At midday, Michele Bouvier flipped the sign on the glass entrance door of the small bank in which she worked from 'Open' to 'Closed'; she closed the vertical blinds and smiled to herself. The weekend was only hours away.
The Litton Farmer's Bank served the citizens Litton, a small Southern farming community, and it closed at 12:00 on the last Friday of the month so that the staff could balance the books, clean the public areas and offices, and be ready to open again on Monday morning. The staff of the Litton Framer's Bank consisted of three women and one man.
Michele Bouvier was the Assistant Manger; she was in her mid fifties and divorced; she was a little plump, but she had an attractive face and good legs. Jeanette Hathcock was a married woman in her thirties; she was well-built and good-looking and her husband was three drinks away from full-blown alcoholism. Nadine Munner, at eighteen, was the youngest staff member. She was slim, pretty and naïve; she regularly attended the Litton Baptist Church and was saving her virtue for her wedding day.
The Manager of the Litton Farmer's Bank was Abbot Balfour, a fat balding man with piggy eyes in his early sixties who was prone to sweat even when the air conditioning was cranked up to maximum. Abbot was not at the bank; as had been his routine for many years, at midday on the last Friday of the month he was flying the last leg of a round trip to Kansas City and his plane was due to land at the Litton regional airport at four in the afternoon. He planned to arrive at the bank before five so that he could finish his business, dismiss the staff for the weekend and go home and settle down with a bottle of Wild Turkey and study the new stroke magazines he had acquired in KC which he had ferreted away in his luggage.
Also ferreted away in his luggage was one million dollars cash that he was bringing to Litton to launder through the bank. Only he and Michele Bouvier were aware that the Litton Farmer's Bank was a front for the Kansas City mob; in the mid nineteen-seventies the bank was facing financial disaster, then two members of the Civella crime family came to Litton and made Abbot Balfour an offer he couldn't refuse.
And so the Litton Farmer's Bank remained solvent and profitable; farmers got their loans, investors got good returns and, with the exception of Abbot Balfour and Michele Bouvier, who Abbot had to bring into the scam because in her position as Assistant Manager she had access to most of banks financial records, no one in Litton was aware that their little town bank laundered millions of dollars a year for the mob.
Abbot had hoped that sharing this secret with the then recently divorced Michele Bouvier would wind up with them also sharing a bed; but Michele made Abbot acutely aware that she had no interest in him outside of work. So Abbot, being the lazy sloth that he was, gave up on finding true romance and devoted his personal life to the pursuits of good bourbon whisky, fried chicken and hardcore pornography. Abbot liked young girls and during his monthly visits to KC he would seek out the youngest prostitute he could find and spend the evening sweating over her, sticking his stubby appendage into every hole that the girl would allow him to.
Abbot mopped the sweat from his brow and finished his drink. He hated being forced to squeeze his large frame into the tiny seat on the commuter plane and desperately wanted to order another bourbon on the rocks but the pretty young stewardess, he refused to call them flight attendants, was sitting in the jump seat facing him and reading a magazine. Now normally Abbot Balfour wouldn't think twice about compelling the stewardess to put down her magazine and bring him a drink but, engrossed in her magazine, the pretty young hostess had allowed her legs to open slightly and reward Abbot Balfour with a view that inspired his stubby little cock to become fully erect in his tight suit pants.
As Abbot Balfour studied the sheen on the sheer tan pantyhose encasing the well-formed thighs of the pretty stewardess, two desperate men were getting into a car in the parking lot of the Litton Motor Inn.
Steve McDonald and Ray Sullivan had finished their sentences in Leavenworth Penitentiary on the same day and upon release had jumped parole and had driven directly from Kansas to Litton in a stolen car stopping only for gas, cigarettes and take out meals. In Leavenworth they had befriended a member of the Civella crime gang who had fallen out with the bosses and was looking to ensure his financial security for when he was eventually released. He knew about the Litton Farmer's Bank scam and had even been to the bank on a few occasions; sent there to arrange currency transfers. He had spent quite a few hours in the office of Abbot Balfour and, being a professional criminal, had cased the bank.
He briefed Steve and Ray about the layout of the bank, the security systems and cameras and most importantly on the arrangement whereby the bank closed at midday on the last Friday of the month so that the Manager, who had just flown in from KC, could stash the mob's money in the vault and manipulate the bank records accordingly.
They hatched a simple plan. Steve and Ray would keep a low profile until the bank closed on Friday and then they would gain access to the bank and keep the staff hostage until the Manger returned with the cash. They would force the Manager to open the vault and take not only the money that the Manager had bought down from KC, but all of the cash in the vault as well. The staff always remained in the locked bank until after 5pm on the last Friday of the month so they should not be disturbed by friends or relatives of the staff. They would lock the staff in the vault and get as far away from Litton as possible; then they would drive to the Florida Keys where a boat was waiting to take them to the Cayman Islands. Once there, the money would be divided equally and deposited into three separate numbered accounts.
Steve and Ray sat in their car across from the Litton Farmer's Bank and watched Michele Bouvier flip the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed', and close the blinds on the main entrance door, and smiled at each other. A few seconds later Nadine Munner exited the bank and walked past their nondescript Ford on her way to the luncheonette to pick up the lunches for the three bank staff.
Steve scrutinized her trim figure and tight ass as she sashayed down the sidewalk on her high-heels.
"Fuck; I'd like to help myself to some of that!" he said to Ray, who was looking at the girl with equal intensity.
"Well we got some time to kill before the fat bastard arrives with our money," Ray replied, smiling evilly.
The women employees of the Litton Farmer's Bank adhered to a strict dress code. They wore navy-blue skirts, white blouses, flesh-toned hosiery and black pumps. In winter they wore matching navy-blue jackets. Being good Southern girls they were elegantly coiffured and wore heavy makeup and lots of jewellery; they left behind trails of exotic perfume as they strutted around the bank attending to business.
Michele Bouvier had asked Abbot to relax the dress code to allow the women to wear slacks but Abbot had steadfastly refused. Although the bank was small and was only a single branch; the bank staff should display the necessary appearance of decorum and propriety he had argued. Both he and Michele knew that the real reason was that Abbot liked to sit behind the big desk of his glass-walled office and ogle his female staff.
She had once caught him slyly masturbating under his desk as he watched Nadine Munner squatting down next to a filing cabinet arranging the files in the bottom drawer. Engrossed in her task, her skirt had ridden up and her knees had opened immodestly, giving Abbot a clear view of her pretty pink panties through the gusset of her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. Abbot was sweating profusely behind his desk and Michele had seen the unmistakeable arm movements of a man pleasuring himself.
She had taken Nadine aside and lectured her about modesty; she had not mentioned what she saw the Bank Manager doing, but Nadine was shocked that she had put her underwear on display. Nadine was a good Christian and prided herself on her decorum and modesty. She was naïve but not stupid; she knew that evil men and wanton women engaged in lechery and conduct that rightly belonged only in the marriage-bed, but Nadine strived to present herself to the world with demureness and respectability and she abhorred lust and sin in all its forms.
Steve and Ray watched Nadine return to the bank from the luncheonette, carrying sacks of sandwiches and paper cups of soda on a cardboard tray. As she rapped on the door to the bank the two criminals swiftly got out of the car each holding a small carrier bag. They quickly positioned themselves on either side of and behind Nadine Munner, just out of her line of sight, and when Michele Bouvier opened the door they pushed Nadine Munner through the doorway and squeezed in behind her. As Nadine tripped over her heels and slid headlong across the polished floor spilling soda and sandwiches, Steve levelled his pistol at Michele Bouvier and Ray closed and locked the door behind them, ensuring the blinds remained fully closed.
"This is a robbery! Everyone get face down on the floor! Anyone touches the alarm and I'll fucking shoot them!" Steve yelled.
Ray rummaged around in his carrier bag and took out a can of spray paint. He went around the small bank and sprayed black paint on the lenses of the security cameras and then located the 'panic buttons' under the teller's counter and in the Manger's office. He fitted pre-manufactured plastic covers over the buttons with strong double-sided adhesive tape so that no one could purposely or inadvertently activate the alarm system.
Michele Bouvier lay prone on the floor just inside the entrance door, Nadine Munner lay face down in a puddle of Coca-Cola whimpering and shaking with fear and praying to God to protect her, Jeanette Hathcock lay on the floor behind the counter. Jeanette was not praying for protection; she was regretting that may die today without the pleasure of divorcing or killing her drunken, abusive husband before she went.
"Ok; get up; put your hands on your heads, and join your friend on the floor behind that counter," Steve said to Michele and Nadine.
As the women complied, Ray ensured that all of the blinds on the windows were securely closed; he checked the rear entrance was locked and then checked the staff bathroom to make sure it was clear. Then he joined Steve who was standing over the three prone women pointing his gun at them.
Both bank robbers stared at the women lying on the floor; their asses: Nadine's trim and tight, Jeanette's curved and taut, Michele's plump and rounded; stretched the material of their navy-blue skirts. All three wore varying shades of flesh-toned pantyhose and black high-heels. Their exotic perfume mingled with the smell of fear and wafted up from their prone bodies.
