Benedict came in
from the pumps
at the gas station
having served
the Indian guy
with the Rolls Royce
who gave him a tip.
He put the money in the till
and closed it
and pocketed
the coins of tip.
Miss Billings stood
at the doorway
of the small front office,
hand on her hip,
head to one side.
Benny Boy,
do you think
the men who come in here
fancy me?
I don't know,
Benedict said.
Do you think they'd
like to shaft me?
He looked non-plus,
shrugged his shoulders,
don't know,
he said.
She smiled.
Would you like
to shaft me, Benny Boy?
She did a turn,
hands on hips,
eyes bright open.
Shaft?
He repeated.
What do you mean?
She smiled more,
white teeth showing,
hips swaying.
Well, when that Riley
comes in, he often says,
I could give you
a good rogering.
Do you know
what he means,
Benny Boy?
No,
Benedict said.
It means having ***
with someone, Kid,
having it off.
She laughed.
Would you like that?
I can see it now
in the headlines,
and she made movements
with her finger to suggest
newspaper headlines
in the air.
Boy of 15 shafts
22 year old woman
in back of Bentley
in gas station.
Benedict watched her
as she stood,
hands on hips,
smiling at him.
Well, not to worry, Kid,
because you won't get
the chance,
and she walked off
swaying her hips
in Monroe fashion,
her blonde hair
flowing free,
her white clothed backside
moving side to side
and disappeared
in the back office
to do the accounts.
He stood watching
the door swing shut,
the image of her
still stuck in his mind,
the swaying backside and hips,
the hair flowing blonde and free.
He smiled.
In his bed at night,
between the sheets,
lights out,
moonlight glowing,
he had *** with her,
freely, slowly,
without her knowing.