Abby Samuels pulled away from the reception in her sleek Mercedes convertible with her head filled with the thoughts of the lovemaking she was going to share with her husband Brad as soon as they got home. She was already damp underneath her short black cocktail dress, and couldn't suppress a smile when she recalled coming back from the restroom during the party and slyly stuffing her thong panties into Brad's blazer pocket. That had certainly gotten his attention, and her smile broadened when she remembered how he had quickly and nervously glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed.
Brad had come to the reception directly from work, while Abby had dropped their two-year-old daughter Jordan off at her mother's for the night. Hence, they were driving back separately from the event, and Abby hoped that Brad's thoughts were as wicked as hers.
Brad and Abby had married five years ago after a one year relationship. Brad was twenty-nine years old and a rising mid-level executive in oil & gas trading. Abby was a year younger and worked part-time as a marketing events consultant which gave her time to look after Jordan and their home. It also provided the time for her to work out regularly, which clearly showed in her slender and leggy 5'7" 120 lbs body. Abby's hair was jet black and she had almost a C-cup bust, along with full lips and a dimpled smile that always seemed to make men melt.
It was normal for her to attract attention and the reception that evening was no exception. A constant parade of men came over to "say hi to Brad", but he knew what they really wanted was a look at his wife's breasts in her low neckline dress. Over the years he had gotten used to it, and his wife had never given him any reason to worry, so he just smiled and accepted it.
Abby picked up her cell phone to call her husband to tell him to hurry, and realized that the battery was almost dead.
"Brad? Hurry sweetie, I need you!" she laughed into the device.
"I'm speeding as it...." Abby heard him begin to reply before the phone went dead, and she saw that her battery was now gone.
She liked that he seemed to be in the same state of mind as her, no doubt assisted by the feeling of her thong in his jacket.
Abby decided to jump on the freeway to save time and had made it several miles when from nowhere an object appeared in her lane. It was too late to swerve, and she ran over, on her left side, what appeared to be a metal bar, which made a sickening crunching sound, and caused her to momentarily loose her grip on the steering wheel.
"Damn!" she exclaimed with fear that she had damaged the prized vehicle her dad had bought for her when his granddaughter was born.
Sure enough her car was now simultaneously making squealing and thudding sounds, so Abby decided to take the exit ramp and find a place to call for help. She had been on an elevated portion of the highway, so when she exited the ramp she dropped twenty feet to the surface street below.
Immediately, Abby questioned her decision as the neighborhood was a rundown area filled with old warehouses, many with broken windows, along with numerous truck lots with fences in disrepair. Her car was now becoming harder to steer, so she pulled to the curb in front of a long, one story building that seemed in a bit better shape than most. She looked into her glove box for her car cell charger, but couldn't find it, and she thought maybe she had let Brad borrow it.
Even though the street was quiet with apparently no one around, it took her several minutes to summon the courage to step outside and survey the damage. Abby gasped when she saw what the object had done. The front and rear tires were blown and the front rim was mangled. Plus, there were several dents down the side of the car. She realized there was no way to drive it, and without her cell phone she was going to have to seek out help.
Abby hit the auto lock on her key chain, and walked towards what appeared to be the front door of the building. The door was heavy with only the words "Marine Services" stenciled in simple black paint. Several feet past it was a long window that began about two three feet from the sidewalk, and inside appeared to be a waiting room with chairs around the perimeter. She could see that at the far end, light was coming from beneath a closed door.
Cleve Henry was sitting on the old worn out chair doing his normal thing of sipping cheap wine and watching TV on the small 10" set when he heard someone or something banging on the front window.
"Goddamn kids," he said to himself, suspecting that the neighborhood trouble makers were up to their games again.
Cleve's job was to be the night watchman on the premises. Marine Services was a business that catered to the shipping industry providing transport to and from ships in the nearby port and performing some visa and legal work. In addition, it operated a health clinic that did physicals and provided minor health care to ship crews, mostly treating colds and venereal diseases. The ship owners didn't want any headaches, and Marine Services was happy to give an injection or look the other way and fill out the required forms if the fee was right. Because there were some narcotics kept in the clinic, there had been some break-ins, which was the reason for Cleve's employment.
Cleve walked around the corner to the reception window that separated the examining area from the waiting room and peaked through the venetian blinds. He was stunned when he saw the beautiful woman banging on the glass.
"What in the hell is going on?" he spoke softly to himself. Then after a second of contemplation determined, "That hot piece of ass ain't going to make in tem minutes out there."
Cleve thought for a moment whether to get involved. It wasn't his job to help out folks in trouble, and if those gang kids came around it would probably get ugly. He didn't like getting too close to the law anyway, as he wasn't exactly sure what he might have forgotten to take care of. On top of that, he wondered if this was some kind of set-up to get him to open the door. But, in the end, his curiosity about Abby was just too great and he wanted to see her a bit more close up.
Abby heard the door buzzing to her right, but it still took a moment for her to understand it was signaling that it had been opened. She jumped for the handle and stepped into the dark waiting room closing the door quickly behind her, immediately feeling a sense of relief.
"Hello?" she called out.
"What you want?" Cleve spoke, still hiding behind the blinds.
Following his voice, Abby looked in his direction and could see a blind slat ajar, and walked towards him until she was standing in front of the reception window.
"Sir, my car has been damaged and I need to use your phone to call for help please," Abby replied in her sweetest voice.
"I don't see no car," Cleve replied, brusquely.
"It's down there," Abby replied, half turning and pointing towards the far end of the clinic building.
Cleve moved over to the other side of the reception window and looking out could just see the car. Damn fine car he thought to himself, but won't go unnoticed for long. He pulled the blinds up about six inches and looked out at Abby. In doing so, he came into view for her and she could see he was a large black man, older at around fifty, with a thick neck and close cropped graying hair. She could also see the hungry look in his eyes, which she was used to from years of male attention.
There was a long silence then Cleve spoke as he stared at her cleavage, "Show me your titties."
"Excuse me? I'm just asking to use the phone," Abby replied angrily.
"You want to use the phone show your titties. If not, get the fuck out of here," Cleve answered, with not a hint of compassion.
Abby turned and moved quickly towards the door with the clacking of her heels on the hard floor making the only sound. She threw open the door and stepped outside finding herself back where she started. Looking left and then right and seeing nothing either way, she decided to try right and set off walking on the broken sidewalk. A block down, she started to hear noises that became voices as she grew closer until she saw the source from the shadows of the corner of a building. Across an open lot were six men, youths really, from the sound of their lively banter, walking and stopping then walking some more, but slowly moving in her direction.
"Shit," she said to herself, then turned and moved away as quickly and quietly as she could.
Glancing over her shoulder every few feet, she had made it almost back to the Marine Services building when the group rounded the corner. Abby stayed in the shadows close to the buildings, and was able to make it back to the window without being seen.
Brad was starting to get worried about his wife. He had tried to call her back on her cell with no luck. She was now almost thirty minutes late with no reason why, and he wondered if she had gotten into an accident. He decided to wait a little while longer then drive back along the route they took from the reception.
Cleve had settled back down to his TV and drinking thinking he had seen the last of Abby when he heard the rapping again on the window.
"Goddamn bitch make up your mind," he thought to himself, as he lifted his heavy frame and went back to the window.
Abby was furtively waving towards the window and pointing to the door with one hand as she knocked with the other. The buzzing of the door was like sweet relief and she lunged for it and slipped inside hoping she had gone unseen.
"Please, you must help me. There is a gang coming this way!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
In reality, Abby had no one of knowing whether the group coming was a dangerous gang or some kids out to play basketball. During her life, she had almost no interaction with black people and really didn't know what to expect. In this case however, her instincts were correct -- at least partially. The leader of this particular group was a nineteen-year-old thug named Hasan who had been in trouble with the law numerous times for assault and theft. His "right hand man" was named Javonte or JV for short who was similar to Hasan in disposition, but always deferred to him. The rest were an assortment of hangers on from the neighborhood, that had more or less stayed clean.
Cleve suspected who "the gang" might be or at least who were the troublemakers. They had come around before and knew he was working in the building. Several times, they had taunted him trying to get him to open up for the drugs and other things they could steal. So far, they had always wandered away after a while and he had not had to call the police, which in his mind was much better, as he didn't want anyone trying to get revenge on him. He knew the car would be totaled, wrecked with rocks and clubs for fun, stripped or taken, and if they found out the woman was inside, he wasn't sure how things would end.
But, as much as Hasan and his crew concerned him, he still wasn't going to give up on the chance to get a look at Abby.
"You want to stay in better show them titties quick girl," he flatly told her.
"No, I can't. I just can't," Abby replied, now starting to shake.
"Then get the fuck out," he commanded.
The voices could now be heard coming down the street, and Abby shrank into a small space between the front window and the reception window where she couldn't be seen.
"You're breaking the law! Let me use the phone," she forced out in a harsh whisper, summoning more conviction than she felt.
"Law? I ain't breaking no goddamn law. You don't like it get the fuck out. In fact, you get the fuck out of here. I'm tired of your shit," he replied.
"No wait, please," the pretty young wife answered in desperation.
Looking at the floor, Abby lowered the straps on her dress down her arms and let the front fall into her right hand, which held it just below her sheer half-bra.
