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Warning! Coarse Language- Violent Sexual References.


Caleb shook his head hard. “Listen, you little pussy. You got a job to do, so shake it off! You’re here because Skylar’s dead, and if you act like some weak, fucking, boo-hoo-hoo quat just because you see some scrawny little kid who reminds you of Skylar, then you’re not fit to do Elohim’s work. What the hell would Bishop Scudder say? He’d probably cut my balls off and feed ‘em to the dogs, laughing while he tells me I ain’t got no use for ‘em no how. Now focus!” he hissed, thrusting the binoculars with such force that his head jerked back.

The view the binoculars provided told Caleb that Hot Mama was giving ponytail what for. “Hey, Ponytail, don’t pay to make Hot Mama wait out in the hot sun,” he said, a grin rising from the right side of his face. “Looks like Ponytail’s getting a tongue lashing, just like good ole Hot Mama’s gonna give me.”

Caleb read Stacie’s gestures as flags of submissiveness and Marti’s face, along with the cowering expressions on Skylar and Sara, told Caleb that Marti was using the moment to establish dominance. “You are the alpha-bitch, ain’t cha, Hot Mama? You give Ponytail what she’s got coming. Looks likes ole teach is learning a lesson here,” he chuckled.

“Oop! Looks like teacher’s throwing in the towel, showing her flanks, and heading for cover: Might as well roll over on yer back and let Hot Mama put her teeth into yer neck,” Caleb observed. “Oh! Now Hot Mama’s laying into them little girls? That don’t hardly seem fair, Hot Mama. That just earned you some extra special attention before I’m done giving you my special sauce.”

Caleb watched as Hot Mama’s spawn unlocked her bike from the bike rack. Once spawn had the bike unlocked, Hot Mama turned on her heels and started walking toward the crosswalk that linked Saint Peters and Interlachen Elementary. “Woah!” Caleb hissed as Hot Mama stepped into the crosswalk directly in front of a turning car. “Damn, bitch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had cojones underneath that ‘lil white dress of yours.” Caleb let out a single bark of laughter, “And now you’re giving that poor mofo of a driver what for? Damn, Hot Mama, I am so going to enjoy fucking you into submission,” he added, a smile spreading across his face.

Once his prey had crossed the street, Caleb’s view became far more oblique. Saint Peter the Apostle’s parking lot was once again as empty as the Interlachen’s bike rack, the sole vehicle remaining from the odd dozen that had occupied the prime real estate closest to Interlachen Elementary being a dark burgundy Lexus GX SUV. “Well, shit,” Caleb elongated shit to she-it, “of course Hot Mama’s gotta have the baddest Mommy Car in the lot. Good God a mighty, what you must do with those lips and knockers of yours to get some horny hubby to buy you a SUV like that! Damn, am I gonna have fun fucking you up the ass,” Caleb added, again feeling an aching heat rise in his loins.

Caleb watched as the odd little Skylar simulacrum climbed into the backseat of the SUV and then as Hot Mama threw her spawn’s backpack after her. Hot Mama lowered the Lexus’ rear seats as Spawn walked to the rear door behind the driver’s seat. Hot Mama lifted the little bike into the Lexus as Spawn pulled from inside the vehicle. Hot Mama’s deft manipulation of the little bike from behind showed the muscular strength the woman possessed. “Damn, Hot Mama. Them ain’t just show muscles, are they? You got some power in you. Well good. I like it when bitches fight, it makes their submission that much sweeter.”

Spawn climbed out of the SUV and walked around to ride shotgun as Hot Mama slipped into the SUV’s driver’s seat. “Okay, Hot Mama, let’s see where you go,” Caleb declared, zooming out from his close-up to a more encompassing panoramic view.

Caleb watched as Hot Mama exited the church parking lot and turned right, away from and beyond the entrance to Trinity East. “Okay,” he whispered, “now just turn left on Community Drive and you’ll narrow my search right down.”

Caleb lost sight of the GX 460 as Hot Mama drove beyond Saint Peter’s church. Caleb scanned left and right, searching for the burgundy vehicle to either reappear going northbound on Community Drive, or, as Caleb hoped, to remain out of his sight line as it traveled southward through Trinity Preserve’s security gate and into the neighborhood via Robert Trent Parkway. Caleb slowly twisted the field glasses back and forth, scanning left and right as he counted sixty heartbeats. When the van did not reenter his sight line Caleb let out a low whistle and declared, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner! I know where you live Hot Mama, at least what neighborhood, and I promise you it won’t be long afore I come calling.”