Dottie and Bree: Episode 5- Who doesn't love lesbians?

Dottie and Bree: Episode 5

The dirt road was longer than they expected. It wound up and down through gullies and what used to be streams and dried creek beds and large boulders. They meandered bumpily, all three squashed in the fuzzy upholstered bench seat of the pink tow truck, past tumbleweeds and decayed cow carcasses and burnt hollowed cacti. Bree anxiously eyed the white vehicle wondering how much the trunk was being jostled and if it would affect the contents significantly.

“It’s ok, Kid. I a’int gonna bite; you a’int my type. We ‘most there.”

Their dust cloud obscured the road behind, and Bree hoped no one was following. As they worked their way up the hill, their path would be visible for miles, and she knew the devil men from Vegas would find them eventually. They wouldn’t give up the search; it was a matter of pride. Whores don’t beat the house; the house always wins. They were only 300 miles out and lost precious distance after the spin out. The cops had most likely found the dead speedy boys at the “Last Stop” and would soon piece together the plastic shoes, Ninja Stars and tire marks.

Dottie smiled fearlessly and “She Bopped” to the Cyndi Lauper crackling haphazardly on the radio. She removed her favorite stars from her secret bodily hiding places and wiped and shined them to their original silver; they had become tarnished with blood and dust.

“Where did you get those?” Marge sputtered, “Do you know how ‘da use ‘em?”

Her lips pursed in a sly smirk and one shaped eyebrow rose coquettishly, “I killed a Ninja.” Dottie’s lips crept slowly to a smile, teeth beaming fluorescent in the reflection of the upheld star. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Squat wooden houses with darling porches and flower boxes grew larger as they approached the lesbian commune. Bare-chested women ran from the vegetable fields with braided arm-pit hair leaving baskets of corn and zucchini and ripe tomatoes. They wore flowing multilayer skirts and bells and bracelets that jingle-jangled ethereal as the tow-truck rolled to a comfortable stop. The proffered water and fresh raspberries to the parched threesome; Marge was home.

“Be nice to the new girls, Ladies”, Marge drove the car off to her garage for fixing as the lesbians gathered round Dottie and Bree barraging them with personal questions and granola snacks.

“I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.” They answered in unison. Dottie and Bree laughed at the truth of their statement, but the crunchy entourage assumed it was a planned joke by the new pair and shuffled them on to the hot springs for a relaxing afternoon soak as their car was being repaired by the able mechanic Marge.

The women submerged naked in the hot pools, handed them glasses of homemade wine and explained their haven excitedly: Marge made repairs and sold cars on E-Bay, they were a self-sufficient organic farming community selling hand-picked berries and vegetables to Five Star restaurants all around the country and they rented camp grounds to visitors of the Hot Springs. They held Full moon drum circles and danced naked nightly to the goddess of the Universe.

“You two should stay. This place is perfect for you.”

“We’re not lesbians; we’re whores. We have sex with people for money.” With that, Bree exited the pool to go check on the progress of the car. She walked unabashedly naked through the throngs of adoring women. This place was comfortable, she had to admit, but she and Dottie liked dick far too much to settle for a dildo and an experienced lesbian tongue.

Marge was frowning over the white vehicle. “Can’t be fixed, but I like you girls. You’re trouble, but I’m givin’ you ‘dis Mustang. It’s fast. I’ve put all yur stuff from the white car to the trunk of this one.”

“The trunk? You were in the trunk?” Bree started breathing fast and her eyes grew wide, teeth snarling nervously. Spots sparkled in her vision and her knees weakened as Marge held onto her bare waist with calloused dirty hands.

“Little help here!” Marge yelled and scooped Bree into her arms carrying her to the pools.

Candi was eyeing Dottie’s ample breasts seductively. “How much to make out with you?”

Dottie cocked her head in consideration of the offer, “Twenty bucks ought to do it.”

Marge saw the transaction and subsequent kissing, dropped Bree and stomped her thick boots over to the pair, “THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND, YOU WHORE!!!!” She lifted Dottie out of the pool by her wet blond hair and began to slam her fist into her face mercilessly.

“You’d best stop now.” Dottie calmly whispered to Marge. A hard fist slammed into her kidney. “I’ve warned you.”

“I STAND WARNED!”

A ninja star swiped across Marge’s middle and stuck out of her gullet. She writhed bleeding on the ground as Dottie and Bree collected their clothes from the dust and ran to the Mustang. Wailing and screaming erupted behind them as they leapt into the convertible and sped off the commune.