106 If I Can’t Have Him, No One Can!
Abigail Sanderson watched Melvin walk out of the apartment complex through a pair of binoculars she'd bought at a nearby gun and ammunition store earlier that night.
She had almost given up on him and had bided her time watching some blonde chick give head to a dude parked in front of the building she was scoping out, but then suddenly there he was, her ex husband in the flesh. She straightened up in her seat and peered through the binoculars. A young group of hotties surrounded Melvin, one of which Abigail recognized as her niece, Tina, the little traitorous slut.
Abigail took her hand out of her unbuttoned jeans where she had recently been playing with herself while watching the horny couple, wiped off her sticky fingers and focused her complete attention on Melvin's group. She wondered which one was Courtney, and she put her money on the redhead. The other girls were hot, but the redhead was hot in a different kind of way, more of a cute sweetness really, a way that a sensitive guy like Melvin would appreciate. The redhead also seemed to be walking closest to Melvin, so it would make sense that she would be the one that had caught Melvin's oh so sexy eyes.
Abigail's free hand went unconsciously to the gun at her side. This was the other purchase that she had made at the gun shop; all it took was a few dollars under the table and a few seductive bats of her large amber eyes, and the owner overlooked any law that might have kept her hands off the weapon for at least a few days. The manipulation of men was one of Abigail's better talents.
She didn't know why she had bought the gun and wasn't sure what she planned to do with it. The thought of yelling "If I can't have him, no one can!" and going on a shooting spree seemed way too cliché in her mind; she had to believe she was above something so lame. Then again, why did she buy a gun in the first place? She didn't really plan to use it on that Courtney girl, did she?
All she knew was that she wanted Melvin for herself and no one else.
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Richie Golding tucked the walkie talkie between the seats and started the car's ignition. He peered through the driver's side window and watched as Melvin and the girls separated to their own vehicles: Melvin and Courtney into his BMW, the other girls into a small red sports car. How had Melvin lucked out enough to spend the evening with such four beautiful women? Richie turned to Brenda; she looked about ready to die of boredom, her head resting on her hands, her face slack.
"I hope you like Chinese," he said and put the car into drive. Melvin had told him where he and the girls were headed, and Richie had passed the information one to Red team, Bridget and Joey. They would all meet up at the restaurant, and who knew what would happen next? Richie hoped that it would be as entertaining as he suspected.
"Anything's better than sitting in this car for another hour," Brenda said and peered through the window with her light blue eyes.