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WARNING! Coarse language- sexual content.

PART TWENTY-FOUR

The buses rolling down Interlachen Drive jolted Caleb from his lazy, heavy lidded state of semi-consciousness to full alert like a five-a.m. fire alarm.

Thoughts of the previous two afternoons’ observations had Caleb reaching for his field glasses as he scanned Interlachen Elementary for signs of Hot Mama. The two preceding afternoons, little Miss fit-bitch had cycled up to school within ten minutes of the yellow behemoths lining up after their noisy clamber down Interlachen Drive. Caleb eagerly shifted his binoculars left and right in an urgent desire to again spy Hot Mama’s Lycra clad ass.

Thinking of her impatiently pacing back and forth in front of the bike rack as she waited for her daughter to exit the school brought a grin to his face. “Nothing like a couple bitches in need of training to make life interesting, eh Jake?” he asked, looking down and patting his suddenly engorged member. “Come out and show me your strut, Hot Mama! Show me your strut!”

The stand of woods where Caleb hid provided an excellent view of the school’s southwest side. The parking lot, which had filled with the cars of school staff early in the morning, abutted the bike rack which nestled between the large main lot and a smaller, eighteen car blacktop one that stood directly in front of the school’s far left-hand corner.

The afternoon sun beat mercilessly on the parking lot’s blacktop, sometimes raising the temperature as high as a foot scalding, two-hundred-degrees. Eight rows of overflowing serpentine bike racks sat nestled on a rectangle of white concrete rather than black asphalt, but even there the merciless Florida sun made things hot, hot, hot.

Caleb reached down and unzipped his pants in anxious anticipation of again watching a sweaty Hot Mama strutting impatiently before his eyes. Caleb’s lips stretched in a smile as he recalled watching the hot and bothered Hot Mama patting sweat from her full, barely concealed breasts. “Photographs and mammaries, that blow-job you’ll give to me,” he sang softly to the ancient Jim Croce tune. Holding the binoculars in his left hand he used his right to pull his now aching penis slowly out of the clammy prison of his boxers. Stroking it to fullness, he began to wonder if perhaps he had missed Hot Mama’s arrival and felt consternation at his inability to find his prey.

Caleb’s lips lost their smile as his scan of mostly moms plus a few dads failed to reveal Hot Mama. The throngs that rode to the bike rack and waited on their spawn was a distraction and Caleb’s moment of desire was quickly replaced with red-hot anger.

“Now where the fuck is she?” he asked himself, shoving his now flaccid penis back in his shorts. Lowering the field glasses, Caleb blinked, swept the sweat from his brow and brought the binoculars back to his face. Caleb scanned the adults who stood in small groups chatting, each of them trying to occupy the tiny patch of shade that the school’s roof overhang afforded. “Ain’t gonna get no shade, dumb fucks,” he whispered. “Suns in the west and that’s exactly where your standing. Stupid ovejas.”

A large contingent of parents parked their cars in the lot of Saint Peter’s Church rather than cue up in the lengthy line of vehicles that snaked into Interlachen Elementary. Saint Peter’s parking lot had two entrances, one just west of the school on Interlachen Drive and the other around the corner on Community Drive. Entering the lot from Community gave drivers elbow room from the throngs and allowed for quicker access to students, but the price of a two to three-hundred-yard walk was more than the average Interlachen parent was willing to pay.

It was undeniably faster for parents to park their cars at Saint Pete’s and walk to Interlachen, but most parents were content to wait in the comfort of their air-conditioned cars rather than brave the Florida heat for the two-and-a-half-minutes required to walk to the school and the subsequent wait under the sun.

Parents crossing from the church began to cross back with children in tow. As the throngs began to thin Caleb spied Hot Mama dressed in a tight, revealing dress rather than the scanty workout clothes he’d seen her in the previous five times she’d come to his attention. “Well shit,” he said focusing his field glasses sharply on his prey, “how long have you been hiding there in plain sight?”