Sinners

Chapter One: Herbert Lincoln Jefferson stared disgustedly at his wife Marge. She sprawledon a couch in front of the television, legs apart, displaying fat white thighs,eating an orange so that the juice dribbled down her chin, and holding a beercan from which she took occasional swigs. She was wearing a blue cotton dresswhich was so tight that it had split under one arm. Her huge bosom hung in adirty white bra which peeked through the split. A stranger seeing her wouldhave found it hard to judge her age, and perhaps assessed her as ten yearsolder than she was. Actually she was thirty-five. "I'm going," Herbert announced. Marge didn't shift her eyes from the TV set. She crammed some more orange into her mouth and mumbled, "O.K., Hon." Herbert left the faded pink house, one in a row of many faded houses. He kickedviciously at Marge's cat which wandered under his feet, and started the walk tothe bus stop. It was early evening and particularly hot. Herbert felt enragedthat he had no car. Everyone had a car in Los Angeles. Last week he had had abeautiful shiny gray Chevrolet, but they had taken it away as he hadn't kept upthe payments. Herbert was of medium height, a thin man, with brown hair and sharp features.He wasn't good-looking, he wasn't ugly, he was just perfectly ordinary-looking.He was the sort of man you never remembered, that is unless he stared at youwith his oblique brown eyes, and then suddenly you would get an odd sort ofshudder. His eyes were mean and cruel and grabbing. There was a young Mexican girl at the bus stop in front of him, and he appraised her quickly. Too skinny and too young, but a virgin, he was sure ofthat. He pressed up against her as they boarded the bus, and she turned aroundand gave him a startled look. He ignored her and took a seat next to a plumpmatron, probably some rich movie star's housekeeper. No, if she was, she wouldhave her own car. There was a musty smell of dried sweat in the bus, and Herbert wrinkled up hisnose in disgust. He had taken a shower before coming out. Sometimes he showeredfour or five times a day. The man he really admired was Tiny Tim, because hehad read somewhere that he showered every time he took a leak. Herbert reallyadmired such cleanliness. The plump matron shifted in her seat. She didn't like the pressure of Herbert'sleg beside her. But he stared straight ahead with his ordinary face; and shewas sure he couldn't be doing it purposely. The old bag's wearing suspenders, Herbert thought. One of them was digging intohim. He moved his arm so that it nudged against the side of her bosom. Shesquashed nearer to the window, and Herbert stared impassively forward. At the next stop the woman got out, and Herbert shifted his knees so that shehad to squeeze past him. He felt the outline of her big buttocks against hisknees, and he laughed silently. Old cow, give her a thrill. They all loved athrill, even the old ones. He thought lovingly about the letter he had sent to sexy red-headed film star,Angela Carter. He had mailed it the previous evening, and she had probably readit by now. He had managed to get her home address; that was an advantage ofdoing the job he was in now. They had a file in the office of most of the filmstars' addresses. He was working for a chauffeur service employed by RadiantProductions. It was most important when writing to people that you were surethey would open the letter themselves. That was the whole point. To Angela he had written lovingly in glowing and explicit terms about what hewould like to do to her. No detail had been spared and he enclosed a smallplastic bag into which he had proudly masturbated. It was one of his better literary efforts, and he hoped that Miss Angela Carterappreciated it. The bus arrived at his stop and he walked the short diCollins, Jackie is the author of 'Sinners' with ISBN 9780671737870 and ISBN 0671737872.