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Planetoid
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2011
Brittany saw the Middle-Aged-Loner coming from a mile away.
It came as no surprise that he was approaching her. Guys had been doing so all night. She'd donned a velvety black knee-length dress and a pair of matching heels for her girls-night-out with Tanya and Abby, and the ensemble had earned her more than a few lingering gazes.
She'd already turned at least a dozen guys away. She knew their game; she saw them sitting in the booths like packs of wolves waiting to strike. They would talk amongst themselves with stoic faces and then one of them would climb onto the dance floor with a grin plastered on his face. He would play it cool, flirt with her, try to make her laugh. Then he would ask her to dance.
She knew what came after that too. Can I buy you a drink? Sure thing. It's loud in here--maybe we could talk outside? That would be lovely. Oh, the bar's closing...let's keep this party going back at your place!
Fast forward twelve hours: Brittany would wake up in an empty bed with a hangover and a used condom on the pillow beside her. What a way to spend the night.
She'd first noticed the Middle-Aged-Loner halfway through a spin, his eyes catching her gaze. His expression was a cool, cockeyed grin and he strode with a purpose. Most guys were nervous--they had tells that Brittany could pick up on in a heartbeat--but Mal had none. He made a beeline across the dance floor, straying from his path just long enough to weave around dancers.
And he walked past her. But he said something. It sounded like I bet you taste as good as you smell.
With that, he left the dance floor and took a seat at the bar.
Brittany paused. Normally, Brittany would brush off such a comment. The loners at bars were notorious for treating her like a cheap thrill by being assholes and making comments about her body. But there was something different about this one; the statement was delivered coolly and seemed like it was laced with a trace of sincerity.
The song ended and segued into the next--which to Brittany's delight was her current favorite. She broke out into a broad smile and resumed dancing, and she'd forgotten Mal within minutes.
***
By 12:30am, the club was winding down, and Brittany sat alone in a booth sipping her last Muay Thai of the evening.
She hadn't been as lucky as Tanya or Abby. Tanya had absconded from the club about an hour earlier with her boy-of-choice and Abby sat in one of the corner booths, talking to a baby-faced College boy while he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. His palm was resting on her bare knee.
Brittany, it seemed, would be going home alone tonight.
"What are you doing all by your lonesome?"
Brittany lifted her head and turned her gaze to the source of the voice, brushing a strand of soft brown hair over her ear. It was Mal. Without asking if the seat was taken, he plunked down across from her.
"Guess it's just not my night," Brittany said, taking the straw between her lips and trying to finish off the drink. Mal wasn't an unattractive guy--his eyes were like two sapphires resting atop circular white pillows and his head was crowned with a patch of short brown hair, and when he grinned, deep dimples formed in his cheeks. He looked to be at least a decade and a half Brittany's senior, maybe thirty-five, and while Brittany had been impressed with him thus far, she was ready to call it a night.
"That's too bad," he replied with mock-empathy. "Let's fix that. I'm Brian." He extended his hand.
If Brittany hadn't been so distracted by the desire to cut the conversation short, she would have seen the Device in time. It was strapped to his hand like one of those old novelty zappers. She meant for the handshake to be quick but he took a hold of her hand and squeezed. The Device bit her palm. Her hand immediately went numb.
"Hey..."
"Just relax," He cooed, tightening his grip.
Brittany's stomach did a somersault. The numbness sprinted up her arm and when it reached her shoulder, it spread across her chest and up her neck. It pervaded through her face and split in half when it reached her belly button to conquer her legs.
"I think you've had enough to drink, babe," Brian remarked, standing and hooking his arm around Brittany's waist. "Let's get you somewhere quiet..."
Brittany was growing frantic. Her whole body was numb. Brian pulled her out of the booth and started across the dance floor. Brittany's feet dragged uselessly on the floor. She had to do something! His earlier comment ran through her head like a DVD that kept skipping--I bet you taste as good as you smell. I bet you taste as good as you smell.
But what could she do? Her body refused to respond! Worst of all, Brian was calm. He took his time manuevering her out through the main doors and down the sidewalk, cradling her as though she'd had a few too many. At least two dozen people were outside the club, and though some of them looked at her, none of them recognized the danger she was in!
She had to alert someone! Her hair was starting to fall in front of her face and as her eyes were the only things she could move, she had to get someone's attention--and quick. She examined the crowd and made eyes with a gangster-boy with a cock-eyed baseball cap. He looked at her, and then up at Brian.
"She gonna be okay?"
"Sure, sure," Brian said. "One too many Muay Thais."
"Oh. A'ight."
No! Stupid gangster boy! I'm being kidnapped! Pull up your pants and do someth--
Her hair fell. It flopped over her face like a curtain. The ordeal felt like a dream--drugged and immobilized, Brittany leaned fully on Brian, watching the pavement pass below. Her feet dragged behind them like dead weight.
They crossed the street and entered a well-lit parking area. Brian had parked his car, a nondescript black Audi, on the edge of the lot opposite the club. Supporting Brittany's body with one arm, he pulled the back door open and lay her across the back seat.
Brittany's heart skipped a beat as he slammed the door shut and hopped behind the wheel. She needed a miracle. As the car started, she prayed to herself for one--a suspicious club patron, a bouncer that saw what was happening, something.
Ten minutes later, the Audi was idling on the side of the road. Brittany's toes and the tips of her fingers had started tingling as the sensation started to return, but it was too late. She lay in terror as Brian climbed into the back seat with a coil of soft rope and pulled Brittany's hands behind her back. He tied her wrists and cinched the rope into a neat, tight knot and then moved to her feet, winding her ankles with a roll of duct tape retrieved from under the seat.
Tipping her head upward, he ripped a strip free and smoothed it over her supple pink lips. Without a word, he returned to the driver's seat and they took off once again.
The only miracle Brittany could pray for now was for a bored cop but on a Friday night, the cops would be along the major roads and highways.
Brian took the back roads.
It came as no surprise that he was approaching her. Guys had been doing so all night. She'd donned a velvety black knee-length dress and a pair of matching heels for her girls-night-out with Tanya and Abby, and the ensemble had earned her more than a few lingering gazes.
She'd already turned at least a dozen guys away. She knew their game; she saw them sitting in the booths like packs of wolves waiting to strike. They would talk amongst themselves with stoic faces and then one of them would climb onto the dance floor with a grin plastered on his face. He would play it cool, flirt with her, try to make her laugh. Then he would ask her to dance.
She knew what came after that too. Can I buy you a drink? Sure thing. It's loud in here--maybe we could talk outside? That would be lovely. Oh, the bar's closing...let's keep this party going back at your place!
Fast forward twelve hours: Brittany would wake up in an empty bed with a hangover and a used condom on the pillow beside her. What a way to spend the night.
She'd first noticed the Middle-Aged-Loner halfway through a spin, his eyes catching her gaze. His expression was a cool, cockeyed grin and he strode with a purpose. Most guys were nervous--they had tells that Brittany could pick up on in a heartbeat--but Mal had none. He made a beeline across the dance floor, straying from his path just long enough to weave around dancers.
And he walked past her. But he said something. It sounded like I bet you taste as good as you smell.
With that, he left the dance floor and took a seat at the bar.
Brittany paused. Normally, Brittany would brush off such a comment. The loners at bars were notorious for treating her like a cheap thrill by being assholes and making comments about her body. But there was something different about this one; the statement was delivered coolly and seemed like it was laced with a trace of sincerity.
The song ended and segued into the next--which to Brittany's delight was her current favorite. She broke out into a broad smile and resumed dancing, and she'd forgotten Mal within minutes.
***
By 12:30am, the club was winding down, and Brittany sat alone in a booth sipping her last Muay Thai of the evening.
She hadn't been as lucky as Tanya or Abby. Tanya had absconded from the club about an hour earlier with her boy-of-choice and Abby sat in one of the corner booths, talking to a baby-faced College boy while he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. His palm was resting on her bare knee.
Brittany, it seemed, would be going home alone tonight.
"What are you doing all by your lonesome?"
Brittany lifted her head and turned her gaze to the source of the voice, brushing a strand of soft brown hair over her ear. It was Mal. Without asking if the seat was taken, he plunked down across from her.
"Guess it's just not my night," Brittany said, taking the straw between her lips and trying to finish off the drink. Mal wasn't an unattractive guy--his eyes were like two sapphires resting atop circular white pillows and his head was crowned with a patch of short brown hair, and when he grinned, deep dimples formed in his cheeks. He looked to be at least a decade and a half Brittany's senior, maybe thirty-five, and while Brittany had been impressed with him thus far, she was ready to call it a night.
"That's too bad," he replied with mock-empathy. "Let's fix that. I'm Brian." He extended his hand.
If Brittany hadn't been so distracted by the desire to cut the conversation short, she would have seen the Device in time. It was strapped to his hand like one of those old novelty zappers. She meant for the handshake to be quick but he took a hold of her hand and squeezed. The Device bit her palm. Her hand immediately went numb.
"Hey..."
"Just relax," He cooed, tightening his grip.
Brittany's stomach did a somersault. The numbness sprinted up her arm and when it reached her shoulder, it spread across her chest and up her neck. It pervaded through her face and split in half when it reached her belly button to conquer her legs.
"I think you've had enough to drink, babe," Brian remarked, standing and hooking his arm around Brittany's waist. "Let's get you somewhere quiet..."
Brittany was growing frantic. Her whole body was numb. Brian pulled her out of the booth and started across the dance floor. Brittany's feet dragged uselessly on the floor. She had to do something! His earlier comment ran through her head like a DVD that kept skipping--I bet you taste as good as you smell. I bet you taste as good as you smell.
But what could she do? Her body refused to respond! Worst of all, Brian was calm. He took his time manuevering her out through the main doors and down the sidewalk, cradling her as though she'd had a few too many. At least two dozen people were outside the club, and though some of them looked at her, none of them recognized the danger she was in!
She had to alert someone! Her hair was starting to fall in front of her face and as her eyes were the only things she could move, she had to get someone's attention--and quick. She examined the crowd and made eyes with a gangster-boy with a cock-eyed baseball cap. He looked at her, and then up at Brian.
"She gonna be okay?"
"Sure, sure," Brian said. "One too many Muay Thais."
"Oh. A'ight."
No! Stupid gangster boy! I'm being kidnapped! Pull up your pants and do someth--
Her hair fell. It flopped over her face like a curtain. The ordeal felt like a dream--drugged and immobilized, Brittany leaned fully on Brian, watching the pavement pass below. Her feet dragged behind them like dead weight.
They crossed the street and entered a well-lit parking area. Brian had parked his car, a nondescript black Audi, on the edge of the lot opposite the club. Supporting Brittany's body with one arm, he pulled the back door open and lay her across the back seat.
Brittany's heart skipped a beat as he slammed the door shut and hopped behind the wheel. She needed a miracle. As the car started, she prayed to herself for one--a suspicious club patron, a bouncer that saw what was happening, something.
Ten minutes later, the Audi was idling on the side of the road. Brittany's toes and the tips of her fingers had started tingling as the sensation started to return, but it was too late. She lay in terror as Brian climbed into the back seat with a coil of soft rope and pulled Brittany's hands behind her back. He tied her wrists and cinched the rope into a neat, tight knot and then moved to her feet, winding her ankles with a roll of duct tape retrieved from under the seat.
Tipping her head upward, he ripped a strip free and smoothed it over her supple pink lips. Without a word, he returned to the driver's seat and they took off once again.
The only miracle Brittany could pray for now was for a bored cop but on a Friday night, the cops would be along the major roads and highways.
Brian took the back roads.