Trailer Trash

Nick worked quick. He had done this so many times he could do it in his sleep, if he slept.

All it took was her turning around to show him her ass. this time he had asked for the phone, and she bent to pick it up off of the sofa in a less that tactful exaggeration. It was the same thing every time. She would turn and he would stick the needle in. One, two, fucking three.

Now this slut was lying on the floor next to his feet. All the flirt and the dontchawannafuckme glances slipped away into an easy sleep. Just how he liked em. No muss no fuss.

He got the lintless cloth from his small back pack and wiped the doorknob, checked the house just in case he missed something.

Only once had he fucked up. A girl he was collecting had had a boyfriend in the back room who had snuck in after her guardian had left for the morning. He found the kid lying in the bedroom when he had gone looking for the paper in which he would take to send the note confessing that she had run away.

There the little punk was, under the sheets, hard-on poking up like an army tent, ready for the girl to come in and fuck his small brains out. What a surprise for both of them. He had thought fast, pumped the kid with the sleeping meds, and took him out to teh van with the girl. After an ass chewing, the organization worked with another organization and the kid got sent out of the country. Now that kid was somewhere in Pakistan working as a house boy to a shiek or some fucking shit. Getting his ass raped by a bunch of towel heads was more likely the story.

That was how Calvin had become his boss. They had been neck in neck, not because Calvin was good, but because Calvin knew how to kiss the right asses. Now the fucker was his boss, and Nick wanted to pop his head off of his shoulders like a fucking zit.

The house was clear, and soon the phone rang. The van was in place outside the trailer. Nick threw on the wig from the pack and a backwards cap, and picked up the girl. He threw her arm around his shoulder and held her like she was just some drunk having to be helped around.

The door slid open and in she went, just as sweet as you please. Nick knew that in seconds she would be tied and gagged, and a needle ready to keep her sleepy while she lay in the hidden compartment in the van floor for the short trip to her next destination. He knew all of this because that used to be his job. He would do the tying, he would do the driving sometimes. The big man knew soon, though, that his talents were being wasted in transport, so moved him up to snatching.

He jumped into the van, then jumped out on a poorly lit corner a few blocks down looking like himself once again. Tomorrow he would take the drive to where the girl, Holly, was and fill in the bosses on what her story was, and to take his payment. He would hang around for another couple of weeks in the park, and move on, never to be seen again. He wished he could take off tonight. Go back to his condo in LA, and never see Monica again, but that wasn\'t going to happen. If he left the same night as the girl, there would susppicion. He had talked to cops before, a few times when the girls he snatched came up missing, but every time they were perfunctory questions to ease the minds of the few left behind that pretended to care that their little darling was missing. The cops knew about these girls, knew they had probably got themselves knocked up, freaked out and took off for fear of beating from the old man, or threatened with back room, cheap abortions.

They were dispensable. That\'s why they were so easy. No matter what the high aspirations of the bosses may be, they were the best. Few questions, very few fliers posted on telephone poles looking for them.

He went into his seedy trailer and lay on his bed staring up the ceiling for hours. Her tear filled eyes stalking his mind. Raping his thoughts. She was not welcome, and yet there she was. He could not shake her.





As he sat at his kitchen table, he heard the knock he knew was coming. He had heard her door open and close next door, heard her walking along the gravel, through the gate and up to his stoop. He rose as a man sleep walking. If he avoided her now, there would be suspicion. Avoid suspicion. No one had ever had to tell him that rule. He lived it, ate it, breathed it.

"Hi, Ian." She said, looking down at her own hands, wringing together in nervousness. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, hey how you doing this morning?" he tried to sound casual, but his voice was horse.

She passed by him, smelling of soap and flowery cheap cologne that she wore surprisingly well. Inside she turned, still unable to look at him directly, "I wanted to apologize. I acted like such an idiot last night."

He heard the crack in her voice, and knew she was close to tears over her drunken confessions. He had the terrible need to hold her and comfort her, but he held back. He moved around her to the kitchen and got a mug from the cupboard, filling it with coffee, then handing her the mug, "Don\'t worry about it. You think you\'re the first person to cry on a shoulder before?"

She smiled weakly and sat turning the mug around and around on the table, not sipping a drop, "I know it sounds so.....well, I don\'t know. I really have never done that before. I don\'t tell people about myself. Ever. It\'s not that I am afraid of them judging me, exactly, it\'s just..."

"You let them in, they have power. You like to be in control. Took you a long time to be in control, and you\'re not willing to give that up." He said all this is a daze, looking passed her to somewhere far off.

"Sounds like you know something about all that. Am I right?"

"I gotta go do a job," he began, wanting her gone, but before he knew it, he was asking her to come back, "but if your around later, come by, and I\'ll cook dinner tonight."



In his beat up pick up truck, he blasted himself for inviting her over. It\'s just not fucking done. He was pissed at himself. "I need a fucking vacation."

That was it. Fuck Calvin and his lackies. He would take a few weeks off, get his head straight. Maybe it wasn\'t the girl. Maybe he was burnt out. Needed some time to chill out and relax. He hadn\'t taken a day off in four years. Always on the job, always searching, finding, planning, snatching. This girl had just been something inside of him screaming for a fucking break. Go get a peice of ass from a girl who wasn\'t hogtied and screaming for mercy for once.

That was it. Mexico, a beach, some pina coladas, some good Mexican pussy.

Mexico it was.



There she was. She was late today. Very unlike her. The man with the greying hair and deeply lined, sunbaked face grinned wide to himself. Just the thought that he knew she was never late to anything, especially not her job was a happy one. It meant he was getting to know her, even if she didn\'t know his name yet.

Monica hurried to put on her apron and avoid her bosses hawk-like eyes as she rushed to the coffee pot and grabbed it, heading to her tables and refreshing the customer\'s cups.

This guy had her scrambled. She was never late to work. Her fear of getting fired was too great. She needed the little bit of money this place held for her. It was her only lifeline, and she was letting this man she didn\'t even know get in the way of that.

She would not let it happen, she told herself. At dinner tonight, she would politely tell him that she could no longer see him. That was it. No more. What was she thinking? She didn\'t need a man in her life. Romance was for fairy tails not real life. Real men were pigs and were only out for one thing, no matter the pretty bows and ribbons they attached to it.

As she reached the table in the corner, she smiled. Her favorite customer. Another man, but sweet, older. He was there every day for breakfast. Hadn\'t missed a day in two years. He sat by himself and ate, smiling widely at her when ever she graced him with a coffee fill up, or asking if he was doing fine on his order. He also left her tips that she still felt were much too generous, but could not turn them down.

"How you doing today?"

His voice was deep, and a little whispered. She thought he must be very lonely to come in here every day, "I\'m late! Pray for me that I don\'t get fired."

He smiled, "They wouldn\'t dare fire my favorite waitress! You\'re the best one they have."

She winked at him and went about her job. He left a ten dollar tip and left with a smile and wave to Monica Raeanne Lewis. Monica Raeanne Lewis, born October 3rd, 1984, 5 pounds, 4 ounces, mother Ilene Lewis, father unknown.



Calvin\'s place was in the mountains. It was the only house around for miles, and also not really his house. It was one of the big man\'s many places, and would have been Nick\'s if it weren\'t for fucking up. Yeah, he needed a fucking vacation, alright.

After pushing in the code at the gate, Nick drove up the short lane to the modest ranch house. It was modest on the inside and out, from anyone that didn\'t know where the hidden door was. Behind the hidded door was a staircase leading down to a secret basement three times larger than the house that disguised it.

Once he was in the basement, he went down a hall to the end room where he was sure Calvin and the others who were not guarding the other areas of the property and house would be.

Sure enough, there they were, already breaking the little bitch in. Kevin Lane had her tied to the "Table". The Table was a flat rectangled, slightly cushioned board with narrow boards shooting out from all four corners. On each narrow board there were cuffs like on beds in mental institutions. This way a girl could have her arms and legs spread open.

All around the room were various racks like these. One that looked like a saw horse used in carpentry, three large wooden X\'s along one wall, two hospital type beds, and of course bleachers, where the men could sit around and watch the "training".

The girl formerly know as Holly was not being fucked at the moment, but Nick could tell she had felt a few cocks before his arrival by the swollen and raw vagina between her legs. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, but he knew that she was wide awake, and praying to the God she had before never spoken to.

Ike Mallory was taking pictures with his Nikon. These pictures would be hand delivered to specific buyers around the country. These buyers would then call in bids to a 800 number disguised as a auction house for rare books. Each month buyers from every state would receive small catalogs with pictures of rare books, and encoded messages. These messages may contain descriptions of new girls not taken by other buyers, girls up for resale, or addresses of were to send requests for certain types of girls.

There had been ten requests this month for a blonde teen with large breasts. This one should go fast.

Nick walked over and sat next to Calvin. He began to speak, but Calvin held up his hand, a sick grin across his face as he watched Richie Noone walk over to Holly and stick two fingers up her ass to wake her up. That did the trick, her eyes shot open wide and she began to squirm against the restraints. Behind the duct tape over her mouth, she tried to scream out, but it was so muffled, that the loud men calling over one another could not hear a sound.

After laughing hardily, Calvin turned to Nick, his smile disappearing, and suspicion covering his face, "Nice one, Nicky boy, but kinda fast. Never knew you to be so quick. You sure it\'s not going to blow up on us? I would hate another fuck up like the Maryland cunt."

Nick felt his patience leave him. He wanted to beat this fucker down, but held back. "It\'s covered. She wrote the note yet?"

"She\'s been a little busy, but I should be able to get it out to our Vegas guy by tonight."

"Good. Good deal. After I finish off this Southern Colorado job, I\'m gonna take a few weeks off." there he said it. It was out there, and Calvin could fuck himself.

"Really? Never heard of you wanting time off. Anything wrong? I should know if anything fucked u-"

"Nothing is fucked up, Calvin. I want some fucking time off. You got me in these crap holes getting these skanks while you get to sit up here in your peaceful little retreat and get your cock wet forty times a day. I just want to take off for a few weeks and mellow out."

Calvin heard the rise in Nick\'s voice, and knew something was up, but did not pursue it. He knew what to do, and it began with placating the fucking weasel, "Sure, kid, no problem. Once you wrap up at the trailer park, take off. Just come back here when you\'re all rested up." He smiled his best fake smile, "Start now, take a crack at your conquest there," raising his hand to indicate Holly.

"Not today, Cal. I didn\'t sleep much. Gonna get back and drink a fifth and head off to dreamland. Mail me my cut."

"Any info on this one? Any boyfriends or anyone to start a fuss?"

"Boyfriend, yeah, if you can call him that. Followed him for a week, wasn\'t exactly in love, you know? fucking about four other skanks, playing her up. No sleep lost for him. The uncle wants to fuck her, but won\'t miss her much. Probably sleep better without the blue balls."

"She didn\'t let him in?"

"Thinks she too good. Struts around in front of him and anyone else that would look. He had a puppy dog face. She didn\'t give it up to him, just every other fucker that would come around sniffin."

"Well, then, we have something to offer the uncle if he starts any shit, now don\'t we. It would be like merry fucking christmas to the poor dude. Take her somewhere and let him fuck the life out of her. May be worth watching. Maybe we\'ll call you so you can watch."

"You call me off of my vacation, I may fucking cut your throat."

Ike came over and sat where Nick had just deserted, "Never saw Nick turn down meat before. The fucker goin veggietarien on us?"

"Naw, but something is up. Watch him. Put some bugs at his place. If he\'s flakin, the big man will wanna know."