Tim Fields peered through the windshield as he guided the old Taurus down the freeway of the unfamiliar city. The highway was poorly lit and they were looking for the exit to the motel they were to stay in this weekend. Tim's wife Tami was in the passenger set and Helen Anderson occupied the rear seat. Helen was an older woman, a neighbor of the Fields that the couple had offered to drop off at a relative's house while on their weekend getaway. The plan was to check in and then drop Helen off before heading out for the evening.
The 35 year old Tim worked at the local bank in the small town where the three lived. He had thinning black hair, and was about 5'9", usually topping the scale at somewhere near 220 pounds. His sedentary job was a large part of his physical condition, which was only compounded by his limited capacity for exercise as he had put on weight. His leisure activity consisted of watching ESPN from the comfort of a couch, or perhaps mowing the yard. For some reason his interest in sports persuaded his wife that he was athletic in some hard to fathom way.
Tami was not a knock out, but was pretty in an average sort of way. She was 33, a quiet 5'4" blonde with a fine figure. Her full breasts and hips filled out her blue mid-thigh sun dress she wore this evening. White high heeled sandals capped set off her dress.
Helen was a very chunky 56 year old 5'2" widow. She presented a very formal and reserved appearance at all times, but had a friendly relationship with Tami. Her hair was always bound in a tight grey bun and she always seemed to wear a white blouse, and black below-the-knee skirt.
Tami was quite prim and proper, and felt the need to present demonstrate her refinement — particularly in the company of the older Helen. She was also quite naïve about a number of things, among them the diversity of people living in a large city, and perhaps most notably about sex. As a matter of fact the couple had a quite staid and boring sex life, much less adventurous than the average American couple; however, neither of the two had enough experience to know so.
"There it is — turn right at the end of the ramp," Tami said, pointing to a sign for Simpson Avenue, while continuing to chatter with Helen. As Tim approached the end of the ramp, a pickup truck suddenly cut him off from the right lane, forcing him to take a hard left. The old car leaned through the turn with the right front wheel hitting the far curb. "Pay attention Tim - that was close. Slow down!" Tami shouted as the car rebounded and he regained control.
"I'll find some place to spin around," said Tim. The car passed back under the freeway, and he quickly scanned the dark street for an intersection when the right front tire began to rumble. Tim could feel the steering wheel shudder. "Just a flat, no big problem," he reassured the two women.
"There on the left, you can turn there," Tami said pointing at the poorly lit street. Tim took the quick left and pulled to the curb about a block off Simpson.
At that same, a group of three young black women and two old men left a liquor store a few blocks up the street. They were a motley crew, somewhat of a "gang" in that the women were all neighbors who did not fit in elsewhere and had gravitated to each other. They had just bought the usual Southern Comfort and beer to take back to the small abandoned apartment they claimed as the venue for their nightly party.
Latisha Bell was a tall and powerfully built young woman of 19 years, and was the acknowledged ring leader of the group. Neither Latisha nor her friends Tawana Jones and Tisha Quarles were by any means good looking. The three women were the same age and had similar builds — between 5'9" and 5'11", with broad shoulders and large arms, full chests, wide hips and thick thighs.
Toby Bell and Antwaun Jones, the two old men, were tall scrawny 68 year olds and life long friends. Each was a little over six feet, but neither weighed more than 160 pounds.
They were constant fixtures with the girls, who were happy to have them tag along as both could provide more than his share of laughs to liven up their parties.
None had jobs, nor did they have any intent of seeking work. The three women were as tough as most of the men in their neighborhood, and often much more vicious when crossed. They generally supported themselves with various petty larcenies and schemes that did not require serious planning or forethought. However, their financial activities sometimes extended to muggings in the right circumstances.
Tami and Helen were standing on the curb watching Tim put the hubcap on the spare when they became aware of several shapes materializing out of the dark. The gang was just as surprised to encounter the stranded motorists parked at the entrance to the alley leading to the abandoned building.
"Tim!" both women exclaimed simultaneously. With a quick look at the group, he immediately jumped up and pulled the two women behind them.
"What 'chu doing around here!" Latisha exclaimed walking up to the three with her girlfriends behind her.
"We had a flat and are getting on our way. Not that it's any of your business," growled Tim, trying to cover his unease with false bluster.
"It our business - you have to pay to park here," Latisha said, as the group murmured in agreement.
"You god damn kids just get lost before you get in trouble," replied Tim.
As he tried to herd the women back in the car, the black women sat themselves on the hood, facing forward away from the passenger cabin.
"Get your fucking asses off my car!" Tim bellowed, as he stormed up to confront the three. An unimpressed Latisha flashed a knife at him saying "What 'chu gonna do about it?" and he skidded to an astonished halt. "Go get them bitches," she said to Tisha and Tawana. They quickly produced knives and sauntered up to the two oblivious women. "Get your asses up here!" Tisha demanded, waving the knife at the two. Terrified, Tami and Helen scurried up behind Tim, quaking while looking at the unsmiling black faces around them. He wasn't feeling much better himself.
"We was just going to ask for a little cash, but you go and act like a bad ass honky," Latisha yelled at him. "Well now you gonna come along to some better light so we can see what other stuff you got. You do what we say or you and them bitches get cut. Got it?"
Tim nodded his head without a word. None of the three had ever experienced a threat of physical violence in their small-town lives, and none were going to stand up to this menacing woman. "Let's go to the crib," Latisha commanded to the gang, as Tawana and Tisha shoved the three down the alley, flashing their knives to provide encouragement.
The group came to a boarded-up building at the end of the alley. Toby and Antwaun were first to enter, unlocking the door and turning on the overhead lights — bare bulbs in old ceramic sockets. The gang filed in led by the couple and their neighbor.
A grungy queen size bed sat against one wall. The other furnishings were two old couches, a large beat up coffee table, a couple of folding chairs and a few over turned wooden crates that served as small tables. The old men set the liquor on the crates.
"Let's have what you got — wallets, purses, and all the jewelry!" Latisha demanded. Tisha and Tawana soon had collected everything, including the two women's wedding rings and earrings. "Let's have them clothes too - shirts, pants, and skirts. We don't want you runnin' off without paying." Latisha barked.
"Why don't you just let us go now, you've got what you want," Tim said with patently false bluster.
Latisha looked him up and down, then landed a tremendous punch to the side of the head, shouting "You don't talk that shit to me you little white wimp!" Startled, Tim could only hold the side of his head and stare at her while he regained his balance — to the cackles of the old men. "You all do what I say and do it now!" Latisha shouted waving her knife at the three.
A pile of clothing was soon at the feet of the terrified vacationers — blue sundress, shirt and pants, white blouse and black skirt. Tami stood trembling in a thin light blue bra which emphasized the heft of her tits, and matching tight panties that exposed the small crevice between her thighs. Her belly bulged slightly over the waistband of her panties. The white sandals on her feet gave her a "come fuck me look". Tim looked ludicrous in a pair of white boxers and black socks, his pale gut overhanging the waistband. To her utter shame, the gang laughed and jeered at Helen's fat, wrinkled and pasty body covered only by her old fashioned bra and granny panties.
"You two bitches sit over there," Latisha gestured, pointing to the couch. "You in that chair," she said to Tim pointing at one of the folding chairs. The three quickly complied, looking at their hosts with fearful faces.
"You don't get to party you big mouth punk. Let's relax and get on with it girlfriends," Latisha announced breathing heavily. "I needs a drink." She tossed beers to the two black girls, who were on one couch with Helen and them joined them. Toby and Antwaun grabbed the Southern Comfort and made themselves comfortable on the other couch on either side of Tami.
Tisha rolled a couple of blunts, lit them up and passed them around. Each of the white women was forced to take their hits in turn, coughing harshly to the laughter of the gang — particularly when it came to Helen. "That old bitch like to toke!" laughed Tawana. Meanwhile the gang sat talking about what they would do with their loot, now and then stopping to ask one of the white women if they were hiding anything.
.... There is more of this story ...