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This is a work of fiction. Any coincidental likeness to names, places, people or activity is purely that: Coincidence. All characters are over 18 years old. Constructive criticism is welcome. Outright bashing of being “unbelievable” or some such is not – of course it’s unbelievable! It’s a fictional story meant to create an emotional diatribe between the words and your imagination.
The convenience store was a great place to work, so said all of the employees. Even though the owner called it a convenience store it was really just a well-to-do liquor store. A kind of spiced up 7-11 without the crazy prices nor the inflation of consumer intrepidity over stock and demand. The only problem with it was that it was located in a section of town that was middle ground to the upper class and desperate thieves. A right on the train tracks type of place. The upper echelon of humanity on the one side of the tracks came, as well as the ne’er-do-wells, but this story isn’t about the supposed good people this time.
The thieves liked it more than the upper class.
Daryl thought of this for less than a second as he stared down the barrel of the gun. His other, more forbearing and rudimentary, thought was that the gun being only a couple of inches from his nose made it look like a ninety-nine magnum.
Having been the clerk for three robberies before this Daryl knew what to do, how fast to do it and when not to do anything. He was also trained by the security team that setup the new anti-theft system the store paid heavily into: where the cameras were, where the buttons to activate the alarms were – there were three, what happened when the alarm was pressed and how long it took to get the security company and the police onsite. He’d also been taught what to look for in potential thieves who were casing the joint.
Daryl saw the casement from when the first young woman came in and just walked around for a minute and then walked out without purchasing anything and then when the masked person came in again fifteen minutes later. As soon as he saw this – from the way the person looked at who was or wasn’t in the store, from the way the masked ne’er-do-well kept staring at him and the way the person kept looking up and around as though searching for cameras. The cameras were easy enough to spot but thanks to the redesign of the interior it took several seconds for any potential robber to get to the counter whether the gun was out or not. In this case the gun came out as soon as the door opened and the command to “not move a muscle” had been shouted.
The young man’s hands were below the counter when the door opened and the yell reached him. When the second command was given to raise his hands over head Daryl did so hitting the button under the counter with a turn of his hand so that his index finger ran between the three sided plastic encasement where the button was located. At that moment the front doors to the store immediately closed themselves and then large metal bars shot across the frames of glass while the two front windows had metal blinds dropping down and locking into place – essentially barring any chance at escape.
Two thieves quickly approached the counter, guns out and threats falling from their mouths.
Of the two, the taller one, who was obviously in charge, reached about five foot six and with the mask kind of looking like a high school freshman out for a dare run. The other, the shorter one, stood only about five feet even. Daryl had been taught how to gauge the heights of people and he was actually pretty good at it. He also saw that their walk was different than he’d seen on many of the robbers who had come through. There was almost a lilting gait from the tall one and short, quick measured hip steps from the short one – both of them had very nice thighs accentuated by the tightness of their jeans.
‘Tall’ shouted, “Open that fucking door!” This was when the gun was put right next to his face and he had to cross his eyes to focus on it.
Hands raised he could only shrug and shake his head and oddly and quietly blurt, “I can’t.” No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get that manly thing going in his voice so it shook a little with the fear.
He did notice, however, that there was something weird about the thief’s voice. Something tinny inside the timbre that reminded him of his passed little sister trying to mimic him by lowering her voice and mocking whatever he said. Their movements were decidedly in between male and female so he couldn’t place the oddity he thought he saw. Their jackets were wide and big so they hid any telltale curves and accentuations of the forms but he knew – mainly from the form fitting jeans. Femme fatale.
“You had better open that door or I’m gonna open a very large hole in your head, bastard,” Tall threatened. Daryl could only shake his head in mute apology, his eyes never leaving the large black hole of the gun barrel.
Short piped over, escort “Just get the money and we’ll go out the back.” Daryl noticed that Short’s voice was also an odd timbre. He also noticed that Short was about as tall as the young woman who cased the place just a short time ago.
Tall looked over at Short and said to Daryl, “You heard her…it. Open the register, bag it and hand it over right now.”
Daryl heard the mistake but was too frightened to make any use of it at the moment. He looked at the gun and pointed one finger from his raised right hand at it and quietly said, “I’m goi…goin…going to need you back up just a bit so I can move…uh, over there.” It didn’t matter how much of a man you thought you were – if a gun is pointed scant millimeters from your face you’re going to be a little shaky somewhere.
Tall reached over the counter a bit more, enough to put the gun even closer right between the scared clerk’s eyes, and asked, “What did you just say?” He couldn’t see the hole anymore. It was pressing into his forehead.
“If you want the money I have to be able to get to it. It’s over there,” he motioned again with his right hand.
With eyes afire Tall slowly backed up enough for Daryl to move. As Tall moved Daryl noticed Short had gone back to the front and was watching for anyone or anything to come along through the fallen metal bars that crossed the windows now. Inside he knew that he was probably going to die tonight. He wasn’t a coward but a situation like this scared you, he knew. He had to firm up his resolve because he knew that they were going to be a while. A stand-off of some sort was inevitable. When those bars dropped it took the police and the security company to open them again.
He calmly stepped the three paces to the register while Tall kept the gun pointed at him. Having been robbed before he knew the drill but this was different since the new security system was in place. It had been designed to keep the malcontents inside until the police arrived and could shoot everyone. That’s what the owner thought, anyway. Still, it was always trying as he stepped to the register and began pressing the digital screen of this completely modern liquor store.
Tall saw all the presses on the screen and yelled, “Open it! Now!”
Daryl was shaking but screamed right back, “I can’t. The system isn’t designed that way.” At a very fervent gesture of bringing the gun closer to him while Short came up beside Tall and pointed another gun at him Daryl cursed the owner for this nonsense. Despite that, he had never stopped depressing stuff on the touchscreen monitor and soon the register drawer popped open. He immediately grabbed a paper bag from the under the counter and began placing the money in it. When the register’s cash was in the bag he held it out to Tall.
“Now the safe,” Tall demanded.
Daryl’s shoulders slumped. His face dropped with a conclusion of death and he resignedly pointed his left thumb over his shoulder to a sign above one of the shelves of bourbon that said “Clerks do not have access to safe.”
Short got anxious and grabbed the bag from Tall’s hand and began moving to the back of the store via the end of the front counter and around a short bended corner to the right. Tall hadn’t moved and kept staring at Daryl with frustration and impatience quadrupled with anger and a large gun. “Fuck,” came a very girlish yell.
Tall quickly looked over the way Short had gone, gun following her eyes. When Short came walking back Tall looked at Daryl again with a severity that could probably cause a staff sergeant to pass out.
“What happened?,” Tall asked with fury, eyes never leaving this sod behind the counter.
“The door is barred up and down,” said a shoulder drooping Short.
“Open these doors,” started Tall, “or I will blow your head clean off.” All of a sudden there was a tinge of fear and a very female voice coming from under the taller thief’s mask.
Daryl found a small voice and calmly stated, “I can’t. They’re controlled by the security team,” he lied. He knew that the fear in his voice would hide any shakiness of the falsehood. That falsehood being that the police also had to be involved. It was an unintentional lie that he would think about later should he survive.
At that moment sirens could be heard as red and blue lights appeared out of the still visible area of the window of the front door. Short ran over to the side of the door and counted three police cars with men jumping out, guns drawn and positioning themselves behind their car doors.
“Shit,” said Short.
A moment later the phone rang and Daryl stutter stepped toward it but Tall’s gun was back on him causing him to stop. “Don’t answer that,” Tall exacted.
“It’s probably the police or the security company wanting to talk to me…or you,” Daryl said weakly.
After several more rings the phone stopped ringing and a voice could be heard from outside – “You inside, you’re surrounded with nowhere to go. Drop your weapons and be prepared to come out with your hands up on our signal.”
Daryl saw Tall’s eyes droop with loss for just a second before they raised back up at him with more fury and Tall asked, “Is there a back office in this place?”
“Sure,” said Daryl, “at the end of the counter to the left.”
“Are there cameras in there?”
“No.” The lie came easy this time for an unknown reason.
“Let’s go then,” pressed Tall, wagging the gun at him and leaning in the direction of the back of the store.
Slowly Daryl began the walk toward the office, hands still in the air, with Tall paralleling him on the other side of the counter. When he reached the end of the counter he turned left and Tall pressed the gun to the back of his head. He entered the ten by ten room and walked to the right side of the room where he stopped against some file cabinets. In the middle of the room was a smallish fake wood desk with a plush chair behind it. All over the walls were corkboards with schedules, graphs, receipts, invoices and what might have been detritus if one didn’t know what they were looking at. Daryl knew what it all was but didn’t really care at that moment.
Short followed them in carrying one of the bandanas from the clearance rack next to the front door. After Tall told him to sit down Short went behind him and covered his eyes with the cloth and tied it behind his head. Short then pulled off her mask and blond hair spilled out over her shoulders and she looked at Tall with a ‘what now?’ shrug of her shoulders.
Tall also removed the mask revealing a pressed down mop of red hair. She then unzipped the black jacket and slipped it off of her shoulders revealing a tank top with spaghetti straps closely covering a decent sized bust. Exasperation in her voice she ordered Short to look for some rope and tie him to the chair. As Short went back to the store she forgot to take her mask. Tall saw this but figured it didn’t matter anymore since they were caught.
She walked over to the seated hostage and gently kicked him in the foot to get his attention. “What?,” he asked.
With a gentle tone Tall replied, “We’re going to need your help getting out of here.”
Daryl felt some inward strength building inside of him – he knew he was dead, they knew they were caught – he had nothing to lose. He also didn’t know where it came from. “Suck my dick,” he said.
“What the fuck did you say?” Tall’s anger was palpable and she pressed the gun against Daryl’s head. “Say it again.”
“Suck. My. Dick.” A smirk came to his face and he visibly relaxed in the chair. Despite his eyes being covered he had was going to face Death on the manly side. Willis and Arnold are pussies compared to what I’m going to lose here. So? Why not make it good. Daryl still didn’t know where this was coming from but he liked it.
Short returned just a moment later and went directly to the chair and began tying Daryl’s arms to the arms of the chair. She didn’t even look at Tall, just went to work and then Tall hit the prisoner in the side of the head with a thwap from the side of the gun.
“Go ahead, boy, now that we’re both here, say it again,” Tall demanded.
“Say what?,” asked Short.
Daryl’s bravado was rising. The hit on the side of his head hurt a little but that was easy to take from his point of view. He still held the concept of his death in the forefront of his mind so his tension was lessening and he was beginning not to care. This is where he considered that despair either took true form and turned your insides to ‘flambé of don’t care’ or where the ‘don’t care’ registered something else within you. A type of amalgamated sensation ranging from ambivalence to near tension free calculation.
“She told me that you girls are going to need my help getting out of here,” Daryl began, tilting his head in where he thought Short still was, “but knowing that you can’t get out, knowing that if I’m hurt – whether shot or stabbed or made dead in any way – that your lives are forfeit and you’re going away for a good amount of time I replied with what I’m going to say again. Suck my dick. Since you’re back, though, you can suck it, too. Or rather this – Both of you, on your knees and suck my dick, topless. No, naked, while you finger each other.”
Short looked at the blindfolded prisoner and then back to Tall with complete incredulity. “Really?”
“Really.” Daryl had a smile on his face and was getting bolder by the moment. “You know, now that I think about it, you can both get naked and then one of you can get my balls while the other deep throats me and gags. Maybe a rim job; definitely fucking – I want both of your pussies covering my dick; and then you can swallow my cum while I slap your faces with my…”
That was when Short hit him in the jaw. And then she hit him again and again and went crazy. “How dare you, you dumb motherfucker…”
It went on for almost thirty seconds before Tall pulled her off, hit him in the jaw with the palm of her hand and Daryl was sure they probably heard the slap outside. Just then the phone on the desk rang.
Both women were startled by it and stepped back. “You’dth bether answa it,” Daryl tried to say as blood ran from his nose and one corner of his mouth. Tall looked at Short and Short nodded.
“Being the perpetrator, on film, with a weapon and a hostage you have nowhere to go. Give up now. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up and it doesn’t have to get ugly,” a deep, rich voice said.
“I’ll think about it and call you back,” Tall replied. She wrote down a phone number and hung up the phone.
“Well?,” asked Short.
Dejected and exasperated Tall told Short what was said. Then a hand snaked by her hip and she jumped from the desk, gun at the ready, and she saw that it was their prisoner with his blindfold off reaching for a box of tissues on the desk. He held the hand up in a defensive, non-threatening manner but still reached for the tissue.
Daryl had decided during the brief phone call not to care even more and slid the blindfold above his eyes. The knots were not done well so he slipped them and took in the scenery. He had blood on his fingers when he touched his, thankfully, unbroken nose and sought the pseudo cloth to try and wipe it away.
Both women pointed their guns at Daryl and he half-smiled and then blew his nose to try and clear some of the blood. When he finished he folded the napkin and threw into the waste basket next to the desk. “Well, go ahead,” he said, much more clear due to the quickly formed blood clots being mostly gone.
He looked right at them and stated with a certain finality, “Shoot. I’ve got nothing. I gain nothing by trying to be a hero and stopping you – my boss would yell at me about why I wasn’t Chuck Norris and kicked your asses since you’re only girls.”
Then he would begin figuring out how much it will cost him to get the security company he pays for to open the doors without charging him or some such thing, then I would have to figure out what, if anything, was stolen and then he would state that I have to pay for it by time. Then, when everything is all settled he’d fire me. So there goes the job. I live in a closet; all of my family is dead; I don’t have the money to get out of this dipshit area of the city; and I haven’t been laid in more than two years ’cause I can’t get a chick to come my side of town and I don’t own a car or even a bicycle so I can’t get anywhere. As well, most of the women around are butt-fuckin’ugly or you can tell there’ve been so many people between their legs that something keeps moving in their pants.”
The women looked at him without sympathy but they did see that he no longer cared what they did to him so doing anything to him wasn’t going to help them.
“So,” Daryl stated with a loud call to get their attention, “you two can either get naked, fuck the life from me and then go to jail or just go to jail. And I’ll tell you this – I eat pussy like an animal.”
Daryl’s bluster was gaining a grandiose level though his eyes belied the outward perception. All that he told them was true and he felt that if they were going to shoot him, fine; torture him, fine – but he wasn’t going without a fight. They were pretty and Daryl could see that Tall had a nice rack he’d love sandwiching his dick through. He stood from the chair and the guns raised with him. His hands went to his zipper and he lowered it, reached in and gently pulled out a Holmes-ian cock. Almost six inches of manhood winked at the females with its one eye, without even being erect.
Short gasped at the size of the thing and her gun dropped. Tall looked at it, impressed, but her gun only dropped a little. “Oh my god!,” Short said with clear want in her voice.
“Any takers?,” asked Daryl.
After a few moments of no one moving or saying anything he gently put his manhood away and began to walk around the desk heading for the door to the office.
“Where the fuck you goin’?,” Tall demanded.
Daryl turned and looked directly at her and said, “Look, either shoot me or don’t. We’re trapped, no one’s going anywhere until they open the bars and come in en masse and shoot everything moving. I’m getting a drink and some ice.” With that he walked out of the office and into the main floor of the store.
He looked up at the camera as he walked under and gave a thumbs up and then went to the cold drink fridge and pulled out a Ruby Red grapefruit juice. The tartness and tang was always a balm for him. He stayed out for only another moment to check outside the window and saw that the cops were still there but their guns weren’t drawn. He also saw his boss and saw him arguing about something.
The trip took all of two minutes and he forgot the ice. When Daryl walked back into the office he was surprised to find Short sitting on the top of the desk, naked as birth, leaning back on her arms, her legs dangling over the edge of the desk and her pussy waiting. For him, presumably.
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