This morning, for the first time in his life, Carl Fenton was reading a news story with his name in it that he didn’t like, in fact it was very upsetting. The last twenty-four hours had been very upsetting for Carl Fenton. Only yesterday he had been informed that his son, his only child had been brutally murdered. He had been forced to meet with his first ex-wife, to whom he’d not spoken in eight years, for the sole purpose of identifying their son’s body. Needless to say, yesterday had been the worst day of his life. Today wasn’t shaping up to be much better. He had awoken this morning in the armchair in his study with the worst hangover he’d had in years from drinking himself to sleep the night before. And now he was reading that his son ‘was murdered by the same woman who had killed Martin Taylor only the week ago’, and ‘the same defective detective who had investigated the Jack Richards disappearance for a month without progress was on the case’. It was all very upsetting, which. As I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror and did my makeup I got hard. I looked at my eyes and preened at myself. I looked like a slut. What a whore, I thought… The door of the van slid back right next to my door. I was taken by surprise. I looked to my left and saw a man crawling backwards out of the side door of the van and holding what looked like a stirrup of a black leather sex swing. It was just dark enough that I couldn’t tell if it really was. He started to close the door and turned to look at my window. I have tinted windows, but he could undoubtedly tell I was staring at his contraption and at him. The door slammed with a loud locking sound. He walked off to the restrooms and disappeared. I looked at the next car over and noticed a man watching me. His body movements looked like he was jacking off while he watched. I realized that this was a cruising place, and I was being cruised. Another guy walked by from the restroom and watched me as he kept going.
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