Editing Catfight Lesbians (section)

==Chapter 1==

The Camaro's tires sang, quieting briefly as the car crested the hill and broke contact with the road, landing with a soft bounce that Bail-Out's lovely tank-top encased breasts were happy to go along with. The Camaro was a '69 427, a monster from the primordial days that had somehow been tamed, and Eight relished the vibration it sent back through the seat to her when its great engine roared.

"Check the map again," she said, lighting another cigarette with her right hand while her left remained firmly at ten o'clock. The speedometer drifted to 150...160... "I think we're getting close."

Bailey "Bail-Out" Green unfolded the map again, tracing a path along the highway with one well-manicured finger. "It should be about two miles from here. County Road X," Bail-Out said, slipping one hand underneath the map. Eight flicked her eyes to the prim, beautiful blonde and floored it, drawing a delightful gasp of pleasure from her co-pilot's luscious lips as the country scenery whipped by. She grinned and turned her eyes back to the road, just in time to see the sign for CRX coming up.

"Sorry, babe," she said, shifting the Camaro down and dropping its roar by several octaves. "Business time."

Neither woman had spoken a word about the job to each other since they got in the car. Bail-Out had been the pit crew's last hold-out, arguing that they didn't need upgrades that badly. She knew more than anyone else that crime usually didn't pay, but when Eight wanted something badly enough she didn't let anything stop her. So here they were.

The Camaro crested the last hill, and the women saw the black police van a half-mile down the road in front of them. The road was perfectly straight, perfectly flat. "Let's roll." Bail-Out shivered and bit her knuckles, pressing her thighs together with nervous excitement as the engine tore up the distance between them and the van, 180, 185...

As they approached, Bail-Out rolled the window down and leaned out, holding the miniature bazooka steady and aiming it at the rear doors. Zipper had whipped up the launcher out of some leftover scrap, and it served its purpose well enough, launching the sticky package to impact against the bottom of the right door with a solid thud. As soon as Bail-Out ducked back inside Eight hit the brakes, watching the speeding armored van outpace them.

The two women grinned at each other and looked up just in time to see the rear of the van bloom in a cloud of fire. Its rear dropped to the road as the tire disappeared, inertia dragging it forward before finally coming to a rest. Eight floored it and spun the Camaro around to plant the passenger side nearly flush with the smoking rear, and without pause Bail-Out's limber form slid out of her seat and under the van's dangling rear door. A moment later the charred and smoking door clanged open, and a huge dirty-blonde woman emerged into the hot summer sun, squinting and flexing. Eight was shocked - the woman was even bigger than Butch Cassie. Behind her two other women emerged, one olive-skinned with shoulder-length black hair and a salaciously meager prison jumpuit, and a wiry, athletic Asian girl in her own downsized uniform.

The raven-haired woman leaned down and pressed her torso into the passenger window, propping herself up with her hands and thrusting her chest out. There was a tattoo of a scorpion on the swell of her left breast. Through the windshield Eight could see the other two escapees taking care of the guards.

"You our ride?"