Outta Control Pt. 01

Yeah, she was intensely aroused, and ready to rumble.

"Make him pay, the fucking cheating bastard!" the voice said.

She nodded, and whispered softly, "Oh don't you fret none! Mama has got it all sewed up like a pillow case!"

She kicked in the ignition and revved the motor gently.

Her sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel tightly like a NASCAR driver at the start line.

Her unwavering, glaring eyes were fixed on her husband, like a lion stalking its prey. Yeah, her darling hubby, father of her two kids, and soon to be a goner...

The voice said, "Step on the gas baby. Give the fucker what he deserves. Run him over, reverse and run him over again, just to be sure. And then get outta here like a bat outta hell. No one will ever know it was you."

Just imagining running him over, feeling and hearing that body go crrrrr-unch, was so gratifying. Her foot was itching to floor the pedal. And every single cell in her was screaming for vengeance. Her mind, her body and her soul, wanted to see blood flow. The fucker, and take that literary please, would never even know what the fuck hit him.

"Yeah, send him to his maker!" the voice said.

"Yeah, lets do this shit!" she replied.

Chapter 10

She switched the gears. She took a deep breath, took one final look at him, strolling over. She pictured his body lying on the ground, all broken, bleeding... she could hear him rasp his last breath.

And she just couldn't do it. She couldn't floor that pedal. Frantically, she killed the motor and ducked down. She was glad he seemed absentminded and hadn't seen her. He was now just 12 meters away. She stuffed her fingers in her mouth and sobbed silently.

She heard him open the door of the Hummer, and bang it shut. For a second, she thought of rushing out and attacking him with the fury of a dragon. Oh how her fingers itched to scratch his face and gouge his eyes. The motor came to life smoothly, and the truck slowly pulled away. She raised her head slowly, and her red, blurry eyes caught a peek of their truck disappearing around a band.

She suddenly felt mad! Mad at her cheating husband, and even madder at herself. What the hell was she doing, sneaking, ducking and creeping; hiding herself as if she was the guilty party? No! she was the wronged party here. She was the one who had the cheating husband, fucking around behind her back.

Suddenly, livid with anger, she jumped out of the car and banged the door shut. She pulled up her shorts and strode purposefully to Suite No. 8. She was glad she had put on her steel tipped boots, coz she was definitely going to kick some bitch's ass today.

She stood for a second before the door, listening. She heard a muffled female voice, chatting away gaily. So, the bitch was on the phone now huh, probably telling some other bitch what a stud her man was. Well, she was gonna put studs in that ass for sure.

She would show her how a real country girl dealt with such a home wrecking slut. All the muscles she had acquired from playing Handball were now bristling with energy. Her heart was thumping, adrenalin pumping, nostrils flaring. She had an acrid taste in her mouth. She heard this voice, the same voice that had told her to kill her man. Now it was telling her to kick some ass, real, real bad.

She tried the door, but unfortunately, it could only be opened from the inside. She banged on it with both her fists, several times. She was so pissed she even kicked it, twice, for good measure. Her foot hurt from the steel tips, but she didn't give a fuck. She heard a muffled scurry of action inside.

Then there was silence. She knocked again, calmer, this time. And then she heard slow footsteps approaching. The bitch was smart. She tried to peep out through the window, but Mel pressed herself against the door.

"Who is it?" came a muffled female voice.

"Room service," she responded, trying her best to sound calm. "I wasn't sure there was still anybody in there. Sorry."

There was a long pause. Then she heard a hand start to turn the door handle from inside. She clenched her right fist, and raised it to shoulder level, bent her knees slightly, and coiled her body like a spring. Once the fucking door opened, some bitch was not even gonna know what hit her.

*

Chapter 11

The door slid slowly open. Even before she saw her, the pungent smell of weed hit her nostrils. Well, this bitch was gonna come down from her high real fast.

Her tall, slim body was wrapped in a hastily thrown on, short gown. Her hair was disheveled and damp, her pale body drenched in sweat like her husband's.

Mel's fist was just starting to rocket at her head.

She jumped in shock as she saw her. Mel's jaw dropped, so did her fist. Her senses reeled, and the world turned upside down. She held on to the door for support, otherwise she would have just fallen over and fainted.

"Mel!!!" she gasped, face going a deathly pale, as if she had seen a ghost. She started to totter, as if Mel had really struck her. The bitch looked like she just wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

Mel heard a gasp from inside the room. There was a flurry of movement, like someone getting up suddenly, and trying to run for it. Mel tried to enter the room. The woman tried to block her. Mel growled and sent her flying to the carpet.

She, the other bitch, had nearly made it to the bathroom. Mel recognized her instantly, and nearly dropped dead.

"Oh h-a-a-a-a-a-i-l (hell)!!!!" Mel howled.

Mel tottered to a couch and dropped on her ass like a sack of potatoes. She lay back, a hand on her forehead, trying to soothe her poor head, which was feeling like she had a troupe of African Bongo Players just banging away in there.

To be continued...