Misty Kelly stared out the bedroom window, pleased to see slivers of sunlight shining through the trees. Five consecutive days of rain had interrupted her running routine, so today she planned to go all out. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she ambled out the back door to judge the weather.
"Just great," she mumbled. The sun burning off the moisture created a one hundred percent humidity day and, with the temperature already pushing ninety, running would be a bitch. Misty chose the smallest, least bulky outfit she could find -- a pair of blue boy shorts and a white running bra. The running bra would no doubt turn transparent when she started to sweat, and with her dark Asian nipples it would probably look like she was topless. It didn't matter, though. She was going to take the old ranch trail and be away from ogling eyes. She didn't care for running on the old the ranch trail -- it was basically two sets of ruts formed by years of trucks rolling through them, but at least she could run on the strip of grass between them. Her other trail, the one she liked, was probably a slog of mud.
After a few minutes of stretching, she headed out her front door at full speed. The sun rose higher, it seemed, with every stride she took, as did the temperature. Misty hated this part of the run, especially in the heat. One mile of pavement before she reached the trail was bad enough, but the exhaust fumes from the occasional passing car and the leers she received were worse. Still, she had to run to keep in shape.
She was close to the trail when a truck passed by, slowing to a stop about a hundred yards in front of her. When she ran by it a scruffy young man wearing a cowboy hat stuck his head out and hooted, "Hey, baby! Lookin' good!"
Misty averted his eyes and kept running. When she turned off the paved road and onto the trail she heard the truck behind her. She turned and tried to stare the driver down, but he revved the engine and inched the truck forward. A cretin in the passenger seat gave her an unkind smile and ran the back of his hand across his mouth.
Misty spun around, dug in her heels, and started to sprint. She could hear the truck bounding in the ruts, splashing up mud. All she had to do, she knew, was make it to the creek, run across it, and scramble up the opposite bank. No way would the assholes behind her be able to catch her then.
The driver of the truck honked whenever he got close, making her jump. The two men yelled and laughed, making her heart pound as she began to panic. Fun was fun, but this situation was turning serious. She bolted for the creek but when she reached it she was forced to stop.
The creek had swollen because of the rain. It was at least five feet high and churning up mud and debris. Misty knew that if she tried to cross it she would be swept away. She was stuck. Escape seemed impossible.
The truck edged closer. She looked around for a weapon-anything. She grabbed a tree branch floating by and stood her ground. The cretins laughed and stepped out of the truck.
"Easy, baby," the driver said. "No need to fight. We're just gonna have a little fun."
"Fuck you," Misty snarled.
The passenger laughed. "Fuck you? Is that an invitation? I mean, you're showin' off your titties. You must have wanted me to see them, right? Why else dress like that? Well, I like your titties. I bet they're fun to suck on."
Misty shook with fear. "Don't. Please don't. Just -- just let me by."
"No can do, honey," the driver growled. "We're gonna take you for a ride and I don't mean in the truck."