Bikini Barista

[knightwriter]

When I pulled my van into the parking lot behind the old closed down Italian Restaurant there was a little shack that had a line of cars around it. I didn’t know it at the time but it was called a bikini barista. It was a coffee shop that served overpriced coffee sold by a woman who wearing as little as possible. I bet some people looked down on the girls who worked there, or on the customers who waited in long lines to get a little something extra with their mocha but I wasn’t one of them. I have my own faults to worry about.
In fact, I pulled into the line right behind a dirty brown Chevy Chevette with a crack in the back window and listened to NPR while I waited for my turn to see what the fuss was about. I promised myself I would be completely honest here so I admit I turned off the radio when I was only one car away from the window. I wanted it to be clear to the coffee shop girl I was paying full attention when my turn at the window came.

The shack was smaller than I thought. There was only enough room for the one girl in there. There were windows on both sides of the shack so she was turning around and around trying to keep both lines entertained while she made the drinks. She smiled at me, a pleasantly convincing forgery of warmth, and asked me what I wanted. I ordered a mocha with whip and tried not to drool as I checked her out.

Okay look, she was gorgeous. She was a perfect ten. She had long straight hair that was some color between red and dark brown. She had full lips and a buttery tan complexion. Her eyes were clear and blue. But by far her most amazing feature was her rack. She had these monster tits that were perfectly round. I don’t normally talk that way. I actually hate the word tits. But that was the best word to describe them.

She was wearing this one piece net outfit that left only the absolutely obscene to the imagination. I mean I was sold. I wanted her right then and there. Probably just like everyone else in line. I got my mocha and handed her twice as much in cash. She smiled and offered a sincere enough sounding thank you. I eyed the closing time on one of the signs, nine o’ clock. Then my turn was over.

Look, I told you I was going to tell you everything. I also told you I had my faults. And I’m not talking about ogling the coffee shop girl. I’m talking about what I did afterwards.

I came back to the sexpresso shop just after nine o’ clock. The windows were already closed and shuttered. The lights were turned off. I noticed there was only one other car in the lot. It was a Toyota Camry parked close to the shack. I parked my van toward the back of the parking lot where it hopefully wouldn’t stand out as much. I noticed there was a back door to the shack that had a metal cage on it.

This was the moment. Look, I admit I was scared. This wasn’t exactly my first time. I’d gotten up to this point probably a dozen times now. Not with this girl but with other girls. Sitting in my van, watching and waiting. Each time I managed to talk myself out of it. But all I had to do is remember those perfectly round tits. I knew I wouldn’t talk myself out of it this time. Look, I said I had my faults, right?

I got out of the van and opened one of the back doors. I drove a cargo van. The inside was flat and carpeted. I patted the utilitarian carpet with my hand. I couldn’t tell in the dim lighting but I knew it was a cream colored carpet. My eyes went to the roll of duct tape. I swallowed.

I walked over to the Camry and squatted down behind it. From the angle it was parked the girl would probably come out of the shack and head straight for the driver’s side door of the Camry. It was the side she was parked closest to. She wouldn’t even see me. Which I suppose was the point.

I waited there, squatting in the darkness and feeling a little silly. Some of the adrenaline wore off and I began to second guess myself. Just when I began to wonder if she was even still in there I heard the metal cage door squeak open. I wanted to peek but I made myself stay put. I heard light footsteps coming in my direction. I peered around from the back of the Camry. I could only see a black silhouette of a woman with long hair wearing a coat. I assumed it was her because, who else would it be, right?

While she fumbled with the keys in the door lock I swept up behind her and put one hand over her mouth while I grabbed her around the waist. I felt her muffled scream in my hand. She tried to pry my fingers away from her mouth. I heard the jingle of her keys on the pavement. I lifted her up and half dragged/half carried her to the back of my van. She struggled but was no match. I shoved her inside, keeping my hand over her mouth and then climbed in behind her.

I admit I was terrified. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I mean, at any moment a cop or some nosy bastard could have pulled into that lonely parking lot. But I kept it together. Somehow I managed to rip off a piece of tape and put it over her mouth. I remember she scratched at my face. I could feel the sting of her slash across my cheek. I shoved her face first down into the carpet of the van and brought both hands behind her back. I wrapped the tape around both wrists half a dozen times before I tore off the tape. She definitely wasn’t getting out of that. I taped her ankles together and noticed she was wearing jeans. I wondered if it was the same girl but I was in a hurry.
I closed the back door to the van. I hurried over to her car and picked up her keys off the ground. I thought it was sweat at the time but there was blood oozing down my cheek from where she scratched me. I dropped her keys into my pocket and made sure there was no other obvious evidence around. Then I got into the van. I looked back at her. I saw her eyes flashing with terror in the dim luminescence. It was the same girl. She must have changed before she came out. In addition the the jeans she was wearing something bulky on top and a coat over that.

I drove a few miles down into some office buildings that were hopefully all closed up for the night. I parked my van way in the back of one of the parking lots by some trees where it would be harder to see. I looked back at her. It was time. Look, I already told you I have my faults.

I squeezed between the two front bucket seats into the cargo space of my van. The girl struggled in fear. I noticed one corner of the tape on her mouth was starting to come off and moved to put it back in place. She flinched from my movement but I hushed her and fixed the position of the tape. I pulled my knife out and showed her the blade. I could barely make out her whimpering from underneath the duct tape. I remember exactly what I said to her.
“Look, I know you’re scared. You’re scared because you don’t know what’s going to happen. So let me tell you.” I could hear her breathing heavily through flared nostrils. I reached out to comfort her. She tried to pull away but really, where could she go? I ran my fingers through her hair. She was damp with sweat. For some reason that really got me hot. I mean, more than anything else that wet feeling in her hair woke up something animal in me. I could feel my pants getting tighter.

“I saw you earlier and I just have to see your body,” I said. “I am going to use this knife to cut your clothes so I can see your breasts.” See, I hate the word tits. “As long as you play along and don’t fight with me I’ll let you go afterwards. I give you my word.” Yeah, I was lying to her. Like I said, I got problems.

“If you struggle, I’ll slit your throat and then cut your clothes off anyway. So you can either be dead or alive it’s up to you.” She seemed to panic at my mention of her death. “Do you want to be alive?” She nodded. “Do you want me to slit your throat?” She shook her head. This was working great. “You know I’m going to cut your clothes off, right?” She shook her head and closed her eyes. It looked like her lids were squeezing out tears. I grabbed her arm and repeated myself. “You know I’m going to cut your clothes off, right?” She nodded this time, her eyes still closed and crying. “Good,” I said. “If you struggle, I’ll cut your throat. If you just lay there limp, you’ll be fine. Understand.” She just wept. “Understand?” I said again, more forcefully. She nodded. “Good,” I said, “so no struggling.”

She was wearing a jean jacket over some kind of sweater or something. I don’t know if you have every actually tried to cut clothes with a knife but it’s not as easy as you’d think. I wished I had EMT shears or even scissors. I made a couple of cuts into the jacket and tried to tear it apart but it wasn’t working. She hunched over and sobbed like a baby which didn’t exactly help either. It wasn’t going to work. So I grabbed a fistful of her hair, twisted it, and pulled her head close to me. I brought the knife right to her throat and rubbed the flat part on her neck. She tried to scream through the tape.

“Look,” I said, “I’m going to cut your hands free. When I do, you take your coat off. If you don’t, I’m going to cut your throat and let you bleed out over the carpet. Got it?” She was almost hysterical. I pulled her hair harder. “Got it?” She nodded. Still holding her hair tightly I gently sawed the tape on her wrists. She pulled her hands free. I pulled her hair again. “Take your coat off, night and slow.” She obeyed. She wasn’t going to fight me, I could tell.

“I’m going to let go of you,” I said. “The van is all locked up. You can’t get out. We’re in the middle of nowhere. If you scream, I’ll kill you, understand?” She nodded. I released her hair. Her ankles were still bound but she shimmied away from me like a fish.

“Take your sweater off,” I said. She shook her head. “Do it,” I said. She began to weep again, but she pulled the sweater off. She was wearing a plain white bra underneath. No lace. Her breasts were as big as they looked before. Underneath the bra they looked like huge white eggshells suspended by elastic.

“Okay,” said. “Now take off the bra. I just want to see your breasts.” She hesitated for a moment but actually seemed to be calming down overall. She unclasped the bra in front and pulled open the cups. Her tits fell heavy and free. They sagged but held a surprising amount of shape given their size. Her nipples were a light milk chocolate brown with large areolas. I swallowed. “Now turn around, and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to re-tape them.” She shook her head and began to cry again. She covered her breasts with her hands.

“Do it,” I growled, “or you bleed.” She slowly turned around and put her hands behind her back. I put the knife in my mouth, pressing my lips hard on the blade while I used both hands to bind her wrists again with the duct tape. When I finished I whispered for her to turn around. She obeyed. I put my knife back into my booth sheath.

She watched in obvious fear as I reached out with both hands and cupped her breasts. They were warm. I squeezed them, and fondled them gently. She shuddered in fear. I touched her nipples, and rubbed the pads of my fingers on them.

“You’ve got great breasts,” I said, “I’m going to suck them.” She shook her head. I didn’t care. I leaned over and lifted one up and suckled on it, then the other. They were delicious. Oh God, I was ready for her now.

“I’m going to take your pants off,” I said. “Don’t struggle.” She shook her head no furiously and tried to cry out again. “Look,” I said, “I’m not going to rape you. I just want to see your pussy.” She still shook her head furiously. I took out my knife again and held it up to her eye. “Before I kill you,” I warned, “I’m going to cut your eyes out.” She stopped her hysterics and instead fixated on the blade. “Now you can struggle and be half blind or just sit there while I do this.” She didn’t budge.

I reached up and unsnapped her jeans. She halfheartedly tried to pull away but I brought the tip of the blade close to her face and she melted into a weeping mess. I undid her jeans and began pulling them down. I had to take the tape off her ankles. I was ready for her to start kicking at me or something but she didn’t. Her jeans were tight, and her panties slid down her legs with her jeans, which was fine with me because it was one less step. I pushed her down onto her back and towered over her. She held her knees tightly together.

“Open your legs for me,” I said. She didn’t budge. “Open your legs for me,” I said again, holding up the knife. Slowly, she parted her legs. “Wider.” She moved them a little wider. I reached down with both arms and pushed her knees wide apart. Her pubic bush was unshaven and not as neatly manicured as I’d seen on some porn sites. I looked her in the face.

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Let me know if you want more...
-Knight