I was all set to spend Halloween at my apartment, curled up on my couch, with popcorn, soda, and ice cream, watching a medley of Friday the 13th movies. I love that heart-pounding feeling of fear, but at the same time, knowing that I'm completely safe. It's the same reason why I love roller coasters and haunted houses. The adrenaline rush gets me every time.
I had just gotten home from the store when my phone rang. I hurried to put the ice cream in the fridge and grabbed my cell out of my bra.
"Hey, Tina," I said, phone balanced on my shoulder while I put the popcorn and soda away.
"Antoinette, I talked to Rachel and she said you weren't coming," Tina spat out, her anger evident through the phone.
"And?" I asked with attitude. I walked into the living room and plopped down on my couch.
"And nothing, you're coming!" she screeched, "It's freaking Halloween! You have been huddled up on that couch every Saturday night since you broke up with Mark and you are NOT going to flake out on Halloween."
"Tina, look," I started, "I have nothing to wear. It's already 8pm. I have no desire to drive 45 minutes to go party. And we are too old to go party with a bunch of twenty-something random strangers in Louisville, anyway. And I have a carton of banana split ice cream in my freezer." Hmm. I thought. Top that.
"We might be thirty-five, but we're not dead."
"Tina."
"No, those are bullshit excuses," she whined, getting louder.
"Jeez, Tina, lay off!"
"No, bitch, I'll be there in 20 minutes."
Click.
Fuck.
I flopped my head backward and sighed. Once Tina had it in her head to do something, it was usually pointless to fight her. I hit my e-cig and waited for her to get there.
Thirty minutes later, I was in my bedroom, trying on the costumes Tina had brought with her. She was going as a sexy angel. She was wearing a pink baby-doll dress whose spaghetti straps were struggling to hold up her massive chest--her blonde hair curled innocently on the tops of those boobs and a halo perched on her head like a crown. Sheer pink pantyhose, silver stilettos, and silvery wings completed her look. Rachel was going as a sexy devil. I could either be the sexy police officer or the Playboy bunny. I sighed audibly as Tina tried to pull the tight navy mini skirt over my fat ass.
"It's not going to fit T. It's just not. I'll have to go with the Playboy bunny."
She grinned and held up the purple bunny ears. The doorbell rang, signaling Rachel's arrival.
"Yay," I deadpanned, as she ran to get the door.
I struggled into the corset top that actually sucked in my waist and pushed my teeny titties up and together. The bottom was basically boy shorts with a tuft of fur attached. My ass really wasn't made to wear boy shorts and they rode up, allowing several inches of cheek to hang out at the bottom.
"Really?" I sighed, turning in front of my full-length mirror.
"Damn you and that fat ass, Antoinette. When God was giving out titties, he might've forgotten about you, but he made up for it with that butt," Rachel laughed, slapping my behind. She'd arrived fully dressed in a red satin body con dress, red cape, and thigh high black boots. Her red hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she even had a set of horns.
I swatted her hand away and sat down for Tina to finish my makeup.
"Yep," I sighed, "This is what a 35 year old Playboy bunny looks like."
"Shut up, Antoinette," Tina said, "I can't do this while you talk."
Rachel reapplied her mascara and lip gloss in the mirror next to me. I studied myself while Tina worked on my face. My short black hair was slicked down with a deep side part. The corset and bottoms were a deep purple. Fishnet stockings and my own simple black platform pumps finished my look. Tina had piled on the gray and purple eye shadow, rimmed my eyes with black liquid liner, and had even given me false eyelashes. My lips were kept neutral, just some shiny lip gloss. I had to admit, I looked hot. Sultry even.
"Ready?" Rachel asked, picking up her black clutch and tiny red pitchfork.
Tina adjusted her boobs and grabbed her wings, nodding. They both looked at me. I pulled the boy shorts out of my ass and picked up my own clutch and my e-cig. I took a puff and sighed.
"You kill me with that thing," Rachel said, pointing to my e-cig. I shrugged my shoulders and hit it again.
"C'mon," they said, each grabbing one of my arms. We headed toward the door and piled into Rachel's SUV. Fourth Street Live, here we come, I thought to myself.
The Abduction
We had gotten to Louisville around 10:30pm. I'll admit it...I had fun. Drinking and dancing with a bunch of dressed up strangers IS kind of fun. But it was just after midnight and I was old. And even though I quit smoking years ago, I still liked the idea of going outside to vape. It made it seem like more of a break. So when I saw Tina grinding up on a mummy and Rachel sucking face with a werewolf, I slugged the last of my Crown and coke and headed outside.
It was too chilly to just stand there, so I struggled in my heels down Fourth Street. I was a little bit drunker than I thought. I was supposed to drive us home, so I figured the walk and the cold air would help me clear my head a bit. I passed several well-dressed people stumbling into the Seelbach and got a few wolf whistles. I threw up my hand and puffed my e-cig again. What else could I expect in my get-up?
I was in some kind of a daze, just walking along. I hadn't even realized the street had gotten darker. I looked ahead and the sidewalk was empty. I turned to look back and could see the bright lights of Fourth Street Live in the distance. I turned to look ahead again and a set of headlights in the long row of parked cars came on. I forced myself to take another step and shook my head. I wasn't afraid. I'd lived in this city for years. I knew exactly where I was. I had my phone in my bra. I automatically lifted my hand to my chest. Dammit! I'd left it lying on my bed. Okay, I was still okay. I'll just keep going, look like I know where I'm going, get to Broadway—there will be cars on Broadway. I'll walk to 3rd and come back down that way. Calm the fuck down, Antoinette.
The headlights stayed on as I walked past, but the windows were tinted so when I dared to sneak a glance in the SUV, I couldn't see anyone. It was a new, all-black Suburban. It wasn't even running. I made it to Broadway and let out a sigh of relief. There were several cars driving up and down the street. I was worried for nothing. I strolled calmly, still puffing my e-cig. I pulled my boy shorts out of my ass again and turned the corner onto 3rd street. Just a few more blocks and then one street over. I could hardly feel the effects of the alcohol anymore.
I had just made it to Guthrie and decided to cut across there. Suddenly, I heard a car engine and saw my shadow in front of me from headlights. I was on the sidewalk, so I wasn't going to get hit, but I froze and looked back anyway. The black SUV was speeding down Guthrie and it passed right by me. The breath I was holding came out in a rush. The SUV slammed on its brakes and I stopped again. It started backing down the street and I started to turn around and run. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind. I screamed, dropped my e-cig and my clutch—it burst open, my ID, lip gloss, keys, and everything else scattering on the sidewalk. I squirmed to get away from the two pairs of hands that held my upper arms. I flung my body from side to side and eventually tried to just sit down, using my fat ass to my advantage. The two just picked me up and carried me. One of them picked up my dropped items. I continued to scream and curse and one of the hands left my arm and clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite the hand, but it was covered by a thick leather glove. In fact, my attackers were covered from head to toe in black, aside from white hockey goalie masks. I briefly thought of Jason Voorhees and my movie marathon that was interrupted for this night out. I mentally cursed out Tina and Rachel. And then, I started to panic. I hadn't even told them I was leaving the bar. They were probably still drunk and happy and not thinking of me at all. I increased my struggle, but we were almost to the SUV by that point. I knew that if I was taken to a second location, my chances dwindled dramatically. But if I let the panic take over, I'd never make it anyway. A few final twists and jerks and I was lifted into the back of the SUV.
A third man in black was driving and a fourth sat in the front seat. No words were exchanged, but a roll of electrical tape was passed back to one of the men that dragged me away. My wrists and ankles were secured as we drove down Guthrie and turned left onto Fourth Street. They even buckled my seatbelt. By the time made it to Broadway, I was blindfolded. I could feel tears leaking out, dampening the cloth over my eyes. I resolved myself to relax. I was going to survive, no matter what.
We drove around and I could tell they were trying to confuse me. I'd given up trying to remember all the turns they were making. I was sitting snug and secure between the two large men in the back, trying to take in every detail I could—they were playing Lil Wayne, the seat under my ass was leather, and one of the men was wearing great cologne, though I couldn't place it. The heat was on against the chill of the night and I could feel that my abductors had taken off some of their black attire. I could feel them both moving around to take off their jackets. The arm I was pressed against on my left was still clothed, but lightly—I could feel the warmth of his skin through it. The arm on my right was resting on my thigh and I could feel his rough, bare hand draped lightly over my knee.
Nobody in the vehicle spoke for the first ten minutes or so. Then a phone rang somewhere and the passenger answered it. "Yeah," the deep voice said, "Nah, I'm in for the night. I'll hit you up tomorrow."
Then he said to the driver, "Pull in right here."
The SUV stopped and the door opened. A familiar hand came over my mouth and the one on my thigh clenched.
"Nobody out there to hear you anyway, lil' girl," a gruff voice spoke near my ear. I sat still.
I decided to speak. "Where are you taking me?"
Something unspoken passed between the two men on either side of me, because I felt one of them shrug in response. The one on my left leaned forward and whispered something to the driver. The door opened and then closed again. The SUV was put in gear and we drove for another ten minutes or so before stopping again. This time, I heard the motor of a garage door and we slowly pulled forward. The motor ran again and I knew we were behind closed doors.
"Time for the party to begin," the driver said. The other men chuckled and opened their doors.
I was pulled across the leather and once my legs were turned to the side, I felt a shoulder against my stomach and I was lifted, head dangling upside down against the man's muscular back. As fucked up as this entire situation was, the masculine smells, the muscles, the dominance, the power, the fear—it was intoxicating. A trickle of arousal was mingled with the fear. I was almost ashamed of myself.
The Interrogations
We walked up a few steps into what I assume was a kitchen—I could hear their boots against the tile floor. Then hardwood. Then a door creaked open and we were going downstairs. I was scared again, expecting a cold, dirty basement with mildew smells. A torture room. But this one must've been finished—more hardwood, I guessed. I was gently lifted from the man's shoulder and my feet hit the cool wood floors.
"Dom, get the glasses and ice bucket. Jay, there are cans of coke in the fridge."
I was led to a chair and I followed obediently.
I heard ice clinking in glasses, liquid being poured over it. I sat down on the cushioned chair, squirming, breathing heavily.
"So, before we take off the blindfold, we have to explain a few things, okay?" I heard a click that sounded remarkably like my clutch purse, "Antoinette?"
"Okay," I whispered, "But please don't hurt me." A sob caught in my throat and I shuddered visibly.
"No, no, no, we're not going to hurt you." A warm hand landed on my back and another grabbed my knee. "In fact, we're not going to do anything else to you that you don't want."
I sat there, confused by their comfort, by their words that belied their abduction.
"Antoinette," a deep voice began, "We started a Halloween tradition several years ago—eight years ago, in fact. We go out on Halloween, all four of us decide on a beautiful woman, and we take her. We've pretty much gotten it down to a science."
I felt hands lift my own hands and felt the tape between them cut. It was pulled away and a cold glass was put into my hand. "Have a drink, Bunny." I was still in shock and so when the glass was pushed toward my mouth, I automatically took a sip. Crown and coke. Yum.
"Wait a minute," I said, reaching out to find the table in front of me to sit my drink down. "You abduct a woman? Every Halloween? You are serial rapists?"
"Rapists?" one of the voices said, "No. It's never come to rape. Technically."
