Scene 13

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The next day, bright and early a dumpy station wagon pulls up with the Regional safety inspector. They knew he was coming but didn’t expect him this early. “Shit,” Butch mutters as he looks out the trailer window, “It’s the fucking inspector.” Agnes stares dispassionately at Butch. Things are still cool between them. Kind of a truce of sorts. An agreement to contain hostilities temporarily. Eventually they would have to deal with the issues, but right now too much was going on to deal with ‘emotional issues’.

The Inspector eased himself out of his dusty car. His first task was to mount a futile attempt to pull his sagging pants sufficiently over his fat ass and bulging stomach. His brown plaid shirt was packed to overflowing with inspector. Although it was tucked in, the bottom two buttons were working overtime to keep his bulk fully contained. Beyond his obesity, he looked like the usual brand of southern hick official. Greasy black hair combed back to reveal his fading hairline. Other wise a fine piece of manhood. He bends into the vehicle to grab an array of assorted forms off the dash board and pick-up his official clip board. He waddles his way toward the trailer.

Butch is clearly nervous, “Agnes, you mind doing the honors?” Agnes, reluctantly, “Yea, yea… Here to save your ass as usual?” He can help smirking. Agnes unbuttons a couple of extra buttons on her silky blouse to let more cleavage show. She runs her hands through her hair to muss it up a bit and wets her lips. She takes a deep breath and gestures with her hands, “Show time!” She opens the door to the trailer and closes it quickly behind her. Extending her hand of greeting from the top step, which requires her to bend over of course in the process, she introduces herself. “Hi. My name is Angus. I’m the administrative coordinator. You must be that fine Inspector we were told about… Mr.?”

“Ah. Ah hem.” The inspector clears his throat. Trying to recover some composure after being presented an furtive look at Agnes’ breasts. “Mr. Thomas. Ah. I was supposed to meet a Mr. Butch…” Mr. Thomas checks his sheets in search of the last name. Agnes touches his arm gently. “He is away currently taking care of some urgent business. We expected you a little later. He said if you did arrive that I could show you around. Agnes moves down the stairs, brushing up against him as she does. Like a cat.            “Would that be all right?” Mr. Thomas is flushed. “Sure, that would be fine.”

Agnes takes him on a tour of the facility. Whenever possible in the conversation she would use an opportunity to casually touch him or take his arm. Once she stretched to show him a specific detail in the food wagon pantry and accidentally ‘slipped’ to fall backwards into his grasp. He had to maul her somewhat to get her fully erect. Several times durintg their tour, Agnes bent over to retrieve some bit of trash off the midway, complaining about the negligence of the clean-up crew. By so doing of course she was exposing her tits, or a good deal of them to his hungry eyes. By the end of the tour he was fairly entranced by her breasts and had a difficult time hiding his fixation.

He did insist however on reviewing the Gravitron and made a rather lengthy inspection of the mechanism, scribbling notes as he went. When he looked a little too intent on his investigation, Agnes complained of the heat and asked if they could retire to her Air conditioned trailer for a rest. She emphasized her exhaustion and overheating by shaking her blouse and opening the neckline even further, in an attempt to cool herself. Her tactic was successful. Mr. Thomas obediently followed her back to her refuge.

Butch welcomes them back at the trailer. Agnes makes the necessary introductions. They all gather uncomfortably around the small dining room table. The place looked cleaner than it had been in a good long time. There were even daisies on the table… a first.

Mr. Thomas delivers and briefly explains the required forms to be filled out regarding the accident. He looks through his paper work to verify the procedures he is required to follow. Carnivals are not his primary responsibility. Commercial building are. In fact Inspection of carnival equipment and accidents really didn’t fall within anyone’s purview. The problem was, because of the fatal injuries, someone was required to conduct an on-site inspection and file a stack of form with the state in conjunction with the police and coroner’s reports.

He studiously reviews his documents, asking the required information. Lot of routine, factual background information; How many years in business, Corporate I.D. #’s, Full names of the registered owners and the like. Next came questions regarding the events that led up to and including the accident. Who worked the rides. Who was responsible for setting them up and tearing them down. Who maintained them. And, of course the accident itself. Although he had read the police report a couple of times, he was required by law to go through it again.

When he requested to see the equipment maintenance logs, Butch and Agnes exchange uncomfortable glances at each other as Butch turns over the requested documents. Agnes was the first to break the awkward tension. “Can I get anyone a drink?” Butch looks up. Agnes disrupts Mr. Thomas’ concentration by touching his shoulder. He ignores her. He begins to look suspicious as he combs through the individual sheets in the logs. Agnes dumps a handful of ice cubes with a noticeable clink into three large glasses and fills them up with water from the tap. Mr. Thomas grumbles, “This is very unusual… These maintenance logs appear as if they were all filled out at the same time by the same handwriting, instead of over the last two years.” Peeks briefly at them over the tops of his glasses. “Are you sure these records were filled out according to the schedule indicated?” Butch leans back distractedly, “Yea, sure.” Agnes nods. After further review the inspector pauses and remarks with an moderately accusatory tone, “In particular, the pages here (showing them the pages) from the last several months on the Gravitron look like they were written from the same pen.” Agnes and Butch exchange worried glances.

Butch covers by acting defensive, “Well that just can’t be. My family has been in this business for over 40 years! We’ve always played the game by the rules. What are you trying to accuse us of here!”

The inspector’s voice becomes more intense, “I’m not accusing you of anything… yet. I’m simply making an observation. It’s my job to examine the facts. There’s a lot of heat over this.  One of the kids who got hurt, who’s laying in the hospital in a coma as we speak, well her father just happens to be the chief of police in Newberry county.” Butch and Agnes take note of this new complication.

Agnes covers Butch’s hand to quiet him while giving a warning glance. “What Butch means to say is that we really don’t see how that would be possible. To the best of our knowledge these forms were filled out correctly and on a timely basis.” Mr. Thomas grunts a disinterested, “Hmmm,” and returns to his study.

Mr. Thomas shakes his head, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to recommend to the department that we do further investigation into these irregularities.” He begins to gather his papers. Butch rolls his eyes. Agnes questions carefully, “What does that mean?” He pedantically replies, “Well for one thing, it means that for the time being, the Gravitron is off limits.” Butchis getting kind of perturbed. “You can’t do that!”

The inspector gives Butch a dirty look and continues, “The next thing is that we will need to conduct a thorough audit of your records for last year…” Butchs’ antagonistic attitude prods him on, “What that’s crazy! Who do you think you are to come in here and start making accusations. You don’t have the power…”

The inspector takes the challenge to his authority seriously and reports sternly. “I have the power, under the state of Tennessee, if I believe the situation merits such… to slap an injunction on you immediately pending a full scale investigation… which would be done in cooperation with the Federal authorities. In the event of the discovery of foul play, fraud or criminal negligence… the like the violators would be liable for fines up to $250,000 and maximum imprisonment of up to 5 years. Regardless of the eventual findings by the team of investigators… your shitty little Carnival would be shut down for at least 6 weeks. I mean shut down tight. You couldn’t fart without clearance.

The situation starts to escalate rapidly. They being to play hard ball. Butch gets irate, “Yea, that would put us under for sure. There’s no way I’m going to let you do that. This Carnival has been in my family for over four decades.” Says threateningly, “We’ve got friends too… powerful friends… If you know what’s good for you, you batter back off.” The inspector’s face is becoming flushed with anger and adrenaline. Butch’s bitterly spews out a final condescending warning, “I’m not going to let some fat, little fucking bug fly into my Carnival…” The inspector is about to explode. “Who do you think you are to threaten me! I’ll show you…” Both he and Butch are glaring at each other, rising in their seats and inching closer as the momentum of the posturing increases.

Agnes interrupts them, standing up and physically intervening between them. She firmly grabs the hand of both of them. She raises her voice above their banter. To Butch; “Shut the fuck up!” To Mr. Thomas, “Take it easy!” Both are temporarily stunned and quieted. To both; “You guys are acting like idiots, both of you.” Both look mildly ashamed and angry at her correct observation. “This isn’t going to get anybody anywhere.”

To the inspector Angus assures, “Listen, we’ll give you whatever you need to complete your investigation. I know you have to answer to your bosses for all this. We’ll cooperate fully.” Inspector looks sullen but comforted by Angus’ understanding. Butch on the other hand is (quietly) outraged and sulking. To Butch she offers, “Listen, I know how important this Carnival is to you. Things are going to be O.K. We’ll work them out.” Agnes takes a deep breath and exclaims, “God! Is it hot in here.” She shakes her blouse. Indeed, everyone present is sweating. She takes a drink of her water. The ice in the glasses has long ago melted.

She walks over to A/C unit to turn it up higher but it’s already on the maximum setting. Damn A/C units they put in these trailers are never sufficient to cool the place in the heat. “Would you’ll like something cold? I know I would.” Opens the ‘fridge but it is bare. “Hmmm, Butch honey, would you go get us some cokes or something. We’re all out. This heat is just killing me!” Butch reluctantly complies. She walks him over to the door. “By the way, get me another pack of smokes while you’re at it. I’ll keep the inspector company. We’ll see if we can get things worked out.” Gives Butch that look. Butch returns a knowing grin. He looks from the inspector to back to Agnes. He leans over to whisper, “Thanks.” He gives her a little butt hug. She stares at him with feigned anger and mutters softly, “You owe me!” Butch quietly leaves.

Agnes looks at the still brooding inspector resolutely. God, the things she does for Butch. He’s such a turd. Now I have to play sexy slut with this fat pig. Well, whatever. She goes opens the freezer and pulls the last few ice cubes from the tray and drops them into a handy glass. Then marches back to the table. She sits conspicuously close to the inspector and coos, “I must apologize for Butch. Sometimes he’s such a hot headed ass hole.” He’s got the brain of a tree frog and the finesse of a wildebeest. The inspector smirks. “It’s just that the Carnival is all he knows. Lot of cons around. It’s a hard business, especially lately.”

Mr. Thomas becomes vocal again, “I know that but he’s got to understand.” Agnes interrupts him scooting even closer and now hanging on to his overgrown arm wit both hands. “Mr. Thomas… (looking up at him and imploring in childlike hushed tones) … the truth is we’re is deep financial trouble… and well it wouldn’t take much to bury us right now.”

Mr. Thomas scrambles for a reply, “I don’t know what I can…”

Agnes senses a weak spot. “I know you have the authority to close us down.” (She doesn’t know that for sure but she does know that he sure could make it rough for them. A full scale investigation is bound to turn up a lot of shit that would best be left buried.) “We would do anything to avoid that. That would be awful. It would really hurt us. You don’t want to hurt us, do you? Mr. Thomas stutters, “Well no, I…” Agnes cuddles on his expansive chest and feigns tearfully, “Please, isn’t there anything we can do to just close this terrible business? The accident was just soooo terrible. I can’t stand thinking about it anymore. We just need to put it behind us and go on. Please help us!” We’d do anything we’d have to… anything…”

While she has been offering her oration, Agnes subtly dropped her furthermost hand from the inspectors’ chest along his protruding stomach to rest her hand on his inner thigh near his crotch. Both pretend not to notice her intrusion. “…Anything at all.” Agnes’ face rests high on his chest. He can feel her warm moist breath against the flabby skin of his neck. He stares into her up-turned, imploring eyes. Her body pressed up against his. “anything… just name it.”

Agnes begins to slowly rub the outside of Mr. Thomas’ pants. His face becomes flush again, although this time not out of fury. His growing erection urges her along. He utters a muffled moan. The inspector is caught by her seduction and his own kindled passion.

Agnes detaches sleepily from him and sits back on her chair, “I don’t know what’s come over me. I just feel so… hot.” She wiggles in her seat as if she is unable to get quite comfortable, like a cat in heat. She fans herself with the maintenance logs from the table. Agnes pulls an ice cube from glass, casually opens her blouse and rubs the dripping rock between her breasts. The inspector looks on mesmerized. “When it gets really steamy, I like to keep cool like this…”

She leans head back and reclines further in the seat, spreading her thighs. “Mmmm, that feels so good.” Mr. Thomas stares at the little drops of water descend down the cleavage of her breasts into the thin fabric of her partially concealed bra. He lingers there in suspended contemplation.

She pulls her chair up closer, rises, turns around and straddles the chair in reverse. Her back is now to him. Arching around she grasps the glass and lifts a new piece of ice out and hands it to Mr. Thomas. “Would you mind?” His lack of response affirming her request. She casually unbuttons her blouse and drops it off her shoulders. He obediently begins to drive the ice cube along her bared shoulders, neck and back. “Yes, that’s good.” Agnes lures her hand down her exposed sheer bra.

She leans back into his arms, groaning her satisfaction. She reclines onto his lap, depositing his big wet hands flagrantly on top of her damp bra. He takes in the delightful sight a moment. Agnes places her hands over his and presses them into her soft bosom as she simultaneously arches up. In the process, one thick hand darts under her bra to find its way along her plush flesh to her erect nipple. She moans louder. The inspector is visible agitated, very turned on. He stops momentarily and mutters guiltily, “I really shouldn’t be doing this, I have a wife and kids and…”

Agnes flips around temporarily standing over him. She puts her finger to her mouth hissing “Shhhh!” She’s never going to know. She wiggles in front of him tantalizingly, acting very naughty and mischievously rubs her tits in his face, to shut him up and redirect his attention.

Then she sensuously slips down his body, rubbing her tits along his rotund figure. She continues until she is established before him on her knees her hands working on his belt, fastener and zipper underneath his extensive belly. His enormous bulk quivers violently as she enacts her sexual ritual. His massive head falls backward. He gasps loudly as  Agnes’s head disappears between his bulky legs.

Butch is returning from the store toting a grocery sack in each arm when Lobo abruptly runs across his path. Lobo is usually cool and calm. Today he doesn’t feel like “letting things go” and “trusting God to take care of them.” Things he was taught and learned to live by in prison. Hell, in prison you could pretty much count on things going a certain way. Outside it was different. Besides the violence the greatest challenge in prison was the boredom. Endless monotony; same food, same routines, same bull shit day after day.

Lobo fired a torrent questions at Butch, although he was already assured that there would be no adequate answer to any of them. “Hey, what do you mean by firing Henry? He never did you or anyone else wrong. We told you the gear was stripped. You knew that! Yet, you refused to fix it!”

Butch looks around to check the proximity of eavesdroppers, “Listen boy What I do here at my Carnival is none of your goddamned concern. I’d mind your own business if I were you.” Butch leans into Lobos’ face threateningly.

Lobo stands his ground, “Yea, shut up and let more kids get hurt or killed… I know that’s what you want.” Carny kids are the first to notice the developing squabble at a distance and start to come over. Butch lowers his voice but raises his intensity, “You don’t know nothin’ about nothin’. I’d watch your mouth, shit face. If you know what’s good for you.” Lobo bitterly replies, “Everybody kisses up to you. You think you can get away with anything… with murder and no one will give a shit… that you’re immune to prosecution.”

Kids circle around now including Lindsay. Buster and his boys closely followed on their heels. Butch takes a step back and apparently stands tall, puffs out his chest and spits back condescendingly, “You should know about prosecution, what being a jail bird and all.” Butchs’ statement confuses and bewilders Lobo.

Now Butch plays to his audience of faithful followers. “Yea, I’m on to you. I know you’re an ex-con. You got one of those criminal personalities. By my guess, you were in the pen for a good long time too. I don’t know for what exactly, but I do suspect it was for something pretty bad. You’ve been trying to hide a lot of things from all of us.” Butch intuitive senses tell him he’s on the right track from Lobo’s reaction. In the carnival business you learn to size up a person right off. “I can tell you’re running from something or someone. I’m going to find out from what or who. When I do I’m sure everyone here will want to know… including the police I’ll bet.” I’m going to find out what. When I do I’m sure everyone here will want to know… including the police I’ll bet.” The dozen or so bystanders murmur among themselves at this new revelation. Lobo scowls at Lindsay who looks guiltily at the ground.

Butch attempts to sound magnanimous, “I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt… everyone here knows that for sure.” There is a general mumble of agreement. “But with the accident and all, I’ve been asking myself some serious questions.” Butch uses his temporary advantage to the fullest, “How do we know you didn’t set the whole thing up intentionally? If not on purpose, then surely out of sheer negligence? Hell, if you and Henry would have fixed the damn thing like you were supposed to do, maybe all those people wouldn’t have been hurt or killed.” The crowd begins to rumble angrily as they consider the prospect. Everyone needs and loves a scapegoat to expatiate their personal sins and guilt in the wake of a tragedy. “Henry took the heat for you. He covered your ass or you would have been fired instead of him. But to my liking, I’d rather have an honest drunk than a lying con any day.” A couple members of the throng complain saying, “Fire him. Yea, fire the fucker. We want Henry back.” Butch quiets them without a word with a wave of his hand. Lobo is pretty shaken up but trying to keep controlled.

Buster breaks in and head toward Lobo with buddies in tow. “You want me to take care of this, Boss?” Butch stops him. “No, I can handle it”.  Buster stands next to Lobo glaring at him. Lobo returns his stares unabashedly. “Yea, I know your kind… always drifting, like a tumble weed. No friends. You’re not show people. You don’t belong. Never will. Like he said, forever on the run… What you running from anyway?

While Buster is spitting out his vehement monologue, Butch returns his attention to the small crowd, “Now back to work, all of you… Like I pay you for. This isn’t a fucking show. People leave. Butch remember the inspector waiting back at the trailer. Fuck, I should get back there. Agnes will take care of him, sure enough. Probably good that they had more time. Time for Agnes to work her own special kind of magic.

Buster leaves Lobo with some final thoughts, ”I’d watch your back if I were you. His cronies smirk menacingly. Buster and his gang strut away congratulating themselves on their bravado and conjuring up scenes of revenge and violence. Lindsay slinks away mutely.

Butch and Lobo remain in silent antagonism. Butch is clearly gloating. Lobo just stares at him curiously. What kind of man was this? Certainly clever. Maybe too clever. He remembers a verse from the Bible somewhere her heard about the “wicked being snared by the works of their own hands” or was it “the words of their mouths”? Can’t rightly remember. I wonder if that really works out here in the real world? Lobo thinks to himself a sort of mental prayer, God, seems like now would be a good time to see that one in action.

Butch lingers a moment more in his triumph and then just turns and without further comment stalks away. Lobo sighs and returns to his duties. He digs through the utility shed to retrieve his supplies. People give him dirty looks. Just ignore them. Kind of hard to be real inspired right now to paint. What to do with all these turbulent emotions? Well maybe its good I got to go paint right now, work some of these things out. Then again, a quick kick to Butch’ face seems like it would have worked wonders as well. That doesn’t get me anywhere thinking that way. Mo always told him that, so many times. It seemed like rote now. Didn’t now if it was his thoughts or Mo’ voice inside his head. Times like these he really missed old Mo. Wish he were here right now. Then again, in a way he was.

Butch barges back into the trailer without knocking with several six-packs pack of cokes and beer, several bags of snacks as well as two cartons of cigarettes. He dumps the bags on sink counter. Harry  looks crumpled. One side of his shirt is hanging out of his pants. Looks like he’s been sweating like a fucking pig. He stares contemptuously weak man. The inspector looks exhausted, content and full of shame. Butch laughed to himself. In a way he was repulsed at the thought of whatever sexual thing transpired between them. On the other hand, it was strangely stimulating. Kind of made him horny thinking about it.

Agnes is stalking back and forth in front of him with her arms crossed. “What’s kept you?” Agnes quips with irritation in her voice. She is feeling rather disgusted by what she had to do. The sooner this was all over and this overgrown cow is out of here the better. She resents having had to wait any longer than necessary. Things we do for love. Well if not for love at least for her and Lindsay. That comforted her somewhat. She was taking care of Llindsay and herself. She had to do what she had to do. She was a survivor. She surely had taught Lindsay that, if nothing else. To survive, to be independent. “I think me and Harry have worked things out. Huh Harry?” Butch nods, “Harry?” Harry pats the sweat off his face and neck with a towel. He stutters a weak hesitation, “Well, I never said for sure.” Agnes ignores his objection, “Harry and I have become pretty close while you were gone. Yea, I feel Mr. Thomas here is going to help us out. Give a clean bill of health and all… aren’t you Harry?” Harry looks apprehensive and confused. He starts to make a point but stops to think. Will Butch be angry. Gee, I never thought of that. I never thought of any of this come to think of it.

Butch takes his cue and adopts the jealous lover, “What the hell has been going on in here between you two anyway?” Harry stammers, “Well  nothing really! We were just…” Agnes, “Harry! I’m surprised at you! You sure acted like it was something when I was on my knees sucking you cock!” Old fat Harry acted like he was going to drop over dead right then and there. He was speechless, gasping for air like a fucking vacuum cleaner. Agnes feels empowered, like she’s getting back a little of the honor she lost. This was her opportunity to show Harry what a bag of fat shit he really was, “Say Harry, how many years did you say you’ve been married? Harry offers meekly, “Thirteen.” “Thirteen”, repeats Agnes, “Long time. Gee that’s special… and what, three kids too if I remember. Now what are their ages?”

Agnes is taking particular relish at squeezing this tub o’ lard. Butch kind of felt sorry for the guy. Who would withstand Agnes when she got going? Butch sits like a king on the sideline. He rocks forward on rusted steel tubes chair with decaying red vinyl seat and back cushions. “Boy Harry, I’d hate to see anything happen to such a lovely family like yours. Really, it’s just like us. This Carnival is important to us, like your marriage and family are to you. It would be a plain tragedy to loose them over something as insignificant as a little indiscretion.”

Agnes turn to gloat further, “You understand don’t you Harry. You’d do anything to protect your family from harm now wouldn’t you? And you’re going to help us aren’t you?” Harry nods slowly. Agnes snuggles close to Harry and rubs her tits in his face once more, to tease him and taunt Butch. This time Harry doesn’t look pleased. He looks embarrassed and ashamed. Butch is disturbed. Agnes continues, “Yea, I thought so.” She grabs the sides of his bulbous head and throws it back in angry contempt. “I knew I had you the moment I saw you. You just couldn’t keep those eyes from bugging out at my tits every chance you got.” I knew you were a fat, perverse cockroach the moment I saw you. You make me sick!” Agnes reels back, slapping him hard in the face, leaving a vicious red streak.

The weight of the potential consequences seems to add several hundred pounds to Harrys’ already sagging frame. Without a word, he concedes total defeat. He is at their mercy. They have him by the balls. He knows it. they know it. Everyone in the room knows it, at once. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t involve my family… please.”

Butch rises in triumph over him. “Now then Harry, we got business to attend to, so why don’t you just see yourself out.” True to form, Harry immediately gathers his shit and scurries quickly for the door… his shirt, ½ tucked in and greasy hair in disarray. Butch jerks a coke from the pack and throws it to him on the way out. “Don’t forget your coke, Harry.” He fumbles down the stairs, dropping the coke and his armful of papers on the run. Snatching what he can in a quick second the dashes for the sanctuary of his car.

Butch and Agnes peer scornfully from the trailer door. He penitently looks to Agnes. “Agnes, I’m really sorry… for everything. I know I’ve really been a shit, lately. Thanks for… well for…” Agnes cuts him off mid stride, “Don’t even start your shit with me. I got my best interests at heart, that’s all. What I did, I did for me. Me and Lindsay. Got it?” She looks him over briefly, “You? You’re a stupid shit… who’s brain dead at best.”

Butch offers no reply or resistance. He simply smiles and slowly makes his way closer. “Yea, this carnival would have been dead a long time ago without me saving your ass all the time… Right!?” Butch keeps advancing nodding in quiet assent but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Agnes reads his intentions. “Yep, I figure you owe me big time.” Butch wraps his arms around her pouring on his charm. Agnes fondles his hairy chest as he embraces her. “I’m going to make you pay… and pay… and pay.”  They go into a desperately hot, almost violent clinch… pawing and kissing each other wildly as they head for the head for the dirty kitchen floor of the trailer to exorcise their demons.

 

***

 

Later that night, after their romp, Butch and Agnes lay sprawled out together on the living room couch. Butch seems restless and uneasy even in the wake of relative victory and indulgence. He gets up to get himself and Agnes a couple of drinks… rum and cokes. Agnes stretches whines, “Butch, while you’re over there… Anticipating Agnes’ request even before she uttered it, Butch was already in the process of digging through the brown sacks to get her smokes. While she in mid sentence the he tosses the carton of Pall Malls through the air. “That Lobo’s been mouthing off in front of everybody, trying to stir ‘em up against us.” Agnes unwraps her cigarettes with studied religious zeal and ritual. She responds casually, “Why don’t you fire him? Maybe best just to let him go.” Agnes is just testing him, probing to find out where his mind is at. Butch seems disturbed all right, Lobo must have gotten to him. Hmmm. Interesting.  “He might cause you more trouble than you can handle.” Agnes nips at his ego with a bit of a put down. Let’s see what’s going on under there. She still has hots for Lobo a little, since that first day in the interview. He seemed rather impervious to her charms. Always liked a challenge. She takes a lusty drag as she considers it. the exhaled smoke dances in abstract patterns in front of her face. She contemplates the shifting forms as they rise.

Butch takes a steady drink from his glass. Finishing one in rather short order, he pours another… more rum, less coke this time. “Got to admit, he’s bringing in more business with his fancy pictures and stuff.” Agnes studies Butch through the smoke. “Yea, but maybe it’s not worth it.” She warns. She considers a moment then presses, “What’s the real reason you’re keeping him around? I know you better than to think that it’s because he paints pretty pictures. You got some other reason. What is it?”

Butch is impressed by her astute observation. “You are a clever wench, I must admit. O.K. I think he may be valuable to us in the future.” Agnes sees the scheming devil in his eyes. She’s curious. It’s not like Butch to be enigmatic. He’s always been totally two dimensional. She liked it that way because he was always easy to control. Now this. Where was this, this deception coming from. She was starting to get excited to see a different facet of his rather dull personality. “What are you up to? She jumps up and presses her body aggressively against him. Butch looks arrogantly confident, self assured. Like the cat that ate the canary. “I’m going to show that shit face that he’s not as smart as he thinks he is… that’s all.” Butch straightens himself adopts a powerful pose. “Hmmm, we’ll see!” purrs Agnes. “And just how do you propose to show him?”

Butch doesn’t respond, just takes another drink. Agnes teases him. “Butch, you’d better be careful. Thinkin’s not your best asset, you know. You’re likely to hurt something, if you try to think too hard.” Butch likes the banter. “Really… then what is my best asset, in your humble opinion?” Agnes starts to fondle him and gets turned on again. “Well besides me of course, well there’s other things as well.” Butch counters, “Other things… like what for instance?” Agnes sticks her tongue deep into Butch’s mouth. She can taste the mixture of rum and cigarettes mingled with the after taste of their most recent lovemaking. Delicious. “Well that’s something I’m going to have to show you, now isn’t it.”

They go at it again. This time with a little more attention to details.

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