Hump Day Kick Start – Nickle Plate Edition

Song of the day: Click, Click, Boom by Saliva

Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.

her story


Going for something a touch different today. Our prompt definitely has a story. Who is she? Burlesque dancer? Undercover cop? Antique car collector? Jilted lover?What is her mood? Vengeful? Despondent? Daring? Why does she have the gun? Does she plan to use it? Or is she protecting herself from someone or something? Where is she going? Or is she parked, waiting? And what’s up with the suspenders?

What say you? I’d love to hear your take.

17 Responses to Hump Day Kick Start – Nickle Plate Edition

  1. Will Graham says:

    Houston Chronicle, September 15, 2024


    A local bakery in Northwest Houston was robbed today. Witnesses report the robber was a young woman, who demanded all Black & White Cookies be given to her. She made no attempt to take any cash or other items, did not rob any of the patrons in the establishment, and no one was injured in the robbery.

    This is the third such roberry in as many weeks. As the above photo suggests, authorites have dubbed the robber “The Pistol.” Witness descriptions vary wildly, and the search for the little bandit continues…..


  2. Uhmmmmm she’s not wearing a seatbelt!


  3. jeff7salter says:

    I’ll be back in a few mins.


  4. jeff7salter says:

    LOL. Firstly, thanks for some nice eye-candy.
    The decal on the steering wheel looks familiar but I can’t place it. Is it a Renault? From the position of her right leg, her foot’s not on the gas pedal, so she’s still thinking, but not driving.

    Alena has nice legs, even more exotic looking in the brash fish-net stockings and garter belt. Her teeny-tiny mini-skirt barely covers her derriere when she’s standing, but when seated, she leave little to the imagination. Not wanting to shock any male senior citizens while stopped at traffic lights, Alena searches in the front seats of her sports car for something to give her a little “cover” .
    Nothing to be found except her cell phone and the nickel plated .45 from her glove box.
    Well, that’s a bit cold on her upper thighs (and, uh, elsewhere) at first, but she’ll get used to the feel of cold steel as she pulls into traffic and begins her nine mile drive to her boyfriend’s apartment.
    It’s a surprise visit to Jared’s and with each mile of travel, Alena wonders in what circumstances her surprise might find Jared.
    Will he be home? If home, will he be asleep? If asleep, will he be alone? If not alone, who will be the scrawny skank who’s about to get 7 bullets in her brain?
    Oh, well, better cool down and see what’s what at jared’s before she maps out how to dispose of two bodies.
    “In the meantime,” Alena says to herself, “I’d better take my finger off this trigger, or I’m liable to blow my foot off.”


  5. girldrinkdrunk says:

    Gah. I got nothing. The suspenders are killing me with a tranny vibe.

    Nice of the boys to show up today! 😉


  6. Trixie says:

    “What did I just do?” Lolita thought to herself.

    It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. She was supposed to do a simple strip tease for a group of dentists at a bachelor party. When Lolita first accepted the gig, she thought the obvious. They’d want her dressed scantily using nothing but yards and yards of dental floss. Much to her chagrin, they requested that she dress as a naughty cop. She obliged and came prepared to move her body as if it were a silk scarf in the wind, collect the money that would be thrown at her, do a quick shot of Patron and go home.

    It never even happened like that.

    Her body guard, Fudge, who went everywhere with her was grotesquely late. Lolita waited patiently on the lonely corner for half an hour. There was an immaculate car parked just a foot or so away from her. The windows were down and she peered inside with curiosity. Her feet felt crunched in those five inch platforms. But she forgot the pain as she noticed the over-sized steering wheel, long leather cushioned seat, old radio knobs and suicide doors.

    When 45 minutes had passed, she decided to head up to the one story bungalow, nestled quaintly at the top of the street. Disgruntled customers did not pay as much, no matter how well she titillated their senses.

    As Lolita put out her cigarette and headed up the concrete stairs, she paused and gazed toward the west. Just on the dusky horizon, shone the Hollywood sign. She knocked and almost immediately, an older not so good looking man flung the door open.

    “Well hello,” he squealed. Ignoring him, she entered.

    “That’s okay,” the squealer said, “take all of my money, honey. Hell take my car out there.”

    The other men laughed as he twirled the keys on his finger and set them on the table next to the door.

    When Lolita got further into the room, the impatient men fell silent. She walked over to the stereo, bent over in an exaggerated motion and shuffled through the CDs that she asked the host to have at her disposal. She popped in a tune and her show began.

    One attractive doctor with sandy blonde hair and modest build approached to dance with her. Little did he know that Lolita ALWAYS danced alone. She shoved him backward slightly, but he didn’t quite get the hint. He took it to mean that she wanted to get physical. This striking dentist who was sure to be the groom, had no idea that Lolita studied 13 years of mixed martial arts. Her body was chiseled, but still soft. The groom reached around her back and palmed her bottom in a lewd fashion. Lolita had no choice but to cease his act by thrusting the heel of her hand aggressively into his sternum. The striking groom fell backward on the ground, clutching his chest. Everyone froze, the dancing and jeering abruptly ceased. The alpha men where wired to defend the pack. To her surprise the squealer covered her face with his hand and pushed her backward. Lolita landed hard on her back and the oxygen escaped her lungs. Her head was inches from making contact with the foot of the table by the doorway. She looked underneath it and saw a nickel-plated .38 wedged along the base of the furniture. In one swift motion, she grabbed it, leapt to her feet and held the dentists hostage.

    “Alright you rich, tongue scrapers, empty your pockets. Put it all in that vase over there!” She aimed the gun at the squealer. He straighten his back and stood at attention. “You! Give it to me. Matter of fact, you boys put your jewelry in there too!”

    The men did as instructed, petrified by the audacity of this stripper.

    The squealer handed her the vase filled with cash and gold and silver goodies. She backed away from them, looked around the room carefully then glanced at the table top. She saw the keys to the beautiful midnight blue colored car parked out front. She snatched them and dashed out of the front door. She fired a few rounds up in the air to keep the dentist at bay. Without opening the car door, she tossed the vase in the passenger seat and some of its items escaped. She gripped the frame of the door, threw her legs in and her bum slid securely behind the over-sized steering wheel. She cranked the car and sped off toward the Hollywood Hills.

    Her adrenalin finally settled as the muted light shone into the vehicle. The phone nestled by her bosom vibrated. She looked at the face of the device and read the text. It was from Fudge.

    “I’m at this bachelor party. What did you just do?”


  7. jeff7salter says:

    great story, Trixie


  8. Trixie says:

    Thank you so much! That warms my heart. Check out some other excerpts at I’d love to hear your thoughts!


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