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Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment

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Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Since I concluded Singapore III (https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threa...gapore-part-iii-of-barbs-singapore-saga.8106/), I have faced enormous (one or two people) popular demand to tell the story of red-haired Trixie's exciting adventure in Turkey. I must confess that I too have been excited by the thought of such delectable ginger in the hands of the Turkish Authorities. A kind of female take on "Midnight Express."
As I have thought about possible action, I must acknowledge the Airport Strip-Search works of Powerone, which have always excited me.
I have only written few chapters and am still finishing up one of my magna opera, The Fate of a Goth Girl, https://www.cruxforums.com/xf/threads/the-fate-of-a-goth-girl.8750/.
Therefore, I shall be posting erratically and missing many days. Be patient, I think it will be a worthy treatment of Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torments.
 
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Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
We shall begin by recapping part of Singapore III to introduce the Ongoing sage of Trixie Thomson:

Prelude in Singapore

Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore, Monday 2:45 PM

Robert Burnside knocked on Jeffrey’s door and the young attorney asked him to come in and sit. Burnside hemmed and hawed for a minute and then got to his point.

“See here, Hodges. You are a valuable member of the Embassy, and we have only respect for you. I hope you understand that?”
“Thank you, Sir. Yes, I do.”
“You and your lovely wife, Kathy, are just the kind of moral young family that can provide a model to others living in a foreign land and faced with new temptations.”
Yes Sir.” While Burnside seemed to be positive, Jeffrey wondered where it was going.
“So I want you to understand that none of this reflects badly on you. Your, ahem, personal interests, ahem, your off-duty actions, if discrete, ahem, ahem. Dammit. What I’m trying to say is that that girl, Trixie, is a bad influence on you and could lead to embarrassment to you and the Embassy.”

Shit, thought Jeffrey. I can’t let this get back to Kathy. Does he know about this weekend? Shit!.
“Sir, I think you misunderstood what you just saw. I was taking a shower, and Trixie was bringing my clothes. I did absolutely nothing -”
“Of course, I know you would do nothing improper, Hodges,” reassured his administrator. “Total confidence, don’t you know?” Jeffrey breathed a sigh of relief.
“But, I mean. Actually, it’s that, that – slut of a girl, Trixie. Sneaking in to see her boss naked! I saw her trying to touch you. You are too innocent to realize how tramps like her can try to seduce a fine husband like you!”
Shit, thought Jeffrey. This kind of talk has to stop.

“It’s unacceptable,” continued his boss. “We have done some research into ‘Miss’ Thomson's background, and there is no way she should be working for the United States State Department. Can you believe that her permanent address is listed as the ‘Bubba Jim Mobile Home Resort’ in Branchwater, Alabama? She got her GED from the South Alabama Technical Institute – whatever that thing is!”
“Well, yes, Sir, but it seems she had worked her way up…”
“Worked her way? That’s a laugh. One of the reps sent to interview at that ‘Institute’ claimed the lead interviewer only chose her for training because she gave him an in-depth look at her cleavage. I just got off the phone with a friend of mine at FASTC in Blackstone, Virginia, John Watson. He cannot allow his name to be used publicly, but he said she was about to be dismissed there until she gave one of her instructors - ” Burnside leaned forward and whispered, confidentially, “ - fellatio! She got down on her knees in his office and – and - well, you know!”
“I have found the girl’s work to be satisfac…”
“After four workdays? You haven’t been in the office enough to give her real work. No, she was still on a probationary period, thank God. We have already filed a USSDF-128, Unsatisfactory Report on her so that Beatrice Thomson will never work for the US government again. Good riddance to bad rubbish!”
“But…but Sir! This seems so sudden. Can’t we give her a few more weeks to prove herself? We could call her in here now, and both talk to her and put her on strict warning? I’m sure she will prove worthy of retention.”
“That’s your weakness, Hodges. You are too damn soft-hearted with a pretty girl. It was your indulging of that Jones girl that made this necessary. The Ambassador has demanded that we clean house.”
“But, Trixie…”
“Too late, Jeffrey. It's been taken care of. She’s already been terminated. Marine guards supervised taking her personal items (all makeup, I presume!) from her desk and escorted her out ten minutes ago. They will have her at the airport within the hour. Before the day is out, she will be on a plane back to Alabama. You should thank us, Hodges. I suspect we might have saved you much trouble. I wouldn’t assume that trash like that is above making up a harassment complaint to blackmail you.” Burnside stood and left the office. Jeffrey sat, open-mouthed in shock.
 

Fossy

Senator
We shall begin by recapping part of Singapore III to introduce the Ongoing sage of Trixie Thomson:

Prelude in Singapore

Jeffrey Hodges Office, US Embassy, Singapore, Monday 2:45 PM

Robert Burnside knocked on Jeffrey’s door and the young attorney asked him to come in and sit. Burnside hemmed and hawed for a minute and then got to his point.

“See here, Hodges. You are a valuable member of the Embassy, and we have only respect for you. I hope you understand that?”
“Thank you, Sir. Yes, I do.”
“You and your lovely wife, Kathy, are just the kind of moral young family that can provide a model to others living in a foreign land and faced with new temptations.”
Yes Sir.” While Burnside seemed to be positive, Jeffrey wondered where it was going.
“So I want you to understand that none of this reflects badly on you. Your, ahem, personal interests, ahem, your off-duty actions, if discrete, ahem, ahem. Dammit. What I’m trying to say is that that girl, Trixie, is a bad influence on you and could lead to embarrassment to you and the Embassy.”

Shit, thought Jeffrey. I can’t let this get back to Kathy. Does he know about this weekend? Shit!.
“Sir, I think you misunderstood what you just saw. I was taking a shower, and Trixie was bringing my clothes. I did absolutely nothing -”
“Of course, I know you would do nothing improper, Hodges,” reassured his administrator. “Total confidence, don’t you know?” Jeffrey breathed a sigh of relief.
“But, I mean. Actually, it’s that, that – slut of a girl, Trixie. Sneaking in to see her boss naked! I saw her trying to touch you. You are too innocent to realize how tramps like her can try to seduce a fine husband like you!”
Shit, thought Jeffrey. This kind of talk has to stop.

“It’s unacceptable,” continued his boss. “We have done some research into ‘Miss’ Thomson's background, and there is no way she should be working for the United States State Department. Can you believe that her permanent address is listed as the ‘Bubba Jim Mobile Home Resort’ in Branchwater, Alabama? She got her GED from the South Alabama Technical Institute – whatever that thing is!”
“Well, yes, Sir, but it seems she had worked her way up…”
“Worked her way? That’s a laugh. One of the reps sent to interview at that ‘Institute’ claimed the lead interviewer only chose her for training because she gave him an in-depth look at her cleavage. I just got off the phone with a friend of mine at FASTC in Blackstone, Virginia, John Watson. He cannot allow his name to be used publicly, but he said she was about to be dismissed there until she gave one of her instructors - ” Burnside leaned forward and whispered, confidentially, “ - fellatio! She got down on her knees in his office and – and - well, you know!”
“I have found the girl’s work to be satisfac…”
“After four workdays? You haven’t been in the office enough to give her real work. No, she was still on a probationary period, thank God. We have already filed a USSDF-128, Unsatisfactory Report on her so that Beatrice Thomson will never work for the US government again. Good riddance to bad rubbish!”
“But…but Sir! This seems so sudden. Can’t we give her a few more weeks to prove herself? We could call her in here now, and both talk to her and put her on strict warning? I’m sure she will prove worthy of retention.”
“That’s your weakness, Hodges. You are too damn soft-hearted with a pretty girl. It was your indulging of that Jones girl that made this necessary. The Ambassador has demanded that we clean house.”
“But, Trixie…”
“Too late, Jeffrey. It's been taken care of. She’s already been terminated. Marine guards supervised taking her personal items (all makeup, I presume!) from her desk and escorted her out ten minutes ago. They will have her at the airport within the hour. Before the day is out, she will be on a plane back to Alabama. You should thank us, Hodges. I suspect we might have saved you much trouble. I wouldn’t assume that trash like that is above making up a harassment complaint to blackmail you.” Burnside stood and left the office. Jeffrey sat, open-mouthed in shock.
And she is back - wonderful. I wonder if this tale will include any reference to the delightful, if somewhat damaged, Trixie's very brief forced sojourn in Bali where she enjoyed an extremely satisfying 48 hours with a certain Ekaterina Novikova ... maybe not. We shall see ...
Bali 03 - a splendidly tousled sight.jpg
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Pre Prelude in Alabama

Trixie Thomson was a cheery and loving child despite a home situation that many would be horrified at. For as long as she could remember, Trixie had lived alone with her mother, Magnolia (Mag for short) in a dilapidated single-wide on cinderblocks in “Bubba Jim’s Mobile Home Resort” in Branchwater Alabama. Unlike many in the “resort” who owned their trailer and rented the land, the Thomsons were pure rentals – week-to-weeks, the better off residents called them (and other nastier things that they usually (though not always) kept from the ears of the sweet little, red-haired girl). In keeping with their situation, Mag weekly trudged down to the “office” to pay the super, Billy Bob, the rent. She would be gone for about an hour and return smelling of rye and sweat, with her skimpy clothes mussed.

Trixie never met her father, Robert, her mother called him. He had been a handsome, smart, and ambitious youth when he married Mag, and the girl was often told of his great plans to provide well for his family. However, not too long after she was born, he was “taken away,” leaving Mag alone to raise her little daughter. Her mother would never answer her questions for more details on her father. All she had was a tiny, scratched snapshot of a young oily-looking man with long unkempt hair and a cigarette dangling from lips curled in a smug sneer. When she was eleven, a school classmate told her that "taken away" meant that her father had been sent to "Holman," the name for the Maximum Security Prison located in the next county. The boy said her father was a murderer.
For the only time in her life, Trixie lost her temper (she had none of the fabled redhead volatility) and was all over the boy. That earned her a five-day suspension. When she got home, she confronted her mother, who looked confused. However, it was also clear that Mag had been drinking (as she did more and more those days), and she refused to answer and went into her bedroom and passed out.

Growing up, the girl longed desperately for a real father in her home. Her mother rarely had a job and then usually lasted at it only a few days. It was always the same story, “The bastards are full of shit. They want me to work like a slave!” Mag did, however, have a long, steady string of ‘boyfriends.’ Often as many as three or four that she juggled meeting.

Considerately, when her boyfriends came over, Mag arranged for Trixie to spend that time with “Mrs. Randy,” an older widow neighbor who had more money than most and was slightly fond of the playful, curlyheaded girl. She would talk with Trixie for a while and cook her a meal (usually far better food than she got at home). But after an hour or so, the ‘medicinal elixir” that Mrs. Randy constantly drank would take hold and she would pass out in her easy chair while the child watched TV (something the Thomsons couldn’t afford).

There were few children in the ‘resort’ and none near Trixie’s age, so she was rather lonely growing up. She looked forward to school where she would be able to make friends her own age. However, from the first day on the school bus, she found she was forced to sit alone. The other children were determined not to associate with her. They whispered to each other that she was a wrong kind. It took a while for Trixie to get to hear what they said, and even then, she didn’t understand the meaning. “TPT” they would say if they thougt she might hear. After a few months, she happened to walk behind two kids, who didn’t know she was there and she heard the full phrase, “Trailer Park Trash.”
 
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Fossy

Senator
Pre Prelude in Alabama

Trixie Thomson was a cheery and loving child despite a home situation that many would be horrified at. For as long as she could remember, Trixie had lived alone with her mother, Magnolia (Mag for short) in a dilapidated single-wide on cinderblocks in “Bubba Jim’s Mobile Home Resort” in Branchwater Alabama. Unlike many in the “resort” who owned their trailer and rented the land, the Thomsons were pure rentals – week-to-weeks, the better off residents called them (and other nastier things that they usually (though not always) kept from the ears of the sweet little, red-haired girl). In keeping with their situation, Mag weekly trudged down to the “office” to pay the super, Billy Bob, the rent. She would be gone for about an hour and return smelling of rye and sweat, with her skimpy clothes mussed.

Trixie never met her father, Robert, her mother called him. He had been a handsome, smart, and ambitious youth when he married Mag, and the girl was often told of his great plans to provide well for his family. However, not too long after she was born, he was “taken away,” leaving Mag alone to raise her little daughter. Her mother would never answer her questions for more details on her father. All she had was a tiny, scratched snapshot of a young oily-looking man with long unkempt hair and a cigarette dangling from lips curled in a smug sneer. When she was eleven, a school classmate told her that "taken away" meant that her father had been sent to "Holman," the name for the Maximum security prison located in the net county. The boy said her father was a murderer.
For the only time in her life, Trixie lost her temper (she had none of the fabled redhead volatility) and was all over the boy. That earned her a five-day suspension. When she got home, she confronted her mother, who looked confused. However, it was also clear that Mag had been drinking (as she did more and more those days), and she refused to answer and went into her bedroom and passed out.

Growing up, the girl longed desperately for a real father in her home. Her mother rarely had a job and then usually lasted at it only a few days. It was always the same story, “The bastards are fully of shit. They want me to work like a slave!” Mag did, however, have a long, steady string of ‘boyfriends.’ Often as many as three or four that she juggled meeting.

Considerately, when her boyfriends came over, Mag arranged for Trixie to spend that time with “Mrs. Randy,” an older widow neighbor who had more money than most and was slightly fond of the playful, curlyheaded girl. She would talk with Trixie for a while and cook her a meal (usually far better food than she got at home). But after an hour or so, the ‘medicinal elixir” that Mrs. Randy constantly drank would take hold and she would pass out in her easy chair while the child watched TV (something the Thomsons couldn’t afford).

There were few children in the ‘resort’ and none near Trixie’s age, so she was rather lonely growing up. She looked forward to school where she would be able to make friends her own age. However, from the first day on the school bus, she found she was forced to sit alone. The other children were determined not to associate with her. They whispered to each other that she was a wrong kind. It took a while for Trixie to get to hear what they said, and even then, she didn’t understand the meaning. “TPT” they would say if they thougt she might hear. After a few months, she happened to walk behind two kids, who didn’t know she was there and she heard the full phrase, “Trailer Park Trash.”
Loving the background. Easy to see why Trix saw Jeffrey as a male role model ... Imagine how she felt when she achieved a posting to Singapore ... it must have felt like she'd won the lottery.
 

montycrusto

Slave Trader

Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment...​

this has to be the best thread title since @Barbaria1 ’s:
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill

Trailer Park Trash Trixie's Turkish Torment...​

this has to be the best thread title since @Barbaria1 ’s:
I am somewhat insulted by that comparison. Barb (of the famous tight, little) could only come up with a triple alliteration of "D," with the unimpressive use of "B." I have achieved the previously thought impossibility of five "T" and a cognate "P." Nobel Committee take note!
 

montycrusto

Slave Trader
I am somewhat insulted by that comparison. Barb (of the famous tight, little) could only come up with a triple alliteration of "D," with the unimpressive use of "B." I have achieved the previously thought impossibility of five "T" and a cognate "P." Nobel Committee take note!
...or perhaps @Barbaria1 just knows when to stop :doh: :rolleyes::p
 

twonines

Senator
Pre Prelude in Alabama

Trixie Thomson was a cheery and loving child despite a home situation that many would be horrified at. For as long as she could remember, Trixie had lived alone with her mother, Magnolia (Mag for short) in a dilapidated single-wide on cinderblocks in “Bubba Jim’s Mobile Home Resort” in Branchwater Alabama. Unlike many in the “resort” who owned their trailer and rented the land, the Thomsons were pure rentals – week-to-weeks, the better off residents called them (and other nastier things that they usually (though not always) kept from the ears of the sweet little, red-haired girl). In keeping with their situation, Mag weekly trudged down to the “office” to pay the super, Billy Bob, the rent. She would be gone for about an hour and return smelling of rye and sweat, with her skimpy clothes mussed.

Trixie never met her father, Robert, her mother called him. He had been a handsome, smart, and ambitious youth when he married Mag, and the girl was often told of his great plans to provide well for his family. However, not too long after she was born, he was “taken away,” leaving Mag alone to raise her little daughter. Her mother would never answer her questions for more details on her father. All she had was a tiny, scratched snapshot of a young oily-looking man with long unkempt hair and a cigarette dangling from lips curled in a smug sneer. When she was eleven, a school classmate told her that "taken away" meant that her father had been sent to "Holman," the name for the Maximum Security Prison located in the next county. The boy said her father was a murderer.
For the only time in her life, Trixie lost her temper (she had none of the fabled redhead volatility) and was all over the boy. That earned her a five-day suspension. When she got home, she confronted her mother, who looked confused. However, it was also clear that Mag had been drinking (as she did more and more those days), and she refused to answer and went into her bedroom and passed out.

Growing up, the girl longed desperately for a real father in her home. Her mother rarely had a job and then usually lasted at it only a few days. It was always the same story, “The bastards are full of shit. They want me to work like a slave!” Mag did, however, have a long, steady string of ‘boyfriends.’ Often as many as three or four that she juggled meeting.

Considerately, when her boyfriends came over, Mag arranged for Trixie to spend that time with “Mrs. Randy,” an older widow neighbor who had more money than most and was slightly fond of the playful, curlyheaded girl. She would talk with Trixie for a while and cook her a meal (usually far better food than she got at home). But after an hour or so, the ‘medicinal elixir” that Mrs. Randy constantly drank would take hold and she would pass out in her easy chair while the child watched TV (something the Thomsons couldn’t afford).

There were few children in the ‘resort’ and none near Trixie’s age, so she was rather lonely growing up. She looked forward to school where she would be able to make friends her own age. However, from the first day on the school bus, she found she was forced to sit alone. The other children were determined not to associate with her. They whispered to each other that she was a wrong kind. It took a while for Trixie to get to hear what they said, and even then, she didn’t understand the meaning. “TPT” they would say if they thougt she might hear. After a few months, she happened to walk behind two kids, who didn’t know she was there and she heard the full phrase, “Trailer Park Trash.”
Great to have a bit of background information about Trixie, such a shame that after pulling herself out of the mire, she is going to be brought so low.
Still, I`m sure we will enjoy all her tribulations!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
The Education of a TPT Girl

When Trixie learned what TPT meant she was hurt to the core. But, rather than accept the stereotype, the criticism made her determined to prove those kids wrong. She still was shunned by most at school, but she tried her best to learn proper speech, dress as neatly as her limited resources allowed, and study hard in school.

Against all expectations stemming from her home and background, Trixie proved to be an outstanding student, at least by the abysmally low standards of the Conecuh County Public Schools (When the local school administrators once were challenged for their low standards, they replied, “We’ar a heap sight betta’ than than those fool factries o’vr in Mississippi!”) When Trixie graduated second in her class (the schools had never heard of such high-falutin’ words as Valedictorian or Salutatorian), she was thrilled to see her mother turn up in the audience. It was Trixie’s eighteenth birthday and she never had felt so proud. Unfortunately, by the time the teen walked across the stage to receive her diploma, Mag had already passed out in her seat. The mother was heavy into drinking by then.

After her graduation, Trixie went into an untypical period of depression. Living at home with her alcoholic mother, job opportunities almost non-existent in the town, no one caring about her educational achievements, Trixie suddenly saw all her hard work in school leading to no bright future.
As Trixie entered her teens, she had come to know exactly how her mother ‘paid’ the rent and why there was a constant stream of boyfriends. Rather than following her mother’s example as many girls in that situation would, Trixie swung in the complete opposite direction. She refused to have anything to do with boys in school or socially. In fact, throughout school, she had no social life as she concentrated completely on her studies. The determined redhead fell totally for the pablum dished out by the bored and unmotivated teachers that a good education was the pathway to great things beyond Branchwater. Now, she learned that it was all lies, with the only jobs for a girl like her were as a bargirl in one of the local dives.
 

Fossy

Senator
The Education of a TPT Girl

When Trixie learned what TPT meant she was hurt to the core. But, rather than accept the stereotype, the criticism made her determined to prove those kids wrong. She still was shunned by most at school, but she tried her best to learn proper speech, dress as neatly as her limited resources allowed, and study hard in school.

Against all expectations stemming from her home and background, Trixie proved to be an outstanding student, at least by the abysmally low standards of the Conecuh County Public Schools (When the local school administrators once were challenged for their low standards, they replied, “We’ar a heap sight betta’ than than those fool factries o’vr in Mississippi!”) When Trixie graduated second in her class (the schools had never heard of such high-falutin’ words as Valedictorian or Salutatorian), she was thrilled to see her mother turn up in the audience. It was Trixie’s eighteenth birthday and she never had felt so proud. Unfortunately, by the time the teen walked across the stage to receive her diploma, Mag had already passed out in her seat. The mother was heavy into drinking by then.

After her graduation, Trixie went into an untypical period of depression. Living at home with her alcoholic mother, job opportunities almost non-existent in the town, no one caring about her educational achievements, Trixie suddenly saw all her hard work in school leading to no bright future.
As Trixie entered her teens, she had come to know exactly how her mother ‘paid’ the rent and why there was a constant stream of boyfriends. Rather than following her mother’s example as many girls in that situation would, Trixie swung in the complete opposite direction. She refused to have anything to do with boys in school or socially. In fact, throughout school, she had no social life as she concentrated completely on her studies. The determined redhead fell totally for the pablum dished out by the bored and unmotivated teachers that a good education was the pathway to great things beyond Branchwater. Now, she learned that it was all lies, with the only jobs for a girl like her were as a bargirl in one of the local dives.
I have a huge affinity for this girl, and the more background we get the better ... loving this.

Better herself.jpeg

... Trixie was determined to make a better life for herself ...
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
After a few weeks of deep funk, Trixie tried the alternative choice for a girl in Branchwater, she started dating. Now the reader should understand that ‘dating’ in Branchwater, Alabama was like dating everywhere, only, in some ways more so. Even though she was totally inexperienced, her looks attracted a swarm of boys like ‘flies to the buttermilk,’ as the locals said. Perhaps at this point, we should pause to review the kind of eighteen-year-old beauty, that Beatrice (Trixie) Thomson had matured into.

Starting at the top, the girl had a thick, lustrous head of deep strawberry red hair, loosely curled, falling in waves down her shoulders and giving her sweet, innocent face a golden halo. Her skin is astoundingly fair, with a pale, alabaster glow. The soft look is further heightened by a generous sprinkling of freckles, that are also pale and just dark enough to be seen. Standing 5’3” and weighing in at 115 pounds, Trixie’s body was trim and shapely, but with an enticing softness and vulnerability. Her breasts were a bit large on her body, but with youthful firmness, they rode temptingly high on her chest. Her middle was very small with a slight rounding of her belly and a deep-set navel. Her butt was the most prominent part of her anatomy and she was most self-conscious about it. However, to most men, the full firm ass cheeks were heavenly. Her legs were long for her height and most shapely.

In sum, Trixie was a knockout!
 
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twonines

Senator
After a few weeks of deep funk, Trixie tried the alternative choice for a girl in Branchwater, she started dating. Now the reader should understand that ‘dating’ in Branchwater, Alabama was like dating everywhere, only, in some ways more so. Even though she was totally inexperienced, her looks attracted a swarm of boys like ‘flies to the buttermilk,’ as the locals said. Perhaps at this point, we should pause to review the kind of eighteen-year-old beauty, that Beatrice (Trixie) Thomson had matured into.

Starting at the top, the girl had a thick, lustrous head of deep strawberry red hair, loosely curled, falling in waves down her shoulders and giving her sweet, innocent face a golden halo. Her skin is astoundingly fair, with a pale, alabaster glow. The soft look is further heightened by a generous sprinkling of freckles, that are also pale and just dark enough to be seen. Standing 5’3” and weighing in at 115 pounds, Trixie’s body was trim and shapely, but with an enticing softness and vulnerability. Her breasts were a bit large on her body, but with youthful firmness, they rode temptingly high on her chest. Her middle was very small with a slight rounding of her belly and a deep-set navel. Her butt was the most prominent part of her anatomy and she was most self-conscious about it. However, to most men, the full firm ass cheeks were heavenly. Her legs were long for her height and most shapely.

In sum, Trixie was a knockout!
In other words, just perfect for some PrPr erotic brutality!
 

Fossy

Senator
After a few weeks of deep funk, Trixie tried the alternative choice for a girl in Branchwater, she started dating. Now the reader should understand that ‘dating’ in Branchwater, Alabama was like dating everywhere, only, in some ways more so. Even though she was totally inexperienced, her looks attracted a swarm of boys like ‘flies to the buttermilk,’ as the locals said. Perhaps at this point, we should pause to review the kind of eighteen-year-old beauty, that Beatrice (Trixie) Thomson had matured into.

Starting at the top, the girl had a thick, lustrous head of deep strawberry red hair, loosely curled, falling in waves down her shoulders and giving her sweet, innocent face a golden halo. Her skin is astoundingly fair, with a pale, alabaster glow. The soft look is further heightened by a generous sprinkling of freckles, that are also pale and just dark enough to be seen. Standing 5’3” and weighing in at 115 pounds, Trixie’s body was trim and shapely, but with an enticing softness and vulnerability. Her breasts were a bit large on her body, but with youthful firmness, they rode temptingly high on her chest. Her middle was very small with a slight rounding of her belly and a deep-set navel. Her butt was the most prominent part of her anatomy and she was most self-conscious about it. However, to most men, the full firm ass cheeks were heavenly. Her legs were long for her height and most shapely.

In sum, Trixie was a knockout!
"... In sum, Trixie was a knockout!..." - you can say that again!
 

Praefectus Praetorio

Brother of the Quill
Finding a Way out of Branchwater.

For her first date, Trixie decided to go for the crème de la crème and restrict her choice to the brightest, best-educated boys in town. This requirement severely limited the field since only two boys graduated with her class of ninety-eight. All the others had dropped out, many several years earlier.
The boy she chose, Clem, was an inch shorter than her and had a profoundly acne-pockmarked face but came from one of the better-off families in town. His father owned not just one bar but a second one that was the town's most popular strip joint. As a result, Clem had at his graduation a brand new pickup, jacked up on supersized tires, with about a dozen supplementary lights and enough chrome to cover an M1 Abrams tank (the vehicle all the boys really wanted to drive.)

Trixie put on her best makeup and clothes as she prepared for her first real (and only) date. She was just going to the door to head out when Clem pulled up in front of the "Resort" and leaned n his truck horn, holding it down until Trixie, painfully embarrassed, hurried down the mud path. Clem demonstrated his breeding by taking the effort to lean over and swing the passenger door open before settling back in his seat. Trixie was left to struggle climbing up the mountainous side and into the front bench seat with no help.
Once Trixie was in, she said, "Hello, Clem," very sweetly. The boy grunted something which might have been "Hello," and leaned over to give her a wet, open-mouthed kiss while squeezing a tit. Trixie squealed in surprise. Having gotten past the challenge of making an excellent first impression, Clem went back to the wheel and raised dirt trails while gunning the engine.

Ninety minutes later, Clem pulled the truck back in front of Bubba Jim's, in a perfectly executed four-wheel slide. The boy made no move to show affection or even gratitude after what he had enjoyed. He just sat impatiently as she kissed him on the cheek. Trixie opened the big door and swung her legs out.
Sitting impossibly high on massive tires and raised springs, the pickup seemed high enough to need a ladder to exit. She crawled awkwardly down the side and turned to go home. Clem leaned over and pulled the door shut, muttering some profanity about girls not having any fucking respect for a badass truck. As he pulled away, showering Trixie with a cloud of gravel, she trudged up the dirt path toward home with her knees pressed tightly together. She tried, as best she could, to straighten her mussed clothes, making a note that she'd have to replace the two buttons that Clem had torn off her best blouse in his impatience. She was not sure how she would repair the torn bra shoulder strap.

At least one good thing came of the date, Trixie ruefully thought in self-deprecation. She'd got her first job offer. Clem had promised her a prime position as a stripper in his dad's slimy dive.
 
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