I look around but mostly at the guy with a gun. "Come on, I don't have all night. Well actually. I do. Albert, fucking speed this up. Brian, help him." The two men from next to me hold me and pin me down to the ground, showing not much sympathy to the pain it was slamming me on the hard floor. The man on my left starts to take my shirt off. I cry and try to beg them. "P-please let go of me! I'll give you all the money I have, ten dollars!" All of them laugh and the guy who was holding me said "Sorry to break the news. But you're free ass for us. Money can't make us feel as good as you will." I cry as the man on my right pulls my shirt off, I tried to get up as he let go of my arm to get my shirt off but he just slapped me back down and took the button off my pants with my shirt still on my right arm. The man to my right looks at me "Stupid bitch boy, you can't get away, if you try we will just shoot you, got that?" I nod as the other guy continues to take my pants off. The man with. Why was I feeling that it wouldn’t be that easy?Reaching the brow of the slope, I saw the sea, to my right, flat and calm and reflecting the sun like splashes of diamonds. And straight ahead of me was the bench, which I knew well. Just as well known, from a distance of, say, fifteen yards, was the profile figure of Connie Summers, the gentle breeze flexing her tawny hair.She was staring out to sea, as I slowed, but the crunch of my footsteps on the shale made her turn her head. Seeing me, brought her to her feet, her eyes wide, and giving me a quick up and down look. “Oh, I was expecting someone else,” She said, in a surprisingly refined voice.Drawing closer, I took in the way her blue summer dress clung to delicate curves. I quickly noticed the two lower buttons were undone. Shapely yet so slender was my hurried observation, as I told her, “Sergeant Casper can’t get away.”“Sent his apologies, did he?” her voice took on a cynical edge.Why should I lie? “Not exactly,” I said.Her eyes.
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