Their capture had been pedestrian in its ordinariness. Ignominious, really. No blazing shootouts like Buster had been hoping for. No standoff, no host...ge negotiations, no heroics.Just two sickos, blinking in surprise into the glare of a flashlight, being led down the steps of a shabby motel. Jin wearing pajama bottoms, his mother a flannel nightgown. Handcuffed.Other than the battering ram, nothing very dramatic for such horrific crimes.In a cinematic way it would have been nice to have a more. I wanted to use this one's mouth too, manners manners. I sat on the couch, and listed to the music from the bar downstairs bleed through the floor. “Like a big bear!” Dorita tossed her towel and straddled my lap on the couch. She whistled, and rubbed a hand in my chest hair. “I like a man like you.” And she patted the side of my belly. “I really do.” Left handed reassurance. She kissed me and I kissed back. She did smell fresh, but still tasted like Heineken and menthol. I grasped one perfect. More

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