I by Jack Olsen Page A

took her money and if I didn’t pay double she wouldn’t see a dime.
    After a while the sales pitch got louder and turned into a threat— “You better pay up or I’ll call the cops.”
    I warned her fair and square: “You don’t know the risk you’re taking.”
    She said, “Oh, yes I do. Now gimme the money!”
    I gave her one more chance. “I won’t put up with this shit. You’ve got nothing on me.”
    She said, “Yes, I do! I know your name and who you drive for and where you’re delivering. Now give me what I’ve got coming!”
    I said, “I’ll tell you what you got coming, girl. I’m gonna strangle you!”
    She said. “Go for it!”
    I was thinking, Does this stupid bitch know the chance she’s taking for forty lousy bucks? I pushed her down in the sleeper and gave her a hard stare. She must have thought I had rape on my mind. She wasn’t that lucky.
    As my hand brushed against her neck, I said, “For that last extra threat, bitch, you just lost your life.”
    I don’t think she believed me till I had my fist in her throat. Nothing could have stopped me by then.
    Just before she passed out, I said, “You’re number four that pushed your luck with me, bitch. Now you’re dead!” I trembled at the excitement of the kill.
    For a minute or two I tried to catch my breath. I thought I saw movement in her eyes. I bent over her and heard her breathing. I laid there next to her till she came around again and I started playing with her. She touched me back, I guess out of fear. The death game begins!
    I played for an hour and then decided to put her under for good. As she struggled, I could see her will to live fade like a match going out.
    Even after she closed her eyes and went limp, I kept pushing till I was sure she was dead. Then I stretched her out and cleaned the spot where she’d peed her raincoat.
    I locked the doors behind me and went into the café. I looked into my cup of coffee and wondered about the mentality of these truck-stop hookers. Why did they put themselves in such dangerous positions? Drugs? This stupid woman asked to be killed. I just helped her out.
    Back in the truck I slid in next to her, opened her blouse, and felt her skin. She had firm tits, a good body. To clear my head I masturbated in my hand. Then I covered her up and went through her pockets. She’d been a busy little whore. I retrieved my forty and two hundred dollars more. This would be a bad night for her pimp.
    I thought of putting her body in one of the dropped trailers that were lined up in the back row. Wouldn’t that be a surprise for the driver? Then I remembered the GI Joe’s parking lot in Salem, next to where I was scheduled to deliver in the morning. There were garbage containers and blackberry vines in the back lot.

8 A Good Night’s Work
    I headed south on I-5 and switched to 99 to bypass the I-5 Woodburn Port of Entry. I didn’t want to be documented going south and I didn’t want a nosy cop to check my load. I approached GI Joe’s from the south, off Highway 22.
    I saw that the back light wasn’t working in the parking lot and a few container trailers were butted against the fence. There were plenty of vines to hide the body and some loose trash blowing around as well. A six-foot fence border obscured the property. Perfect.
    It was around 2:00 A.M . and really dark. I took a wide sweeping turn so my rig wouldn’t scratch the fence and leave a paint stain. With flashlight in hand I looked the place over for security. It was empty.
    I opened the sleeper door and pulled the whore out by her hair. She fell on her head with a thud, six feet straight down. I dragged her against the fence and covered her with leaves. A good night’s work.
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    I drove to Waremart, a hundred yards down the street, took a nap and delivered my load in the morning. I called my