couldn’t smell hot money. The lights changed and he pulled forward.
The road narrowed into a shopping center where delivery trucks lined the
curb and a series of pedestrian crossings slowed the flow of cars.
The narrow pavements were thronged with shoppers and obstructed by
several hawkers flogging substandard costume jewelry and ironing-board
covers.
The women were wearing summery clothes. there was something to be said
for the hot weather.
Jesse started to watch the tight T-shirts, the delightfully
loose-fitting frocks and the bare knees as he crawled forward a few
yards at a time. He liked girls with big bottoms, and he scanned the
crowds for a suitable specimen to undress with his eyes.
He spotted her a good fifty yards away. She was wearing a blue nylon
sweater and tight white trousers. She probably thought she was
overweight, but Jesse would have told her otherwise. She had a nice,
old-fashioned bra which made her tits look like torpedoes; and her
highwaisted slacks flared out over big hips. Jesse peered at her, hoping
to see her tits wobble. They did.
What he would like to do, was to stand behind her, and pull her trousers
down slowly, the
The car in front moved forward twenty yards, and Jesse followed it. It
was a brand-new Marina with a vinyl roof. Maybe he would get one with
his share of the takings. The line of cars stopped again. Jesse pulled
the hand brake and looked for the plump girl.
He did not pick her up until the traffic was moving off again. As he let
the clutch in he saw her, looking in the window of a shoe shop, her back
to him. The trousers were so tight that he could see the hem of her
panties, two diagonal lines pointing to the fork of her thighs. He loved
it when you could see their panties under the trousers: it turned him on
almost as much as a bare bum. Then I’d slide her panties down, he
thought, and There was a crash of steel on steel. The van stopped with a
bump, throwing Jesse forward against the steering wheel. The doors slid
shut with a double bang. He knew, before he looked, what he had done;
and the taste of fear made him feel sick.
The Marina in front had stopped sooner than it needed to, and Jesse,
wrapped up in the plump girl with the tight trousers, had gone straight
into its back.
He got out of the van. The driver of the saloon car was already
inspecting the damage. He looked up at Jesse, his face red with anger.
“You mad bastard,” he spat “What are you’re blind, or stupid?” He had a
Lancashire accent.
Jesse ignored him and looked at the bumpers of the two vehicles, folded
together in a steel kiss.
He made an effort to keep calm. “Sorry, pal. My fault.”
“Sorry! You people should be banned from the ruddy road.”
Jesse stared at the man. He was short and portly, and wore a suit. His
round face was a picture of righteous indignation. He had the quick
aggressiveness of small people, and their characteristic backward tilt
of the head. Jesse hated him instantly. He looked like a sergeant-major.
Jesse would have liked to punch his face; or better, shoot him through
the forehead.
“We all make mistakes,” he said with forced amiability. “Let’s just give
each other our names and everything, and get on. It’s only a little
bump.
Don’t make a federal case of it.”
It was the wrong thing to say. The short man became even redder.
“You’re not getting off that lightly,” he said.
The traffic in front had moved on, and drivers behind were getting
impatient. Several of them sounded their horns. One man got out of his
car.
The Marina driver was writing the number of the van in a little
notebook. That type of man always does have a little notebook and pencil
in his jacket pocket, Jesse thought.
He closed the book. “This is bloody careless driving. I’m going to ring
the police.”
The driver from behind said: “How about moving this little lot out the
way, so the rest of us can get on?”