Wrong side of town

Now closed for Tio_narratore and myself.

Her father had always told her not to take the bus or train home. Wait for a ride from him or his assistant, or, as a last resort, get a taxi. He didn't want his daughter on public transport. But Zoe didn't have much choice tonight.

Dance class had finished early due to problems with the electrics on campus, and Zoe knew both her dad and his assistant were outside town until much later. Another meeting. And when she called a taxi company, she was told she would have to wait at least an hour. She felt a stab of impatience and desperation. She didn't have time for this! She wanted to be at home as soon as possible.

She hesitated for a second, then started towards the bus stop she knew was on a back street nearby. This was the only bus route that went to near her house. From the stop she had to get off at, it was something like a 5 minute walk, but Zoe didn't mind that. Long as she had a route home.

She sat down in the bus shelter to wait. Her long brown hair was loose about her slender shoulders, her hazel eyes kept glancing down the road towards the corner the bus would be coming round. She was dressed in a dark blue top and mid-thigh length black skirt that hugged her hips, with a grey baggy hooded top over her top to slide her against the evening chill, though it was undone, showing a peek of her blue top.

The bus turned up after about 10 minutes, and Zoe jumped up eagerly as it pulled up at the shelter. Getting onboard, she fumbled in her bag for change, and gave it to the driver a little clumsily. She was a shy thing, sometimes found it difficult talking to others face-to-face. The bus was deserted other then her, the driver, and two others. Of course, it was bound to be. Most people were already home by now. Zoe slipped down the bus and slid into a seat about halfway down the seats, before settling down in her seat and putting an earphone into her ear. She was hoping for an uneventful trip home.

The bus stopped again, and a man got on and paid his fare. Middle-aged, tall and well-built, in faded jeans and worn, black leather biker jacket, he walks slowly down the aisle, his gaze clearly focused on the shy young woman. He sits two rows behind her, and rises to get off as she pulls the cord to signal the driver to stop.

Once off, he walks at a diagonal, apparently away from the girl. The bus pulls away, and the streets are deserted. They continue in different directions, but his diagonal was only a ruse. Now he tacks at a new angle, towards her path, towards a point where he can intercept her. His strides are twice hers; he walks silently as he easily walks to meet her.

A parked truck hides his final approach, and as she passes the vehicle, he steps quickly from behind and tightly covers her mouth with his right hand. His left arm wraps around her waist and holds her immobile for a moment as he glances about. The street is still empty, and he spies a darkened alley off to one side.

Zoe was barely aware of the bus stopping at the next stop, or of the man that came on and moved past her to sit down. She did, however, feel eyes upon her, and glancing up, saw he was looking at her. She hastily turned her eyes away again, watching as the streets once again seemed to flash past as the bus moved again.

It was another five stops before she reached up and pulled the cord, before getting up just as the bus stopped, her body swaying a little as the bus pulled to a halt. She thanked the driver as she came down the steps of the bus, out onto the cold street, and started walking. She glanced over her shoulder to check she hadn't dropped anything on the street, and saw a figure walking away from the bus in the opposite direction.

The streets were almost totally deserted, though there were lights on in the surrounding houses. She walked at a fairly leisurely pace now. She was thinking about what would happen when her dad got home later, annoyed at her for not being there when he got to the college gates. What would he say when she told him what she had done? She could always lie.. say she took a different taxi company.. No, the truth was probably best-

She had just passed a parked truck, and her thoughts were distracted as a large hand suddenly clamped over her lips, muffling the shocked cry that passed from her lips. Another hand wrapped around her slender waist, holding her still. Her brain snapped into gear at that, and she struggled, giving a cry into the thick hand that pressed to her mouth, trying to get free of the grip on her body.

Stalking her had already begun to arouse him, the thrill of the chase, the deceptive strategy, the planned interception of his prey, all pulsed blood to his groin. The moment of capture was exquisite, taking her so completely by surprise brought a gasp of excitement to his lips. But then her struggles. Oh! how he loved the thrill of the initial fight, the lips quivering helplessly against his the powerful muffle of his palm, the body squirming vainly against the grip of his arm; even if her struggles had not thrown her ass wildly against his thighs, his cock still would have swollen full against the restraint of his slacks.

He lifted her from the ground; she’d be easier to carry off, and it would prevent the nuisance of the desperate attempts to step on his foot as she would have learned in any self-defense class. Down the alley, now, quickly and silently, reveling in her struggles as he walked. So light and petite she was, but with a certain promise of flesh: her breasts rested on his forearm as he lifted her, and he could feel the weight of their fullness.

Behind the darkened houses now, the inhabitants of both likely gone for the evening if not longer, and he took a position in the shadows while holding her at the edge of the dim and diffused light from the street lamps.

He gripped her tightly as he set her on her feet and whispered in her ear, “You are caught, you realize; there is no escape save through pleasing me. If you scream, there will be no need for an ambulance, and I will be long gone before anyone finds your remains.”

“Now, I will take my hand from your mouth,” he told her, and added a cautionary reminder, “Remember not to let yourself scream if you wish to survive.”

He slowly lowered his hand from her mouth, but now wrapped his long and powerful fingers around her slender throat. He turned her to face him as he held her, and ordered, “Remove your clothes. Slowly, blouse first.”