Florida Panhandle 2024
Wolfie Jules made out the three shapes on the beach just in front of the three guys. It was clear what they were doing. Not the girl with long hair, she was naked, just laid there motionless. She was a victim, a non-participant. One guy was under her and another behind her ass. They were pumping away, shouting profanities. She seemed limp, lifeless. It looked like they were fucking a corpse. In contrast to these two men, the long-haired girl was silent. Nothing. Wolfie sensed something was badly wrong.
A short time earlier, in the safety of her home, a long-haired girl called Mercy had begged and pleaded.
Mercy pleaded with her father. Finally, her father Matt Deal gave in, “Right Miss Mercy. Go, but these are the rules. No alcohol, no smoking, no drugs, and no boys. Got it?”
“Thank you, daddy. I love you,” said fifteen-year-old Mercy.
Matt Deal knew there was no point arguing with his daughter. She was fierce in her determination to do as she wanted. A trait inherited from her mother and her father, Jack Hughes, an obscenely wealthy self-made man. Besides, Matt and his wife, Lorey, were fighting again. Lorey was drunk, taking a breather by relaxing in the tub before she started up on round two of the fight. Matt thought it best for Mercy to go to Destin with her friend, Mary.
Of course, he worried about that. They were both fifteen going on twenty judging by the way they looked and clothes they wore. Mercy with her long strawberry blond hair and Mary with her cute black urchin style cut. He would have been more worried if he had known their secret. Earlier that Saturday, they had met a group of guys, young men on vacation – a long weekend break from college. Naturally, the two girls were interested in the invitation to a beach party that night. They were flattered.
“Mer, one more thing,” Matt Deal said.
“How are you getting there? It’s twenty miles into Destin.”
“Mary’s dad is giving us a ride,” Mercy lied.
“And back home?” Matt said.
“Yes. Of course, dad. Stop worrying.” Mercy lied again.
“Tell him no later than midnight, you hear? In fact, why don’t I call him?”
“Dad. Trust me.” Mercy bluffed, adding, “Trust me to tell him, right? I’m not a little girl anymore.” She hugged her father to reinforce the ruse. It worked.
“Okay then, but no screw-ups, right? Where is he picking you up?”
“At the Tom Thumb gas station.”
“Dunno really. He said something about filling up and saving time so meet him there,” the lies rolled off Mercy’s tongue.
“Just take care, okay?”
“Definitely, mate,” Mercy said in a cheeky imitation of her father’s British accent.
“Be off with you before I change my mind.” Matt said, smiling.
Mercy grabbed her purse to make for the front door, pausing to look at her reflection in the long hall mirror. She liked the long legs, short denim skirt, pink shirt, and her long strawberry blond hair. She skipped through the door like a spring lamb. Mercy walked briskly to the end of her street in Navarre Beach to the beach front road. Conor O’Rourke was waiting, sat parked in his father’s BMW. He was the alpha male of the Kappa Alpha fraternity from Georgia Tech. There was no Mary and no Mary’s father. They were part of Mercy’s deception.
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