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Nobody had believed him. But here was the proof in his hot little hands.
The dumbass at Well-Mart almost kept them for himself. The little perv. If Carl hadn't yanked him across the counter by his stupid little Well-Mart polyester vest and threatened to cut his balls off with a butter knife the brat probably would have gotten away with it too. Ya do what ya gotta do. Faced with the prospect of being involuntarily celibate for life, the pimple-faced cretin caved and pulled the envelope of prints out of his bookbag behind the counter. Carl didn't even have to ask for both sets of the double prints.
Note to self: don't mix business with pleasure. Next time your half-sister gets drunk and takes all her clothes off, shoot the whole roll; don't save a couple exposures for the morning after.
But now it was those last two exposures he was interested in. A car slammed into the front of a QuickMart, broken glass caught in mid-air. And you could just make out the shape hanging in mid-air over the car. It was a girl. Defying gravity.
He'd seen the whole thing from across the street. He thought he was going to get a hit-and-run in progress, but instead... this. And then he was out of film as he watched this girl magically dodge a hail of gunfire and kick the crap out of the two perps trying to hold up the place. If only he'd had a fresh roll in the camera. If only his half-sister had been less of a drunken whore the night before. Or a little more of one. Oh well.
These two photos of the mystery super-angel were good enough until he could catch her in the act again.
He took one copy of his double prints and dropped them into the envelope between two sheets of cardboard. Tearing the stolen Sharpie out of its packaging, he scrawled PHOTOS DO NOT BEND on the envelope and licked it shut.
Now I'm gonna get *paid*.
He slipped the envelope into the mailbox. The slot clanged shut with a finality Carl welcomed.
Angela hoped she was nearing the end of the path. Sounds of mid-day traffic wafted up from the boulevard, but the thick stands of cypress and high ivy-covered wall obscured any visual signs of civilization.
Without warning, Angela felt strong arms grab her from behind; she squealed in surprise. A sharp stiletto to the toe broke the attacker's grip. She spun out of his arms, scrabbling for traction and balance on the smooth, sloped walk. Unintentionally she stopped facing him.
She recognized him instantly from the police sketch.
"You! You're the rapist!"
"Oh, a smart slut! Now come over here and let's do this nice so I don't have to hurt you. I know you can't run from me. Hell," he smirked, "you can barely stand!"
Angela stood fixed to the spot, feeling angry and helpless at once. "Fuck you!" she spat as words fail her.
"That's the general idea, you stupid slut."
Angela gasped. The attacker responded, "Oh, don't get all huffy now. Good girls don't dress like that, that Catholic-school-whore miniskirt so short so everyone can see you wiggle your tight little ass, prancing around on those stilts of yours, and wearing that bra-thing in broad daylight with your tits spilling out, and just a couple of sleeves put together from kitchen curtains like you couldn't afford the whole shirt, wafting around in the wind like angel's wings with sparkly things on the ends, 'oh look at me I'm so helpless, you want me but you can't have me'... and what the fuck is up with the beauty queen crown? You're just fucking *begging* for it, taking the 'shortcut' through the park..."
He continued ranting, but Angela had stopped listening.
Crown? Her tiara! Her wrist gems! Her fear evaporated. She wasn't helpless. She was still Sapphire. Maybe she couldn't jump and kick -- heck, she couldn't move -- but she could still knock the stuffing out of this turkey.
"Shut up!" she yelled, cutting off his rant in mid-sentence.
"What the fuck? You really *are* a stupid slut!" He pulled a knife out of one jacket pocket and a pair of handcuffs out of the other. "I don't *have* to be nice, cunt! Now turn around!" He took a step toward her, ignorant of the complete lack of fear she displayed.
She reached up and slapped him. Hard. The attacker nearly fell to one knee, dropping the knife.
"You STUPID BITCH!" he yelled, one hand rubbing his bright red cheek.
"Who's the stupid one here?" Sapphire yelled right back. "You attack a woman in broad daylight? Four blocks from the police station?" She spots a lumpy canvas bag marked "Bank of USA." "After holding up a bank?"
The man was taken aback, stunned to the point of actually correcting her. "I didn't hold up the bank, I'm not stupid. I robbed the library."
Sapphire burst out laughing, nearly knocking herself over in the process. The stress of the situation and what she'd gone through in the last twenty-four hours was too much, and she needed an outlet. "Oh my God, the LIBRARY? What, is MILK MONEY extortion not what it used to be?" She laughed almost uncontrollably.
The would-be rapist's anger boiled. He leaped up and punched her viciously in the jaw. Sapphire went sprawling to the ground, her heels scratching ineffectually at the pavement. The ties of her bustier had loosened and her breasts came spilling forward, exposing her nipples as the top corners of the satin fabric flapped loosely.
Her attacker lunged down on top of her; she heard the metal handcuffs clank against each other. No! She squirmed furiously trying to crawl out from under him as he struggled to keep his weight on her, keep her from getting away, and find her wrist with his hand.
Sapphire turned over onto her back underneath him, both denying him her wrist and improving her position. He looked down on her with mad glee; this one's a fighter! She felt the bulge in his pants as he pressed his weight down on her thighs, his legs trapping hers, going for the pin. With one arm trapped behind her back and his cuffs clanking as he reached for her other arm above her head, it didn't look good.
But she was hardly finished. Her free hand blasted away at the cuffs, sending them flying and driving his arm back at a painful angle. She drove her open palm hard up at his shoulder, making contact with a burst of blinding light; she heard the snap of bones breaking as he flew up off her and twisted around in the air, landing like a bag of meat.
Sapphire got to her knees, then slowly pushed herself up. He looked up at her between winces of pain; his shoulder felt like someone drove a hot poker right through it. She just stood, nostrils flaring, a look of... gleeful vengeance on her face, as if he were the one daring to defy her. Her chest heaved, the bustier merely cradling her firm breasts, curiously-hard nipples indicating the arousing side-effect of the half-depleted gems' energy coursing through her. The skirt, waist snapped loose, draped low on her hipbones, drawing taut the outer portion of the trick waistband and raising the stiff pleats outward. His gaze uncontrollably dropped from her heaving tits to her crotch, gaping at the cleft of the tiny triangle of tight satin. The wet spot was plainly visible.
She took a step toward him, unfreezing his brain from its confused lust. His working hand frantically grabbed at the ground, finding a riverbed stone small enough to grab as a weapon. He pushed himself up off his knees to face her, his rage at the slut's defiance overwhelming his judgement of his odds. He lunged forward, bringing the grapefruit-sized oblong rock down toward her head. She raised her arm to block but lost her footing and slipped. The rock connected with the side of her skull with a terrible hollow Crack! Sapphire tumbled to the ground, and the man's momentum caused him to stumble over her, falling to his hands and knees above her head. His broken shoulder crumbled under the load of his body, sending new bolts of blinding, immobilizing pain. He turned around on his knees to face her prone form. For a moment he'd thought he'd gone too far; surely the small boulder would have crushed in her skull. He'd have to hide her body. No, he'd have to run. But the girl stirred! He looked at her more closely. Had he missed? Did she just fall?
Her head looked unscathed. The man looked about frantically for the handcuffs. Where were they? Behind her, behind him, in the rocks? He saw the rock he'd hit her with, broken neatly into three small chunks. It must have broken when it hit the ground, he thought. Where were the damn handcuffs? He only had one good arm now, but he wasn't about to let the bitch get away with it. Fuck it. She was out cold, or close enough to it.
The injured rapist clambered around behind her, rolling her from her side onto her stomach. He grabbed her by the waistband of the skirt, yanking her limp body up onto her knees and back onto her haunches. He ripped open his velcro fly; his stiff cock snapped to attention in the open air. Seeing the hole in her panties, he stuck his fingers in and ripped them open violently with two quick jerks. The knot on one hip came undone and they flapped uselessly to the other side. He reached around her thigh, holding her up to him as he guided himself into her wet snatch.
"Oh, fuck, baby, why'd you have to be such a *bitch*?" he said, punctuating the question with a sharp thrust. This cunt was young and tight, just the way he liked it; in a minute he'd be done with her. The pain of his wrecked shoulder only made his slow thrusts more vicious, yanking her back into him like a rag doll.
Sapphire began to come around. Her pussy was overwhelming her energy-heightened senses; ohh, this was a good dream. She began to support her own weight, propping herself up on her elbows.
"Back to the land of the living, eh *slut*?" He was pumping with a steady motion now.
My this was a good dream. So dirty, so helpless, so willing... and it seemed to real... her jugs moved up and down her body as she pushed herself back on the marlevous, pulsing prick...
...and then she felt the marauder suddenly stiffen. No! She wasn't finished! She thrust back furiously, frustratingly, trying to milk more action out of the fading intruder. "Come on, don't stop!" she heard herself moan.
The sound of her own voice shook her into the realization that this was *not* a dream. She froze, her body's sexual heat in conflict with the sudden shame she felt at her lewd public display.
The rapist pulled out with a wet plop.
Sapphire's vaginal muscles spasmed in frustration as she fell forward onto her chest. She rolled over, her hand snaked down, fingers teasing, then vigorously rubbing her clit in a vain attempt at satisfaction.
The man picked up his bag of money. Heavy change shifted and clinked.
Sapphire rubbed harder, faster, her hips thrusting up at a phantom lover. No, don't leave me like this. I'm close...
He eyed her quizzically, then picked up his knife. This was the first chick he'd bagged that wanted more. They usually just curled up and cried.
"You're such a fucking slut," he spat.
The words burned her ears. Something within her raging sapphire-fed hormones fought for control. She was *not* a slut. She just needed... to cum... so close...
He walked around her, standing beside her head as she knelt before him. As he looked down on her, this bitch who'd fucked up his shoulder, she seemed oblivious, her face contorted, searching for sexual release, her bare breasts moving in quick circles as she shook, her arm a blur between her legs.
No... she couldn't cum... if she came she'd just be...
"Just a horny little slut. Good for nothing but getting fucked."
No!
Suddenly Sapphire's eyes opened wide; she pulled her hand from between her legs. She was *not* a slut! Her gems flickered hotly. She was a superheroine. And if this little worm couldn't satisfy her, she wasn't going to let him get away with using her.
Her hand shot up, blasting his ankle out from under him; he fell hard to his knees with a sick bone-crunching sound. In a flash she grabbed her assailant by the hair and yanked his face down toward hers. "You pathetic bastard!" she screamed; his eyes involuntarily blinked with the force of her voice. He pulled back, rearing up on his knees and swinging his good arm down to hit her.
Her other hand shot up, blocking his fist with her wrist. He felt his fingers shatter. Sparks of bluish light marked the impact.
Sapphire pushed back on his head, rolling him over onto his back. "Look what you did to me! I am *not* a slut! You did this! YOU!" As she got up, he rolled over and began crawling/scrambling away, looking over his shoulder at her in fear. "You're one crazy fucked-up bitch!" he said, his voice wavering as he crabbed his retreat. She stopped and turned away from him, walking the other direction. He stopped, too, mystified. She bent down carefully, picking something up off the rocks a few feet away. His handcuffs. "Over by that pole!" she ordered, motioning to the exercise bars to his left.
"Fuck you, bitch! I'm not letting you collar me!" He managed to get to his feet, grimacing as his shapeless shoulder and shattered fingers competed for attention. He'd done what he came here to do, what he was compelled to do; he'd fucked another worthless bitch who teased and teased and teased. It wasn't his fault she enjoyed it. And he wasn't about to let her guilt get him busted. He turned and began walking unsteadily away.
He heard her heels click and scratch and slide over the smooth cement behind him. "Give it up, you stupid slut, you can't catch me," he called out over his shoulder.
Just feet ahead of him, the riverbed rocks on the high side of the path exploded in a tumbling mini-rockslide. He stopped for a second. How'd she do that? No matter. "Your tricks don't scare me, slut."
"Not... one... more... step..." her voice was shaking, not with fear, but with anger.
"Fuck you," he said, and took a step.
He felt a hard shove on his bad shoulder, spinning him around; the pain was excruciating. "Arrgghh!" he screamed. He turned to see her standing, legs shoulder-width apart, one hand on her hip, top pulled down, see-through skirt flared up, and mad as hell. Her other hand was cocked, palm forward in a "stop" gesture. He backed away. She jabbed her palm toward him as if throwing a punch -- huh? He found himself doubled over, breathless with a stab of pain to the center of his chest. He looked up at her, scared and confused. She flicked her arm as if slapping him; twenty feet away he felt the slap, supernaturally hard, knocking him back on his butt.
Sapphire approached him slowly, and tossed the handcuffs at his feet. "Now, you will handcuff yourself to that pole there, or things will get *ugly*." She was breathing hard, as if she'd sprinted a hundred-yard-dash. But she was in control now, though it took all her concentration, she focused on her anger, denying the delicious flame of energy that licked at her most sensitive areas.
He sat, his eyes wide with fear. He started to get up; he had to run!
But she hit him again, a glancing blow to his good arm, knocking his broken hand into the rocks behind him. And again on his bad shoulder, knocking him on his back, rocks lodged painfully underneath him. His body wracked with unbearable pain, he couldn't move.
Sapphire stood over him, studying his tortured face. "You... are a worthless slimeball," she said between deep breaths. She gave him one last force-punch to the groin; his face twisted anew but he remained still.
Sapphire stepped over him gingerly, using her gems to help maintain her balance as she picked through the riverbed rocks strewn across the path.
Just before the park entrance, she hiked up her bustier and tied it as best she could with her trembling fingers and long nails, then hiked up the skirt, hitching it to the garter straps by the short hanger straps inside the waistband. The panties were just useless shreds; she reached under the skirt, untied the remaining side and let them fall to the ground.
Angela let herself sink into the bathtub's hot suds. What happened at Josh's was bad; the library even worse. But instead of redeeming herself when she had the chance, she let herself be taken by a low-life scum. And she enjoyed it. True, the gems had saved her in a way, but in a way they just allowed her to be violated in a way the other victims hadn't. Instead of rising to the challenge, she'd let another stranger... have sex with her. And then when he didn't... satisfy her, she'd beat him up and left him behind. She was just as bad as he was. Maybe worse.
But you stopped him, she told herself. You captured him. He didn't walk away. He didn't get away with it.
Only because he was stupid. He still beat you. He still... fucked you. And you liked it.
Some superheroine. Some crimefighter. More like superwhore, creamy fucktoy.
Unable to wash away her shame, Angela cried herself to sleep in the warm suds.
Josh couldn't believe his luck. He'd been heading home after a quick trip to Slim's for a score and he'd seen the most amazing body he'd seen in weeks, strutting through the Mission District like it was a strip club. Not that he'd been to an actual strip club, but he'd seen "Stripped to Kill" enough times on Cinemax to know what it'd be like. She was even dressed like a stripper. And then he stopped, and she asked him for a ride, and he convinced her to stop at his place, and his patented gearshift move closed another deal.
And to top it all off, the "stripper" turned out to be his ex, Angela. The one who'd been kind of sweet and plain, and instead of blossoming into a sex-crazed hottie like the sweet ones were supposed to once they finally got a taste of man-meat, she'd just kind of laid there the two times they did it so he'd dumped her. Apparently he just hadn't waited long enough for the petals to open. Last night proved it would have been worth the wait.
But that was okay; if last night wasn't enough to make her come crawling back for more, she'd probably come back for another round or two just to keep him from blabbing to her friends. After all, he had the proof in the panties she'd left behind. And the polaroid he'd taken last night of her passed out naked on his couch. He'd be making up for lost time soon enough. And this time he'd get lots of pictures. And video. Maybe he'd even put them up on his web site. Or maybe with the right costume changes he could sell them to one of those fetish pay sites. Maybe even make enough to finally get those Flowmasters on his classic 5.0.
He found Angela's number in his Palm handheld. "Time to put the wheels in motion," Josh said aloud as he reached for the phone.