They were each thinking that the time had come for an all-out war between them. Nobody got away with calling them brats... not to their faces anyway, ...nd Miss Worthington was no exception."We'd like to see Mr. Armstrong, please," Tim said politely, taking in Miss Worthington's pinched features, the drab, colorless hair piled atop her head, still containing a shade of red that hinted at a prettier color in days gone by. Her spreading figure might have been good once, but lack of exercise and. Waking up slowly, Laura felt something poking at her nose. She opened her eyes and realized she had all but buried her face in her father's crotch. Just when she was about to move away in embarrassment, however, she noticed his cock must have been hard the way it was straining against her face. Sneaking a peak, she looked up at him and saw that his eyes were closed so he must have still been sleeping and not aware of his erection. Something tingled down below though and Laura realized she was. I changed the subject, trying to get her to relax, ‘Have you found anything to eat in here? I’m awful hungry.’ She revealed a can of peaches that she had hidden behind her, held it up, ‘I can’t open it,’ Her voice was lifeless, unemotional. ‘I’ve got an opener,’ I said standing up, ‘Let’s move into the back, away from the street.’ She shied away, but her eyes didn’t show fear now. Anger? I fished the can opener out of my rucksack, held it up to show her. She looked at the enticing picture of. 357’s go through about any goddamned thing. I ran for the Duster, threw the bag of cash in the back, started the engine and pulled out. I even fucking signalled. Down the street at about 30 mph, nice and easy, attract no attention. Somebody saw though, the big police cruiser hung a yewie and headed after me. I put my foot down. Under the hood of my Duster was 346 cubic inches of badass shit, I built the thing myself. Special shocks and springs, 490 horsepower on tap and more if I pushed the red.