It was just past one and Lydia was tired of the club scene. College guys had been hitting on her all night and she was tired of listening to their pathetic pick-up lines. She had danced with a few of them for fun, but she wanted nothing more from their raging egos. After all, this was supposed to be a night of relaxation with her girlfriends. Lydia had just finished her first semester of college and was excited that winter vacation was approaching. She would be able to get some well deserved rest and head home to see her family for the holidays.
On this particular night, Lydia was satisfied with the way she had dressed. She wasn't going for super sexy, but she also wasn't trying to dress like a grandmother. She had chosen to wear a pair of hip-hugger jeans that accentuated her curvy shape and a sleeveless pink blouse. Her straight, shoulder length hair flowed and brought out the olive green of her bright eyed gaze. Lydia's friends were wearing a little less than she was, but it was starting to grow colder outside and she did not want to freeze to death.
The population of the club grew more intense within the hour and Lydia sat alone at a table. Another helpless moron was staring her down from across the club and was slowly inching his way toward her. Lydia decided t was time to jet. She looked for her friend, Beth, who had given her a ride earlier that evening. Lydia searched the dance floor, but didn't see Beth in the crowd. She made her way to the back of the club, wandering the short hallways until she reached a small lounge. Lydia's jaw dropped and her eyes rolled. Beth was knelt before some random guy on a couch, sucking his cock in a frantic manner.
Lydia stormed back down the hall and retrieved her leather jacket from the coat room. She pushed through the exit door and out onto the street. Her dorm room was only a mile away from the club and while it wasn't the best idea for her to walk alone, she had done it several times before. The atmosphere downtown always started to deteriorate after midnight because bars were no longer able to sell alcohol on Sunday morning. There weren't many people on the streets, just the occasional group of guys still looking for a lay, or the streetwalkers who made Broad Street their home.
The quickest way for Lydia to get home was to cut through Perry Park, which had a path that was well lit. She entered the park and followed the trail, keeping her eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. She spotted a couple making out on a bench in the darkness, which was not unusual. She continued to walk, when she noticed a man standing on the small bridge that crosses over a creek in the middle of the park. The bridge was part of the path and Lydia hesitated to continue. She could go back and walk all the way around the park, but that would add almost six blocks to the route and she would have to back track. She decided to take her chances. Lydia approached the bridge and kept to the side furthest from the man.
"You gotta pay a toll," the man said in a phlegm filled voice. He began to cough wildly as he stood in the center of the bridge, blocking Lydia's path. He was dressed in rags and covered with dirt. He had on tattered jeans and an oversized wool jacket that was full of holes. Lydia could smell him from several feet away.
Lydia considered turning around, but she was curious as to what kind of toll this homeless man required. Did he want money? Did he want food? Lydia had neither.
"How much is the toll?" Lydia asked with an inquisitive expression. The man looked her over and smiled a toothless grin.
"I want to see your tits," the man answered. He continued to gaze awkwardly at her body. Lydia was shocked. This man wanted her to show him her breasts. Lydia had flashed her breasts once on a spring break trip, but never did she think she would have to do it for something as stupid as crossing a bridge. "You want across or not?" the man shouted.
"Such a jackass," Lydia snapped. She took the ends of her blouse in her hands and pulled it up quickly. She exposed her black bra to the homeless man and immediately yanked it down. The homeless man marveled at the quick peak he had seen of her covered C cup breasts.
"I need to see more," he demanded, keeping his ground in the center of the bridge. "I didn't see no tits. All I seen is bra."
Lydia had expected the man to be satisfied with just seeing her bra, but she knew that a flash was usually synonymous with flesh. She rolled her eyes and held the ends of her blouse again. She pulled her blouse up past her slim mid-riff and hooked her fingers under the cups of her bra. She grasped the wiring and pulled everything up to her neck. Her round breasts were exposed to the cold night air and she could feel a chill strike her small nipples. She held the position for two seconds and then covered up. The homeless man's expression was overly animated and Lydia found it humorous. She made a slight giggle.
"There's a lot I could do with them tits," the man stated. He didn't move from the bridge.
"Can I cross now?" Lydia asked growing annoyed with the man's game.
"Sure," he replied with a cough. Lydia stepped forward and the homeless man moved to the side. She walked hurriedly past the man, avoiding eye contact. It was then that she noticed a shadow take shape on the other end of the bridge. A figure jumped out of the darkness and forcefully grabbed Lydia's arm. She screamed and felt an oily cloth shoved into her mouth. It was disgusting on her tongue and Lydia tried her best to spit it out while fighting off her attacker.
Another set of arms reached around her waist and lifted the young girl off of her feet. Lydia kicked violently, but it was no use. She was lugged off the path and shoved to the area under the bridge. A barrel was on fire and lit the hidden home of the homeless. A dirty mattress was against the wall and many porn magazines were littered about the garbage under the bridge.
"Everything's gonna be alright girl," the man said between deep breaths. "We ain't gonna hurt you, long as you do what we say." Lydia continued to struggle, but found that the other man had bound her wrists together with a thick rope. She was breathing through her nose, which proved difficult due to the horrible odor of the stale air and sweat of the two men.
"Did you get a look at them tits, Jim?" the man asked with a giant grin on his face. Tears were running from Lydia's eyes.
"Not really, Butch. This bitch only kept them out for a few seconds. She must not like sharing her goods," Jim answered.
"I thought she was really gonna have a stick up her ass and only show me her bra, but I convinced her otherwise," Butch said as he used a calloused hand to wipe a tear from Lydia's reddened cheek. "But she's going to cooperate if she knows what's good for her," Butch added with a wheezing cough.
"Let's start by getting them tits out," Jim exclaimed. Jim reached over and pulled Lydia's blouse up, letting it rest on her ample bosom. He groped her chest, letting her covered breasts fill his large, dirty hands. He searched for her nipples on the outside of the fabric, and let out a joyous sound when he felt the protrusion on his thumb.