Every character portrayed here is over 18.
*****
Ten till eleven, lights out. The perfect moment approaches. Just before closing. A tall blondish grey haired shadow stealthily breaches the glass front entrance door to the West End Fitness Center. It's found at the knob end of the new street extension. No one will hear any screams for mercy this far out, it's the only thing built on this part of the road. The check-in desk lobby is dark but for a single recessed light dimly pointing to the emergency exit. Tonight the owner's doing the closing. He almost always takes this time to sequester himself away in his basement office on the far end of the complex. The changing rooms are just beyond the entrance. Nice and close. That's where SHE will be.
He's been patiently biding his time for so long, waiting for this ideal time. Tonight. Time to don the cliché black knit ski mask so the cameras won't pick him up. Almost gave away his position when he stifled a self-congratulatory chuckle at his own evil ingenuity. Best to delay the gloat until the deed is done. Slithering along the walls that lead to the ladies' section he's grateful that it's the closer of the two. The management has made this too easy for him by neglecting to lock the exit-only door.
A locker door slams shut, breaking the silence. Instinctively he ducks for cover. Slowly the dark menace rises to peek through the door crack. Clear. He quickly positions himself to the inside. Ducks again. Wait for the sound of water. She's showering now. Time to crawl under the wooden benches. The last one is where the lockers are. Cold, but slippery tiles that grid the floor make no sound when traversed on the belly. Here it is! Lockers! Just beyond them are the private showers, divided by their vinyl curtains that when moved screech along the metal hooks upon the raised chrome bar from which they suspend.
Sheila's glad that she knows the owner so well that he lets her stay later than the other members. She needs this extra time to basque in her exclusive warm water without the usual prime time distractions. She can take her time and scour the long hard week away from her voluptuous body before the busy weekend to come.
"I'm totally free to touch myself if I want. I could Softly linger the bath cloth around these lovely sensitive nipples." They respond instantaneously with such eagerness.
She likes seeing the goosebumps raise at her areolas' periphery. And the stiffening nubbies. She can shamelessly hum aloud at the soft tickle at sudsing her nether locks. The delta, apex of her power and vulnerability. She laughs to herself when her finger traces the smooth ring around her belly button, just before poking it with the bar of soap.
"Next, but not at all least, are my glorious globes. I'll just reach back and survey their suppleness as I lather 'em up."
She decides not to conjure the temptation of self pleasuring and avoids grazing her lower lips, "I'll be here all night if I do. Dirty girl. Bad, naughty thoughts in the public wash house!' Her mouth curls up into a guilty smirk of 'Bad Kitty'. "Maybe I'll be punished with a smacked bottom. Oh, oh! Good thing I'm still in the shower cuz I wet myself with desire."
Time to wrap it up. Got to have dinner some time.
"Ummm, can't wait till I put back on my scandalous school girl red plaid bra and panty set. Too bad I didn't think to wear the matching short red dress. Professor Hubby would have been so displeased with me 'gally-vanting' around his English class with such shamelessness." The lascivious thought does nothing to curb her juices.
He pulls the frilly black g-string to his nose and deeply savors her essence, "It's hers alright."
A scintillating meld of spiced vinegar, feminine perspiration and Red Mist. What a treat tonight will be. He'll get more than just a whiff if he plays it close to the script. Gently he shuts her locker door, leaving it ajar for effect. Knowing her keen sense of observance she'll be wondering if someone else has been touching her stuff while she's been away scrupulously cleaning that heavenly body. That'll add a nice little mystery into the monstrous mix that are tonight's delights. His delight, her conquering. She'll be scared. Extra cautious. Skin tingling with fear of the unknown. How much better can this get, he wonders.
"I know how. With this!," he slides out the Ruger 9 mil from under his belt, "She'll be under my total control. Do whatever I want."
"Shower curtain is opening!"
He steals behind the opposing bank of lockers, pistol at the ready. Both of them! His acute sense of hearing follows her footsteps. They're getting louder, more determined. Just another few. She's here. He cannot resist the urge to sneak a peek.
"Blast! Covered by the towel. She'll be paying for that one, too."
His stifled growl of frustration causes her to spin in his direction. She holds mute, "Can't see anything. Must be my imagination playing tricks 'cuz I've been so naughty in the shower," She issues her smirk and confidently returns her attention to the task at hand.
"Better pounce before she slips on her wicked panty and bra. Wicked, wicked temptress! She thinks she's playing me. Well then..."
With her back still turned he springs forth to grip her violently over her mouth and torso. She's frozen still in terror. He ushers no voice to reveal his identity. Just drags her on her feet along the wet tile, over past the shower, into the still warm mist of the steam room.
His black garb contrasting with the white billowing steam betrays his position, "must act fast"
With a twirl Sheila's hurled toward the stone bench. Stops. Turns. Focuses down the barrel of a gun! Panic flashes through her face like a tidal wave of heat.
"Shit! I'm gonna die!"
