"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Gimme the money."

When he handed her the two crumpled bills, she excused herself for a minute and went into the house. Returning, she handed him two quarters.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at the coins in his hand.

"That's the change for the buck and a half you owed me," was her reply.

He stared at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Now," she said in a low, even voice, "get back in that fuckin' pickup, and get your ass out of here. I ain't never gonna suck your damned cock again."

"But-but, Libby," he stammered.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth!" she yelled. "I ain't never gonna suck you off again, you cheap son-of-a-bitch! Now get the hell out of here and don't ever come back!"

Sitting on the step, smiling to herself, she watched the taillights of his clattering pickup disappear over the hill.

The following day, when most of the lunch crowd had left, a rather thin man with yellowish-grey hair and pale, watery eyes came in and sat down at the end of the counter. Libby recognized him, as this was the third time he had been in for lunch this week. There was something about the man that disturbed Libby. The way he stared at her made the girl nervous. She knew that all the male customers ogled her and stared at her tits that she purposely exposed to them, but there was a different look in this man's eyes. He had a drooling, lewd expression on his face.

When she had served him, she walked down to the other end of the counter, feeling his watery little eyes following her smooth, soft thighs. Leafing through a true-confessions magazine, she noticed that her mother had come out of the kitchen and was engaged in a quiet conversation with the man. It puzzled her when she saw her mother stuff a bill the man had given her into her bra and return to the kitchen.

"Libby," her mother called from the kitchen a few moments later, "will you come in here for a minute?"