Sweet perfume almost has him licking his lips, like a taste of refreshing watermelon on a really hot day. Jon has no choice but to run in place. Still...jogging at a decent pace, he pivots a little, to see where the perfume is coming from. It isn't like any he’s ever smelled, and he thinks the woman wearing it must be special. Suddenly he spots the brunette about a foot to his right. Jon inches closer, puts his nose upward and sharply takes in the air again, to be sure that she is the one.. "Figures, fucking Brady boy special – mother fucking 5 inch cocktail wiener," she hissed at him. She pulled his briefcase from him and tossed it up higher on the bank. "Fucking fag carrying a purse," she reached around again and squashed his package. "Fucking like a rock you cracker fags get fear boners so easy. Get your pants off boy." No," he barked out in defiance. The gun struck him across the back then again on the back of his head. He dropped to his knees crying as he held the back of his. More

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