A not-so short story where, a man, just trying to return home and a young girl doing the same meet in traumetizing circumstances , but find that it was worth it in the end.
I tripped over the metal threshold of the doorway as I hurried into the gas station’s store. I looked down immediately to see what my foot had hit then looked up, embarrassed, to see the reactions of the other two people who were inside. They averted their stares as soon as I looked over their way.
I wanted a quick cup of cappuccino to drink as I drove the long distance from Cincinnati back to Michigan and fill my tank before the rush.
Ignoring everything except my personal mission, I filled a foam cup with cappuccino, struggling to find the right size lid, grabbed a pack of sugar and a stir stick, and walked towards the counter.
I was second in line. In front of me was a very nicely shaped young woman who was certainly not dressed for the frigid fall air outside. She had on a small pink top and blue jean cutoffs which left most of her angel-kissed skin exposed. Without being obvious, I lowered my eyes to catch a glimpse of the backs of her very well shaped legs. I was hoping that she would turn around so that I could see whether the view of her front was as lovely as my view of her back.
As I tore the perforated flap on the lid of my cup, I could smell the steaming cappuccino. I also noticed the sweet, fresh fragrance emanating from the young lady. The clerk was handing her change when I heard a raspy voice coming from behind me.
I turned around to see two men with ski masks over their heads standing just inside the door. The skinner man had a small silver revolver in his hand. He raised it; his arm outstretched, and pointed his weapon straight at the clerk's head as he approached her.
"Who else is here?" His voice sounded angry and urgent.
The clerk, a small middle-aged man wearing a stained red smock, just glared at him with his mouth open. It struck me that he shouldn't have been so surprised that a hold up was taking place in that store. Considering the fairly secluded location, I would have thought that the place would be robbed every other full-moon.
"Damn it! Answer me!"
The clerk closed his mouth momentarily and looked as if he might be peeing his pants. I was mentally projecting an order to him to answer the guy before I had to watch his face explode from the impact of a bullet.
"Nobody," he said softly. He had come so close that the end of the barrel of the gun was just inches from his nose. He looked at it, his eyes almost crossed. "Nobody else," he
whimpers as tears began to roll down his whitened cheeks.
"Hand over all the money!" The gunman told him, as impatient as I had ever seen anyone.
The young woman in front of me turned carefully to look at the door, only to see that it was guarded by the other masked bandit. She was extremely pretty, even in her frightened state. Long auburn hair framed her youthful face. The small top didn't do much to hide the roundness of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples.
The clerk scooped handfuls of bills out of the cash drawer and handed it over. There might have been three hundred dollars at the most. The gunman stuffed them in his pants pocket.
"Lay down!" he yelled at the clerk, who complied immediately, and then he turned his eyes toward his customers. He instantly focused on the girl in front of me. "Yea," he said, in a different, but extremely disturbing tone of voice. "Nice."
"Hurry up!" his companion shouted from the door.
The gunman stepped over to the girl and stood a few feet in front of her. She couldn't move, apparently frozen with fear. "Real nice. I bet you got a sweet little cherry that needs to be popped, huh??
A sick expression washed over her face as she hears his words. I could only imagine the horror she was feeling. Her hands were trembling, just like mine.
"We're going to have to take you along with us and have a little party for awhile."
He reached out with his gunless hand and cupped one of her breasts with it, then moved his hand higher to grasp the edge of her pink top. In one quick movement, he ripped it completely off and threw it to the floor; revealing her breasts. They were indeed awesome. Her nipples, bright pink, were erect and stiff, pointing slightly, possibly from an involuntary physical reaction to the cold or the anxiety of it all.
With my back to the door, and the gunman's stare going directly to the girl's naked chest, neither of the robbers could see my hands as I worked the plastic lid loose from the cup. I just hoped that the rise of steam from the hot liquid wouldn't be noticed.
"Oh, yea. Very nice tits. I'm going to take my time with this little bitch," he said wickedly, roughly squeezing her breasts with his dirty fingers. "You can have what's left of her when I'm finished," he called to his accomplice.
"Bring her then, and let's just get the fuck out of here," he called back.
Without releasing his fingers from her bosom, he aimed his gun at me. Although it was
difficult to tell because of the mask, it appeared that he was still concentrating his gaze on her nipples, apparently preoccupied with them. The foul smell of liquor on his breath
overpowered the girl's perfume.
“Give me your wallet, you little basturd," he mumbled, much of the commandeering edge gone from his voice. I glanced down at his crotch and it was evident from the bulge in his pants that he had quickly become aroused from feeling her breasts. "I got a hot date here who just can't wait to suck my dick and feel it squirt in her mouth."
Considering that my wallet probably had more in it than had been in the cash drawer, I wasn't overjoyed at the prospect of giving it to him. I had never considered myself the heroic type, but I was determined to do something to allow me, and the young girl, atleast a fighting chance. My first thought was to throw the cappuccino in his face. But I opted for his groin instead, figuring that the heat would permeate the fabric of his pants and cause a more dramatic reaction.
"You’d like to be fucked in the ass? Huh, baby?" He was utterly oblivious to what I was doing. "We might have to party all weekend." He was moving closer to her, his legs moving apart, more than likely intending to get a cheap thrill by rubbing his penis against the smooth skin of her thigh. I knew that if I was going to do something, I'd have to do it soon. "I'm going to want to come in every sweet hole in that pretty little body you got. Maybe twice, even."
Without another thought, I lowered my hand and splashed the contents of the cup between the perverted gunman's legs.
“Son of a bitch!" he yelled, taking a step backwards. Luckily, it took him a few seconds to compose himself before he could shoot as the scalding cappuccino ran down his legs. I lunged toward his arm, concerned only with the revolver in his hand. My momentum carried us to the counter; we crashed against it, and I pushed his arm back as far as I could.
His hand smashed against the wire hangers of a rectangular metal rack which displayed cigarette lighters, knocking it off onto the floor. The pain must have caused him to lose his grip, because the gun flew out of his hand just as it fired. The bullet hit a light fixture in the ceiling, and shards of glass showered down on us.
"Run!" I yelled, letting go of his arm. She had instinctively put her hands to her face. I grabbed one of them and pulled her down the isle of the store behind me as I searched for a restroom, hoping it would be a locking door. I didn't look back to see what the bandits were doing.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy who was guarding the door keeping pace with us as he ran down the adjacent isle. It was obvious that he would reach the back of the store, lined with freezers for bottled drinks, before we could. I had no idea what I would do then.
Behind me I could hear the gunman screaming and cussing at me. I assumed that he was
looking for his gun. Just before we reached the end of the isle, his partner appeared. Thank goodness he didn't have a gun that he had been concealing. Unfortunately, he did
have a knife. In fact, it was a very big knife.
I glanced to my right and saw a plastic barrel full of soft drinks laying on a bed of
crushed ice. I let go of the girl's hand, picked one up, and chucked it at him. He ducked to the side, behind the isle of merchandise, and the bottle smashed against the glass cooler doors spraying cola in every direction.
"The bathroom!" I yelled. "And lock the door!"
She took my hint and ran around me to the right. I kept picking up bottles and flinging them to the end of the isle as fast as I could, knowing that I might be shot in the back anytime. The fourth bottle broke one of the doors in the cooler. In only a few seconds, the floor was covered with broken glass and foaming liquid.
"Jesus Christ, Larry. Let's get the fuck out of here!"
I saw the top of my pursuer's head as he ran back toward the door. In a flash I cut to the left and saw two restroom doors. Figuring that she instinctively went into the lady's room, I tried the handle to it first. It was locked.
"It's me!" I shouted, expecting to be shot. I hear a click, and the door opened. I slipped inside, closed the door, and pushed the button on the knob to activate the lock.
The girl had curled herself up, shirtless, I decided to hand her my over shirt out of courtesy. She placed the shirt on and over her breasts and had begun to cry, her arms wrapped around her shivering body. I grabbed her and stood her in one corner of the tiled room next to the door. "Stay right there," I whispered.
She nodded, her eyes wide with a look of complete trust in my moment judgment. I stepped across the doorway and huddled in the other corner just as the crack of the gun sounded. A bullet pierced the steel door as the sound reverberated throughout the small room.
"I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch! You're one dead fucker." The gunman's voice was full of rage.
I heard the handle jiggle as he tried to open the bathroom door. Then, a few seconds later, three more shots blasted out in quick succession, blowing holes in various areas of the door. Bullets and sharp pieces of metal and wood bounced off the walls and porcelain fixtures.
"You better hope I never see your ass again!"
There was silence. I looked over at the girl to make sure that she hadn't been hit by a bullet or anything else. She was sobbing, a terrified look of need on her lovely face. We stood there, completely still. I wondered whether the robbers had gone or whether this
was just a lull while the gun was being reloaded. I also had the terrifying thought that they may be looking for the key to the door. If they found it, we’d be completely doomed.
I couldn't see anything in the room to use to wedge the door closed. When no more shots came in the next few moments, I began to relax.
"Are you alright?" I said softly to her. She nodded to me, although she didn't seem too sure of her response.
"Hold me?" she sobbed. "Please?"
I went to her side of the door and took her in my arms. Her soft shoulders were freezing, like she had been chilled to the bone. Her body melded into mine as I did my best to warm and calm her. It was impossible to hide the fact that I was shaking like a leaf myself. After awhile she seemed to relax a little.
Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you so much."
"That's okay," I said. "If they've gone, the man behind the counter should come and get us. That is, if they didn't shoot him."
"If they would of taken me...oh, God." She started sobbing again. "If it wasn't for you..."
"I know. It's okay."
"No. I mean... I don't know if I could have lived through that."
She pressed her body tighter against mine. I could feel the firmness of her breasts pressing into my chest and the smooth silkiness of her back with my hand. "I just don't know how to thank you enough."
I began to notice pain in my left forearm. I looked down to see that blood was dripping from it onto the side of her legs. "You're hurt!" She said in a concerned voice. "Did he shoot you?"
I let go of her with that arm and saw a small slash just below my elbow. I didn't know whether a bullet had grazed me or I had been cut when I slammed into the counter.
"Here," she said, going to the toilet paper dispenser, seemingly forgetting about the possibility of more shots bursting through the door. She held several sheets under the faucet and returned to me. With an incredibly soft touch, she wiped the blood away and cleaned my wound
"Oh my God, you've been shot."
"Yeah, I guess I have," I admitted, looking closer at my arm.
She looked up at me with a look of concern and true admiration. Her green eyes sparkled through her lashes. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before." She returned her attention to my arm. "It doesn't look too serious, thankfully."
From the store we heard a voice. I swept her into my arms again and pressed our bodies
tightly to the corner. This time she wrapped her arms around me as well. I could feel her yielding to me, as if she enjoyed the feeling of my body against hers. She nuzzled her face against my neck while we waited. When I heard the voice again, I was convinced that it hadn't come from either of the banditss. Reluctantly, I released her.
"I think it's safe to go now," I told her.
"If you think so," she replied. She rose onto her toes and kissed me gently on the lips. "Thank you. I really mean it."
The voice had come from a customer who had just happened into the store. The clerk finally got up off the floor as we neared the counter, and he grabbed the telephone to call the police.
Within ten minutes the parking lot outside lit up with red, blue, and white flashing lights. An EMT swabbed and bandaged my arm while I was interviewed by two different police officers. I declined a ride in the ambulance since it appeared that I only had a bad scratch.
In less than an hour I was told that I could leave, but should expect to hear from other officers within the next week. I made my way to the cappuccino machine again and filled a cup that I hoped I would actually get to drink. I held it up to show the clerk, who nodded and told me it was on the house.
As I started to walk toward the door, I heard the young girl's voice.
"Wait!" she called, walking quickly toward me. "Who are you? I mean..." she smiled. It was the first time I had seen a calm, relaxed expression on her face. "I'm sorry, that's no way to make an introduction. I'm Kendra Marilyn. I... I want to do something for you."
Her offer was certainly tempting me. She had apparently taken the time to freshen her makeup between police grilling and looked absolutely gorgeous.
"You really don't have to do anything for me. I'm just glad we're both safe."
"But...where are you going?"
“I'm going back home to Michigan; going to spend the weekend with my parents, it’s there anniversary."
"That's where I live. How about I make you dinner? A thank you dinner?"
I paused, letting her eyes pressure me into accepting her invitation. I might have been reading more into her gaze than she intended, but it was telling me that much more than dinner might await me.
"Here," she said, stepping back to the counter. She took a pen from a display and wrote something on a napkin. "Give me a call this weekend." She handed me the napkin. "Please?"
"Sure," I told her, "take care of yourself."
She leaned into me as if we had known each other for the longest time and wrapped her arms around me. When we both stepped back, I saw the sparkle of gratitude and admiration in her beautiful eyes again. I returned the smile and left to get in my car.