The twins practically broke into tears of elation at the sight. They hugged and grinned, finally feeling a sense of hope intrude upon their woebegone minds. Amid laughs and giggles, they ran hand-in-hand toward possible salvation.
As they approached the doors to the establishment, the glass portals swung open before them. A tall, stocky man emerged. He paused upon seeing the teenagers who faltered and stopped short in his presence, eyes scanning briefly over the pretty, albeit dirty girl. With only a slight nod and smile, he headed toward a well-used truck, sucking on a toothpick.
Sharing a look that bespoke caution, Hansel and Gretel stepped through the doors, inhaling the nearly intoxicating aromas of fresh-cooked food. The floor was covered in black and white tile, the booths and free-standing chairs before small square tables padded in dark, polished red vinyl. There was a classic jukebox against one wall, and Waylon Jenning’s mournful drone emanated from speakers hidden within the ceiling.
“Sometimes it’s Heaven, sometimes it’s Hell
Sometimes I don’t even know
Sometimes I take it as far as I can
Sometimes I don’t even go...”
The twins stared, mouths agape. Never had they seen such a place. Old Man Walton’s little diner was nothing but a shack compared to this magnificent edifice. The floors were clean, and more than that, they shone! The coffee machine behind the counter, the glass-fronted pantry boxes upon the bar, even the stainless steel door that lead, presumably, to the kitchen looked buffed and polished, catching stray rays of light and glittering like diamonds.
“Wow,” the twins spoke in unison.
There were half a dozen patrons in the diner, most of them seated in low-backed chairs along the counter, all of whom turned to glance at the new arrivals. The diner could have easily accommodated ten times as many customers, if not more. A far cry from Old Man Walton’s paltry three tables and little breakfast bar.
Hansel and Gretel endured the scrutiny of the other diners for a few moments, until the men—there was not a woman in sight, Gretel quickly noticed—returned to their meals or coffee. The siblings were glad their appearance was not an intrusion; they needed no more worries than which already plagued them.
“You got any money?” whispered Hansel under his breath, while simultaneously digging in his pockets. He found a few crumpled bills and some coins, which he produced as Gretel drew her own hands from her pockets.
“I got five dollars,” she said with an encouraging smile, smoothing out a wadded bill against her thigh.
“’Bout th’ same,” muttered Hansel, looking at his tiny fortune. “Hope it’s enough.”
Carefully, the pair approached the counter, standing between stools at the nearest end, away from the burly men who looked to be truckers, hunters, loggers or similar. Some looked, assessing Gretel casually. One man smirked, but said nothing before tilting his mug back against hair-shrouded lips.
The stainless-steel door opened, and a tall, imposing woman emerged, walking with almost stately regality. She was both slender and strong, beautiful and imposing. Faint wrinkles were the only sign of age upon an otherwise unblemished face dominated by storm-colored eyes which, under the right circumstances, could be quite menacing. The woman wore a dark blue dress which accentuated her curves rather than hiding them. In particular, the ample and somewhat freakish size of her bosom was showcased within tight fabric, cleavage shown courtesy of a few unclasped buttons.
She smiled upon spying the twins, curling thick red hair back behind her ear with a flip of the wrist. Nails painted to match the color of the dress glittered briefly. “Well, afternoon there, kiddos,” she exclaimed buoyantly, approaching the end of the counter. A cursory look over the garb of her new patrons produced a wondering laugh. “Don’t you two look like warmed over you-know-what.”
The twins blushed in shame, casting their eyes down. Hansel rubbed the greasy and dirty bills in his hand hopelessly. The amused chuckles of the men in the diner reverberated in his ears.
“Hey, now, no need to be so glum,” the woman said supportively. “I’m Ginger. I own the place. Inherited it after my mother passed on. Here, relax; find yourself something to eat.”
The twins climbed reluctantly into a pair of stools, leaning close to one another as if sharing conspiratorial secrets. They flipped the menus open, holding them up while Ginger busied herself with the other customers.
“We can’t afford none o’ this,” Gretel whispered worriedly after a minute.
Hansel ground his teeth in thought. “Yeah, but she don’t know that,” he said meaningfully.
Gretel frowned. “We can’t do that,” she insisted. “That’s stealin’!”
Hansel gave his sister an intent look. “Ya wanna eat, or don’t ya?”
A slender, blue-tipped finger appeared over the edge of Hansel’s menu, pulling it down. Ginger smiled upon the twins. “You two ready to order?”
“Um—“ began Gretel.
“We’ll take two o’ th’ specials,” Hansel interrupted, speaking quickly. He sat up straight, meeting Ginger’s eye. “An’ load ‘em up,” he added with a crooked grin.
Ginger smiled and winked. “Sure thing, young man,” she said, and turned away with a swish of her skirt.
Gretel slapped her hand to her brother’s arm and hissed. “What’re ya doin’? We can’t even afford one o’ them plates!”
Hansel shot her a look. “No, but I bet we can run faster’n she can,” he said meaningfully.
Gretel sighed, hanging her head. Despite her misgivings, however, hunger dug in her stomach like a badger in a burrow. The die had already been cast, she figured. Might as well just go ‘long with it...
* * * *
The food was delicious. Two thick sausage links served with sauerkraut, toast, warm potato salad and fresh-baked bread, with large cups of lentil and bean soup to start with. The twins ate voraciously, both due to hunger and because they understood this would be the last meal of the day and possibly the last for a while. Not a single crumb was left upon either plate by the time Hansel and Gretel were finished. They washed down the last bites with dark, bitter tea.
Ginger appeared to clear away the plates with a chuckle. “You two have quite the appetite,” she commented. “Don’t tell me you’ve run away from home.”
The twins exchanged quick glances, conveying volumes in the space of a heartbeat. Finally, Hansel looked back to the attractively mature woman. “More like, home ran ‘way from us,” he said sourly.
Ginger’s smile faded a moment, then returned. “Well, I’ll tell you what,” she said, leaning slightly, affording the young man before her a more than ample view of her considerable cleavage. “In the spirit of humanitarianism, dessert’s on me.” She pushed away abruptly, reaching for one of the pantry cases a few paces away.
“Why’d ya tell ‘er that?” asked Gretel in a harsh whisper, glaring at her brother. “An’ stop starin’ at her butt like that!”
Hansel blinked, tearing his glimpse away. “I wasn’t starin’!”
“You were so!”
“Here you are, little ones,” Ginger chirped, setting two thick slices of gingerbread before the twins, along with fresh forks. “Eat up. You’ll need your stamina, I’m sure.”
Hansel smiled back, thinking what a sexy implication Ginger’s words had carried. Mindful of his sister, however, he forced himself to look down, digging into the slice of pie before him even as he imagined savoring a different kind of ‘pie’ altogether.
“You’re disgusting,” whispered Gretel disapprovingly. “She’s as old as Mother!”
Hansel frowned, chewing a piece of pie. He cast an annoyed glance to his twin. Ya just had t’ say that, didn’t ya?
As the twins ate in silence, the door opened with a ringing chime. A broad-shouldered man, somewhat thick in the middle yet impressively built, stepped through the door, clad in a sheriff’s uniform. His sneering look fell immediately upon Ginger, catching her just as she was bending o
ver at the waist to retrieve a packet of fresh grounds for the coffee machine.
“Evening, honey-cheeks,” he called out.
Ginger straightened and turned with a frown, regarding the man who now approached her counter. “Is it already that time of the month?” she asked wearily.
The marshal grinned, sliding onto a stool. “Time flies, hey, honey?”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “Well, as it happens, Fred, it’s that time of the month for me, too,” she quipped. “If you know what I mean.”
Fred chuckled. “Don’t bother me none,” he returned with a lewd wink. “I earned my red wings a long, long time ago.”
The proud woman huffed. “I still have customers,” she said, nodding toward the twins. All but a lone trucker, settled in a booth with the day’s paper, had left for the evening.
Fred pursed his lips smugly, drumming thick fingers upon the counter. “Then I guess I’ll have some coffee while I wait.”
A perturbed sigh rolled off Ginger’s lips. Without another word, she turned, took up a coffee cup, and poured Fred’s coffee. She brushed away after leaving the man to his beverage, and approached the twins. The sweet smile that decorated her dark pink lips was forced.
“Looks like I’m closing early tonight,” she said. “How are you two paying?”
The twins swallowed their last bites of pie with matching, nervous gulps, staring at Ginger. The matron breathed out, shoulders falling as she understood.
“I should have known,” she said, then smiled slyly, eyes narrowing. “Well, as it happens, I could use a little help cleaning up the place.”
Hansel and Gretel regarded one another questioningly, considering the restaurant owner’s offer.
Ginger leaned close to the twins, again showing cleavage which captivated Hansel, and spoke in a low, foreboding tone. “You don’t really want to run on a check when the sheriff is here, do you? That wouldn’t be very smart. Besides, you’d be helping me out. I’ll let you two stay the night, and give you some breakfast in the morning. How’s that?”
The twins exchanged a quick look. “Ya got a deal,” said Gretel.
Ginger smiled sweetly, straightening. “Then why don’t you two come around the back?”
With nods and the slightest of smiles, Hansel and Gretel slipped from their seats and walked along the lustrous counter toward the stainless steel door. The sheriff watched, following Gretel’s delectable form with his eyes.
“Taking in more strays, Ginger?”
Ginger shot him a look before pushing the door open for her new charges. “You just stay where you are, Fred. We’ll conduct ‘business’ in a minute.” She raised her voice, addressing the trucker who sat in the booth. “Hey! Loomis! Closing time!”
* * * *
The kitchen was spacious, larger than any either of the twins had ever seen. It looked to them like an assembly line for food, with stainless still prep tables and glass-front coolers stocked with all manner of foodstuffs. The most dominating feature was an enormous baking oven, with a heavy, slitted grill giving glimpses of the roaring fire within. Hansel and Gretel had never seen so immense an oven in their life. It was as large as Mother’s station wagon, they figured.
“Follow me, kids,” Ginger said cheerily, striding purposefully around the equipment, toward a door in the back. She pushed it open, flicking on a light, revealing a row of empty metal cages on one side of the room, and metal shelving crammed with various dried goods. Timidly, the twins entered the room, whereupon Ginger swiftly closed the door, twisting a key in the lock.
The convivial smile was gone, replaced in an instant with a feral countenance. “You little thieves!” screeched the woman, her once beautiful face abruptly transformed into one of hideous ugliness. Teeth as jagged as an old wolf’s were bared as blood-red lips parted, stretching skin that looked like sun-baked leather. Eyes like embers burned in their sockets.
Hansel and Gretel yelped in fear, stumbling back, away from the twisted crone Ginger had suddenly become. They grunted in unison when their backs fell hard against the metal cages.
“You thought you could come into my house, eat my food, and not pay for it?” roared the witch. Her hands—beautifully manicured before but now as threatening as talons—shot out to wrap around the twins’ throats. She jerked Hansel and Gretel close, breathing acridly upon their faces. “You thought wrong, little ones. You will most certainly pay.”
With a quick nod of the witch’s head, one of the cages inexplicably sprang open amid a screech of hinges and a clamoring of metal. Strength unlike anything a human being could possess hurled Hansel inside, where he fell with a cry of pain. The cage slammed closed, sealing him within.
“What’ya gonna do t’ him?” cried Gretel, struggling vainly against Ginger’s grip.
“You worry about yourself, girl,” snapped Ginger, glaring upon the older of the two. The nostrils of her beakish nose flared slightly as she sniffed. “No sweet smell of purity on you. That’s good. But your brother...” she trailed off, dragging Gretel beside he and approaching the cage in which Hansel now stood, gripping the bars.
The witch inhaled deeply, an evil grin stretching her lips. “Yes. A virgin male. Perfect.”
Hansel trembled, though he struggled to hide his fear. His eyes found his sister’s. Try t’ be strong, Greta.
Gretel whimpered, still attempting to pull the witch’s claw from her throat. I’ll try.
“Now, you just sit tight, my sweet boy,” Ginger cooed menacingly. “I have a little project for your sister.”
Hansel’s fear and anger flared as Ginger dragged a squirming Gretel to the door. “Ya leave m’ sister ‘lone!” he cried. “Don’t ya hurt m’sister!”
The witch responded with a chilling cackle, opening the door and spiriting Gretel away. The door slammed shut swiftly, as if shoved from behind.
“Greta! GRETA!”
CHAPTER FIVE
The witch’s grip shifted from Gretel’s neck to the girl’s arm as Ginger pulled the girl toward another door. Gretel cried out for help several times, screaming at the top of her lungs in the hope that Sheriff Fred would hear her. The witch slapped Gretel hard across the face, sending her sprawling into what appeared to be a bathroom.
“Don’t waste your breath, you little backwoods bitch,” she growled. “I’ve enchanted this entire building so that no sound escapes from one room to the next. Now, get those dirty clothes off!”
Gretel sat up on the floor, touching her split lip and glaring in terror at the witch. “Wh-what?”
“Strip, girl!” commanded Ginger, hulking like an ogre in the doorway. “I want every stitch of clothing off that skinny little body! Do it!”
Amid trembling whimpers and fumbling fingers, Gretel scrambled to her feet, hastily removing her shirt and shorts and everything else she wore before Ginger’s impatient gaze. Shamefully, she stood nude before her captor, self-consciously covering her privates.
“Put your hands at your sides, girl,” ordered the witch, approaching the quivering young woman. “I need to get a good look at you.”
Eyes squeezed shut, Gretel did as she was told, wincing and flinching when she felt the dry, bark-like hands of the witch touching her breasts, her thighs, even the plump mound of lightly-furred flesh above her sex. Gretel caught her breath when she felt a twig-like finger slide against her labia, pushing in slightly.
“Not exactly his type,” commented Ginger, sniffing her finger. “But you’re fresh and young. He should be happy with you.”
Gretel opened her eyes fearfully. “Wh-wh-what ya talkin’ ‘bout?”
The witch sneered. “Tell me, girl, are you willing to do whatever it takes to keep you and your brother safe from harm?”
Gretel rubbed her shoulders, not knowing what the witch was getting at, but knowing whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it. “M-maybe...”
Ginger cackled. “Sure you will,” she said patronizingly. “You’ll do whatever I tell you, girl, because if you don�
�t, then your brother starts to lose weight one finger at a time.”
Gretel gasped, eyes wide and shimmering in terror. “No! Please! Don’t hurt Han!”
“Then you do what I say.” Ginger indicated the sink and the small, stand-up shower behind Gretel. “Now, get yourself cleaned up. You may be young and fresh, but you stink like a barnyard dog. Fred may be pig, but I’m sure he draws the line somewhere.”
Gretel blinked in surprise. What? Does she mean I’m gonna have’ta screw that sheriff?
The witch chuckled darkly. “Oh, don’t try to play innocent. At least one little badger’s played around in your cave. And it could be worse. He could be ugly.”
“B-but, why?” Gretel asked.
Ginger sighed, hands on her hips. “Because, when he first became sheriff, some ten years ago, he decided he had to do safety inspections of all the businesses in the county. Well, I don’t like people snooping around back here, so I made him a deal. And he’s been taking advantage of that deal every month since.”
“B-but, if ya been makin’ it with him for ten years...”
Ginger sneered, gesturing casually. The clothes upon the floor flew into her hand, startling Gretel. “Maybe I just don’t feel like it. Besides, it’ll be interesting to see what he does with a young kitty like you. Now, get yourself cleaned up.”
The door closed, leaving a bewildered and intimidated Gretel to the task of freshening up. She had to be honest with herself; she was grateful for the opportunity to wash off the sweat and dirt that clung to her skin like oil. Despite the reason for which Ginger wanted her clean, Gretel was grateful.
The shower helped immensely to calm her anxiety. The reality of hers and her brother’s confinement sunk in to the point where Gretel began thinking of ways to both placate the witch and find a way to escape. Gretel did not doubt that the witch would do all manner of unspeakable things to Hansel if Gretel did not obey. Gretel decided, as she brushed out her hair and stared at her reflection, that until the witch’s plans were known, she would do whatever Ginger demanded of her.
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