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The Hitch-hiker
I'd been ambling along for an hour down this arid road before I flagged down the car. Many had passed by, they always do, but they’re not all right for me.
This one is right. A young girl. Not too pretty, not too young. Just right. Vulnerable. Open to being waved down by a good-looking hunk like me. No point in being modest, I am a handsome devil.
We chat about this and that. She hasn't been down this road before. For me it's a road well-travelled. I describe the beauty of the area. She relaxes.
I tell her I'll treat her to an ice-cream at the next lay-by, which is just ahead, round the next corner. The van belongs to my cousin, I tell her. It’s where I was walking when she stopped to pick me up, as I do every weekend. I didn’t tell her that, though. I told her I was aiming for the next town, 10 miles on.
We'll draw up, he'll hand over two cones. One will contain a little something extra, along with the chocolate flake. She'll be asleep before she knows it, and I'll be a hundred dollars richer.
She'll come round, trussed up in the back of his truck. I'll be on my way in her car to have a little fun.
My cousin will have his fun later. I've never asked just what he does with them. I really don't want to know. No, really, I don't.
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