He watched her carefully with predatory eyes from behind the cashier's desk, lingering over the flair of her hips. She turned her back toward him, examining the racks of clothes, flicking through the blouses as she searched for her size. His gaze dropped over her narrow waist to her denim clad rear, the pockets of her jeans looked riveted to her behind and the thick seam of denim following the sensual curve between her cheeks. She abandoned the rack and moved away, glancing across at him, catching him staring at her. She said nothing, flushing slightly as she moved to the display of skirts and continued to browse. He studied her, ignoring the growing hardness in his trousers.
The shop was quiet, an ideal opportunity if only she would make a selection and ask to try it on. His heart hammered with anticipation. The hunt was on, the prey selected. Now the waiting game commenced with the quarry unaware of the predator waiting for his chance.
He studied her face: the soft fullness of her lips, the large eyes exaggerated by dark eyeliner, and the thin arch of her carefully trimmed eyebrows. Her hair fell to her shoulders in heavy waves, shrouding the sides of her face in hues of auburn. She approached him with two skirts and he pressed a secreted button beneath the counter.
"Can I try these on?" Jennifer Ashton asked.
"Certainly, booth four," He directed her attention, "On the end."
He watched her enter the booth and glanced quickly at the front door leading out into the street. She drew the curtain closed and he counted slowly to ten, his attention now firmly fixed on the entrance to the shop. When he reached ten, he threw a cautionary glance at the curtained booth before flicking an innocent looking switch under the counter. There was a brief shriek from behind the curtain, muffling the low thud, followed by a fading wail. He knocked the switch back and quickly crossed to the booth where he removed the skirts and handbag from the hooks, returning the changing room to its former innocently empty appearance.
The skirts were straightened and hung back on show and Jennifer's handbag was stowed out of sight in his holdall, discreetly tucked out of sight behind the counter. That was the last the world at large would ever see of Jennifer Ashton. The shop was ready for business again and nobody would be any the wiser.
Two days later...
Serena hurried down the narrow, bustling little street. It was lunch time and she was desperate for a new outfit. Tomorrow night she was being taken to dinner and wanted something sexy to wear without being overstated. One of the girls at the office had mentioned a boutique some time back and Serena thought it was worth a look. Her eyes scoured the small shop fronts as she fought her way through the shoppers. She spied the place, huge 'SALE NOW ON' signs plastered across the windows. An old woman scowled as Serena barged into her. She called back an apology that was lost to the river of shoppers she trying to cut across to reach the shop.
Despite the sale, the shop was quiet when she entered, a complete contrast to the shifting mass of shoppers outside. She looked around swiftly, sizing up the boutique's wares and style before deciding it was worthy of closer inspection. A couple, mother and daughter, headed across to the older gentleman behind the sales counter. Ignoring them, Serena began to look around, pulling out blouses and offering them up to herself.
She was pleasantly surprised at the prices and her search began in earnest. A dress would be nice, but might appear over the top, she needed to be careful. Mother and daughter left, guided to the door by salesman who politely opened the door for them. He turned his attention to Serena as he closed the door and asked if she needed any help. She told him what she was looking for, adding a vague description of her date, he understood and directed her to several racks of dresses that were smart without being over formal.
Serena caught the older man looking at her and smiled knowingly to herself. Men it seemed were all the same, young and old alike. He was probably old enough to be her father, but that didn't stop him from looking. She was use to the furtive glances men gave her, not only from a distance, but up close and personal too, like stealthily sneaking a peep down her top whenever the opportunity was presented to them. Serena regarded herself as worldly wise where men were concerned and knew how to play the game to her advantage. A little flirting here and there, a bit of teasing now and then, could all be turned to her advantage.
She was stuck for choice and had narrowed it down to one of two. She raised the garments up in the air, catching his attention. "Can I try these on — I really don't know which to take?"
"Booth four at the end," He pointed across to the back wall and glanced quickly at the door.
She saw the shift in his gaze and a moment of doubt crept into her mind. She was alone in the shop, about to undress herself behind a curtain — what was he thinking? The boutique was open, anyone could walk in, but was it safe? At a subconscious level she made a calculation, the distance from the counter to the changing booth was not short. He would have to lock the door and then approach; she would hear him and be ready.
Serena crossed to the booth and drew the curtain. She hung the dresses up on the hook on the wall, paused for a moment, and then carefully peeped round the crack of the curtain. He was gazing out at the street from behind the counter, lost in some distant thought. It was safe.
She turned her attention to the dresses. Suddenly the floor disappeared beneath her feet. With a loud startled cry she plummeted, her backside landing with a bump on a chute as she continued to travel down fast. Her skirt bunched around the base of her buttocks while she rocketed down the twisting chute. The journey only fleeting seconds, not time for her terror struck mind to comprehend what was happening. Abruptly she was disgorged from the chute, freefalling for a flash before her feet hit a large cushion filled with air. Her legs buckled beneath her as the cushion closed about her, bring her journey to a sudden, but smooth halt.
The cushion moved, sagged heavily under the weight of approaching bodies. Hands grabbed her, pulled her from the inflatable pillow and planted her feet first on a concrete floor. Dazed, she felt her arms being pulled back and pinned from behind.
"Stop it!" Serena cried, struggling. "Let go of me — what are you doing?"
"You don't tell me what to do. I tell you."
A man approached her, his eyes fixed on the swell of Serena's breasts beneath her blouse. With her shoulders forcibly pulled back, her chest was lewdly pushed forward, offering her breasts. She saw the intensity of the gaze on her breasts and recognised the purpose.
"Goddamn you, take your hands off me!" Serena twisted violently, kicking out in front of her. The man behind pulled her back off her feet as the one in front grabbed her legs, straddling them with his own and scissoring them.
She could not move; her body was stretched out taut diagonally up from the floor and held firmly in place. She saw the hands reach in, grabbing the front of her blouse. The buttons down the front burst open to reveal her bra. She screamed and thrashed and screamed again until she was slapped across the face and a powerful hand clamped across her mouth.
They carried her between them. The one behind quickly removed his hand from over her mouth, setting his right arm beneath her chin and across her throat, locking her jaw shut as he struggled to support her. She was hauled out of the room into a second room. The door banged loudly as it was kicked closed. The world spun as she was thrown to the ground, landing face down. Her blouse was ripped off her arms as the other began pulling off her skirt.
Now screaming again — yelling, pleading, shouting as she had never shouted in her life before, she felt her skirt disappear down her legs and her bra strap release. A hand knotted in her hair, jarring her neck and baring her throat as her head was yanked back.
"Do you want to get hurt — do you?"
"No." She pleaded.
"Well shut up then."
They wrestled her to her feet and snatched her bra away. Her arm rose instinctively to her chest to conceal herself and was instantly slapped away. Serena stood before them defiantly while they appraised her with smug satisfaction.
"Nice tits." The one told her, gloating at the two conical mounds standing boldly from her chest.
"Take your panties off." The other commanded as he stood behind her.
"No." Serena replied firmly. Without warning, his fingers gripped the waist of her underwear and tore them down. She twisted round to confront him, reaching down to grasp her panties from her knees and as she did his hand shot out, thrusting between her legs. Serena bucked away, inadvertently pushing her ass straight into the hand that came from behind.
She turned frantically, bending herself away from both men. Her panties were clawed, stretched taut in her bid to escape, and then tore free of one of her legs. Serena spun toward the door, saw her opportunity for escape and ran. In a flying rugby-style tackle she fell to the floor. He covered her legs with his body, his face pressed against the cheeks of her ass, his breath hot and moist as he climbed slowly up her torso.
.... There is more of this story ...