Same Time Next Week?

Every character portrayed here is over 18.

*****

Ten till eleven, lights out. The perfect moment approaches. Just before closing. A tall blondish grey haired shadow stealthily breaches the glass front entrance door to the West End Fitness Center. It's found at the knob end of the new street extension. No one will hear any screams for mercy this far out, it's the only thing built on this part of the road. The check-in desk lobby is dark but for a single recessed light dimly pointing to the emergency exit. Tonight the owner's doing the closing. He almost always takes this time to sequester himself away in his basement office on the far end of the complex. The changing rooms are just beyond the entrance. Nice and close. That's where SHE will be.

He's been patiently biding his time for so long, waiting for this ideal time. Tonight. Time to don the cliché black knit ski mask so the cameras won't pick him up. Almost gave away his position when he stifled a self-congratulatory chuckle at his own evil ingenuity. Best to delay the gloat until the deed is done. Slithering along the walls that lead to the ladies' section he's grateful that it's the closer of the two. The management has made this too easy for him by neglecting to lock the exit-only door.

A locker door slams shut, breaking the silence. Instinctively he ducks for cover. Slowly the dark menace rises to peek through the door crack. Clear. He quickly positions himself to the inside. Ducks again. Wait for the sound of water. She's showering now. Time to crawl under the wooden benches. The last one is where the lockers are. Cold, but slippery tiles that grid the floor make no sound when traversed on the belly. Here it is! Lockers! Just beyond them are the private showers, divided by their vinyl curtains that when moved screech along the metal hooks upon the raised chrome bar from which they suspend.

Sheila's glad that she knows the owner so well that he lets her stay later than the other members. She needs this extra time to basque in her exclusive warm water without the usual prime time distractions. She can take her time and scour the long hard week away from her voluptuous body before the busy weekend to come.

"I'm totally free to touch myself if I want. I could Softly linger the bath cloth around these lovely sensitive nipples." They respond instantaneously with such eagerness.

She likes seeing the goosebumps raise at her areolas' periphery. And the stiffening nubbies. She can shamelessly hum aloud at the soft tickle at sudsing her nether locks. The delta, apex of her power and vulnerability. She laughs to herself when her finger traces the smooth ring around her belly button, just before poking it with the bar of soap.

"Next, but not at all least, are my glorious globes. I'll just reach back and survey their suppleness as I lather 'em up."

She decides not to conjure the temptation of self pleasuring and avoids grazing her lower lips, "I'll be here all night if I do. Dirty girl. Bad, naughty thoughts in the public wash house!' Her mouth curls up into a guilty smirk of 'Bad Kitty'. "Maybe I'll be punished with a smacked bottom. Oh, oh! Good thing I'm still in the shower cuz I wet myself with desire."

Time to wrap it up. Got to have dinner some time.

"Ummm, can't wait till I put back on my scandalous school girl red plaid bra and panty set. Too bad I didn't think to wear the matching short red dress. Professor Hubby would have been so displeased with me 'gally-vanting' around his English class with such shamelessness." The lascivious thought does nothing to curb her juices.

He pulls the frilly black g-string to his nose and deeply savors her essence, "It's hers alright."

A scintillating meld of spiced vinegar, feminine perspiration and Red Mist. What a treat tonight will be. He'll get more than just a whiff if he plays it close to the script. Gently he shuts her locker door, leaving it ajar for effect. Knowing her keen sense of observance she'll be wondering if someone else has been touching her stuff while she's been away scrupulously cleaning that heavenly body. That'll add a nice little mystery into the monstrous mix that are tonight's delights. His delight, her conquering. She'll be scared. Extra cautious. Skin tingling with fear of the unknown. How much better can this get, he wonders.

"I know how. With this!," he slides out the Ruger 9 mil from under his belt, "She'll be under my total control. Do whatever I want."

"Shower curtain is opening!"

He steals behind the opposing bank of lockers, pistol at the ready. Both of them! His acute sense of hearing follows her footsteps. They're getting louder, more determined. Just another few. She's here. He cannot resist the urge to sneak a peek.

"Blast! Covered by the towel. She'll be paying for that one, too."

His stifled growl of frustration causes her to spin in his direction. She holds mute, "Can't see anything. Must be my imagination playing tricks 'cuz I've been so naughty in the shower," She issues her smirk and confidently returns her attention to the task at hand.

"Better pounce before she slips on her wicked panty and bra. Wicked, wicked temptress! She thinks she's playing me. Well then..."

With her back still turned he springs forth to grip her violently over her mouth and torso. She's frozen still in terror. He ushers no voice to reveal his identity. Just drags her on her feet along the wet tile, over past the shower, into the still warm mist of the steam room.

His black garb contrasting with the white billowing steam betrays his position, "must act fast"

With a twirl Sheila's hurled toward the stone bench. Stops. Turns. Focuses down the barrel of a gun! Panic flashes through her face like a tidal wave of heat.

"Shit! I'm gonna die!"

The imposing presence before her spins the gun in a circle, "He wants me to turn around. At least I'm not dead. Yet!"

She complies and slowly pirouettes her exposed body away from him. She hears the squeak of his sneakers quickening and getting louder. Her heart quickens even faster, "He's right behind me. I can feel his lurk." It's unnerving, "Worse that I can't see him. He could be loading his gun. Or, getting out a knife!"

"She thinks that I'm going to kill her. Good. Works for me."

Sheila feels his hot humid exaggerated exhale on the back of her neck. It's one of her favorite sensations. She reminds herself of her situation and to not give into the feeling, no matter how good.

"Please don't hurt me. I have no money and the owners are right outside."

He can't help chuckle at her obvious bluff. It's that sure sign of desperation. Next comes the bargaining. Lastly, complete surrender. Rather than reply with words, he does so by pushing the barrel squarely against the back of her neck where her hair line stops. The cold metal and hot air are confusing her senses. Sheila feels the pressure slowly migrate down and spiral around to her left shoulder. Another weak spot activated. It's impossible for her not to sigh.

This only encourages him to continue his titillating assault upon her nerves. He trails the tip of the gun down her spine with exacting precision, pausing at the last lumbar. She feels the agony of his delay. Nearly a minute. A lifetime! Quickly the weapon is repositioned with the entire barrel flush with the top of her juicy bubble butt cleft.

She cries with eyes closed, "No! Don't kill me," he further taunts her with a chortle, or is he laughing at her realization of her dark destiny with death.

"I'm gonna milk this baby for all it's worth."

He tilts the gun so that only the sight at the end of the barrel is in contact with her skin. She knows what he did. Before she freaks, he moves the shark finned shaped sight lower. Making extra sure she feels the round end of the barrel keeping contact with her exposed valley. He slides it ever so slowly down. Stops half-way, where her exit would be. He applies a bit more pressure between her cheeks to feign gun raping her ass. But he doesn't. Just pulls back and continues the macabre journey to her prize, now his plaything.

"I love watching her squirm as I rub this gun between her lips."

He clasps the right side of her neck gently between his teeth and methodically see-saws the length of the barrel ever deeper within her labia. He hears her moan of conflicted pleasure.

"Not that, please! I'm getting horny. NO NO NO. I am NOT going to like this," as her vagina begins to yield its resistance and open its protective petals.

Her breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Instinctively she tries to shake her head to rid the feeling.

"He's got a hold of my neck. Damn it!"

His breathing too becomes heavy. She can feel him sidling his imposing height and musculature up to her back. He pokes her deliberately with his hardness and slides the underside of his cock between her naked cheeks.

"Fuck! How does he know all the things that drive me crazy? I don't. I won't. Give in to this no matter how good!"

"Let's get her good and worked up. She can't deny to herself that this isn't fantastic."

He replaces the gun with his left hand and caresses her groin. He grabs hold of the bottom of her right cheek, making sure that his hand wedges in between her crack. His thumb presses at the entrance of her back door. Sliding his hand forward, pointing a finger that glides along her juice slickened lips. Right into her pussy! Her knees nearly buckle. He chuckles yet again and repeats.

"He's getting off on torturing me. What the?!...,' suddenly he whips her around to face him.

"Don't want her to feel too good just yet. I've got more plans for this one."

She's like a rag doll caught in a daze. When she opens her eyes again the gun is pointing down. He tilts his head downward and glares at her out of the tops of his eyes.

"He wants me on my knees. Shit! Here it comes. A blowjob then he kills and discards me."

She lowers herself. Staring directly at his burgeoning erection, "maybe he is normal and not one of those impotent psychos trying to get even with his neglectful mother. Maybe he'll just do his thing and run away. I pray."

With her now at a convenient height, traces his pistol around her booby nubs several times. Left, then right, under, then slowly up the narrow cleavage.

Involuntarily shuttering,"more terrible teasing. Delicious,' he muses, "so many ways to excruciatingly excite this one."

He pushes his pelvis forward against her lips. The prompt an obvious directive.

Sheila looks up into his sparkling blue eyes, "If he wasn't such a creep!."

He expresses his impatience by pressing down the gun on the top of her head. Hint received.

Still locked with her eyes on his, Sheila unzips and unbuttons his pants. She shimmies them down his hips. His stiffened manhood tents the fabric of his white briefs. The reddened head makes an unmistakable outline, even the dimple of his pee hole. She desperately tries to resist the urge to salivate, but her resolve is ever shaky.

Her resistance crumbles like the walls of Jericho when she lowers his underwear. Out springs said appendage. Bouncing proud and insistent. That is his true weapon, of influence, coercion, ultimatum. She takes a last hoping glimpse at his stare. Not for respite this time, but his permission for her to pay homage to it with her mouth. His steel blue stare widens demandingly in affirmation of her muted plea. Sheila purses her lips and engulfs his entirety, feeling his length slide along her sunken cheeks as she consumes him.

She's shocked to find herself humming, "OMG! I'm actually enjoying this. How am I so smitten before hearing a single spoken word?"

Her eyes close in reverie, finally accepting the inevitable yield of her autonomy. Her tongue dances around and under the tip, and she hears him moan. This gives her full license to reach behind him and caress his buttocks and balls, thus pulling his length closer to her face, enabling her to take his offering deeper inside.

"Hnnn?!," Sheila pouts her protest at being unexpectedly stripped from his cock. With his left hand he pulls her to her feet, the right loosely holds the revolver out to his side and up as if to diffuse its danger. His own command showing small cracks in the foundation of his dominance. Before he loses further control he puts the gun down and grabs Sheila under both armpits. Raises her atop the upper seating bench. While she is temporarily stunned he swiftly places her butt on the bench and pushes her legs apart, up and back behind her ears.

Fully exposed to his whim she is, "What's he doing to me now? OHHH!...," pleasantly surprised.

She reacts to his upper lips kissing her lower's. Sheila's mouth opens in surprise at the acceptance of his tongue fluttering against her folds. Deeper he digs within her with curled tongue. In and out like a small very slick wet dick. He stops momentarily to seek out her blossoming pearl. Once found he lip locks onto it and provides gentle suction. He starts twirling his tongue around and around, faster each time, never in the same way twice. A wave of ecstasy envelops her. She bucks her hips with fervor. His chin and mouth are covered with her milky juice, dripping off.

His lids open to reveal his lustful gaze. When she conjures back her consciousness he's already dispensed with his dark pants and top and stands victorious above her. He grabs her left arm and flips her around on her knees facing away from him, and pushes her upper back down to force her chest upon the cool stone surface. His two bulging biceps and dark haired chest traps her elbows under her breasts. His weight on her back squashes them almost flat. She feels him hold her legs together with his. She can sense him lining up his weapon at her pussy's entrance.

Sheila is pinned by all of his body weight to an uncompromising submission. There's no avenue of escape, not that she would want one now. Desire has become her new sire, he just the vehicle. They're both trapped in mutual servitude to it. Unyielding wantonness now drives his staff through her tender curtains in a single stroke, and deep within her being. She attempts to raise her head to sigh with delight, but meets his arresting chin. Their conjoined pants of passion now out shout the billowing of steam which blankets them in a warm envelopment.

Her quaking 'O' collides with his expended jet stream in a raucous crescendo. Their flesh seems to merge into a single embodiment of ecstasy.

After an indeterminate eternity of motionless bliss they emerge from the cloud of lust. He rises and applies an abrupt slap upon a cheek. Clap! Before she has time to process the gesture he has disappeared into the misty shroud. She rubs the assaulted cheek. A parting shot. Sheila just shakes her head in disbelief.

With a blank smile she debates a second shower, "Nah, wanna this to steep in my memory. I will wear his sweat and musk as I would my jacket against the cold and wind."

Fully reassembled she bolts out of the locker room in a haze of determination. From the corner of her right eye flashes a shadowy image of the man in black, sans face mask. She jumps in surprise. He's smugly leaning at an angle with his left shoulder against the tile wall. His flippant expression is annoyingly confident.

"How was that one?," he inquires almost rhetorically. Eyebrows raised to prompt a response from his wife.

"Whew! Haven't you had enough of startling me to death? You're having waaay too much fun at helping to finish the latest chapter of MY abduction fantasy novel.

"Um humm. And who enlisted their husband to assist in the 'hands-on research'?"

"I suppose if I knew what was coming it wouldn't have been such a realistic experience. I'll need to do some more 'field-testing.' Sporting a broad smile, 'same time next week?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so. It'd ruin all the spontaneity. Isn't that point?," as he tilts his head half-way to his right shoulder.

"Maybe," she resigns, "but revenge is mine when we get home."

"That would be quite a reversal of fortune for you, one where anticipation of the inevitable is to be savored."

"How wrong you are on that dear husband. How wrong you are."