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<strong>Jack</strong> <strong>kilborn</strong> <strong>SErial</strong> <strong>blakE</strong> <strong>crouch</strong><br />
any particular spot, and he was finding new places to play<br />
all the time.<br />
Donaldson knew he would never be caught. he was smart,<br />
patient, and never compulsive. he could keep on doing this<br />
until he died or his pecker wore out, and they had pills these<br />
days to fix that.<br />
he reached i-15 at rush hour, traffic clogging routes both in<br />
and out of Salt lake, and he was feeling happy and immortal<br />
until some jerk in a Winnebago decided to drive ten miles<br />
under the speed limit. irritated motorists tagged along like<br />
ducklings, many of them using their horns, and everyone<br />
taking their good sweet time getting by in the passing lane.<br />
Seriously, they shouldn’t allow some people on the road.<br />
Donaldson was considering passing the whole lot of<br />
them on the shoulder, and as he surveyed the route and got<br />
ready to gun it, he saw a cute chick in pink shoes standing at<br />
the cloverleaf. Short, lugging a guitar case, jutting out a hip<br />
and shaking her thumb at everyone who passed.<br />
Two in one day? he thought. Do i have the energy?<br />
he cranked open the window to get rid of the bleach<br />
smell, and pulled up next to her under the overpass, feeling<br />
his arousal returning.<br />
14
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