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“Shut up, bitch!” He hisses, and suddenly he looks much younger than what I thought initially. Slumped on the alley, he looked as if he had sixty years on him, but now that he’s up close I’d say he isn’t older than forty. “Money and phone,” he growls, taking a small knife from one of the pockets in his ragged jacket.
“Okay, okay…!” I cry out, holding my breath as the foul stench of alcohol and cigarettes hit me. I fish my cellphone and wallet from inside my purse, and he snags them out from my hands as fast as lightning.
“What the fuck is this?” He whispers, disappointed, as he looks at my old cellphone. I’ve always been somewhat of an old-school girl, and so I still have one of these old flip phones, a throwback to when people used the things to talk to each other. With an angry scowl, he throws my cellphone to the ground, the back cover jumping out and turning into a million plastic pieces. For good measure, he presses the heel of his boot onto the screen, ruining it for good.
“Just take the money and go!” I say as he opens my wallet, frowning as he takes three five-dollar bills from the inside.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He whispers, leaning into me threateningly. The stench coming from his mouth hits me in full-force, and I make an effort not to retch.
“The credit cards… Take them!”
“The fuckin’ credit cards, uh?” He whispers to himself, taking a golden one from inside the wallet and making it turn in its fingers. “You’ll just cancel them and --” he stops talking as his eyes find the salient silver letters on the plastic card, spelling out my name. “I know you!”
“I don’t think --”
“Yeah, you’re that singer from that Saturday show…” The creases in his forehead seem to deepen, and his eyes start to wander up and down my body. This isn’t looking good. “A woman like you likes expensive things, right?” He asks me, his eyes focused on my shoes. Oh, seriously? “Take ‘em off! Now!” He growls, waving his knife at my shoes. “Or I’ll cut ‘em off of your pretty lil’ feet!”
“Screw you!” I hiss right back at him, snagging my wallet from his hand and kicking him hard in the shins. No way in hell am I giving him my Christian Louboutin’s. These heels cost more than $1000, and no way in hell am I going to hand them out without a fight.
You don’t mess with a girl's’ shoes.
“Fuckin’ bitch!” He cries out, pushing one arm back and then hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. The impact makes me spin around, and I feel something give out inside my ankle. I press my back against the wall, losing control of my body, and then stumble onto the dirty pavement.
“I told you I’d cut ‘em off your feet, bitch,” he says, lowering his voice as he points his knife at me, taking on
e heavy step toward me. My heart tightens up inside my chest and I hold my breath, my brain trying to think of a way out but finding none.
I’m screwed.
“Maybe I’ll cut something else too…” He continues, the blade in his knife reflecting the alley behind him. I grit my teeth, preparing to try and fight him off, and that’s when I see something - someone? - reflected on the mugger’s blade.
And, just like that, something hits him on the side of his head and he falls over, his narrowed eyes turning white as he loses consciousness.
What the hell?
31
Sanders
Red dress, black high heels, and a confident strut - now that’s a woman whose every step demands attention.
I stroll casually down the sidewalk, keeping the distance, but my eyes are drawn to the perfect shape of her body. Every step she takes makes her body sway in a delicious way, her thighs moving unhurriedly and her ass cheeks clenching in such a way that I can’t help but imagine how it’d feel to slide my hands down the side of her body.
Damn. That ass is basically rippling. What I wouldn’t do to put my tongue in the middle of those cheeks. Just lick. Oh, yeah. Then pull out my cock and stick it in between those cheeks. Give them a good smack. Unngh. I bet she has no idea what I want to do to that fucking hot body.
Okay. I gotta stop this.
I take one deep breath and keep on walking, watching as a few girls approach the woman in the red dress, cellphones in their hands. I feel the muscles in my body tightening up as the woman stops more than twice for photographs, and I only relax when she starts going on her way uninterrupted.
Suddenly, she stops right before an alleyway, and I stop dead in my tracks as I notice her walking toward the shadows there and talking to someone. She clutches her black purse close to her chest and, still talking, hurries inside the alley.
What the hell?
I keep my steady pace as I close in on the dark alley, and I stop right in front of the narrow gap between two apartment buildings. I blink once, and then twice, as my eyes adjust to the dim light of the alley; in the distance, I see the woman in the red dress shouting something at a man in a dirty jacket, and I immediately realize what’s going on. I grit my teeth, ball my hands into fists, and feel a violent fire incinerating every single one of my muscles.
And that’s when I see the glint of a blade.
Fuck.
