Chapter 14b
Damn. He wasn’t gay was he? But he didn’t seem ill at ease at all. She would have another go at it.
“They’re probably coming back
to do things to me. I may never be
pretty again. This could be my last
chance to please somebody. Can I please
you?” She closed her eyes and threw back
her head and shoulders. This was a
desperation play. If it didn’t work it
was going to be impossible to carry on with the next gesture flowing
naturally. It would break the rhythm,
the sense of inevitability of it. It
would give him the feeling – which he must not get – that he had some sort of
choice in what was going on.
She had no idea how much time
she had, but there was little she could do to speed things up. Presently she felt fingers working the
buttons on her blouse. Then he was
reaching a hand in and cupping a breast.
She looked up brightly, “That was easy.
If I’d known I’d have shaken you down for a dollar.”
He laughed.
She threw her head back again
smiling serenely and burrowed her breast deeper into the palm of his hand.
The guard said, “O
Baby.” Ah the delights of mentally
stimulating conversation. At least if he
was going to get brain damage from this nobody would be able to tell the
difference.
She let him grope her a bit
longer and then pushed him away with her forehead. She leaned over and stepped back through the
handcuffs, looking up at the same time.
Here breasts perked between the unbuttoned edges of her blouse like a
jack-in-the-pulpit. She turned around,
taking care that her hair and her bottom bounced nicely as she did so. Then she backed up and put her highness
against him. She looked over her
shoulder inviting him with a glance to help himself again to the breasts. She heaved a happy sigh as the palm closed
over one.
She leaned forward and put
the weight of her hands on her thighs, back arched. She held it for a moment. “O Baby.”
What was it that made men so
interested in bottoms? Everyone has
one.
“You know, we’d both feel
more comfortable if you put that gun aside for a while,” she whispered.
He produced his pistol and
held it in front of her face. He strode
over and placed the gun on what looked like – but was not – a long table. She stepped forward over the handcuffs and
waited passively for his return.
A dollar? Fifty bucks easy.
She took a deep breath
through her nostrils as she took hold of him.
Then she continued with the dance of the handcuffs, bringing them under
her feet, then up in front of her and over her head again so her arms hung from
the back of her neck. He was getting
with the program. He had both hands on
her. She brought the handcuffs over the two of them and down under his rump and
putting the side of her head against his chest pulled him close.
He had brought the key. After a fumble – men are lousy at multi
tasking – the handcuffs dropped to the floor. She lifted his black jersey to reveal his
muscular broad back. She planted a
judicious hickey and followed with a bite for good measure. He did not protest. Evidently his brains had turned to jelly.
The time seemed right. “Wrap it up,” she said at the same time with
a squeeze preventing him from doing just that.
“They’ll be here any second.” She
brought one hand up and stroked his face.
“I can’t,” he croaked.
A complete sentence. Brain still ticking. But there was no help for it.
“It will go faster if you
hold your breath. And it’s more
fun. Here, I’ll help you.” She placed a little hand over his mouth and
nostrils. “Now take twenty deep breaths
in and out, then the biggest breath you can and then just relax.”
To keep him amused while the
breath hold took effect, she took his hand and then turned hers under it and
knit their fingers. That way his hand would follow hers. And it would give him some sense of control
so he would not panic. She ran their
hands over him. After another minute he
went limp. She lowered him to the floor. One way or another, if he did not breathe
soon he would die.
She decided to make a break
for it. She cuffed his hands behind
him. Then she sprinted to the wall,
grabbed two more sets of cuffs and did his feet and then the two chains to each
other behind his back. She left him
gagged in a reverse hog-tie and ran for the door.
As she cracked the door she
heard the spatter of gunfire and men shouting.
But for the soundproofed room she would have heard it before. She peeked out and saw a man in black running
past. He took a few slugs in the back
and dropped groaning. His bullet proof
vest may have saved his life, but she clearly heard ribs cracking as the slugs
tore into him. His gun lay beside him.
The pain of the gas in her
eyes, mouth and nostrils was terrible.
She started choking. Then one of
the men in gas masks appeared, swept her into his arms and loped back to the others.
“Got her, you all,” said
James. “Time to boogie.”
They made their way quickly along the hall,
down some steps and to a door.
“That’s got it, brothers,”
said James. A number of African
Americans were stripping off their gas masks.
“We can take it from here. Keep
the hardware. Many thanks. Look me up in Cuthbert.”
Moments later the five of
them were in the car streaking into traffic.
Hapgood was pouring water from a squeeze bottle over
“Which way?” asked Jon.
“Across
Soon they were on a limited
access road, plunging deeper into the High North.
“Happy Halloween, everybody,”
said James.
There have been 5,674
visitors counted to far.
Home page.