“Bitch is about like tits on a bull. Fuckin’ worthless.” The redneck’s slurred voice carried to Jasmine as she poured his next beer. Fuckers. She swirled the glass in her hand, foam circling the edges of the dark liquid. Daring her. Smiling, she swished her tongue in her mouth, gathering a thick dollop of saliva, and spat in the drink. She swirled it once more, letting it cling to the foam, and walked back to the counter....

“No!” Jasmine thrashed, trying to disentangle her arms from her own tank top as Randy sat back up. Her lover shoved beside her, grabbed the wheel, and slammed on the brake just as Jasmine wrenched a hand free to smack against the dash so she wouldn’t fall again. Randy palmed the shifter and maneuvered it back in place. She stared at the steering wheel, her face frozen. Unblinking. It was as if they’d ripped a thin celloph...

Randy awoke as Jasmine’s warm body lifted from hers. The ends of the girl’s blonde hair swept over her breast and stomach as she pulled herself into a sitting position. It was the first time she could survey her without the pixie knowing, the first uncompromised view she’d had of how she’d be when she didn’t know she was being watched. In her experience, those moments were more indicative of people’s true selves than anyt...