Hitch!
The Scribbler scratched his head and wondered how to begin. As an image formed in his brain his fingers began to type...
Rebecca looked back through the Rear Window of her Commodore at the spunky blonde back packer who had held out his thumb as they drove past.
"Come on, let's pick him up," urged Marnie.
"I know he's a hunk," Rebecca pointed out, "but he might be some kind of Psycho. Picking up hitchhikers is for The Birds."
Marnie and Rebecca were girls of Easy Virtue travelling roughly North by Northwest on their way to Broome in Western Australia.
"With your knowledge of Tai Quon Do I haven't a Shadow of a Doubt that you can flatten him if he tries to Murder! us," said Marnie.
So they drove back and picked him up.
"We may look Young and Innocent," explained Marnie to the man whose name was Bruce. "But we've really seen it all since be met as Strangers on a Train about five years ago."
"We run our own market garden," Rebecca told him. "We got sick of working for The Man. Who Knew Too Much about growing vegetables? Certainly not us. But we had a go and now we've made enough money for a holiday."
The girls did most of the talking. Poor Bruce was shy and acted like he had Stage Fright.
"I'm very well behaved in public," Marnie told Bruce with a wink, "but in private The Lady Vanishes and I become a total slut."
"She's not lying," Rebecca assured him as they pulled into a motel car park. "She's a Notorious nympho."
Bruce stared Spellbound at the girls' luscious jean clad butts as they walked The 39 Steps from the car to the motel desk.
Just for a laugh, Marnie and Bruce signed in as Mr. & Mrs. Smith.
"Rebecca likes to watch and wank," explained Marnie as the three of them lay back nude on the bed in room Number Seventeen. The television was on. It was George Negus on Foreign Correspondent.
"I don't count that as being unfaithful to my boyfriend," Rebecca told him. "The Trouble With Harry is that he doesn't have an ounce of Suspicion. Can a guy really love you if he never gets jealous?"
With one hand Bruce fondled the soft warmth of Marnie's boobs while the other tiptoed Downhill to enter The Pleasure Garden. His cock was standing up so tall and stiff that a flea standing on the head of it would definitely have suffered Vertigo.
"You better watch out," warned Rebecca pulling her vibrator out of her handbag. "She squirts so much when she cums that you'll need a Lifeboat."
Just as Bruce and Marnie were engaged in a full-on fuck Frenzy - Bruce's cock playing The Lodger in the apartment between her legs and his finger teasing The Ring of her anus - when Rebecca let out a frustrated cry.
"My vibrator has stopped working!" she yelled. "I suspect Sabotage!"
"If you think it was me you have The Wrong Man!" declared Bruce, as Marnie's juices washed over his balls like Champagne from a newly opened bottle.
"I'm no Saboteur," he told her, "but I Confess that I do lust after that pert little pussy of yours. If you need someone to jiggle your G-spot, there's no need to resort to Blackmail or use Rope to tie me to the bed."
When the Topaz light of dawn crept through the Torn Curtain it fell upon the bodies of a tired and happy trio.
As they headed out on the highway that morning they saw a fat and lugubrious gentleman by the side of the road. He had a two foot long cigar in his mouth, his thumb held out and one trouser leg lifted to show off a pale meaty calf.
"Shall we pick him up?" asked Marnie. "He looks rich."
"Yeah, Rich and Strange," declared Rebecca putting her foot down hard on the gas.
The Scribbler smiled. His plan to write an erotic story incorporating the titles of 39 movies by the Master of Suspense had come off without a hitch.
