The Mouth Seducers

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Pete Stringer slouched down the alleyway, hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. It was a cool night, not cold, but with a touch of rain in the air. He had the thin jacket zipped to his neck. He looked very much like the dozens of bums who scav-aged nightly in the downtown area.

It was late, an hour before midnight, Pete was not looking for trash bins and garbage cans; he was prowling for a car. Any good late-model heap, preferably one of the popular makes and models.

He came out of the dark narrow alley and paused, peering at the half-dozen cars parked in the square lot between the buildings. There was one… a Ford.

To his right, at the side door of a slate gray building, was a dark Mustang. Searching the area with his eyes, Pete moved toward it, feeling in his jacket pocket for the hot wire.

A girl came into the dim yellow light of the side door and stopped to fish in her purse. Pete slid toward the wall. The girl was a knockout… he looked at her tits. Very damn nice. She was a honey-blonde, a red ribbon in her hair, pretty face, wearing one of the fashionable maxi coats, open from the neck. Under the coat she wore a mini; she had a pair of great legs… Jesus!

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