While I held my gun to her head, my fingers climbed her legs, looking for any hidden weapon. I was surprised when I felt my fingers sink into the wet,...soft skin of her bare crotch...The fear in her eyes as I take off my pack and press down on top of her. Her crying turning to imploring. My hands quickly undoing my belt, pushing my gear and uniform down. Fear grips me, knowing what I am about to do...I hesitate, she attacks me with fingernails across my face, clawing. I let my anger consume me.I. I was tinkering on my old tattered carburetor when an unruly mop of brunette hair fell into the engine compartment of my Ford. ‘Hey,’ she said in her Southern drawl that made it sound like ‘hah-yee.’ ‘Martin’s gonna be hard to beat, ta-night.’ I turned my head to look at the girl but didn’t stand up. Every race night girls like her showed up in the pits hoping to find someone–anyone–who could spirit them away from Hairlip, South Carolina and their alcoholic mother and an over-affectionate. More

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