[center][h2]Las Bandidas Bikini[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/cabxAV4.png[/img] [/center] The beach at Las Palmas Resort was picture perfect, an idyllic setting frequently used in the adverts for the tourist trade. An amiable sun chased feather whiffs of cloud above a glistening sea. Waves crashed onto the beach, a broad swath of sugar white sand dotted with pastel colored cabanas, pink, green, and sky blue. In the center towered a lifeguard stand, its’ occupant bronzed and fit, his sunglasses focused on the graceful red haired girl and her companion, Elvis the dog, playing together in the surf. From a lounger in their own second row cabana, Lorraine couldn’t help the smirk over her new friend’s transformation. At first, Abby had resisted the bikini, her deep seeded modesty aghast at the diminutive bits of fabric. Her protests were short lived, however, faded away beneath the age old siren’s call of the waves and sand. The girl nicknamed ‘Cornflakes’ was truly dazzled, all self awareness dashed aside as she entered the water for the first time. Now, she cavorted with the big dog, romping and playing with the abandon of a child. Despite herself, Lorraine couldn’t help but be charmed at the sight. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have so much fun.” Reg had appeared, crisp in his hotel cabana uniform of pale blue polo, white knee shorts and socks. He laid the serving tray upon the wicker table, depositing four fresh drinks. “Her first ever day at the beach,” Lorraine offered. “I conjure Elvis there’s also the first dog she’s ever had chance to play with, too.” He collected the empty glasses. “Gotta say she’s good for business,” he observed. “Send her around those four cabanas there. They’re all buying your drinks.” “We’ll both be charming as fuck,” she grinned beneath her shades. “Heard from Brinker this morning. The job’s been put off til tomorrow night.” He frowned. “Tomorrow? Why?” “Turns out there’s a shindig at the Earth-That-Was Museum tonight. Most of our marks are on the guest list,” she lifted a glass to her lips. “Mmmm, Bobby’s pouring ‘em strong. You should drink one of these.” “Can’t.” Reg gave a shake of his head which sent the neat dreadlocks flying. “If a guest saw that, there’d be hell to pay.” “They’re too busy watching Cornflakes’ little [i]pi gu.[/i] Drink one, before you have to carry us both off this beach.” Her argument carried weight, as Reg complied with a surreptitious downing of one drink. Lorraine continued, “The trawler’s ours. We got the clothes, and we got the boat’s course. What we’re short is hands.” This news was met with a furrowed brow. “How short?” “Two, mayhaps three.” Lorraine proffered a bottle of sunscreen. “Do my back?” “Sure.” The serving tray touched down in the sand as Reg set to work. “Now, how we gonna pull this off if we’re short?” “Mmmm,” she murmured her approval as his fingers massaged lotion onto her shoulders. “I might know one or two reliable folk.” “Like who?” “Like her.” She pointed toward Abby just as Elvis sent her sprawling into the surf. “HER?” His questing fingers halted just above the strap of her swimsuit top. “What’s she gonna do? Get drunk and start kissing folk again?” “Two birds, one stone,” Lorraine encouraged him with a nudge. “We’re s’posed to be looking out for her, so we’ll bring her along…put her to work. Badda boom, badda bing.” As he resumed with somewhat more reticent hands, she continued. “Believe me, Reg, Abby’s shiny. Doc gave me the four-one-one on her last night.” He squirted a thick dollop of lotion along her lower back. “Go on,” he replied. “Make me confident.” “She knows her way around triggers. Man who raised her was some kinda hotshot gunslinger. She’s quick.” Reg was unimpressed. “I thought we weren’t going in strapped this time,” he replied. “We always need a couple. Remember Moab?” “Do I have to? Anyway,” he persisted, “how do we know she’s steady when it counts?” “That girl,” she folded an arm to hold her top in place as Reg undid the strap, “was shanghai’d by a bike gang on Greenleaf. Word is that til her crew could get her back, those bikers kicked the ever lovin’ [i]la shi[/i] out of her for a name she wouldn’t give up.” “Greenleaf?” Reg asked. “Was it the Headhunters? Heard about them,” he muttered. “So what happened?” Lorraine snorted. “She kicked back. Doc tells me Cornflakes there broke one biker’s nose and dislocated another one’s jaw. Third fella tried raping her. Word is he’s still unwrapping his [i]gāowán**[/i] from ‘round his neck,” she laughed. “After that, the gang decided they liked her. They patched her in!” **testicles Reg worked lotion down into the muscles of her lower back. “Okay,” he gazed out toward Abby, who for the life of him looked every bit a delighted child as she tossed a driftwood stick for a happily barking Elvis. “She can take a beating. But can she do the job?” “Doc seems to think so,” Lorraine flexed her back beneath his probing fingers. “She took care of some business on New Melbourne for his boss. That was right after she caught a bullet in the ass.” “So she’s been shot,” He studied the distant girl’s hindquarters. “She got a scar?” “Bet you’d like to find out.” The partners in crime shared laughter before Reg shrugged and said, “well you’re the boss. When you gonna feel her out about it?” “How about now?” With fingers raised to her lips, Lorraine’s high, piercing whistle carried down to the surf. Elvis’ head bolted up, ears perked at the signal, before an answering sweep of his master’s arm summoned his return. Abby was quick to follow, trotting through the sand, her hair running rivulets down fair skin colored by the sun. “Well hey, Reg!” she give ‘im a big smile. [i]Gorram, but he’s good lookin’ in his uniform,[/i] she reckoned. Way he’s smilin’ back coulda melted ‘er right there, til she conjured jest how little ‘er bikini was coverin’. Good tha sun done pinked ‘er up, she thunk. Mayhaps he wouldn’t see ‘er blushin’. “Obby,” Reg’s Charming Island Accent was now deployed. ‘Tank ya for comin’ out dis ofternoon. Always nice hovin’ such a pretty girl like you playin’ on dis beach.” “Down, boy!” Lorraine commanded. “Rehook my strap, wouldja? Don’t wanna talk business with my [i]mimi’s[/i] hangin’ out, [i]dohn mah?[/i] Cornflakes,” she gestured toward the adjacent lounge. “Take a load off. Grab one of those drinks.” Abby done so, but not afore drapin’ a towel over herself. “Yah said business?” she asked. “What kinda business?” Lorraine turned, her slender legs slipping over the edge of her lounge. “We got a little job for tomorrow night,” she smiled, her eyes alight as she leaned close. “Reg and I conjure cutting you in, if you’re not too shy about coloring outside the lines?” Abby knowed tha lingo. She done heard it aplenty when Uncle Bob’s too likkered up tah set tha terms. Likewise, once-twice when Cap’n brought ‘er along fer a sit down. “Depends,” she took a pull from ‘er glass, playin’ it all cool like she seen Cap’n do. “How far outside we colorin’?” After trading glances with Reg, Lorraine plunged ahead, her expression building delight as she unfolded the tale. “Bunch of rich swells,” her excitement translated into nervous fidgeting of her legs. “At a party. They’ll be loaded with cash and jewels. We’re gonna take it all.” Abby heard some Tomfool schemes afore, but this’n put a look in ‘er eyes Lorraine done gone flat mental. “Whole passel ‘o’ rich folk,” she said even like. “At a party. Loaded down with cash an’ jewels. An’ we’re jest gon’ walk right in an’ lift it off ‘em?” “Uh huh!” Lorraine nodded enthusiastically. Now Abby’s sure Lorraine been out in tha sun a tad bit much. “Ain’t never seen no rich sumbitch without some muscle lookin’ out for ‘em…’specially a whole bunch in one place?” Now Lorraine was beaming. “Oh, they’ll be there. Wanna know the best part? THEY KNOW WE’RE COMING, CORNFLAKES!” she chortled. “AIN’T THAT THE SHIT?” Abby give Reg a cautious eye. “Yah got a doctor nearabouts?” “No no no!” Lorraine belted a laugh as her hands flew up. “Here’s how it is.” In the minutes to follow, she could gauge the impact her plan had upon Abby, as the girl’s face transitioned from alarmed to dubious. Eventually, the slight crack of a smile appeared, accompanied by a spark of humor in Abby’s eyes. “We got the boat,” she concluded, “we got the togs, and we’re set to go tomorrow night. “Only thing we’re short is a couple more reliable folk to pitch in. So,” her grin was lopsided as she took Abby’s hands. “Whattya think?” Abby could bare keep from bustin’ out loud in ‘er friend’s face. “I think,” she fought ‘er humors fer control, “that is nigh on tha most wackadoo scheme I ever did hear.” She seen disappointment flower in Lorraine’s eyes afore given’ ‘er hands a squeeze. “Course I’m in!” she laughed out this time. “Whole thing’s so bughouse I gotta see it now!” “SHINY!” Lorraine vaulted from her lounge to land in a startled Abby’s lap. “Mmmmmmwah!” she pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead, along with a firm hug. “This is gonna be huge!” she exclaimed, “but tell me, Cornflakes. Might you have one-two other folk on your China Doll who could lend a hand?” Ain’t no holdin’ back now. “Mayhaps,” Abby smiled back as she hugged Lorraine. “Mayhaps.”