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Leslie Loves Lavender–Part 1

This is a long three part story that I wrote in 2005. It was the third story I wrote for RuthiesClub.com (no longer in operation). RuthiesClub contracted an artist to illustrate each story it published.

Leslie and Katie on the Beach. Illustration by Juan Puyal.

Leslie Loves Lavender

Part 1 of 3

Chapters 1­–4

by Matthew Dyne


Chapter 1. New Jobs

Her boss had taken sick—that’s what he told the owners. They said he was out with the flu, but Katie knew he was out with the floozy—his new secretary who’d been there a month but was already fucking for a promotion. God, his taste in women sucks, she thought.

All of that was okay with Katie—his bad fuck was her good luck, because the owners sent her to The Cranston Gallery in Westford to help hang a show of late eighteenth century watercolors. Not many twenty-eight-year-olds got to handle a collection of that stature.

By the time she got back, her boss and the floozy had been discovered and fired, and Katie got a promotion.

“You’ve been doing a wonderful job Katie,” Mr. Fahrno, one of the owners said. “They liked your work at Abbot Hall so much they made a point of calling and telling me. Thanks for the good job—they’re a big client.”

Katie knew she had done a good job. She had been inspired by the paintings, and the gallery had been impressed by the creative ways she had grouped them. But the reason for the phone call was that the curator she’d worked with, Jeff Daniels, had wanted to fuck her in the worst way and, though she had politely declined, she’d let him down easy. He wanted to show he appreciated it. She knew he was laying groundwork for the future.

Yes, Katie was a good-looking woman, very good-looking, and full of sexual energy. It was so evident that it made a lot of men nervous to be around her—they wanted to get in her pants, and they were afraid it would show. Men couldn’t keep their eyes from her curves, and Katie knew that many of them used her in their fantasies.

“We want you to manage projects,” Mr. Fahrno continued.

“I’m flattered,” Katie said, “but don’t you think I’m a little inexperienced to be a project manager?”

“You’re short on experience, but your work speaks for itself, and it isn’t only Cranston. I’ve seen you do it all—curate shows, manage restoration, write catalogs. We have a lot of faith in you.”

“Thank you. This is a big step up for me. I don’t suppose there’s a salary increase to go with the fancy new title, is there?”

“As a matter of fact there is. We’re going to pay you what we were paying your boss—Mr. Couldn’t-Keep-It-In-His-Trousers. You always did his job anyway.”

“How about a secretary? I don’t think I can do all three jobs myself.”

“Secretaries are an old-fashioned idea. We’re modernizing. We’re hiring you an assistant. The two of you should be able to juggle a couple of projects.”

“That sounds great. Thank you very much. I won’t let you down. Would you like me to write up a job description for my assistant so we can start interviewing?”

“We already picked someone. She just graduated college. She’s very smart and has a strong background in religious art, which we’re weak on. She’s an American. I hope you like her.”

Katie was thrilled with the promotion, her head was already filling with new ideas, but she wished she could have been consulted regarding an assistant who she was supposed to work with on a daily basis. I hope I like her, Katie thought.

To be the object of men’s fantasies thrilled Katie—it aroused her to tease men and not let them touch her. What aroused her more, though, were women. She would be glad to have someone who was intelligent and hardworking as a colleague, but she would have liked to choose her partner herself, and find someone who might also be a friend. They may be modernizing, she thought, but not enough to think my opinion worthwhile. I hope they didn’t pick some bimbo like that last girl.

“Four weeks from now we’re sending the two of you to France…” Katie’s ears perked up. “There’s a conference on restoration we want you to attend. We’re going to be getting more into that end of the business, so pay attention.”

“Of course I’ll pay attention.”

“What I mean is, this conference is in Cannes, and there are a lot of distractions there for two young women. Business first, then you can have fun.”

“Trust me. I won’t get into any trouble.” I wonder who this girl is you’re sending me with, she thought. Cannes sounds fantastic, I’ve never been there, but it’s going to be a drag if I have to play nursemaid to some snot-nosed American brat. Mmmm, they have nude beaches in Cannes.

Chapter 2. Birds of a Feather

Katie’s first thought when she saw Leslie was: Wow, she’s cute. Her second thought was: Wow, she’s cute.

They were both cute, and from the rear, if it wasn’t for the color of their hair, their figures were so similar that you might have thought them twins. Leslie’s hair was dark, almost black, and glistened like ripples of moonlight on a still lake. Katie’s hair was golden—bright as sunshine. Their tresses cascaded like falls down the bones of their backs, and if you could ever see them walking naked together you’d see cascades swish side to side in time to their sashay, and though many a foolish man would disagree, I say you’d enjoy glimpses of finely sculpted scapula as sensual as any breasts.

The curves of their torsos flowed to waists I longed to smooth my fingers down, and out to hips, chalices of their fertility. And, were I invited to touch even those chaste curves, or even not to touch but just to gaze upon, I would live my life to its end and never want again. And down below, cute as cute can be, two sets of rounded, full-fleshed buttocks—Leslie’s with little shadowed dimples high upon them, and Katie’s running down to parted thighs that drew me into realms I longed to share, but sadly, was not invited to go.

And that was only the rear view, which I was once given privilege to see, if but in a photograph—an image forever burned into the cells and neurons of my memory. I’m a lucky man already, I ask no more, but I digress. That is my story, not the story I wish to tell.

Leslie and Katie introduced themselves and shook hands, and sat and chatted. Their first impressions were pleasing—they thought they could work well together. Katie thought it would be nice if they could be more. She fantasized how nice it would be if they could be much more, but she was a sensible young woman—she knew how to keep reign on reality, and wasn’t about to go down the road of her slimy ex-boss. That didn’t mean that she gave up on finding out about her new colleague, and vice versa. Learning about each other is a woman’s way. Nice shirt she’s wearing, thought Katie, Nice bra too. Not like she’s giving much away, but enough to show she’s got what’s worth the getting. I would love to help her take it off. I wonder if she’ll go to the beach with me.

Chapter 3. Beach at Cannes

Katie and Leslie flew to Cannes, chatting all the way, and checked into their hotel. Mr. Fahrno’s company didn’t consider them important enough to reserve separate rooms, but they liked each other, and were happy to share one. It was first class, with a balcony and an ocean view. Katie took Leslie’s hand and brought her outside for a look. They could see the ocean, feel the sunshine on their faces, and smell the sea air. “I can see what Mr. Fahrno meant when he told me not to get distracted.

“I could listen to the sound of the waves all day,” said Leslie.

“The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

“We’re supposed to study.”

“It’s all just common sense,” said Katie. “To a couple of smart girls like us” she added.

“All just common sense,” Leslie affirmed, and then she pointed to a group of women lying on the sand. “Are you going to take your top off?”

Katie shook her head yes. “Definitely, yes” she said.

“What about all those men? I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t have to. We’ll just go down there and you can see how you feel. Plenty of women keep their tops on.”

“What about you? You don’t mind?”

“I like it. They can look but they can’t touch. What do you think that does to them?”

“It drives them crazy.”

“Exactly. They want us, but they can’t have us. Can they?”

“I love teasing, I really do, but with my clothes on. I’d be embarrassed to show myself like that.”

“Well you shouldn’t be. You have a great body.”

“You think so? It’s not as nice as yours.”

“Are you kidding? I’d take yours in a minute. Want to trade, just for the day?”

Leslie laughed. “Let’s go down to the beach. It seems the guys go nutty no matter what I’m wearing. The two of us will probably draw a crowd.”

Leslie changed into a bikini in the bathroom, and Katie changed into hers by her bed. Leslie came out in a cover-up, but you could see right through it. I’ll be disappointed if I can’t get her to take her top off Katie thought. Her breasts are gorgeous, though she hides the details. I hope she doesn’t always change in the bathroom. I wonder if she’ll let me come in to get my hairbrush when she’s in the shower.

The women went down to the beach and got towels from the hotel staff, and they found a nice spot, back from the main promenade and relatively secluded. Katie was hopeful that with the sun and the sounds of the sea Leslie would relax enough to let herself go. She’s quite conservative, Katie thought. Her suit doesn’t reveal much, but it is very stylish, and very sexy. She’s definitely not comfortable being naked in public.

“I’m a blond,” Katie said. “I’ll burn to a crisp if I don’t cover myself with lotion. You wouldn’t mind helping out would you? Be glad to return the favor.”

“The old suntan lotion trick, huh? A boy once tried that on me and nearly got my foot where it hurts.”

Katie suffered a pang of disappointment. She’s straight after all, she thought. Damn, that would be a shame. I’m here in Cannes, all expenses paid, with a sexy friend, and she likes men. Maybe she’s bi? Maybe she’d enjoy a full body massage no matter what she is—I’d give anything to rub oil all over her.

“If you don’t want to… I’ll just have to do it myself,” Katie said.

“No, I’d love to give you a rub. Why don’t you take your top off now? You obviously can’t wait to show them off.”

“Just a minute, I’m going to wait until those guys get closer.”

Leslie rolled her eyes in disbelief.

Katie waited until the two guys walking past them were close. She pretended not to notice them, but she could tell they were looking right at her, and even more at Leslie. Then she reached behind herself and pretended to be having trouble with the tie of her top. “Would you untie me?” she asked Leslie, loud enough for the men to hear.

“There’s nothing I’d like better than to help you take your top off for these two nice men,” Leslie said teasingly.

Katie gave her a dirty look, and showed her disgust to the two men while pointing toward Leslie with her head, but it didn’t stop her, and she held the cups of her top on her breasts as Leslie pulled open the bow, and then Katie took it off and revealed her breasts to the men. She shook out her hair and her breasts bobbed sympathetically. “Thank you dear,” she said to Leslie, and she gave the men a wink, but then she turned on her stomach and lay down to indicate she wasn’t inviting company.

Leslie surprised her. Without warning, she loaded her hands with suntan lotion and straddled Katie, sitting right on her buttocks, and proceeded to spread oil and rub it firmly all over her back and neck and arms. Katie was in heaven. Besides the feeling of Leslie’s hands all over her body, …at least my upper body, she thought, she could also feel the hot crease of Leslie’s spread vulva pressing into the cheeks of her ass. Katie started getting wet. She couldn’t imagine that Leslie wasn’t too.

When she was done, Leslie slid off and put the lotion bottle next to Katie and said, “You can do your front yourself. We are on a public beach you know.”

“Want me to do you,” Katie asked hopefully?

“We dark-skinned girls don’t need it,” Leslie said. She could see that Katie was disappointed, and she was sorry she didn’t say “Yes” whether she needed lotion or not. But as she had been massaging Katie’s strong back and shoulders she had, as Katie hadn’t failed to notice, been inadvertently massaging her spread pussy on Katie’s tight backside. She could feel the wet spot that had developed in the crotch of her suit. “Lotion your front and I’ll meet you in the water,” Leslie said. She left Katie, ran down the beach, and quickly jumped into the sea.

Katie finished oiling herself. Her breasts glowed with the polish she’d given them. Her nipples were aroused, but not nearly as much as they could be. Even Katie would be embarrassed walking through a crowd with her nipples looking the way she knew they could get, but she strolled slowly enough that every man she passed could take his time to memorize her loveliness, so he could take her home in memory and fuck her at his leisure.

They swam and cavorted in the sea, and then walked back to their nest, laughing playfully—the one who was remembered for so blatantly displaying herself, and the other, her friend, chaste and modest. It was more erotic than if they’d both been bare.

They lay on their backs under their umbrella, away from the crowd near the water, and Katie took a risk, put her arm under Leslie’s neck, and cupped Leslie’s shoulder with a light touch. She was rewarded—Leslie touched her back—tentatively, resting the back of a hand against Katie’s thigh. I’d love it if she’d like to go further, Katie thought. I really like her—she seems to like me.

“Do you want to take your top off now,” Katie whispered? “I think you’d like the feel of it.”

“I know I’d like the feel of it. I love walking around my apartment without a top on, but I’m too hung up to do it in public.”

Katie gave Leslie’s shoulder a friendly squeeze, and Leslie, to Katie’s surprise, turned on her side, came close, and put her arm over Katie in a modest hug. And, much less modestly, she snuggled her face into the curve of Katie’s neck. They lay together, each with an arm around the other, enjoying the touching of their skin and being held.

Leslie put her lips close to Katie’s ear and said very quietly: “I’ll show my breasts just to you.”

“You don’t have to. Really, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I want to. We’re here in Cannes, I’ve never even been in Europe before. I feel like being adventurous. I want to have fun.” Then Leslie touched her lips to Katie’s ear and whispered, “I want to be naughty.”

Katie didn’t know if she should encourage Leslie. She wanted to encourage her. She wanted very badly to be sexual with Leslie, but she wondered if she’d been too pushy, and if Leslie was only offering to show herself because she’d been pressured.”

“I know you want to see them,” Leslie said.

Katie smiled. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been looking at them all day.”

Katie laughed. “You caught me! What can I say? Well if you really want to… I think you’re beautiful.”

Leslie took a deep breath, and let it out slowly between pursed lips. “I’m going to cover myself with a towel.” She covered up and, beneath her towel, she untied the bow holding her top together, and slid its straps off her shoulders. “I’m giving this to you for safe keeping,” Leslie said with a flirtatious smile. She slipped her top out from under the towel and gave it to Katie. “Don’t run away with it, okay?”

“How about if I walk down the beach a little way, like to those guys over there, and lend it to them for a while? I’m sure they’d be glad to give it back to you if you asked them nicely.”

“Don’t you dare,” Leslie said, looking scared for real, like Katie might actually do it, being the tease that she’d been when she took her top off in front of the two men. Katie tried to give Leslie back her top, but Leslie wouldn’t take it. They started pushing it at each other, each refusing to hold on to it, and Leslie’s towel nearly fell off and she only grabbed it at the last second. They giggled, and looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed their playful tussle.

“Okay,” Katie said. “I’ll keep it safe for you. No man’s touch shall ever cross your precious bra. Now let me see them.”

They lay on their sides, facing each other, and Leslie lifted the towel so that only Katie could peek under, and she kept it that way for a long time while Katie studied her. “What a body you’ve got,” Katie said. “I’m jealous. I’d like to have a copy of you in marble.”

“Those girls had really hard nipples.” They both laughed. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Katie stretched and yawned. It made Leslie yawn too. “The sea air makes me sleepy,” Katie said.


“Why don’t we get a bite to eat, and then take a nap? Sleeping during the day is so luxurious.”

“I can’t imagine,” said Leslie. “The last time I slept during the day I must have been a baby.”

“Then we’ll be all rested up to go out for the evening.”

The girls put their breasts away and went to the hotel. As they walked to the restaurant a dress in a shop window caught Leslie’s eye. “I love lavender,” she said. “And those little gold flowers on the black ribbon sewn on the collar, and around the waist, really make it. It’s gorgeous, but subtle.”

“I like the fluted hem,” Katie said. “Want to price it just for fun?”

“Sure. Maybe they’ll let me try it on.”

The women went into the shop and the dress was exquisite. It was a one of a kind, designed in Paris, but cut and sewn locally. It would have fit Leslie perfectly too, but the shopkeeper wouldn’t even take it out of the window, let alone let her try it on. “It’s yours,” she told Leslie, “for three thousand euros.”

“Screw the bitch,” Leslie said to Katie. “What a sucky attitude. She could have at least let me look at it up close.”

Chapter 4. Bar Fright, Bar Bawl

“Don’t give me that crap,” Jacques said. You tell her to get her ass up here or she’s finished for good.”

“She don’t give a shit,” said Jimmy, “You don’t pay enough for her to give a shit.”

“You mean you don’t pay enough. I give you plenty, you greedy bastard. If you split it with her fifty-fifty like I told you, we wouldn’t have this fucking problem.”

“Yeah, well she’s gone. Deal with it.”

“I’m going to deal with it all right,” Jacques yelled into the telephone. “I’m going to come dawn and wrap your scrotum around your scrawny neck, you little prick. You’d better get that girl up here with by midnight or I’m sending Big Mike to fuck you up. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry, and don’t send Mike down here. I’ll get another girl, but we’ll have to pay her a fortune.”

“Don’t keep saying ‘we,’ asshole. You’ll have to pay her a fortune. Midnight at the Sons, Jimmy, or you’re a dead man.”

Jimmy slammed the phone down hard. He was in his office in back of the bar he owned, on a side street off the Rue Napoleon. He got out his phone book and started dialing pimps.


“Let’s get dressed up,” Leslie said.

“Let’s get dressed up sexy,” Katie replied.

“Sexy, yeah. You and me—Sassy and Sexy.”

“Which one of us is Sassy?”

“That’s you silly. Not that you’re not sexy, but you’ve got fire.”

“You’re the one that’s hot.”

“We’re going to drive those men crazy.” Leslie started taking dresses off hangers and laying them out on the bed. “Got it,” she said, and she picked up a dress and held it in front of herself to show Katie.

“Is that a dress or a slip?”

“It’s called a lingerie-inspired dress. It looks like you can see right through it, but you can’t.”

“I know what I’m going to wear. It’s an informal cocktail dress. The material is slippery like satin, and the skirt is swishy. It shows my legs, and it hugs every curve. It has a bib for a top, held up by tiny straps. It’s like a pocket you can slide your hands into, or if I bend over, a great view.”

“If you do say so yourself, and of course you won’t be wearing a bra.”

“Uh-uh. I am going to wear a bra—one that covers my pretty little titties with a tease.”

“They ain’t that little, dear.”

“It comes to just below my nipples, but there’s a little lace strip on top you can see right through, or down into it. Want to see?”

“If I know you, you’ll show me whether I want you to or not. But okay, when you get it on, if I must,” Leslie pretended to be long suffering. Katie returned a lusty smile.

They put their makeup on, and a dab of perfume, and took turns brushing each other’s hair. Then they were ready to go.

“You look like you’re naked,” Katie said.

“That’s cause I am silly.” Leslie picked up her dress and gave Katie a quick glimpse of her side from thigh to hip. Katie had already noticed that Leslie wasn’t wearing a bra either. “No one will know,” Leslie said, “except you and me.”

Oh, my God, Katie thought. She’s going out in a slip, without panties or a bra on, and she doesn’t like to show her breasts on the beach… Who does she think she’s kidding?


Both Katie and Leslie loved to dance. They danced together, and with a lot of guys, and got hit on repeatedly from the moment they walked into the club. They loved it. Each of them was a tease—together they lit up the room.

Each got hit on as much as the other: if they’d kept score it would have been a dead heat. They were in heat and, though each of them got plenty of attention, Katie was jealous. She wanted to kill every guy that Leslie danced with. It must have showed, because, after a while, Leslie came to Katie and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m not going home with any guys,” she said. “Don’t worry about that. I’m going home with you.” Leslie gave Katie another little kiss, which made Katie very happy. Her eyes became wet and glassy.

Leslie noticed. She took Katie’s arm. “Come, Katie, my friend. Let’s go home.”

“Thank you.”

The girls left the club, much to the disappointment of most of the men, and many of the women too, though all had memories of two most exquisite beauties to ravish in reveries.

“How about one more drink before we go back?” Katie asked.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Just one more. It makes me frisky.”

“You’re frisky enough. I don’t want to have to carry you to bed.”

The carry-you-to-bed part sounded good to Katie. “Just one more. Really, I haven’t had that much. Let’s go to that bar over there and have one more teensy-weensy one.”

“I don’t know… It looks kind of seedy” Leslie said. Against her better judgment she let Katie—a little drunk, but only enough to start to make her frisky—pull Leslie toward the dimly lit bar tucked away on a side street.

Katie was in her flirty sundress with its top you could easily look down into, a lacy bra through which her nipples were clearly visible, and a wisp of barely nothing for underpants, which she hadn’t bothered to mention.  Leslie wore her lingerie inspired dress that looked as if you could see right through it—that was all she had on. Both women, under the influence, their shit detectors not up to full strength, walked right into the dingy bar and slid into a booth.

Jimmy was on the phone with the eighth pimp in his book and fast running out of time. It was way too late in the day—any pimp who had a whore who might take on a job like what Jimmy had in mind was booked solid. And Jimmy was painfully aware that Big Mike was waiting in the wings. The flash of flesh out his office window caught his eye. It was the ripe flesh of two party girls the likes of which he’d rarely ever seen, and Cannes was no mean source of lovely women out for a good time. Holy shit, he said to himself, My prayers have been answered. He was a very religious man: he went to church without fail the sixth Sunday of every month, and definitely on February thirty-first. Fuck, this is dangerous, he thought, but then he thought of Big Mike. He buzzed the bartender and told him to send in Beef, the bouncer, and told him to get ready to close up early.

“I’ve got a girl show to do,” Jimmy said to Beef.

“I know. Up in the hills, like last time.”

“Trouble is, I don’t have a girl.”

Beef’s head turned slowly toward the window looking into the bar. “I see.”

“I’ll give you five hundred if you help me out.”

“I get to go to the show?”

“And you get to go to the show.”

Beef took another look at Leslie and Katie. “I should be paying you. What do you want me to do?”

“Bring the van around back. Get the webbing we use to strap cargo. The ones with the ratchets. We’ll need a bunch of them. Lay the rear seats down all the way, and do it quickly.”

“Yeah, boss. I’m on my way.”

“And turn out the lights out back.”


Jimmy quickly cut a couple of cloth napkins into quarters and stuffed them into his right pocket, and a couple of whole napkins into his left pocket. He smoothed his hair back, tucked his shirt in, and went to talk to his bartender.

“You want to come to the show tonight?”

“Sure, if you can get me in.”

“Those are the two girls who are performing.”

“You’re kidding. Where’d you get a couple of lookers like that?”

“They don’t know it yet.”

“Ahhh. Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s them or Big Mike. I need you to drive.”

“Ahhh. Big Mike—the greater of two evils. What’s in it for me?”

“Five hundred.”


Beef came back in, and Jimmy met him at the rear door. “When they leave they’ll go toward the Rue Napoleon. I’ll delay them while you get the van in place at the mouth of the alley. When they walk past, we’ll drag ’em in.”

“Why don’t I get it in place now?”

“If they go to the ladies room we’ll grab them there and take them out back. Wait here and we’ll see how to play it.”

“Right,” Beef could see what Jimmy was getting at.

Katie finished her drink. “I’m going to the rest room. Then I’ll be ready to go.” She took her purse and walked, a little unsteadily, toward the back hallway. Beef watched her from the cracked open door of the men’s room, and Jimmy watched from his office window. Jimmy gave her sixty seconds, and then walked from his office out to Leslie. “I believe your friend needs your help,” he said, looking quite concerned.

Leslie wasn’t comfortable standing up in front of Jimmy who was straining his eyes to see through her dress. She had suddenly become very conscious of her nudity. Katie didn’t seem that drunk, she thought, but she took her handbag and went out back.

The moment she went out back, beyond the view of the few patrons in the barroom, she realized that something was dreadfully wrong. A big man was standing in front of the ladies room door.  He was blocking the way. He was sizing her up. His fists were like claws. His arms were ready to grab.  And then, behind her, she heard the heavy tread of another man coming quickly forward. She knew, her instinct as a woman told her, that she was trapped, and that all escape was shut off. I must be imagining this, she thought. It’s my fear of men—it’s happened before. I’ll just turn and go back… But the bar man said Katie needs me… He must have tricked me… No it’s just wild paranoia, all I have to do is go back where those other people are and wait for her. But Leslie couldn’t make herself turn. She didn’t want to know the truth for as long as she could avoid knowing it, even if it was just for one more second.

In the next instant Jimmy was upon her, and Beef was coming on fast. Then Jimmy had his hand over her mouth. Leslie tried to scream. Jimmy stuffed a wad of cloth into her throat. She started gagging. Jimmy stuffed a rag into her mouth, so she couldn’t even close her jaw. She couldn’t get enough breath, and Jimmy’s arm was around her squeezing her tight. Her arms were immobilized. She tried to kick, but Beef caught both of her legs and lifted them off the ground. It had only been seconds, but the two men were carrying her out the rear door.

The van door was open and they roughed her in. They threw her facedown on a captain’s chair that had been fully reclined, wrapped her with nylon webbing, and ratcheted her tight. Jimmy tied another rag around her head so she couldn’t get the gag out. She’d been captured.

Minutes passed. It seemed like hours. She was breathing in gasps through her nose, two or three times a second, needing more air than she could get. And she knew—she knew but she couldn’t admit it to herself—she knew what they were going to do to her, and that it would be horrible and degrading and probably painful. In her despair, the only other thought she could wrap her mind around was that she didn’t want them to do it to her alone. She wanted Katie with her—she wanted her more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. It was selfish, and she knew it, but it was pure joy when they brought Katie into the van, writhing and screaming into her gag, and crying. They strapped her like they had strapped Leslie—facedown, and immobile. The van door shut. In moments they were on the move.

Katie looked at Leslie. Leslie was panicking, her eyes were bugging out, she was making movements with her head, thrusting her jaw toward Katie while gasping through her nose. Katie realized Leslie was suffocating.

Katie had squealed and squirmed more than Leslie. In their rush to get her under control they were only able to get one piece of cloth in her mouth, and they couldn’t gag her tightly. Now she scraped her face against the cloth of the seat and got the tie around her head to come down to her chin. With her tongue she pushed the cloth out of her mouth. “She can’t breathe,” she screamed. “Get the cloth out of her mouth. Hurry!”

Jimmy rushed over. He didn’t want a girl dying on him, and he untied Leslie’s gag and pulled the rag out of her throat. Leslie was gasping, breathing in great draughts, scared to death. “I’ll leave the rags out of your mouths,” Jimmy said, as if it were a threat. “But if you scream I’m going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

Katie shook her head “Yes.”

“Don’t hurt us, please,” Leslie begged. “We’ll do anything you say.”

“You’d better,” Jimmy said. “If one of you acts up I’m going to hurt the other one, and I’m going to hurt her bad. Get it?”

Both girls shook their head “Yes.”

Jimmy searched through Katie’s purse and he located her hotel-room key-card. “They’re at the Metropole,” he said to Emile, his bartender who was driving.

“What room are you staying in,” Jimmy asked Katie?

Katie didn’t answer—Jimmy turned toward Leslie.

“Three-forty, Katie said. Please don’t hurt her.”

“Behave yourself, and no one’s going to get hurt.”

“What are you going to do to us?” blurted Leslie.

“Shut up. You’ll find out when I’m ready to tell you.”

“Please don’t rape me. Please. I’ve never done it before. Please. Katie, don’t let them rape me.”

What can I do about it? Katie thought. She started to get angry with Leslie, but she could see that Leslie was deeply frightened, and that she was begging Katie to help her. Katie felt horribly guilty. I teased her on the beach, Katie thought, and then I pressured her into being naked to tease myself. Then I encouraged her to dress sexy, and she took it way too far—she’s so naïve. Then I insisted we go into that bar. I should have listened to her when she said it didn’t look right. I’ve acted terribly—I’ve got to learn to control myself. And now…Whatever they do to us, please, God, don’t let them hurt us.

Then Katie thought about what Leslie had said, that she hadn’t done it before and, though Katie was scared out of her wits about being hurt—raped, and who knows what, maybe even killed—how much more frightening being kidnapped by three men must be for Leslie.


If you wish to keep reading, here’s a link to Leslie Loves Lavender–Part 2:

Leslie Loves Lavender–Part 2

  1. February 6, 2011 at 5:51 am

    Matt, you certainly have made me think of posting some of my own old fiction…but yours certainly is quite intimidating from a point of ‘follow that!’. Again, superb writing and the dialogue alone gets you hooked. I think I have a lot to learn from your use of dialogue….but again very erotic and a great story!

  2. February 6, 2011 at 9:02 am

    Oh Mark. Don’t be intimidated. You’re a good writer and have all the basic material needed to become much better. I only became the writer I am in the last five years after I had editors better than I editing my work. Go for it, and I’ll help you.

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