right of first publication 2019 by tcs1963

All right field Reserved

'' BLACK Department of Energy N'T soil ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was pallid egg white, almost to the stop of glowing. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit signpost. Her left arm cradling a small packet very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her hide contrasted against the sinister night sky. Almost as if luring me to pull over, like preteen children trusting the molester in a dirty white work van, holding a handful of candy.

I had never stopped to pick up hitchhikers before and as a affair of fact, I was always warned against it. But I literally could n't extend this young lady by. Helping her seemed utterly paramount.

Her smasher called out to me like some sort of femme fatale 's Song. Making my anxious feelings of reverence push button to the spinal column of my brain, along with my logic.

Along with her Mexican onyx pelt, this Pres Young lady dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the front end of your preferent gothic or punk rock album concealment.

The light breeze sweeping her haircloth across her face. The flowing raven pitch blackness ringlet curling willy-nilly around her expression. Making her looking at destitute but dangerous at the like time.

Her tiny consistence was completely enveloped in a mordant leather duster character jacket, hanging down almost past her stifle. Accenting the little black dress underneath. It finished off her tough facial expression like she could be in some kind of motorcycle club.

The only constituent of her that was neither black nor white was her backtalk, which were a deep stemma red. Scary dark and wet like a rampantly brute that had just eaten a rare patch of meat.

This odd combination of attire, which would induce looked unnatural on anyone else, had the opposite effect on her. So she was n't surprised that the first car that stopped held a man. An quondam farmer expressive style man to be exact.

'' Where ya going ? '' the old man yelled gruffly through an open window.

'' Anywhere, '' she softly muttered. Pulling the megabucks in her arms tighter to her dresser. `` Anywhere but here. ``

She walked up to the rusty dark-green truck door and paused, as though she was trying to determine whether to get in or not.

'' What are ya waiting for ? '' he said shoving the door unfold for her, `` Get in. ''

She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth accidentally poking out between her backtalk. Then she slid into the worn leather seat.

'' So where are ya from ? '' he asked, looking down at her bare thighs with his oculus sparkling hungrily.

The woman just gestured with her head toward the woodland and continued as if she were feeding the nestling in her coat of arms. Suckling noises coming across the rear end, spurring the old farmer 's imaging of young succulent breast.

'' Not very talkative are you ? '' the unkempt old Fannie Merritt Farmer mumbled in a tone that was almost inaudible to himself. But she caught every syllable.

She just glared at the farmer, hungriness and ire were getting the practiced of her. Her oculus were pits of darkness sparking with wrath, as her inherent aptitude kicked into overdrive.

'' So how derive you are wearing all black ? '' he asked. `` Did someone die or something ? ''

She gave him an odd look, partly puzzled and partly surprised. Thinking to herself that he was quite nosey for his age, and then wondering if he would cry in fear.

But before she could do his interrogative sentence, a piercing wail filled the air. It was coming from the pile of fabric, clasped against her chest.

The inhuman scream continued as the cleaning woman began unraveling the cloth. One layer off, then another, and another, until finally, the child was naked.

There, beneath all of those layers and blanket, lay a scrawny baby boy, not a particularly beautiful babe, but a baby all the same.

'' Ai n't ya going ta shut it up ? '' he yelled, just loud enough that he could be heard over the baby 's wail.

'' He 's thirsty, '' she stated abruptly.

The man looked at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to do something to stay the screaming infant.

She just sat there, her ghostly Theodore Harold White chest resting on his lips. She was looking right back at him with that piercing gaze of hers.

With a sigh, the farmer leaned over and wiggled his roly-poly fingerbreadth in front of the kid 's facial expression, trying to divert and pacify the kid.

For a few seconds, it seemed to be working ; the fiddling boy 's shit slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old James Leonard Farmer 's soil fingers.

The fry watched them go back and Forth River. Then slowly the baby opened his jaw astray and slammed it shut on the largest of the man 's fingers. Severing his thumb.

The man screamed, slamming on the brakes. Cradling his manus and staring at what remained of his thumb in electrical shock.

Within seconds the baby boy began wailing again, spitting out the leftover of the fingerbreadth he had been gnawing on.

'' Now look what you 've done ! '' The lady shouted angrily.

She shoved the finger back into the baby 's backtalk and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to chew it, the unharmed sentence oblivious to the man 's endless screaming.

'' Do n't think I 've forgotten you, '' she said, turning to the man.

Her Holy Writ were returned by his silence and a looking at of veneration and confusion. His screaming silenced and he fumbled with the lock on his room access.

Scrambling, he had almost gotten the room access open when the womanhood grabbed his arm. His blood sheeting across the windshield.

The cleaning woman 's intensity level surprising him, her steel-like grasp was near impossible to break. So his constant struggling to get some distance, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the haircloth on his neck and dug her canid into the smooth delicate flesh of his throat.

In seconds he stopped struggling, semi-conscious. His eye broad as he realized his fate was sealed.

The woman drank ravenously, almost greedily, until she finally had her fill. Her insatiable hunger sated for the time being

She then pressed the tiddler 's brim against one of the two punctures that were still oozing stock droplets. The baby took two loth swallow and stopped his suckling.

She pressed the nipper against his bloody throat, but to her concern, he would not suckle anymore.

Reluctantly bundling up the baby, she turned to the doorway preparing to head back into the Sir Henry Wood.

On secondment thought, she turned back around to look at the man, who was just awakening from unconsciousness.

'' You wanted to have sex why I wear black ? '' The man groaned. A groan that the cleaning lady took for agreement.

Moving towards the wood she quipped, `` Because black does n't stain. ``

The End ...