He opened the door to her persistent knocking. She was very young, with an over painted face and jeans that rode so low on her hips that a small tuft of untrimmed pubic hair peeked over the waistband. She reeked of presumptuousness and of pheromone tainted perfume.

"Wanna buy a magazine, Mister?"

The old man scowled at the bubbly creature incredulously. He had no interest whatsoever in purchasing another persons opinion of the lonely world he had grown to despise since he lost his wife several years earlier. Further, he had little more than contempt for today's youth with their irresponsibility and irreverence for anything but materialism. He glared at her without blinking.

"So, you wanna..."

"No; now beat it," he spat cutting her off savagely while slamming the door in her face. The gum fell from her mouth as it dropped open. She thought of what he had said and briefly considered beating on the weathered door in anger, but rather, she shrugged her shoulders and walked back into the morning sun fumbling in her purse for another piece of chewing gum. She stopped briefly at his mailbox and took note of the name scrawled there in weatherworn letters - Landers. She sneered something incoherent under her breath and turned towards the next house.

Harry Landers had always been proud of his years in the shipyard. The long hours had supported his obsessive wife and two sons through the family years with a sufficient income to afford the necessities with ease. He had watched his boys turn into men and disappear over the horizon towards their destiny as his wife became increasingly frigid and antisocial. One morning in one of her frequent bursts of rage, her overtaxed heart burst, leaving him to weather his final years alone and lonely. He became bitter and turned towards himself, rarely seeking the console of others and growing to despise those who did. His days were long and he frequently found himself staring at the ceiling.

Cristal wasn't very popular or very bright. Her school counselor had told her disinterested parents that she was in need of guidance and support which despite their convincing assurances, they would never have the time or interest to render. So Cristal wandered through the myriads of temptations trying everything at least once while never committing to anything. She was bitter and lonely; not unlike the old fart that had slammed the door in her face earlier that day. Yet unlike Harry, she had never learned to forgive and forget; rather embracing the concept of sweet revenge. As she sat through her afternoon classes, she began to fantasize about exacting revenge with such intensity that her daydreams soon became plans.

It became apparent to the young girl somewhat early in life, that her counterparts frail egos were centered, with very few exceptions, between their legs. She had triggered a multitude of male orgasms in her young lifetime, and had quickly learned how to manipulate the spongy tissue into its full glory with a minimum of effort. Equally, she had learned how to effectively exploit the male gonads to humble even her most aggressive partner. Yet, until now, she had never submitted to her darkest fantasies knowing that once she had crossed that threshold, she would never return. The thought of the mornings encounter with Harry continued to intensify, until suddenly, midway through her chemistry lab, something inside of her snapped and she bolted through the double doors and disappeared.

A raspy knock came to his door around four in the afternoon as Harry had just completed making his tuna sandwich. "Damn," he swore aloud, "Second time today." He set the plate on small end table in the hallway and staggered to the door to peer out the security lens. Whoever or whatever was outside had covered the exterior opening and he sore to himself again. "Who's there!" There was no answer, but as he turned back towards his sandwich, there was another, more forceful knock. The noise startled him only momentarily, and without turning he snarled "Leave me alone!" Again, there was a third and even more forceful knock, with which Harry lost his patience, and, throwing the sandwich back onto the plate, he thundered to the door and flung it open.

Before a word could form on his lips, Cristal brought her knee up forcefully between his legs, and pushed his crumbling carcass backwards as she closed and bolted the front door behind them. Harry tried to scream, but it felt as if his gonads were lodged in his throat and he could only curl into a fetal position to protect himself. He trembled and tried to vomit as a second well placed kick landed between his legs sending him into blissful darkness. He awoke to darkness, tied fitfully to his own bed without a stitch of clothing. He was cold, and thought he heard someone in the kitchen. The clatter continued for some time before he heard footsteps approaching the foot of the bed.

"Hi there, remember me?" The light flicked on and there stood his captor, the sultry dressed Cristal with a plate full of fresh fruit and a demonic smile that sent chills through his spine. "You weren't very nice to me today, Mr Landers," and I think you should apologize!" She took a bite of one of the apples and gazed at him expectantly.

Quickly assessing his options, he felt a deep throbbing emanating from his bruised gonads and the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles. He was hardly in a position to bargain at this point. "I'm sorry, young lady."

"Louder and with more feeling," she barked.

"I'm truly sorry," he chanted in his most convincing voice although if one listened carefully, they could hear a slight tremble in his delivery.