kept the pinch light's beam in his eyes, blinding him. She didn't know what he had done to get this, beat and thrown in a filthy toilet, the women's toilet, she was sure that meant something, but what ever he’d done, she was convinced he surely deserved it. He wasn't going to get the ranch! His days of ruling her life were over.
<o></o>
She was going to leave him there, but she had to shit. She absolutely had to. Even now the pain was back. She couldn't make it. She would go to the men’s side, do her business, and get the fuck out of there. She stepped out and let the spring slam the door shut. "Lady..." he hissed, “Lady, I’m suffocating on gas or something” "Lady, call somebody, get them out of here." Right, she though to herself, you just wait right there! She grinned at that. Then she turned to leave... but she didn't. She hesitated. Why not? He would have no idea who it was. So why not just do it? Another wave crossed her pelvis. She listened. There were no sounds except for the breeze. She turned back and faced the door. He had shit on her time and time again, figuratively to be sure, but he deserved everything that was coming to him. But why not take the opportunity. He was completely helpless, and she was completely anonymous. So why not just go in there, sit down and shit on him? Shit on him and drive away. She put her hand on the beaten old door, then sliding the big sunglasses down over her eyes she pushed it open, and then pointing the bright little light down into the toilet seat t blind him, she stepped in.
<o></o>
"Why are you back... did you call 9-1-1?" The door closed with a thump. She aimed the pinch light straight down into the hole. The white toilet seat gleamed in the light; his swollen face was straight under it, perhaps four or five feet down. Oh god… Oh my god… It would drop right on him. She checked the toilet paper supply; there was plenty.
Keeping the light in his eyes, she pulled off a long strip of paper with one hand and laid it across the back of the toilet seat. "Lady! Hey!...what are you doing!" She pulled off another long strip and laid it down the side. She laid down a third strip and then the seat was completely covered. Suddenly it seemed like she might be doing something,.. that wasn’t possible. "Goddamn lady, this isn't a joke, you have to help me... I'm choking on the gas..." She turned her back and undid her belt, the big buckle making a distinctive noise; then the sound of the zipper. "Lady!!!!" he hissed, his voice was low and raspy, strained, the he coughed and choked. "You goddamn bitch... what do you think you're doing? You can't do this!" She slid the tight blue jeans and black cotton panties down with a single motion. Her bear white buns glowed in the indirect light. She felt the air against them. “You can't do this!" She sat gently down.
<o></o>
"Lady...(coughing) what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" She waited there for something to happen, but… but, well nothing... Then a cramp struck her and she felt the movement deep in her bowel. The pain intensified and she groaned. Damn was this a shit or was she giving birth! Finally the pain subsided and felt her sphincter opening. A huge hard shit forced it's way uncomfortably out. Finally it was done. It dropped off and made a soft thud as it landed. "Goddamnit... Ohgodamnit... why are you doing this..." he gasped. “Why are you doing this..” he sounded like he might cry. She resounded with huge fart! One that reverberated loudly in the open chamber. She enjoyed it immensely. Now another movement started, but it was not unpleasant this time. She didn't push; she just sat patiently and let it happen. It took a moment before the movement gently opened her sphincter wide and she felt the warm pleasurable sensation. Hhhhhmmm, sigh ouuuuuuu...it's a big one! She felt it break off. It was another instant before it landed with a disgusting splat. Bombs away! she thought smiling to herself. She knew immediately by the sound, like wet clay on a potter's wheel, that it had hit him and not the water, and hopefully right in the face. "Oh god... damn..." he wheezed. Then there was more another big well-formed log oozing slowly out....mmmmmm. It also fell with another shit-hits-face splat. Ummmm I'll bet you enjoyed that, she thought. Then she felt the end, her sphincter closing with that feeling of satisfaction, punctuated again by another splat. Wow, that was great! She'd just taken a shit right on his upturned face! What a wonderful terrible act of revenge! Something she could keep forever! Now pee on him! She was ready. She relaxed her muscles and enjoyed the warm flow accompanied by a hollow splashing sound coming from underneath her. She was pleasantly surprised and how much she had, it seemed to go on forever. Soon he was spitting and choking, making a disgusting gagging sound. She smiled and thought: he should have held his breath. Then after a long steady and satisfying flow, it slacked to a dribble. She pushed the last bits out, listening to the little splatters. She sat for a few more seconds, and realized she was done. And also, the she was done with him. What a lucky day this turned out to be! She rolled off a big piece of toilet paper and dabbed off her crotch, then opening her legs she casually tossed in it. Then she rolled off a big handful and leaning forward she wiped her butt, she inspected the paper and saw a big dab of brown shit. She held it over the hole for a few seconds before she dropped it. Somehow that seemed even more deliberate. She liked it. She repeated three more times until she was clean.
<o></o>
She got up and pulled up her panties, getting the just right. Then she slipped the blue jeans up, the action punctuated with a brisk zip. Only then after she was completely put back together did she turn and shine the light down. His face was wet; completely wet! And there was shit on him! Her shit. There was shit, literally on his face! One great big shit was lying on his neck, going up onto his chin! She almost laughed out loud, choking it into a sort of snort. At his he looked up, squinting into the bright beam, and coughed, but did not speak. But she had to speak. Even though she new better, she just could resist the urge to tell him off. Still she would whisper her retort so that he wouldn't recognize her. She simply said what came into her head. "I hope that really stinks!" She tipped the seat forward with the toe of her boot and it slammed shut. She opened the door and walked out of the stall, letting the door slam shut. She stopped at the nasty looking sink and washed her hands, using some antiseptic gel from her purse to finish. It was then that she her the shuffling sound of a big diesel motor coming slowly into the parking lot; then the hiss of air brakes. She hurried out into the bright light, moving briskly toward her car.
<o></o>
A big highway bus was pulling to a stop; University of Arizona emblazoned on it's side. The door opened with a hiss just as she was unlocking her car. She looked up to see a stream of college girls piling off the bus. They had on something like a school uniform, plaid skirts, all the same, and this struck her as very odd. Then it hit her, Lacrosse, they were wearing Lacrosse uniforms. The girls made a beeline for the restroom, all racing and yelling and cat calling and making loud banter. She needed to get out of here, now, before they came screaming back out of there. But she watched anyway, sitting in the Chevy Tahoe with her window halfway down. They did scream all right. But all they screamed was peeee-uuuuuuu! Oh god it stinks! By now the girls were piling up in a line outside the door. They were the very image of athleticism; they looked a bit sweaty, their faces flushed and hair unkempt. So they were going home form a game somewhere. Someone yelled, "hurry up in there or I'm going to piss in my uniform!". Laughter and more banter. Girls came out, some waving their hands in front of their faces to fan the smell away, other girls went in; she made a quick count: twenty-two. Then the bus driver appeared, a think black woman in her forties, and then also several other adults. They walked slowly toward the restroom and got into the line. She started the motor and got the A/C going, then watched in rapt fascination. There were only two stalls; twenty-four women and two stalls. Do the math! Now there was a second bus pulling in, the same color scheme and the same University of Arizona across the side. The scene was repeated, but with only a fewer girls in uniform, and many others in jeans and khaki slacks, and a higher number of adults, almost all female. They all got into the line. One of the few males called cautiously into the men’s restroom, just in case the women had taken it over, then ventured inside. She watched the women from the second bus standing in line for a few more minutes. No one said anything about a man in the toilet. The shouting girls made too much noise; no one hear his weak rasping pleas, and it was dark in there, and frankly, none of them to see what was down there. She backed the Chevy Tahoe out and drove slowly away. She stopped briefly and then turned out onto the highway, heading on through the heat toward Phoenix. She watched in her mirror, and she could see the rest stop and the two busses getting smaller and smaller.
<o></o> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> The judge made her wait for a full hour, before declaring that he had failed to appear, ruling in her favor. No one questioned her silly grin; after all, it only seemed natural. She took the Interstate back to her ranch, avoiding that lonely stretch of two-lane blacktop for a long time. She watched the papers and listened to the news for weeks for any word of what had become of him. Hell, she was becoming the best-informed rancher in the foothills. But after a time she stopped keeping up. It was almost six months before anything came of him. A body was found at a rest stop along the highway. Police theorized that the victim had been killed elsewhere and brought there. The body had been dumped in a pit latrine. The chemicals present had tanned his body, making identification and time of death difficult to estimate. But they noted that it must have been in the last thirty days, since a contractor pumps the latrine every month. Six months! How many times had some girl or woman sat over him and relieved herself...and never knew. Hundreds? Thousands? Finally they did identify him, and the sheriff came by. No, she hadn’t seen on in months and months. Not since even before the divorce was final. They found a will. He was very bad about such things, but she had urged him long ago. Then she got a letter from the state, requesting her to appear in probate court. The state presented her a checkbook to an account containing the proceeds of his estate: $91,000. She was shocked. She used it build an expansive bunkhouse with a 35 seat grill.
A woman runs into her ex at a highway rest area, and buddy, she is in a shitty mood.
All I can say is: you were warned. And after all, it's only a smutty story.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
<o></o>
The white Chevy Tahoe SUV rolled across a flat two-lane highway, desert on either side. The lone occupant, a woman, peered out into the dazzle through a pair of oversized department store sunglasses. This lonely stretch always made her nervous and she fretted endlessly over a breakdown or a flat every time she took it. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. The appointment was at two pm; it was only eleven-fifty, plenty of time. This was the last one. Her divorce would be final, once and for all. Her attorney assured her that his attempts to reach the bastard, while completely unsuccessfully, were nonetheless perfectly legal. After he missed this hearing he would be cut out, completely out.
<o></o>
She had almost completely changed her appearance in the last two years. Gone were the leather vests and bracelets. She was straight. She had a steady job. She made up with her mother and they became friends. And then her mom had died, leaving her the ranch. It wasn't a big place, but it was in the tall pines in the foothills and did a steady trade as a dude ranch. There was a cadre of local cowboys who took the tourists out while she keep house and kept the books. Life looked good. And she had kept all of this hidden from him. She had him thinking that she was a waitress and stuck paying off his debts. One more day in court and he was out for good. And he could get drunk, get high, and ride his hog till it killed him. And the sooner the better, so far as she was concerned.
<o></o>
Shimmering heat waves rose off the endless ribbon of highway. The rest area was along here somewhere. She in distress, disgusted at the idea of the old rest stop, having to use the stinky pit toilets. But the waves of intestinal cramps, the pressure in her gut, were telling her she was never going to make it to the I-40 interchange. She'd learned to plan her stops to avoid this old monstrosity, but it didn’t work out this time and now she was in the desperate final stages of holding back a shit. Damn, I hate that place. Just grow up, deal with it, she told herself. There was the sign, one mile. Up ahead she could see a pack of motorcycles pulling out, heading her way. Damn! She didn't need this. They could be his old gang, and she didn't need to be recognized. Not only did she want to make the appointment in anonymity, but also more urgently she wanted to take a crap in peace. She lowered the sun visor and hoped the sunglasses obscured her looks. Though she didn't look much the same as back then. The bikers went roaring by, looking at her with a rapid-fire series of leers and sneering grins. There mush have been forty of them all told. It was them, the same wild bunch. She recognized a few. Luckily they couldn’t recognize her and they roared past. They continued to recede in the rearview mirror.
<o></o>
She pulled the Tahoe into the rest area, and was relieved on seeing the empty parking lot. Looking up and down the highway she saw nothing but the desert, heard nothing but the wind. She opened the door and the heat and light slammed into her. She walked with some discomfort to the concrete block building, and into the dark shadows of the "ladies room". Pushing her sunglasses up onto of her head she surveyed the unhappily familiar sight. Concrete walls, steel sinks, and two wooden doors, each revealing a worn wooden toilet seat atop a red ceramic pipe. The smell was bad, but better than she'd feared. They must have emptied the place for a change. God, this must be the last one of these horrible old things in the whole state. Why did it have to be here? She chose the farthest door, deepest and darkest, and opened the door. Her bowels shifted in anticipation. She heard something! Something down in the pit made a noise! She was gripped with a primordial fear; the idea of something was down there in the dark, something that might get her while she was sitting down. She reached for her keys and found the squeeze light. Lifting the lid cautiously with the pointed toe of a cowgirl boot, she shined the light down into the nasty abyss White bundles of used toilet paper showed against the nasty dark stuff. Oh god she had to shit! What the fuck was it? She didn’t see anything. "Help me..." a voice hissed quietly. She gasped, nearly dropping the light and running! "Help me.." it hissed again. She leaned forward and aimed the tiny light straight down the hole.
<o></o>
There was a person down there! My god! A man! She gasped. His face was bruised and swollen from a bad beating. She'd seen that kind of face before, beaten and kicked till the eyes were almost shut and the lips were think and puffy. This guy was bad. He was lying in several inches of unspeakable brown goo and there were tufts of toilet paper and easily recognizable chunks of human shit around his head. It had to be the bunch of biker she’d just seen leaving. This was some poor bastard that crossed them. And this was just their sort of sick joke. "Lady... please... get help... I think... I think I'm suffocating...," he coughed. “I think there’s gas or something.” She was overcome by another wall of shock. The voice! The beating was so bad that he hadn't recognized him. But it was him! It was her low life ex! Or her low life soon-to-be ex. Goddammit! Why here! Why now? Why her? Bastard! You fucker! This was the low life selfish psychotic motherfucker that had kept her high, sold all her things, chased away her friends, and even pimped her for a while so that he could get a new motorcycle. She’d gotten away from him about three years ago. And now he was intruding on her life again. Why now! Now she was about to be rid of him! She didn't especially want to save him! If she saved him her would eventually fuck her over for her troubles. For one thing, it would fuck up the nearly perfect divorce. He would find out about the ranch! She should just leave, now, just walk away. Just leave the bastard to his fate. Drive away... never look back and never say a word. He coughed again. She kept the pinch light's beam in his eyes, blinding him. She didn't know what he had done to get this, beat and thrown in a filthy toilet, the women's toilet, she was sure that meant something, but what ever he’d done, she was convinced he surely deserved it. He wasn't going to get the ranch! His days of ruling her life were over.
<o></o>
She was going to leave him there, but she had to shit. She absolutely had to. Even now the pain was back. She couldn't make it. She would go to the men’s side, do her business, and get the fuck out of there. She stepped out and let the spring slam the door shut. "Lady..." he hissed, “Lady, I’m suffocating on gas or something” "Lady, call somebody, get them out of here." Right, she though to herself, you just wait right there! She grinned at that. Then she turned to leave... but she didn't. She hesitated. Why not? He would have no idea who it was. So why not just do it? Another wave crossed her pelvis. She listened. There were no sounds except for the breeze. She turned back and faced the door. He had shit on her time and time again, figuratively to be sure, but he deserved everything that was coming to him. But why not take the opportunity. He was completely helpless, and she was completely anonymous. So why not just go in there, sit down and shit on him? Shit on him and drive away. She put her hand on the beaten old door, then sliding the big sunglasses down over her eyes she pushed it open, and then pointing the bright little light down into the toilet seat t blind him, she stepped in.
<o></o>
"Why are you back... did you call 9-1-1?" The door closed with a thump. She aimed the pinch light straight down into the hole. The white toilet seat gleamed in the light; his swollen face was straight under it, perhaps four or five feet down. Oh god… Oh my god… It would drop right on him. She checked the toilet paper supply; there was plenty.
Keeping the light in his eyes, she pulled off a long strip of paper with one hand and laid it across the back of the toilet seat. "Lady! Hey!...what are you doing!" She pulled off another long strip and laid it down the side. She laid down a third strip and then the seat was completely covered. Suddenly it seemed like she might be doing something,.. that wasn’t possible. "Goddamn lady, this isn't a joke, you have to help me... I'm choking on the gas..." She turned her back and undid her belt, the big buckle making a distinctive noise; then the sound of the zipper. "Lady!!!!" he hissed, his voice was low and raspy, strained, the he coughed and choked. "You goddamn bitch... what do you think you're doing? You can't do this!" She slid the tight blue jeans and black cotton panties down with a single motion. Her bear white buns glowed in the indirect light. She felt the air against them. “You can't do this!" She sat gently down.
<o></o>
"Lady...(coughing) what are you doing? Why are you doing this?" She waited there for something to happen, but… but, well nothing... Then a cramp struck her and she felt the movement deep in her bowel. The pain intensified and she groaned. Damn was this a shit or was she giving birth! Finally the pain subsided and felt her sphincter opening. A huge hard shit forced it's way uncomfortably out. Finally it was done. It dropped off and made a soft thud as it landed. "Goddamnit... Ohgodamnit... why are you doing this..." he gasped. “Why are you doing this..” he sounded like he might cry. She resounded with huge fart! One that reverberated loudly in the open chamber. She enjoyed it immensely. Now another movement started, but it was not unpleasant this time. She didn't push; she just sat patiently and let it happen. It took a moment before the movement gently opened her sphincter wide and she felt the warm pleasurable sensation. Hhhhhmmm, sigh ouuuuuuu...it's a big one! She felt it break off. It was another instant before it landed with a disgusting splat. Bombs away! she thought smiling to herself. She knew immediately by the sound, like wet clay on a potter's wheel, that it had hit him and not the water, and hopefully right in the face. "Oh god... damn..." he wheezed. Then there was more another big well-formed log oozing slowly out....mmmmmm. It also fell with another shit-hits-face splat. Ummmm I'll bet you enjoyed that, she thought. Then she felt the end, her sphincter closing with that feeling of satisfaction, punctuated again by another splat. Wow, that was great! She'd just taken a shit right on his upturned face! What a wonderful terrible act of revenge! Something she could keep forever! Now pee on him! She was ready. She relaxed her muscles and enjoyed the warm flow accompanied by a hollow splashing sound coming from underneath her. She was pleasantly surprised and how much she had, it seemed to go on forever. Soon he was spitting and choking, making a disgusting gagging sound. She smiled and thought: he should have held his breath. Then after a long steady and satisfying flow, it slacked to a dribble. She pushed the last bits out, listening to the little splatters. She sat for a few more seconds, and realized she was done. And also, the she was done with him. What a lucky day this turned out to be! She rolled off a big piece of toilet paper and dabbed off her crotch, then opening her legs she casually tossed in it. Then she rolled off a big handful and leaning forward she wiped her butt, she inspected the paper and saw a big dab of brown shit. She held it over the hole for a few seconds before she dropped it. Somehow that seemed even more deliberate. She liked it. She repeated three more times until she was clean.
<o></o>
She got up and pulled up her panties, getting the just right. Then she slipped the blue jeans up, the action punctuated with a brisk zip. Only then after she was completely put back together did she turn and shine the light down. His face was wet; completely wet! And there was shit on him! Her shit. There was shit, literally on his face! One great big shit was lying on his neck, going up onto his chin! She almost laughed out loud, choking it into a sort of snort. At his he looked up, squinting into the bright beam, and coughed, but did not speak. But she had to speak. Even though she new better, she just could resist the urge to tell him off. Still she would whisper her retort so that he wouldn't recognize her. She simply said what came into her head. "I hope that really stinks!" She tipped the seat forward with the toe of her boot and it slammed shut. She opened the door and walked out of the stall, letting the door slam shut. She stopped at the nasty looking sink and washed her hands, using some antiseptic gel from her purse to finish. It was then that she her the shuffling sound of a big diesel motor coming slowly into the parking lot; then the hiss of air brakes. She hurried out into the bright light, moving briskly toward her car.
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A big highway bus was pulling to a stop; University of Arizona emblazoned on it's side. The door opened with a hiss just as she was unlocking her car. She looked up to see a stream of college girls piling off the bus. They had on something like a school uniform, plaid skirts, all the same, and this struck her as very odd. Then it hit her, Lacrosse, they were wearing Lacrosse uniforms. The girls made a beeline for the restroom, all racing and yelling and cat calling and making loud banter. She needed to get out of here, now, before they came screaming back out of there. But she watched anyway, sitting in the Chevy Tahoe with her window halfway down. They did scream all right. But all they screamed was peeee-uuuuuuu! Oh god it stinks! By now the girls were piling up in a line outside the door. They were the very image of athleticism; they looked a bit sweaty, their faces flushed and hair unkempt. So they were going home form a game somewhere. Someone yelled, "hurry up in there or I'm going to piss in my uniform!". Laughter and more banter. Girls came out, some waving their hands in front of their faces to fan the smell away, other girls went in; she made a quick count: twenty-two. Then the bus driver appeared, a think black woman in her forties, and then also several other adults. They walked slowly toward the restroom and got into the line. She started the motor and got the A/C going, then watched in rapt fascination. There were only two stalls; twenty-four women and two stalls. Do the math! Now there was a second bus pulling in, the same color scheme and the same University of Arizona across the side. The scene was repeated, but with only a fewer girls in uniform, and many others in jeans and khaki slacks, and a higher number of adults, almost all female. They all got into the line. One of the few males called cautiously into the men’s restroom, just in case the women had taken it over, then ventured inside. She watched the women from the second bus standing in line for a few more minutes. No one said anything about a man in the toilet. The shouting girls made too much noise; no one hear his weak rasping pleas, and it was dark in there, and frankly, none of them to see what was down there. She backed the Chevy Tahoe out and drove slowly away. She stopped briefly and then turned out onto the highway, heading on through the heat toward Phoenix. She watched in her mirror, and she could see the rest stop and the two busses getting smaller and smaller.
<o></o> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> The judge made her wait for a full hour, before declaring that he had failed to appear, ruling in her favor. No one questioned her silly grin; after all, it only seemed natural. She took the Interstate back to her ranch, avoiding that lonely stretch of two-lane blacktop for a long time. She watched the papers and listened to the news for weeks for any word of what had become of him. Hell, she was becoming the best-informed rancher in the foothills. But after a time she stopped keeping up. It was almost six months before anything came of him. A body was found at a rest stop along the highway. Police theorized that the victim had been killed elsewhere and brought there. The body had been dumped in a pit latrine. The chemicals present had tanned his body, making identification and time of death difficult to estimate. But they noted that it must have been in the last thirty days, since a contractor pumps the latrine every month. Six months! How many times had some girl or woman sat over him and relieved herself...and never knew. Hundreds? Thousands? Finally they did identify him, and the sheriff came by. No, she hadn’t seen on in months and months. Not since even before the divorce was final. They found a will. He was very bad about such things, but she had urged him long ago. Then she got a letter from the state, requesting her to appear in probate court. The state presented her a checkbook to an account containing the proceeds of his estate: $91,000. She was shocked. She used it build an expansive bunkhouse with a 35 seat grill.