Taken

by Mia Ford

  I wasn’t used to drinking. I felt sick. I set my purse on the sink and squatted in front of the toilet, thinking that my stomach was about to send all that beer back up because it was so disgusted with me.

  I pushed up the toilet seat and rested my hands on the cold porcelain rim and tried to breathe. Thankfully, the restroom wasn’t a total pig sty. It was ten times cleaner than the rest of the place.

  A cold sweat washed over my forehead.

  I could taste vomit on the back of my tongue.

  I focused on breathing slowly in and out.

  After a moment, the wave of nausea passed.

  I didn’t know if I was nauseous because I was tipsy or because of my encounter with Rick. I glanced at my watch. We’d been talking for over an hour. It was like having a conversation with the devil. I was sickened by it now, but when it was happening, I was completely under the spell of his charms.

  I turned around to undo my pants, then pushed them and my panties down to my knees. I sat down on the toilet and took a good, long pee. I found a tissue in my purse and dabbed the sweat from my forehead. When I looked down into the purse, I saw the dull silver of the Bulldog Snub-nosed .357. For just a second, I imagined myself coming out of the restroom with the gun in my hand. I would go to the bar to kill Rick first, then into the little room where his crew sat playing cards.

  I would just point the gun at their heads and pull the trigger.

  How hard would that be?

  Eddie Wright made it look easy.

  I shook the thought away and finished peeing. I pulled up my panties and wiggled the tight jeans over my round ass and zipped them up. I washed my hands and dried them on the dispenser as I checked my reflection in the mirror.

  It took a moment for me to recognize the dark-haired woman staring back at me. Her eyes were red, rimmed with dark eyeliner and mascara. Her dark lipstick was smudged from the beer bottles. I blinked at her and she blinked back. I shook my head in disgust at her. She felt the same way about me.

  “Okay,” I said to my reflection. “Let’s go home.”

  When I opened the door I literally jumped a foot off the ground and screamed. Standing there with his arms propped on either side of the door was Eddie Wright; the younger, greasier, more threatening version of his older brother. He wasn’t as tall as Rick, but he was muscled up and had a dangerous look in his eye, like a stick of dynamite that might go off without a moment’s notice.

  He glared at me and smacked his lips. “Hey, sweet thing, you having a good time with my brother?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Damn, don’t you look good enough to eat.”

  His eyes settled on my tits and he smiled.

  He had a silver tooth in the front.

  “You’d have a better time with me,” he said, bringing his hands to his belt buckle. His right hand slid down to the bulge in the front of his jeans. “Rick’s better looking, but my cock’s bigger. Wanna see?”

  I held my breath and slipped my hand inside the purse. My fingers closed around the rubber grip of the Bulldog. Pull it out, the little voice in my head whispered. Pull it out and point it at him and pull the trigger. Do the world a favor and blow this murdering piece of shit away.

  “Hey, dipshit, leave the lady alone.”

  Rick appeared behind his brother, standing with his arms crossed over his muscled chest. Eddie turned to him and held up his hands.

  “Hey, big brother, you can’t blame a fella for trying.” He leered at me again and made a little growling noise in his throat. “Sweet piece of ass like that. There’s plenty to go around.”

  “Go play cards before you get your ass kicked,” Rick said, nodding him away. Eddie stared at me for a moment, then smiled and sauntered away. The image of the silver tooth lingered in my mind, sending shivers up my spine.

  Rick held out his hand. “You okay?”

  “Yes, he just startled me,” I said, letting the pistol slide out of my hand inside the purse. “I’m okay now.”

  “Come on,” Rick said, wiggling his fingers at me. “Let’s get you home. I think you’ve had enough of this shit hole for one night.”

  * * *

  I held onto Rick’s hand and let him lead me safely out of the bar. Every head turned to watch us pass. Lots of nods and whispers. Eddie stood in the door of the back room with a bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips, casually watching me like a bored predator tracking its easy prey. Rick ignored them in the way a mighty king might ignore his lowly subjects as he strolled by.

  I breathed out a long sigh of relief as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. The night air was warm and moist. Little beads of sweat dotted my upper lip. I sucked in a few deep breaths to try to get my head to stop swimming.

  “I have my car,” I said, pointing at the new black Cadillac CTS I’d bought a few days before. It was parked on the street half a block down; its high-gloss black paint shimmered under the moonlight. It seemed like a fitting ride for my new bad girl persona.

  “You’re lucky that’s still in one piece,” Rick said, eyeing my car with his hands on his hips.

  “What? Oh, I didn’t think…”

  “There’s a private lot around back,” Rick said. “Park there from now on. Nobody will mess with it. Guaranteed.”

  “Um, okay…” I started digging in my purse for my keys. I pulled them out and dangled them at him. I pressed the key fob and the Cadillac flashed its halogen headlights at us.

  “Give me those,” he commanded, hand out, fingers crooked.

  “I’m fine to drive, really…”

  “I don’t think so,” Rick said, shaking his head. “Let me drive you home, then I’ll catch a ride back here.”

  “No, really, that’s not necessary,” I said. I was both mortified and excited at the prospect of Rick Wright driving me home. And possibly coming inside to put me to bed. And climbing into bed with me…

  It would be so much easier to kill him if we were alone, the little voice in my head whispered. Just lead him into the bedroom, have him strip off all his clothes, and kill him in the bed you shared with Brent.

  In my drunken brain, there was a sort of ironic justice to the plan. I never thought of the million ways it could go wrong.

  I dropped the keys into his hand.

  “Okay, fine. Just don’t drive too fast or I might puke.”

  “Deal,” he said, hitting the button to unlock the passenger door. He held the door open and took my hand. I slid into the seat and he closed the door.

  I settled back in the plush leather seat and watched him come around the front of the car. God, he made walking look good…

  He slid in behind the wheel and buckled up.

  He glanced over at me and smiled.

  That damn smile.

  It made me feel… I don’t know what…

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  My plan was working better than I thought it would.

  Now all I had to do was follow through and kill Rick Wright.

  SANDY

  Everything was happening so fast.

  Maybe too fast.

  I had walked into that dive bar with the goal of just checking out The Wright Brothers from afar. I’d never planned on confronting them; at least not so soon.

  The plan was to sit at the bar, nurse one drink for a few minutes, then watch and listen. I never thought I would end up spending time with Rick Wright or be confronted by his murderous brother, Eddie.

  The moment Eddie leered at me I knew he was the man who killed Brent. I remembered our eyes meeting when he came out of the convenience store. I remembered the threat in his eyes, the sneer on his lips.

  If he had known who I was and what I was doing in the bar, he would have killed me in the bathroom. Of that, I have no doubt.

  Rick asked for my address. I gave it to him, then directed him along the way. Turn right… turn left… no… fuck… I meant right…

  I focused on the road to keep from focusing on him. He
made small talk. He liked my car. It handled well. It had good pickup. He liked the way it took the curves. He might as well have been speaking French because I had no idea what all that meant. Brent would have understood every word.

  He draped his left wrist over the steering wheel and rested his right hand on the gear lever in the console as he drove. His fingers were inches from my knee. I found myself hoping that he would casually slide his hand onto my leg; gently massage my thigh, slowly move his hand closer to my...

  No.

  Stop it.

  You should be repulsed by the mere thought of his touch.

  It took twenty minutes to reach my apartment. By the time we arrived, I was feeling less nauseous, but still tipsy. And a little horny. I couldn’t help it. I knew it was wrong, but it was a different kind of horny, one I had never felt before. It was tinged with danger and abandon, a taboo kind of horny that told me to ignore the dampness in my panties and the stiffening of my nipples as I inhaled deeply Rick’s musky scent.

  Rick pulled into a spot in front of my building and shut off the engine. Without a word, he came around to open my door and offer me his hand. I took a deep breath and let him pull me out of the car. I lost my balance for a moment and fell into his arms. I glanced up into his eyes. Our lips were inches apart.

  “Sorry,” I said, holding onto his round shoulders to push away from him. “Guess I’m still a little tipsy.”

  “Just a little,” he said. He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and took my arm. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

  His words echoed in my ears as he led me to the door. He gave me the keys and waited patiently while I fumbled with the deadbolt. Once I managed to get the door open, I stepped inside and turned back to look at him. He made no attempt to follow me inside. I leaned on the door and bit my lip.

  “Get some rest,” he said. He tugged his phone from his back pocket. “I’m going to call for a ride. I’ll wait out here so you can get to sleep.”

  My brain struggled to clear away the fog that was clouding all of my senses but one. Here we were, me and the man I blamed for the death of my fiancé, standing in my doorway at midnight. I thought it would take weeks to get Rick Wright alone, away from his crew. Yet, here we were. This was my chance.

  “Want to come in?” I asked, smiling at him with dreamy eyes. I was trying to be seductive, even though I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never seduced a man in my life, especially one like Rick Wright, who looked like he could snap his fingers and have any women in the room go down on him. I leaned my cheek against the door and batted my fake eyelashes at him.

  “Are you sure,” he asked, taking a step closer.

  Was I sure? No, I wasn’t sure of anything, other than the sadness I still felt in my heart for Brent’s death and the desire to make those responsible for his death pay with their lives.

  I said, “Yes, I’m sure. Come inside.”

  He tucked his phone back into his pocket and came inside. I closed the door and leaned back against it. Before I even knew what was happening, I was in his arms, pressing my lips to his.

  I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. My arms went around his neck and his hands went around to my ass. He clenched my ass cheeks in his hands and lifted me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on tight as he carried me to the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

  He lowered me to the floor at the foot of my bed. My arms were still around his neck and his hands were still on my ass. His tongue pushed through my lips to probe into my mouth. When the tip of my tongue touched his, I felt a shudder of excitement shoot through my body, as if I’d stuck my tongue into a light socket. My nipples sprang to life and the heat that had been building in my cunt for the past hour gave way to a flood that drenched my panties.

  “I want you,” he growled in my ear. “Do you want me?”

  “Yes,” I moaned. “I want you.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered, teeth nipping at my earlobe. “Tell me you want me to fuck your sweet pussy with my big cock.”

  A dirty talker… I kind of liked that… Brent never said a word when we made love, other than to ask if brought a towel.

  “I want you to fuck my sweet pussy with your big cock,” I said, my lips on his neck. “Please. Now.”

  He was pulling me into him, grinding my cunt into the thick bulge in his pants. Dry humping, we called it in high school. I could remember one boy cumming in his pants as he rubbed his cock against my cunt. He was so embarrassed that he ran way, leaving me with wet panties and no idea what to do about it. I knew now what to do. I hadn’t had much practice, but I knew I didn’t want Rick cumming in his jeans. I wanted him to cum inside me.

  My fingers found his belt buckle as he tugged the black t-shirt over his head. Hit shoulders and chest were thick with muscle, covered with tribal tattoos that ran up his arms and disappeared over his shoulders and onto his back. My hands went to his chest. My fingers brushed his nipples, hard as little pebbles on the roundness of his chest.

  “Let me do that,” he said, pushing my hands from his belt. “You get those fucking clothes off and get on the bed. If I don’t fuck you soon I’m gonna pop.”

  I hesitated for a moment as my pussy started arguing with my brain. Don’t do this, my brain screamed. This is not what you want. You want revenge. You want him dead. You can do it. Get the gun. Shoot him. Kill him. Do it now!

  “Something wrong?” he asked, his hands frozen on this belt.

  “No, nothing,” I said. “Um, but you get into bed. I have to use the bathroom.”

  “Don’t be long,” he said. He pushed his pants and underwear down his muscled legs. His long cock sprang free. I swallowed hard as I looked at it. It was twice as long as any cock I’d ever seen in person. Ten to twelve inches, thick and girthy, with large veins that ran from shaft to tip.

  “My cock is ready for your pussy,” he said, taking his cock in his hand and slowly stroking it back and forth. The head was round, like a mushroom. It blossomed as he pumped the blood into it.

  I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I stared wide-eyed at his cock. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to take it in my mouth. I wanted it in my pussy. Almost as much as I wanted him dead.

  I looked around for my purse. I’d left it on the floor inside the door. I put my hand around his cock and gave it a tug. It felt massive in my hand, like a warm, fleshy lead pipe. I fought the urge to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. I said, “You and your friend get into bed. I’ll just be back in a minute.”

  “Don’t be long,” he said, breathing hard. I released my grip on his cock and he climbed into bed while I went to retrieve my purse from the foyer where I’d dropped it.

  Focus. Focus. Focus.

  Point. Aim. Shoot.

  I scooped up my purse and went back into the bedroom. Rick was lying on my bed, spread eagle, one hand behind his head, the other stroking his monster cock. It jutted from the patch of dark curls like the trunk of a thick oak tree with a mushrooming top.

  “I’ll just be back in a minute,” I said as I went into the bathroom and closed the door. The moment the door closed I thought I was going to pass out. I was suddenly nauseous again. I could taste vomit on the back of my throat. My hands were shaking. A cold sweat washed over my forehead.

  I set the purse on the sink and stuck my hand inside it. I brought out the .357 and stared at it for a moment. The dull gray metal was cold in my hand. I took it by the rubber grip and bounced it in my hand. I tried to remember everything Brent had taught me about firing the pistol the time he took me to the gun range to shoot it.

  Grip it in your right hand. Firm, not too tight.

  Cup your left hand under your right for balance and to keep your hand steady.

  It’s a revolver. You just point and shoot.

  Hold the pistol at arm’s length.

  Close your left eye. Look down the sights on the top of the gun. Center the front sight with the rear one.

  Put y
our finger on the trigger.

  Take a deep breath and hold it.

  Squeeze the trigger slowly as you exhale.

  Don’t jerk it.

  Squeeze with a slow and steady pressure.

  Aim for the center of the chest. Don’t aim for the head or you’ll miss. Go for center mass. Center mass.

  Bang.

  Rinse and repeat.

  You have six bullets. Don’t waste them.

  I looked at the woman in the mirror who was holding the gun. I asked her, “Can you do this? Can you really kill someone?” She told me to open the door and see.

  “You fall in?” Rick called from the bedroom.

  I looked at the woman again. She didn’t say a word.

  RICK

  I lay on her bed, stroking my cock to keep it hard, waiting on Sandy to emerge from the bathroom. I was starting to think that maybe she had passed out or had changed her mind when the bathroom door opened and she stepped out.

  “I was starting to get worried about you,” I said. I frowned at her because she still had her clothes on. Maybe she was going to do a little strip tease, not that I needed it. I was ready to pop. If she didn’t get on my cock soon I was gonna blow like a geyser. I looked into her eyes. She had a strange, far-away look on her face. Maybe she was drunker than I thought. Then I saw the gun in her right hand.

  “What’s that for?” I asked, playing it cool. I just kept stroking my cock and smiling at her. I wasn’t too alarmed. Believe it or not, it wasn’t the first time a bitch had walked in on me carrying a gun.

  She held out the gun at her waist and frowned as if she had just realized that she was carrying it. She moved to the side of the bed. Her eyes never left mine. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that she was going to shoot me.

  She gave her head a little shake, then leaned down and pulled out the nightstand drawer. She set the gun in the drawer and slid it shut.

  “I want you to fuck me, Rick,” she said, tugging her t-shirt over her head. “I want you to fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”