A while ago I posted a thread on the message board about a writing exercise I had back in school. BedtimeStories provided the following list of words which I tried to use once each.
Passion Double Whimsical Belt Luster
Shiver Button Grab Poke Tease
Gossamer Sensation Red Long Climax
* * *
It was supposed to be a quick smash and grab job. I had been casing the jeweler for two weeks and knew their routine down to the minute. Mr. Flint always comes on the 8:45 subway and enters the shop by 8:50 am. For the next ten minutes he busies himself disarming the security system, turning on the lights and getting the display cases ready for the day. At 9 am sharp he unlocks the door.
It's business as usual until about noon when Mrs. Flint arrives and covers the shop for forty-five minutes while he goes to the corner deli and gets a pastrami and provolone on rye. He eats the sandwich while playing checkers with some guy named Morty. In two weeks I still haven't seen him win a game.
Anyway, I planned the job for when the Mrs. was covering the store. Mr. Flint might be an old codger, but judging by his limp, the scar on his cheek and his general attitude I had a hunch he was a vet, maybe even from WW II. An old partner of mine told me to watch for those VFW types, since nothing spoils the mood on a job faster than some shop owner pulling out a decades old piece of souvenir hand artillery.
I waited around the corner for Mr. Flint to get his lunch. While Mr. Flint was punctuality itself, Mrs. Flint was often up to ten minutes late. So I waited a little longer. Ten past and still no sign of him. With jobs like this timing isn't so critical, but if he didn't round the corner soon then I'd know something was up. I was contemplating another week of watching the shop when I heard the whistling. Good old Mr. Flint and his whimsical little tune, and it was only twelve past. Any guy who can whistle that well is alright in my book. I hope he's insured.
I grabbed my duffle bag and headed toward the store. I ducked into the abandoned entry way in the shop next to my mark long enough to pull on my mask. I took two deep breaths and quickly went in through the store's front door.
This is where everything went crossways. Instead of a doddering old women behind the counter there was a ravishing young woman, a beauty that quickly became etched in my memory. She wore no makeup except for the flush of youth, a flush that was quickly turning pale as she realized the situation she was it. She had flinty gray eyes, and long black hair that hung neatly over her right shoulder. She had a crimson sundress on, somewhat loose but cinched snugly around her trim waist by a two inch wide ribbon. This vision of youthful femininty froze me in my tracks.
I heard my mentor's voice in my head, "You gotta keep moving. Things might turn south, but you have to think while your moving." I always tried to listen to the voice, so I was quickly running toward her and vaulting over the case. I had my hand over her mouth before she could get over her shock at seeing a masked man in the shop. Soon I had her pinned on the ground beneath me, my knees weighing down her arms while one hand covered her mouth.
"Make a sound, and it'll go bad for you," I said in the gruffest voice I could. I reached into my bag and pulled out the gag. It was one of those rubber ball gags you can get at any adult novelty store. I quickly slipped it over her head, and pulled it tight. The black straps and the bright red of the ball gag, seemed perfectly matched to this young slip of a woman. But even as that thought raced through my mind, or rather my crotch, I knew I had to keep moving.
The plan then called for using the cable ties in my bag to tie up the old broad, but I hated the thought of marking this vision of a woman. On a quick impulse, I undid the belt around her waist and yanked it off of her. I saw a brief flash of outrage in her eyes before I rolled her onto her stomach.
"Now put your hands behind you. Quick!" I said.
She quickly complied, moving her hands behind her. As close as I was standing this meant her hands grazed my thighs and my groin. I felt a flare of excitement run through me with the accidental contact. As quickly as I could I tied her hands behind her back. A couple of times during this process her hands again accidentally rubbed against my crotch. Too many more accidents like that and there would be DNA evidence all over my pants.
"Don't even think about moving," I said as I left her lying face down on the floor.
I pulled the bat from my bag and started smashing the tops of the cases. I quickly pulled out the fanciest pieces I could find. In my haste, I dropped one onto the floor. In a job like this you normally leave pieces you drop for the sake of time. But this was the necklace that had convinced me to rob the joint. It was a relatively plain gold necklace but it had a very elegant pendant that was polished to have the most beautiful luster.
I ducked down to grab the necklace and noticed a button lying on the floor next to it. I could see a few red strands threaded through the holes. I looked over at the prone girl and saw her gray eyes glaring at me defiantly. I glanced down her body and could see a patch of pale skin peaking through a hole in the back of the dress. I must have torn it when I ripped off her belt. I grabbed the necklace and my threaded souvenir and put them in my bag.
