Miss Marilyn



I tripped over the metal threshold of the doorway as I hurried into the gas station’s store. I looked down immediately to see what my foot had hit then looked up, embarrassed, to see the reactions of the other two people who were inside. They averted their stares as soon as I looked over their way.

I wanted a quick cup of cappuccino to drink as I drove the long distance from Cincinnati back to Michigan and fill my tank before the rush.

Ignoring everything except my personal mission, I filled a foam cup with cappuccino, struggling to find the right size lid, grabbed a pack of sugar and a stir stick, and walked towards the counter.

I was second in line. In front of me was a very nicely shaped young woman who was certainly not dressed for the frigid fall air outside. She had on a small pink top and blue jean cutoffs which left most of her angel-kissed skin exposed. Without being obvious, I lowered my eyes to catch a glimpse of the backs of her very well shaped legs. I was hoping that she would turn around so that I could see whether the view of her front was as lovely as my view of her back.

As I tore the perforated flap on the lid of my cup, I could smell the steaming cappuccino. I also noticed the sweet, fresh fragrance emanating from the young lady. The clerk was handing her change when I heard a raspy voice coming from behind me.

“Nobody moves!”

I turned around to see two men with ski masks over their heads standing just inside the door. The skinner man had a small silver revolver in his hand. He raised it; his arm outstretched, and pointed his weapon straight at the clerk’s head as he approached her.

“Who else is here?” His voice sounded angry and urgent.

The clerk, a small middle-aged man wearing a stained red smock, just glared at him with his mouth open. It struck me that he shouldn’t have been so surprised that a hold up was taking place in that store. Considering the fairly secluded location, I would have thought that the place would be robbed every other full-moon.

“Damn it! Answer me!”

The clerk closed his mouth momentarily and looked as if he might be peeing his pants. I was mentally projecting an order to him to answer the guy before I had to watch his face explode from the impact of a bullet.


“Nobody,” he said softly. He had come so close that the end of the barrel of the gun was just inches from his nose. He looked at it, his eyes almost crossed. “Nobody else,” he
whimpers as tears began to roll down his whitened cheeks.

“Hand over all the money!” The gunman told him, as impatient as I had ever seen anyone.

The young woman in front of me turned carefully to look at the door, only to see that it was guarded by the other masked bandit. She was extremely pretty, even in her frightened state. Long auburn hair framed her youthful face. The small top didn’t do much to hide the roundness of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples.

The clerk scooped handfuls of bills out of the cash drawer and handed it over. There might have been three hundred dollars at the most. The gunman stuffed them in his pants pocket.

“Lay down!” he yelled at the clerk, who complied immediately, and then he turned his eyes toward his customers. He instantly focused on the girl in front of me. “Yea,” he said, in a different, but extremely disturbing tone of voice. “Nice.”

“Hurry up!” his companion shouted from the door.

The gunman stepped over to the girl and stood a few feet in front of her. She couldn’t move, apparently frozen with fear. “Real nice. I bet you got a sweet little cherry that needs to be popped, huh??

A sick expression washed over her face as she hears his words. I could only imagine the horror she was feeling. Her hands were trembling, just like mine.

“We’re going to have to take you along with us and have a little party for awhile.”

He reached out with his gunless hand and cupped one of her breasts with it, then moved his hand higher to grasp the edge of her pink top.