The 750s

Millie Dynamite

The 750s

Featuring

Fourteen 750-Word Stories

And selected other works

Millie Dynamite

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A Bad Night

A short-short story

Below this line are exactly 750 words

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A normal night, I’m the last one leaving the theater. With all my work done, everything bright and clean. Ready for tomorrow. But it starts in a blinding flash. “Oh, Miss,” someone says. I turn, and a fist strikes my cheek with a viciousness I’ve never experienced. Blacking out, I go down.

When I wake, I’m naked, and he’s thrusting into me. Painful, deep pounding, he rips me apart down there. An angry face glowers at me, nasty words stream from his mouth, and he’s holding my legs pinned to his shoulders, raping me. A friend, or so I thought, who’d never shown any romantic interest in me, calls me a slut tease while fucking me.

My business suit is torn, my underwear ripped from my body. All of it under me, the cushion from the raw parking lot grit. While David, my friend, Alice’s boyfriend, takes me, using me like a cheap whore. The gross cock is bigger than expected. The seemingly passive boy is more brutal than a wolf.

A wolf in sheepish clothing.

Only David wears no clothes, he’s nude and more muscular than I thought. And the hatred is vile, his actions hurt me, his eyes burn into mine. They’re green, I’d never noticed them before. Not the color, not the lust, the rage, I never realized that my being a lesbian might offend him.

“Filthy, cunt licking whore, how you like a man fucking you?”

It isn’t a question, it’s an order to agree, to say I like it. I can’t do that. First, this is rape, not seduction, second, I hate fucking men. Not I hate me, I detest being fucked by men. Never enjoyed it, this even less so than the others.

Spitting in his face is my answer, which brings a second blow to my face. His fist, my nose, fist breaks nose. Tears and blood mingle, and Dave continues on, undaunted. Thrust inside me, his nut sack slapping my ass, and short curlies scratching my clit.

Thinking of Dianna, I slip into a safe place. Clawing away from him in my mind, I try to stay there. But safety can’t abide when violations overpower my mind. When the pain mingles with a sliver of pleasure, I’m shattered.

Oh, my God, will the humiliation please end?

Egging me on, he taunts me, claiming I love it. Saying how much my body is telling him so. Fucking asshole rubbing my reactions in my face, degrading me, for his satisfaction. Muscles are torn, pride and self-worth destroyed. And David laughs, a deep-throated chuckle, sending waves of nausea into the pit of my tummy.

Shit, his dick is so fucking big, so damn long, I feel it in my stomach.

For a long time, I thought he was this simpleton, submissive boy toy for Alice and her twisted games. Turns out, she’s probably the toy for his sadistic nature. She’d never complained about him being rough, never admitted he’d hurt her. On top of that, she’d never once said, “Watch out, he’s dangerous,” or anything negative at all.

Jerking out of me, the emptiness is heaven, and he drags me this way and that until I’m on my hands and knees. Using a foot, he holds my face to nasty asphalt, squatting over me, and fucks me again. Same hole. Violence heaped on cruelty.

Calling me, cum-catcher, dog, bitch, slut, whore, all in a rapid-fire monosyllabic, misogynistic fury. More homophobic slurs were mixed in with the profanity-laced diatribe. All the while, he keeps pounding my, in his words, cunt.

He drags me through Alice’s lookingglass into Horrorland. With the hardest thrust, so brutal I skitter forward five or six inches, he holds still. I feel it, tremors from his balls, through his prick, and out to my inside.

Oh, my lord, he’s pumping me full of his nasty spunk. Then, he’s out, and all that soiled chum leaks from me. Spitting, once, hawking up more, both of his shots hit my asshole. Without further warning, he rams against my spincter. Two times, two more, and a fifth more brutal jab, and he enters.

Clutching my hips, digging in his nails, he pulls back as he stabs forward. The pain is worse each time, and my knees skim forward or back. The surface is rough, too rough for my destroyed clothing to keep them from scratching the flesh raw.

Again, he cums. Standing, he collects his clothes, leaving me in the filth of my own ruin.

Looking for Company?

A short-short story,

Below this line are exactly 750 words.

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In the dimly lit streets of a city, Walter fumbled about, leaving his car. He searched for a discreet encounter, which led him to an awkward mission. A quest for a certain type of companionship. He straightened his tie and approached a woman standing under a flickering streetlamp.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Walter stammered, “are you, uh...available for company?”

“Company? What kind of company we talking ‘bout?”

Walter shifted uncomfortably. “You know, like, for a chat and stuff. I’m feeling a bit lonely.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Lonely? This ain’t a therapy session, buddy. Keep walking”

Defeated but undeterred, Walter continued his journey through the shadows. Attempt after attempt, his fumbling inquiries met with disinterest and skepticism. Some women glared. Others chuckled, but none were interested in his request.

After a string of failures, Walter spotted a striking woman with ebony skin standing on a corner. Emboldened, he approached her, hoping this encounter might be different.

“Hello there,” Walter said, “I was wondering if you’d be interested in some...company?”

The woman arched an eyebrow, sizing him up. “Company? What kind-a company?”

Walter shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to summon the right words. “You know, like, talking and stuff. Maybe grabbing a coffee.”

The woman burst into laughter. “Coffee? Honey, if you want coffee, go to a cafe. This isn’t the place for your lonely heart club.”

Embarrassed but not ready to throw in the towel, Walter attempted a more direct approach.

“Okay, okay. I was hoping for something more...intimate. How much do you charge?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop?”

Walter’s eyes widened in panic. “What? No, no, I’m not a cop! I thought.”

“Move along.”

Defeated and increasingly flustered, Walter wandered the city streets like a lost soul. On his way out of the area, desperation peaked when he dove near a woman whose gaze he could not avoid. She was beautiful and confident, and seemed unfazed by the awkward energy around Walter.

Summoning the last shreds of his courage, Walter pulled beside her.

“Hi there. Um, I was wondering if you’d be interested in, you know, some company.”

The woman looked him up and down, and a sly smile played on her lips. “Company? What’s your definition of company?”

Walter cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed.

“Talking, laughing, maybe a drink. You know, keeping each other company.”

The woman chuckled, her laughter ringing through the quiet street. “Well, that’s a first. Most guys just cut to the chase. What’s the catch?”

Sensing a glimmer of hope, Walter blurted, “No catch, really. Just a lonely guy looking for some conversation.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a playful sparkle in her eyes. “Conversation? Alright, let’s make a deal. Fifty bucks, and I’ll chat with you for an hour.”

Walter’s eyes widened. “Fifty bucks for talking‽ Isn’t that a bit much?”

The woman crossed her arms, a smirk on her face.

“Sweetheart, I don’t usually get paid for conversation, but you seem to need the practice. Take it or leave it.”

After a brief negotiation, Walter handed over the money, and the woman climbed into his car. As they drove through the city, the awkwardness persisted like an unwelcome companion. Walter fumbled with his words, his nervous laughter filling the vehicle.

The woman, however, found amusement in Walter’s discomfort. “You really need to relax, you know? I’ve never seen someone so wound up about a chat.”

“I’m not used to this, okay? It’s all new to me.” Walter scratched his head, glancing at her.

The woman laughed, her voice warm in the car’s confines.

“Clearly, look, I’m not here to judge. Let me guide you through this, okay? Pull into that alley and stop the car.”

Walter nodded, a mix of relief and curiosity in his eyes. The car rolled to a stop. The city lights cast fleeting shadows on the pavement as the woman, with a hint of amusement, took control of the conversation.

Talk wasn’t required.

Sliding next to him, she unzipped his pants. His cock jumped out, all three and a half inches, hard as steel. For a moment, she stroked it, thumb and forefinger, up and down. Bending her head, her lips touched the cockhead.

“This,” she said, her lips and tongue brushing the glans, “is a blowjob, darling.”

Wrapping her lips around the head, she slid them down and up three times, tongue swirling. Walter came.

“More sex, more money, honey.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, digging more money from his wallet.

Quick Encounter

With a Young Prostitute

A Longer short-short story

The driver slowed the car, eyeballing the women walking down the dark street. With his nerves on edge, he had trouble finding this part of town and worried he might mistake an undercover cop for a whore. Four or five women strolled casually on each block. These fallen doves gazed back at him, inviting him to pull around the corner. Most were less than attractive.

Several had bloated bellies, not pregnant but fat. Several were older ladies and appeared worn. Others were attractive, at least to some degree, and their bodies were fit and pleasing. Their faces, while cute, were painted with thick layers of makeup, blemishing their beauty with a tawdry cheapness. They would stare at him and mouthed words with their ruby-red lips. Some pointed for him to turn on the side streets.

This didn’t influence him, he drove on searching for someone who’d catch his eye sufficiently to make him want to pick them up. There were several women he would not mind fucking, but none he saw he believed he needed to fuck.

On his second trip down the area, he saw her and wanted her, but he did not know if she was a hooker, not for sure anyway. She was young, 18 to 20, well-proportioned, had a cute face, and dressed like an ordinary young woman, not a whore. However, she bordered on the verge of stunning with an athletic body.

Oh, yes, he yearned to bang her hot body.

She wore a peach-colored top with an anime character, which seemed contorted by her medium-sized breasts, and she sported shorts matching her top. Painted on pink form-fitting shorts, which showed a camel’s toe in front and a round, perfect hand full of matching ass cheeks behind. Athletic shoes with knee-high socks completed her outfit. Stuffed in the left sock, a pack of cigarettes wasn’t a powerful selling point.

But her unpainted face, so lovely in the dim streetlights, and her hot, fit body caught his attention.

Sporting shoulder-length blonde hair, which this woman wore in a ponytail. She appeared younger than her twenty-three years and played the dumb blonde bimbo to perfection. When she glanced at him, she lifted a cigarette to her mouth. The girl took a long, deep drag from the smoke. Coughing and hacking like she had never smoked added to her youthful game.

“She’s trying to look tough,” he said. “She’s new at this, maybe a virgin.” Often, he spoke to himself aloud.

At this point, her eyes locked on his. The girl turned to the side street, pointing. Without hesitation, she walked down the side road, stopping a short distance past the first building, and moved to the curb. With a graceful sweep, she turned her head toward the street he was driving down, and he spun the car down the side street, tires squealing.

Pulling up to the curb where the girl stood, he pushed the button, and the passenger side window slid down. The girl rocked on her toes with her hands behind her back.

“What you doin’?” The girl leaned toward the car, standing on her tiptoes on the curb. Sticking her head inside the window, resting her arms on the opening, “Hi ya, I’m Sandy,” she said. And repeated, “What you doing tonight, Mister Cadillac?”

“Oh,” he said, looking around, Sandy. “My name is Thomas. Do you need a ride?”

“No, sir, Mr. Cadillac, sir, I need a date. Um, do you need a date?” She asked in her breathy voice, imitating to perfection an actress she’d seen in a movie. She was chewing some gum.

After she asked him about the date, she blew a giant bubble, it popped, and the gum spread over her face. She giggled as she cleaned it off her face and put all the gum back in her mouth.

“Well, yes, actually, I need a date,” Thomas said, smiling at her.

“Coolioso to the maximums. ‘Cause I need to make money to get a new formal dress to wear to my prom. Do you want to help me with that, Mr. Thomas Cadillac?” The breathy, silken words and her tight outfit combined to rev him up. His cock throbbed from the ache for her.

“Just Thomas, Sandy, no need for you to say, Mister, and my name isn’t Cadillac. I can help with your dress. Can you help me with my problem?” He asked, not sure exactly how to phrase it.

“Um, I think I can,” Sandy said as she opened the door. She hopped into the passenger seat and shut the door. “Pull down the street a couple of blocks, and there are these two old buildings with a parking lot between them.” He drove down the street until he saw the two abandoned buildings.

“Turn in,” she said, and he did.

“Drive down further,” she said, and he kept going further back in the lot. He saw a small opening in the building to the right. “Pull in the space, and your car will be hidden.” The waif told him, and he pulled in and inched forward till the car was well inside the opening.

“COOL! We can be alone here!” she told him as she turned to him. “Put some music on.” The hooker said, and then she added, “Thomas, Daddy.” His head jerked to her. “You look like a daddy to me. You’re about my dad’s age but much more handsome than him.”

Of course, Sandy lied through her teeth. She’d never known her father. The young woman slid over the seat toward him.

It was strange when she called him “Daddy.” The word turned him on more. The effect was quite disturbing, or would have been, had he taken time to think about it. She moved next to him.

“You are so big and strong, Daddy,” the woman purred as she moved her hands over his shoulders and biceps. He flexed so his muscles hardened for her. “Wow, Daddy-O, you are strong.”

With practiced skill, she jacked off his ego as her hands roamed his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. With her tiny hands, she caressed the bare flesh of his chest while his tool stiffened inside his pants.

Crawling up his body, her tiny mouth moved to his ear, her tongue ran around, tasting his ear, tracing it, and then she darted over his ear. Her hands moved to his face, and she turned his face to her.

Now, most whores never, ever kissed a john, but she did. She pressed her lips to his in a sweet, long, loving kiss that slowly changed to a deep, passionate French kiss, with their tongues moving in and out of each other’s mouths.

When they broke from the kiss, his breath was shorter, heavier, filled with craving. He seemed to suck in the atmosphere as though no amount of air might fill his lungs. With his chest heaving, the young woman’s small hand came to rest on the crotch of his pants. The touch made his dong leap and surge to an even stiffer state.

“Daddy is so huge there. OH, my Gosh, it is so COOLIO! Wow, Daddy, you are muscular and strong!” she told him. “Daddy,” Sandy said flirtatiously, “Can you help me with some money, please? I mean, before we go further.”

“How much do you think you need, sweetie?” He asked her.

“At least $400 for the outfit I want for my senior prom. It is so cool, and I know Daddy wants me to have the best, right?” She cooed at him.

“Well, $400 is high. I’m not sure Daddy can afford that much.” Thomas told her, his eyes suggesting he was in slight pain.

“Oh phooey, Daddy, I guess takes me back to the street then. I thought you were a wonderful Daddy, not a cheap Daddy.” She said. “I mean, I don’t want to do bad things with anyone but you, but if you can’t help me, I guess I’ll have to find someone else.”

“No, wait, I can give you $100, Sandy. Sure, I can.” He said as he pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket and opened it. He pulled out a 50, then a 10, and, at last, two twenties, and handed them to the girl. She quickly put the money in her sock. She could see lots of other bills in his billfold.

“But Daddy-kens, I need $400,” the woman said, sulking.

Removing his wallet, holding it to his face, he pulled out another one-hundred-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Well, it’ll be a start. Daddy, you’re so generous, strong, and sweet.” The prostitute’s small hands ran over his belly and down to the crotch of his pants

She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the pants, unzipped them, and reached into the boxers, finding his rigid member. “Wow, Daddy’s huge.” She said breathlessly. She bent her head and moved toward his crotch as she worked his small, erect cock and let his penis out of the boxers.

“I’ve never seen such a giant meat stick.” Her hot breath moved over his tiny dick.

The idiot believed her when she told him she’d never seen such a giant dork. For Sandy was a skilled liar.

He felt her elfin, wet mouth on his schlong and her tongue as it explored his cock. Her head went up and down on his knob and grew even stiffer. She would stop every few minutes or two and tell him something in her breathy way. The young woman told him how strong he was, how enormous his weenie was, and what a terrific daddy he was. All this fed his lust as she gave him a slow, sloppy, wet blow.

After a few, all too short, moments, his cock spat a load. Rising from his lap, Sandy turned her back, opened the passenger door, and spat his seed on the ground.

“Oh, lordy, baby girl, I really wanted to, umm.”

“Daddy wants to stick his dick in me, right?” She burst out in an even more excited manner. “COOL, Daddy, but I’d need more for fucking!” Her coy breathiness drilled into his ear, enticing him to continue.

He looked down and started to argue, but her sweet young face seemed so innocent, he couldn’t. He reached into his back pocket again, pulled out the wallet, and removed a $100.00 bill, handing it to her.

Gazing at the bill, “Not very much. And I thought you were generous.”

Adding another $100, he handed her the two bills.

The prostitute’s lower lip quivered, and her expression changed to disappointment and sadness.

Pulling two more hundred from the wallet, he held the $400 to her.

At once, Sandy’s demeanor changed. Snatching the cash from his fingers, the whore put it with the other money as she moved back to the passenger side. With her back to the door, she pulled the shorts off one leg, doing the same with her pink thong.

“Stick me, Daddy, stick me with your ginormous ole daddy stick!” She held a condom in one hand, and as he moved to her, she stopped him and covered his penis. Positioning themselves, he put his johnson at her pussy. The woman was tight, causing him difficulty working his pecker inside her. The experience was terrific.

“Oh, Daddy-kins, you’re so massive you’re hurting me. But only a little, and it feels so great to have a real man inside me.” She told him as he thrust inside her.

Only able to contain himself, he feared he’d cum too soon on the edge of climax already. The woman’s pussy clutched his boner. Counting in his mind, trying desperately to make the experience last, the man pounded away. Resisting touching her hot, sexy body, fearing he’d lose his load, he concentrated on nothing, thinking about only numbers and how he moved his body.

Niggling at the back of his brain, the thought of her being a virgin tickled his fancy. The worry was that, even if he got balls-deep, with only 3.5 inches to work with, he might not break her cherry. Having never done so, he’d love to burst hers.

Stop thinking about that, he thought, back to his numbers.

The woman was beautiful and so much younger than he was. Driving hard, her pussy resisting him, he plugged his joystick harder and plunged deeper, going as deep as he might. But the woman’s pussy always stopped him short of balls deep. With his heart racing, drawing ragged breaths, his skin alive with pleasure. Ants crawled over and under his flesh, the man pushed up higher so he might drive in with more force.

The woman’s legs locked around his waist as her hips thrust to meet him each time he lunged inside.

“Daddy, you’re so wonderful, even though you’re hurting me, but only a little.” The fib was practiced, and Sandy recited it with fine acting. “Oh, Daddy, you are such a wonderful lover.”

With those words, the businessman almost lost his pud. Blocking her words from his mind, the man worked harder, counting back from 100, 99, and 98. Any trick, every trick, he could think of to hold his load inside.

With skill, Sandy pulled his billfold from his back pocket, expertly fished all the bills, and stuffed them in her socks with the other money. Rocking with him, she pressed the billfold back into his hip pocket as he smashed his prick into her.

In no time, he neared completion, and Sandy sensed the impending climax. Cooing into his ear, “What a fantastic lover daddy is.”

The mark pumped harder and harder as he grew near the event.

Still counting, “Sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty-three.”

She spoke in an almost incoherent breathless Meg Tilly-speak, rapidly saying things and moaning and groaning as she murmured to him. Sweat beads covered his forehead, and as his face turned red, he went over the edge, spewing his semen into the condom.

Out of breath and spent, he collapsed on top of her.

“Daddy, I can’t breathe. You’re too heavy.” Sandy said as she tapped him on his shoulder. He pushed up off of her and adjusted his clothing quickly. Taking the condom off, he pushed the button, and his widow slid down. He tossed the condom out the window.

He redressed himself as the young woman pulled her clothes back on. She opened the door and stared at him as she got out of the car.

“I can take you back,” Thomas said, hopeful for a few more minutes in her company.

“Umm, NO, I’ll walk, Daddy, thanks. Have a good night.” And she vanished.

He finished redressing and backed out carefully from the cramped space. He then turned and went back toward the street.

Checking both ways, he didn’t see the young whore anywhere. Turning, he drove back to the main road. As he drove away, he pondered if she was as young as she appeared. He thought of her tight pussy.

“Virgin pussy,” he wondered. “No,” he thought, “she fucked too well. Eighteen, nineteen years old? Might be older.”

The girl peeked out the window of the old building and watched him leave. Staring at the black Cadillac, he turned north, back toward the better part of the city. Moving out of the building, she walked up the street, still careful. The young woman waited for as long as she could.

Sandy wondered how long before he realized she had stolen all his money. For a moment, Sandy mulled over whether he’d come after her when he found his wallet empty. If not tonight, tomorrow night, or the night after that?

More than likely, never.

“How much you got, Sandy!”

Sandy turned to face a small woman standing in the doorway.

“I got nearly $1,0000 so far, Mom. Mostly from an old, rich perv,” she said with a smile at her mother.

While her mother once was a beautiful woman, these days she appears tired, with sad, weary eyes. At one time, Sandy’s mother had been happy and carefree. The mileage of fucking for money robbed her of happiness and made her old before her time. Life on the streets would soon steal her daughter’s beauty, joy, and hope.

“Haven’t had much luck tonight,” her mother said. “I only earned about $150 so far. I’m going back out, honey. Don’t worry. Mommy will get us more. You did marvelous, sweetie.” She told the girl as she counted the money, put the tidy sum with her cash, locked the treasure in the safe box, and placed the box inside their hidey-hole. The mom then twisted the top off the bottle she was holding and took a long drag.

“Needed some encouragement. Been a fucking, long day, and need my second wind, don’t you know? You want some baby?”

“Sure, mom, I love vodka,” Sandy said as she took a swig of the clear liquid. She thought, A few of these and then back to the street for me, too.

Sandy worried about her mother. How much longer could she fuck for money?

Blessed, Sandy kept a youthful appearance, while others her age, who’d begun, like her, at 18, already had faces of 30-year-olds. Yeah, for sure, Sandy, at 23 years old, looking like an 18-year-old, was one of the lucky ones. Not that making your living on the streets ever makes you fortunate.

Angela and the Men

A short-short story,

Below this line are exactly 750 words.

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Angela dolled herself up in a cute schoolgirl outfit and set out for a fun Saturday afternoon and night. The 18-year-old had finished the last final of the semester. Monday, she’d head home for the Holiday break. She was a virgin and wanted to stay one.

In some ways, Angela Lambert had a cold, cruel heart. But why not give a little joy to random souls in ’Tis the season.

The Library

The library bustled with activity. People of all ages browsed the shelves and tapped away on their laptops.

Angela pranced about the stacks, looking for her first. Hum, what shall we say, victim or recipient? Oh, how about him, she thought, Professor Tannenbaum. The oldest instructor on campus. After all, Christmas is right around the corner.

The old man sat at a table in the corner, surrounded by books on art history. Angela sat beside the old, bespeckled man with his nose buried in a book on art appreciation.

She glanced around furtively before reaching over and undoing his pants. He looked up at her in shock as she pulled out his cock and began to stroke him. She could feel the tension in his body as she worked him with her hand, his breath coming faster and faster.

“Shhh... don’t make a sound. But consider this before you give me the final grade this semester.”

She stared ahead, not casting her eyes to-or-fro, all the while manipulating the Chode. Seeing her, you’d assume she was bored and perhaps disappointed.

He continued to look at his book, eyes gazed over, a trickle of spatial running down his bearded chin. A flicker of a smile. A tear escaping an eye rolled down his wrinkled cheek. He said something soft and low and bowed his head. It was as though he thanked god for something.

“Thank you,” he said in a low grumbling voice.

Angela wiped her hand on his pants leg and stood up, leaving him with a dazed expression.

The Matinee

A nice-looking man, about ten years her senior, had caught her eye in the lobby. It was her good fortune that they went to the same movie. Angela flashed her bare ass to the man before sitting. She stared blankly at the screen a few seats away.

His eyes darted from her to the screen. Halfway through the feature, she moved beside him.

In the back row of the balcony, Angela deftly unzipped the handsome man’s pants. She reached inside and confidently grasped his tiny, erect penis, her fingers wrapping around it tightly.

“You’ve been thinking about me,” she said.

He watched her. His eyes wide, the tension building with each jerk of her hand. Her expression remained blank, uninhibited, and quite robotic as she continued. Two fingers and thumb, quick, short jerks.

The sensations intensified, edging him nearer with each stroke.

The man fought for composure. His body prepared for the climax. All too soon, he’d shoot. His breathing quickened, and his heart pounded, adding to the chaos. A wave of pleasure crested, a jolt, and gasped as she squeezed his nut sack.

With that, he released into her waiting hand. She skillfully milked every last drop from him. Withdrawing her hand, Angela wiped the cum on his shirt and face. The audacity of her act left him stunned and aroused at the same time.

“Bye-bye, faggot.”

The Nightclub

The music played loud and wildly, vibrating the walls and floor. Angela, dressed in a tight black dress, sat in a secluded booth. Her eyes scanned the room. She spotted him, a tall, thin geek, standing at the bar, nursing a drink.

The 750s

Millie Dynamite

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