Steve Kehoe gallantly held the door as a cute redhead about half his size eased gracefully into the car. He slammed the door, then hurried to the driver's side knowing he'd be missed soon and had to get away quickly. This would be the first time he'd cheated on his wife in twelve years and Steve had silently vowed that nothing would deprive him of the pleasure.

He heard the shouting just as the car started. Quickly throwing it in gear, he dug out amid a loud screech and the smell of burning rubber. Glancing in the mirror, he saw his four drunken buddies staggering in the street, shaking their fists and cursing.

Sorry boys, he thought, not even friends can keep me from making it with this fine chick.

The girl was turned in the seat calmly watching as the figures shrunk in the distance.

“How will they get home?" she asked in a soft whisper.

“That's their problem, baby.”

Steve knew it was a lousy thing to do, but he couldn't pass this up.

The girl turned and wiggled close to Steve.

"You're a nut," she said lightly.

"Yea baby, a nut for you,” Steve replied.

Leaning over to switch on the radio, he could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume. Probably some five and dime stuff, he thought, but it sure smelled nice.

After adjusting the volume to the proper romantic tone, he put his arm around her, pulling her close. She found a spot on his shoulder and rested her head.

The window was down and a warm spring breeze blew in that seemed to make the cool jazz sounds float from the rear speaker and envelop him. The breeze, the music, the nineteen year old girl close to him, together with enough vodka to make him pleasantly high, made Steve wonder if he'd ever go home.

He smiled contentedly and squeezed Lynn's shoulder. Lynn—a pretty name for a pretty girl. He guessed he still had the old touch, was still able to pick up young girls although he was thirty-seven and his black hair was getting a little gray around the edges. Well, once a lover, always a lover, he figured.

He used to do all right before marriage, three kids, and a boring desk job. He was sick of it all; taking care of the lawn, PTA meetings, Cub Scouts and all the rest of that crap. It was stifling. The only break, a weekly poker game, was becoming a drag too—until tonight. They had been playing for years in each other's houses and there was always at least one watchdog. But tonight they had been at Stash’s place and his wife was in Pennsylvania. When someone suggested a night on the town, there were no dissenters. Steve hadn't wanted to drive, but now he was happy they had decided to go in one car and that it was his.

The town had changed a lot; many of the old hang-outs no longer existed. They had been torn down, burned out or closed permanently by the police. The card players walked like aliens in this strange environment. Even Steve felt different; it wasn't at all as he remembered.

The guys bounced around a bit, nervous like high school kids on their first drunk, until the alcohol got to them and they relaxed and soon began raising hell and having a good time.

Then Steve spotted Lynn sitting alone, nursing a drink, with her tight white dress so short you could see the tops of her stockings as she sat cross legged on the stool. She sure looked good with long red hair and one of those milky white complexions. The others dismissed her as a hustler, but Steve thought he'd take the chance. Slipping off his ring, he approached her, bought a drink, turned on all his charm and before long, they were dancing to the jukebox. Steve soon maneuvered her to a darkened corner where he proceeded to kiss and paw her. She accepted his signs of affection readily.

The others were loudly teasing and joking. Steve thought that before someone made a crack about a wife, he'd better get out. That would be a good way to find out if she was working for the place too. He asked and wasn't surprised when she said yes. They had to slip away from the others and he was grateful to have successfully escaped although it had been close.

“We’re getting near the house; you'd better turn that down," she murmured.

Steve released her and turned the radio off.

"I don't want to neighbors to wake up,” she explained. "They've got enough to talk about now."

Steve smiled, then rested his hand on her side.

“Whatever you say, baby!” he said with a reassuring squeeze.

Lynn made no reply as she peered into the shadows along the street.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked.

Slowly, she shook her head but remained silent. That was a change. She had gabbed her head off in the bar, telling her troubles. All about her drunken husband, her two kids, everything.

Now she sat quietly staring as if in a fog. Christ! he thought, what if she was one of those nutty broad who let you fool around all you want then change their mind at the last minute? Maybe that was why nobody bothered her. He glanced at the pretty sweet face which was much like a model from a teen magazine. No, she couldn't be, she had to be for real.

“Turn here."

Steve was wrenched from his depressing thoughts by the soft, sexy voice. 

"You look scared, honey. What's the matter?"

“Oh nothing, just thinking about my husband."

Steve was relieved that was all it was.

"You said you threw him out."

"I did, but he's sick, there's no telling what he'll do."

Steve felt protective and almost wished he could get his hands on the creep who would beat a cute little thing like this.

“Don’t worry, baby. I'll take care of you."

Lynn smiled. Her silence annoyed him.

"Listen honey, I may not look like a gorilla, like some of those guys downtown, but I’m no slouch."

In reality, Steve hadn't been in a fight since the Army, but was sure he could still handle himself.

Lynn remained silent and seemingly unconvinced.

“I was Division light-heavy champ in the Army. I would have fought pro, but I got married," Steve continued.

She laughed; it was a short, high-pitched, nervous laugh.

“What’s so Goddamn funny?” he asked angrily.

She gently held his arm and slowly stroked his hair. "I'm sorry Steve, forget about it. I shouldn't worry anyway. He's probably laying trunk in some gutter or in one of those crummy hotels on President Street. Don't be mad."

Steve was placated and gave her his most seductive smile. "How much further? I need that coffee."

"Just another block."

It was a quiet residential street and Lynn motioned to a parking space. He pulled in, then turned off the ignition and the lights.

Lynn was bent over, peering toward the second floor of the building.

“The light’s still on—maybe the babysitter’s still up.”

"At four in the morning? Are you kidding?"

She sat and Steve gently held her face then softly kissed her cheeks before finally planting a hard, passionate kiss on her sensuous lips. She responded quickly and hotly just as she'd been doing all night.

Steve thought she was terrific, he was even seeing lights go on while his eyes were closed. Lynn suddenly pulled away. It wasn't passion, someone had opened the door.

A huge hand reached into the car and with a sharp crack, slapped Lynn across the face.

"You bitch!" a rough voice growled.

Steve couldn’t see the intruder’s face, but had no doubt as to who it was. 

Lynn sobbed and tried to cover up. The hand was now a hard fist drawn back to strike again. Steve suddenly grabbed the wrist. The hand stopped, he could feel it relax in his grip. Steve was suddenly completely sober and sweat began to trickle slowly down his back. He raised his eyes to the far end of the arm.

The man was about twenty-four, as tall as Steve, but thinner, dressed in a dirty gray sweatshirt and equally dirty khaki pants as if he had indeed been sleeping in gutters. His face was unshaven, with hair wild and unkempt, and his eyes—man, they were weird. Steve had never seen a madman, but imagined that this was what one would look like.
Steve held tightly to the wrist; the voice came calm and cold.

“Listen brother, I got no beef with you. I don't know you, you don't know me. You're just out looking for a little bit and I don't blame you. So sit there like a nice boy and you won't have no trouble. Now let go of my hand or I’m gonna beat you half to death."

Steve stared at the hard set face. The calm voice was terrifying; he surely meant what he said. Steve then realized why Lynn was alone. The regulars in the bar must have known about this animal. He glanced at the girl, huddling terrified on the seat, knowing he wouldn't be a man if he let her be beaten. There was no reason to be afraid of this guy, but he was so sure of himself, so confident. Was it worth a beating for this bitch? Steve released the hand.

From where it was released, it pumped a short right to the girl’s head, striking her hands with such force it made her sit up.

"Eddie! Eddie! Please!” she screamed.

He grabbed her hair in order to lift her head for a clear punch. Steve sat trembling.

My God! Steve thought, he's going to kill her.

The girl began fighting back. She raked and scratched with her fingernails then tightly clutched his sweatshirt and pulled. He was slightly off-balance and slipped into the car.

It was a chance for Steve to grab and hit Eddie while his back was turned. A chance to redeem himself. Maybe Lynn would believe that was his plan.

Eddie regained his balance; they were half out of the car now, punching, clawing, biting like two wild animals.

Steve knew what he had to do. He shifted quickly, put his foot on Lynn's soft, round buttocks, and kicked them both out of the car. They landed in the road with Eddie holding her arms to prevent his being scratched and Lynn trying desperately to kick him.

Steve started the car and moved out, his door hanging grotesquely open. Glancing in the mirror before he turned the corner, he saw the white dress still moving and shaking on the ground.

He didn’t turn on his lights or shut the door for about half a dozen blocks, then pulled over to wait for the shaking to stop.

After a while he calmed down, slowly replaced the wedding ring, then headed home.

Oh, what the hell, he thought, she wasn't that nice. And besides, these young kids don't know what it's all about anyway.