**********ADULTS ONLY**********

Armed Robbery
(C) by Erotin Thraller

First impressions of a new boss can be so very, very wrong.

Codes:  Voy, oral, MF

Armed Robbery

Insurance is my business.  For the past ten years I've 
been an agent at an independent office which handles 
policies for a large number of nationally known 
companies.  Our clientele is varied, and I take great 
pride in our ability to provide efficient, personal 
service.  

It would be nice, I thought several times, to have my 
own agency, but that involves so many difficult 
details and such a large investment of time and money 
that it remains simply an unattainable dream.  Maybe 
I'm just not aggressive enough.  Maybe I worry too 
much.  Maybe I'm just not willing to take the risk of 
being my own boss.  Maybe I'm lazy.  My wife often 
said I'm not really much of a take-charge guy, so it's 
just been understood that I will probably spend my 
entire life working for someone else.  It is, after 
all, quite comfortable being part of an established 
agency, allowing someone else to handle all the 
headaches of taxes and other legalities.  My best 
ability is that I can sell, and I prefer to focus my 
attention what I'm good at, not those other pesky 
details which would probably keep me for doing what I 
do best. 

A couple of months ago, however, I had to wonder if I 
was making the right decision.  Our agency was sold.  
The turnover came as a complete surprise.  A few of 
the other agents were quite bitter because we were not 
given the opportunity to make an offer.  Perhaps we 
could have put together financing and made it an 
agent-owned business.  The problem was that we never 
had that opportunity.

The sale was an inside deal, and the entire 
transaction was kept secret until after it was 
finalized.  Our first clue was the day our boss walked 
in accompanied by a very dignified lady.  He 
introduced her as Ms Frost, the agency's new owner.  
Furthermore, he added, she would begin immediately to 
manage the agency personally.

With that, he was gone.  I mean, he just walked out, 
leaving us staring awkwardly at our new boss.  Most of 
us, I'm sure, had major questions about what changes 
we might experience.  Did our new owner know anything 
about insurance?  Or our office procedures?  Could we 
get along with her?  Would any of us lose our jobs?  
What would she be like personally?  Her name was not 
encouraging.  Almost immediately, I envisioned her 
being called Frosty the Snow-Boss.  

Her appearance aided and abetted that ominous 
possibility.  She was dressed in a dark blue business 
suit with pinstripes, like a male wanna-be, a blazer 
over a straight skirt which lacked about two inches of 
reaching her knees.  Her legs were nice, accented by 
her three-inch heels.  Under the blazer was a white 
blouse, plus a gold chain and large pendant, her only 
jewelry.  She looked nice, I had to admit, certainly 
better than the previous owner with his unruly 
sideburns.

Ms Frost smiled stiffly, walked around the office 
inspecting our cubicles, calling us by name.  
Obviously, she had done her research and already knew 
our names.  In the next few minutes, she spent a bit 
of time with each of us, apparently linking names with 
faces.  Then she said to go on with business as usual.  
Shortly after that, a moving truck arrived.  Our 
previous owner's personal stuff was moved out, and Ms 
Frost's new desk was installed.  Through it all, she 
established herself as a no-nonsense manager.  Her few 
smiles were awkward, almost forced, and I had the 
distinct premonition that it would be easier to argue 
with an old bear than to work for her.  That evening 
when I explained to my wife what had happened, she 
simply smiled in her knowing way and said I would just 
have to deal with it.  Thanks a lot.

Over the next few weeks, as we agents had opportunity 
to speak together confidentially, we found that our 
new owner-manager was a complete mystery.  She 
provided nothing by way of a resumé.  There was 
nothing about her on the internet.  One agent secretly 
arranged with a policeman friend to run a background 
check on her, but that turned up absolutely nothing.  
Another tried to do a trace through the Post Office, 
but lacking a previous address that produced nothing.  
Eventually, we caved in, realizing we were at her 
mercy, accept it or leave.

Meanwhile, Ms Frost arrived promptly at the office 
each morning looking much the same.  Apparently she 
had a large collection of suits, all of which were 
basically alike, with only slight color or fabric 
differences.  Only the blouses varied, sometimes 
bright or occasionally subdued, but always she wore 
the same gold necklace and pendant.  The mystery 
deepened.

One of our agents tried to spy on her, hoping to learn 
where she lived.  He failed.  When he reported back to 
us, he said she walked down the street to the bus 
stop.  He watched her get on the bus, but he never did 
see her get off. 

Another agent, a single fellow who had been in the 
office less than a year, tried to date her.  We 
watched him leaning over her desk, but we couldn't 
hear what he said.  Or what she told him.  After a few 
seconds, he returned to his desk, cleaned out 
everything, and left without saying a word to any of 
us.  Talk about intimidation.  Seeing him summarily 
fired like that caused us all to work especially hard, 
not only for the rest of that day but every evening 
during the ensuing weeks.  In fact, all of us began 
putting in many longer hours, just to make certain we 
could keep our jobs.   Even so, the boss never 
mentioned the firing.  In fact, she seldom talked to 
any of us except to assign new clients or to ask 
questions about some policy.  She was always strictly 
business.  The Frosty moniker was coming true.

My wife did not understand and complained loudly about 
all the hours I spent at work.  I tried to explain, 
but she would not listen to my reasons.   She said she 
was tired of my being held hostage by my job, but my 
suspicion is that she wanted to find someone who could 
support her in the wealthy manner which matched her 
dreams.  Good luck.  Soon afterward she moved out.  
Divorce papers followed a few days later.  I still 
miss her, but not that much.

One night last week, as I was finishing my meal at a 
restaurant near the office, my cell phone rang.  It 
was Ms Frost asking me to return to the office.  She 
had just then scheduled an interview for me with a 
client early the next morning, and she wanted me to 
pick up the file so I would be ready for it.  This was 
something new, and it made me more than a bit anxious.  
Without questioning her further, I assured her I would 
be right there.

When I arrived, most of the area businesses were 
already closed, so I ignored the parking garage and 
pulled up to the curb in front of the office.  
Actually, there was little for me to do inside except 
pick up the file and put it in my attaché case.  I 
promised to familiarize myself with it later at home, 
and then Ms Frost and I left the office together.  
Back at my car, I stowed my case in the trunk.  It was 
then I realized she was still standing beside me.  
"Yes?" I asked.

"I really hesitate to appear paranoid," she smiled, 
"but quite frankly, this neighborhood is very 
unnerving after dark.  Do you suppose I could impose 
on you to walk with me to the bus stop down on the 
corner and wait there with me until the bus arrives?"

"Certainly, it will be my pleasure," I assured her, 
still puzzled at her request, but aware there was no 
way I could afford to refuse.  "My car is right here.  
If you would like, I could give you a ride.  There's 
no sense riding the bus unnecessarily."

"Oh, no.  I appreciate your offer, but it won't be 
necessary.  I don't mind riding the bus.  I just need 
to have some reassurance until I can get on."

So I honored her request and walked with her to the 
bus stop.  The street was, I had to admit, very poorly 
lit and the darkness was rather intimidating.  There 
was no one else at the bus stop.  Checking the 
schedule posted on the pole, I found the bus was not 
due for another half an hour.  

"This will never do," I complained.  "Are you sure you 
won't let me give you a ride.  You could be home even 
before the bus arrives here," I insisted.

"Oh, no.  I can't inconvenience you like that."  She 
actually smiled, but I had the feeling there was 
something else afoot, even though I couldn't figure 
out what it was.  Her actions were far different from 
her typically established behavior.  Or maybe I still 
didn't really know her.  Perhaps she simply did not 
want me to know where she lived.  "I tell you what," 
she continued as she pointed down the street.  
"There's a little coffee shop only two doors down.  We 
can wait in there and watch for the bus to come."  She 
smiled,  "I'll buy you a latté."

I hesitated.  Then she added with yet a broader smile, 
"And a donut?"

"Oh, all right," I agreed.  Her demeanor was so 
different from the persona she projected in the office 
that I had to laugh.

She took my arm and led me down the street.  Strange, 
I thought.  Our office is just up the street, and I've 
been working there for years, but I've never seen a 
coffee shop here.  Maybe it's because I always use the 
parking garage behind the office, I decided as we 
entered the shop.  The place was indeed quite small.  
There were three or four tables and a couple of 
booths.  One booth was by the only window, which was 
nearly covered over by posters advertising various 
coffee drinks.  We sat in the second booth, and I 
found there was one small opening where we could peek 
out to watch for the bus.  

The waitress was either extremely tired or very bored.  
She greeted us with "Yeah, whatta ya want?"  That's 
all.  We gave our order, and without another word she 
was gone.  Apparently she was the only employee in the 
shop, and we were the only customers.

"Not exactly a major enterprise," I observed, not 
knowing how create small talk with Ms Frost, since we 
had never spoken on any personal matters, and this 
hardly seemed the time or place to be talking 
business.

"I've been here at other times when it was quite 
busy," she informed me.  "With only one more bus 
stopping here tonight, most people have already gone."

"At least they provide prompt service," I replied as I 
watched the girl returning with our drinks.  Then I 
reminded her, "I ordered a chocolate donut with that."

"Sorry," she frowned, looking at her watch.  "I'll get 
it for you."

"Are we keeping you from closing?" I asked.

"No, we're open 'til the last bus leaves.  Sometimes 
people wait here, and we make a few sales."

"Like us," Ms Frost interjected.

"Like you," the girl echoed, then added, "so take your 
time."  With that she retreated behind the donut 
display.  She was still there when the door burst 
open.  He was one of those non-descript men you often 
meet on the street.  You see one and you've seen them 
all, but ten minutes later you couldn't give an 
adequate description of him even if you tried.  This 
man's face was grimy, his hair mussed, and his 
clothing so filthy that its original color was 
completely obliterated. 

I leaned turned away and looked out the window, 
seeking any sign of expected the bus.  That's when the 
girl screamed.  "Not you again!" she shouted.

"Yeah, it's me," the man grinned, pulled an old 
revolver from his pocket, pointed it at the waitress, 
then picked up the phone and jerked the wire from the 
wall plug.   

"Get down!" I instructed Ms Frost.  Her back was to 
the door, so she hadn't seen any of this.

"What's happening?" Ms Frost asked, laying her head on 
the table.  

I indicated she should remain quiet.  "It's a 
robbery," I explained.  "Don't attract any attention.  
Maybe he'll leave without bothering us."

"Okay, girly," the man shouted, "give me the money."  

"All right, all right, I will," she spoke loudly, "but 
there's not much tonight."

"Whatever it is, I'll take it," the man demanded, then 
held out a plastic grocery bag.  The girl readily 
complied with his demand, opening the till and 
dropping the few wadded bills into it.  The two stared 
at each other for a few moments.  Then he spoke again.  
"Well, come on, girly.  You know the drill.  Get with 
it!"

"Not again!" she protested.

"That's how it works.  Otherwise I may not have time 
to get away.  So quit stalling and get out here!  You 
know what to do."

Reluctantly, the girl came from behind the counter.  
Slowly, she removed her apron, and the man held out 
the bag.  "Just put it in here with the money, honey, 
because your clothes are all going with me.  That way 
I know you'll stay put.  The girl was already 
unbuttoning her blouse."

"What's he doing?" Ms Frost asked.

"Shhhh!  He's making her undress."

Ms Frost responded with some unintelligent sound, but 
I was engrossed with watching the girl.  When she had 
removed her blouse, the man once again held out the 
bag.  Then he watched her intently as she stripped off 
her slacks, her bra and her panties.  She stuffed 
everything into his plastic bag, and then she just 
stood there, stark naked, in the center of the room.  
With only one window and it blocked by posters, I knew 
there was little chance anyone outside could see what 
was going on.  We were all on our own, and that was 
frightening.   Even so, unnerved as I was by the 
ordeal, I had to admit the girl was a beauty.  Maybe 
it had been her attitude, or the apron she had been 
wearing, I'm not sure what, but I had not been at all 
impressed with her when I came in.  Now, seeing her 
totally naked, I realized she was indeed very pretty.  
I would really have appreciated her even more, had I 
seen her under different circumstances. 

"Okay, okay," the girl snapped.  "You've had your 
jollies again.  Take a good look and then go!  Go 
before someone comes."

I was also hoping the man would leave, but instead he 
looked directly at me.  "You thought I didn't see you 
two hiding in that booth.  Well, I see you, and now 
I'm going to see a lot more of both of you!" 

"They're customers," the girl pleaded.  "Leave them 
alone."

"Well, I don't want them running for help," he 
explained.  "And the best way to keep them in here is 
to take their clothes."

"Oh, great," I whispered.  On sudden impulse, I gulped 
down the rest of my latté, shoved my cell phone and 
car keys into the empty cup, then replaced the lid.  
By then the robber was standing by our booth.

"Well," he said as he stared down at Ms Frost, "we 
have a classic beauty here.  A right proper lady, 
business suit and all the rest," he leered.  "Maybe 
there's not much money in the till tonight, but it 
looks like I struck gold right here in this booth."

"No!" Ms Frost announced.  "Leave us alone."

"Oh, a feisty one, eh?  All the more fun."  He turned 
to the waitress, "Lock the door.  Looks like I'm going 
to be here longer than I thought."  When the girl 
hesitated, he pointed the revolver at her.  She 
jumped, and a moment later said, "All right.  We're 
locked in."

"Good," the robber grinned.  "Now, come on back here 
and sit down so I can keep an eye on you."  Then he 
nodded at me, "I knew she'd see it my way.  Now, you, 
stand up."

"What?" I asked.

"I said to stand up.  I don't want any distraction 
later when this here nice lady starts to get nekkid, 
so let's get you out of the way first.  Stand up and 
strip.  Once you're out of your clothes you'll not be 
apt to create a problem."  He waved the revolver 
menacingly, and I decided to do as he said.  When I 
stood, he motioned for the girl to take my seat.  She 
obeyed without comment.

It was then I realized both women were going to watch 
me take off my clothes.  It was bad enough having the 
robber wave that gun around, but stripping in front of 
my boss and a naked waitress was quickly becoming 
embarrassing.  I didn't know which was worse.

Arguing with any man who has a gun is pure stupidity, 
and this guy certainly appeared to be unstable enough 
to use it.  I had no choice.  

"We're going to need a two more bags," the man told 
the waitress.  "Do you have any here?"

"I guess so," she answered nervously.

"Well, don't just sit there.  Go get them," he 
ordered.

The naked girl slid out of the booth and headed for 
the counter.  For a moment I had reprieve and was able 
to postpone my undressing.  Her cute little behind did 
flip-flops as she walked away.  Nice, I thought.  Then 
I wondered what she would say about mine in a few 
minutes after it was uncovered.  Soon she was back, 
and the robber ordered me to put my clothes in the 
bag.  Grudgingly, I began to obey.  Just wait, I 
thought.  Once the police catch you, I'll have my 
revenge.  I'm memorizing every feature on your 
miserable face so I can identify you.  Just you wait, 
I thought as I removed my necktie.

Aware there was no sense in dragging out the 
inevitable, I peeled off everything.  Well, almost.  
"May I keep my shoes?" I asked.  "Yeah, I guess," he 
allowed.  "They're too little for my feet anyway."  
Last of all, I peeled my shorts down my legs.  As I 
stuffed them in the bag with my other clothing, I 
thought I heard Ms Frost murmur something, but I 
couldn't make out what it was.  The waitress smiled 
briefly at her, then her face returned to its previous 
look of terror.  What is it that keeps bothering me 
about this entire scene? I wondered.

"Okay, Miss Highandmighty," the robber snapped, "let's 
get on with the main event."

"Main event?" Ms Frost asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, this guy's not much to look at, and I've 
already seen this little waitress when I was here 
before.  So stand up, and let this guy have your seat.  
It's time for your butt to debut."  He laughed at his 
pun, then snapped, "Move it!"

Ms Frost was agonizingly slow in pulling herself from 
her seat.  Taking my cue from her, I was equally slow 
in settling into the booth.  

"Listen up, you guys!" the robber snapped.  "I don't 
got all day.  Get with it, Lady, or I'll rip those 
clothes off you myself, and it would be a shame to 
ruin them."

"What difference does it make?" she asked.  "You're 
going to steal them anyway."

"Cute," he grinned.  "Now, let's see what you really 
look like."

Ms Frost was in no hurry.  She took her time removing 
her blazer and equally as much time folding it 
carefully before placing it in the bag.  Then she 
began to unbutton her blouse.  The suspense was 
deadening.  I wanted to see her naked, maybe even more 
than did the robber, not under these circumstances, of 
course, but I really wanted to see her in the 
altogether.  When she removed the blouse, I was 
shocked to see she was wearing a lace bra.  Somehow I 
expected something more fitting her typical demeanor, 
like maybe one made of denim or canvas.  Even so, the 
lace bulged in ways which gave promise of good things 
to come.  The big surprise, however, came when she 
dropped her skirt.  Rather than pantyhose, she 
revealed thigh-high nylons held up by a lace garter 
belt.  Panties were nowhere to be seen, but her well-
trimmed pubic bush certainly was.  I was impressed.  
She took her time getting out of her nylons, but then 
stepped back into her shoes.

"You said he could keep his," she insisted. 

"All right," he agreed hoarsely, obviously taken in by 
the view.

Then she unsnapped her bra, releasing the most 
magnificent set of twins I've ever seen.  Not that I'm 
no expert on boobs, but, well, let's just say that I 
would have been a whole lot more frustrated at my 
wife's leaving if she had sported a rack like that.  
Wow!  Now Ms Frost was wearing only her shoes and that 
gold medallion, which hung down between her breasts.  
The effect was dramatic, pleasingly so.  I repeat:  
Wow!

"Turn around," the robber ordered.  "I want to 
remember this view."  Ms Frost turned slowly. Then 
paused.  "Keep turning," he ordered.  "This is worth 
the price of admission."  He stared for a few moments, 
then added, "It's sure a shame to let such beauty go 
to waste."  He paused while he considered her.  Ms 
Frost was still slowly turning, and I was enjoying the 
view as much as the robber.  "On the other hand," he 
said, "there's not much I can do and still keep the 
rest of you under control."  She kept turning.

"Okay, enough," the guy said.  Then he added, "Give me 
your necklace."  

"No, not that," she balked.  

He raised the revolver, and she obeyed, handing him 
the medallion and the chain.

"Good girl," he said with a leer.  "Now, let's have a 
little fun."  He turned toward me and ordered, "Stand 
up here, Man."  I stood.  "Now, Lady, you get down 
there on the floor."

"No," Ms Frost snapped.  "That tile floor is cold."

The robber turned to the girl in the booth.  "Go get 
that rug by the door.  Lay it out here."

The girl obeyed quickly, then slid back into the 
booth.  That's strange, I thought, but the robber was 
demanding my attention.

"Now, Miss Priss," the robber ordered.  "Get down 
there ...on your back."  This time Ms Frost obeyed 
without complaint.  "Spread your legs," he ordered.  
"And you," he looked at me, "get down there on her.  
Do her.  Lick her.  Warm her up.  Then stick it in 
her.  You've been wanting to do that ever since you 
came in here, didn't you?  Now's your chance.  You 
don't have to ask.  Just do her.  She's waiting for 
you."  

Indeed she was.  Her legs were spread wide. Her hands 
were under her head, like a cushion, and her breasts 
rolled gently in time with her heavy breathing.  

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I knelt over her.

"Go ahead," she whispered back.  "Let's get this over 
with so we can get out of here."

"I'm not sure I can," I told her quietly.  I looked 
over my shoulder and saw the robber was watching me 
intently.  So was the naked girl in the booth.  "I'm 
not used to having an audience," I complained.

"Come on.  I'm sure you can do it," Ms Frost insisted.  
I moved down between her legs and found she was 
soaking wet.  I licked, and the taste of her juices 
was like nothing I had ever experienced before.  Had 
she douched with perfume?  Was this her natural 
flavor?  Whichever, the effect was erotic, even when 
being forced as I was by the robber.  

I had stroked her with my tongue only a few times 
before she grew impatient and pulled me up over her.  
Her action surprised me because I had been using my 
tongue as a way of postponing the inevitable 
embarrassment of being too frightened to have an 
erection.

"All right, let's get on with this," she whispered.  
"Here, I'll help."  Her fingers traced downward along 
my belly, then grasped my limp member and began 
massaging it.  "Will that make it easier?" she 
whispered in little more than a gasp.  Before I could 
answer, she lifted her thighs, pushed, and just like 
that I was inside her.  Inside and pumping.  And she 
was humping right back at me.  I expected this to be 
like a forced rape, but instead she was doing me as 
much as I doing it to her.  We shared an exciting 
moment of extreme intimacy.  Then, when suddenly I 
exploded inside her, I realized she was throbbing with 
her own violent orgasm.  Impossible, I thought.  How 
can we both come, and at the same time, even under 
intimidating circumstances like this?  I was ecstatic.  
I wanted the moment to last, but eventually, I pulled 
myself free and looked around.  The robber was gone.

"He left while you two were, ah, involved," the 
waitress smiled.  "So I guess we're here alone."

"Without any clothes," Ms Frost observed, sitting up.  
She wore a wry smile.  Nothing more.

"Now what do we do?" I asked.

"It's okay," the waitress said.  "I have a supply of 
aprons in the closet.  You can use one of them to 
protect your modesty when the police come."

"Police!" Ms Frost exploded.  "No way.  I can't afford 
for them to see me like this.  Nor do I want to tell 
them what happened here tonight.  No way."

"But the robbery," the waitress insisted.  "I have to 
file a report.  Or the insurance won't pay."

"I tell you what," Ms Frost began, "I'll cover your 
losses.  I'll repay you for whatever money he took, if 
you'll not report this.  Please let me do this.  
Deal?"

"Well, if you say so," she agreed.

"Good.  You come to my office tomorrow, and I'll give 
you the money."  She stood, then turned to me.  "It 
looks like I'm going to need that ride after all.  I'm 
sure that last bus has already gone."  As she spoke, a 
tiny stream of semen crept down her thigh.  Casually, 
she picked up a napkin from the table and wiped 
herself.  That's when I realized my limp member was 
also wet and dripping.  With that same wry smile, she 
reached down with her napkin and wiped away the drip, 
then handed it to me.  "Souvenir," she added with a 
rather lurid grin.  I was too surprised to speak.  Ms 
Frost then turned to the waitress and asked, "Miss, 
can we have a couple of those aprons so we can get to 
his car without being arrested?"

The girl disappeared into a back room, quickly 
returning with two oversized white baker aprons.  They 
were large enough to cover most of Ms Frost, but mine 
left a lot of my backside exposed.

"What about you?" I asked the girl.

"Oh, that robber's been here so many times that now I 
keep a change of clothes in the back room.  So I'll be 
all right," she smiled sweetly, still not bothering to 
cover her nakedness.  Somehow, that seemed strange, 
but I still couldn't figure out why.

Finally I retrieved my keys and cell phone from the 
paper coffee cup, thankful for once that I had the 
foresight to conceal them.  Outside, the street was 
deserted, and we made a mad dash up the street for my 
car.

Surprise!  There on the curb beside my car were the 
two bags containing our clothing.  I quickly pulled on 
my pants, then checked my wallet.  It was all there, 
including the cash and credit cards.  

"Now, why would he do that?" I asked as I opened the 
car door for Ms Frost.  She simply shrugged, already 
untying her apron.  I stood for a moment watching as 
her beautiful twins disappeared into the cups of her 
bra.  "You're really very beautiful," I told her.

"Thank you," she smiled.  "And you're a good sport."

Once I was inside the car, I began to laugh 
uncontrollably.  Ms Frost was very quiet, and suddenly 
I was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Ms Frost.  As much as I enjoyed having sex 
with you, I'm sorry it was like this."

"I'm sorry it was like this, too," she offered, 
pulling on her blazer.  "I think we ought to talk 
about it.  But let's wait until tomorrow.  Right now, 
I think I just need to go home."

I finished getting dressed, and then she gave 
directions.  Following her instructions, I drove 
across the city to where eventually she had me stop in 
front of a large home in a really nice section of 
town.  

"What is this area?" I asked.

"Libido Lane," she replied.  And then she was gone.

As I waited for her to get safely inside, I noted the 
number was 97230.  I'll remember that, I decided.  
Then I drove slowly back to my own home.  So much had 
happened, stuff I needed to sort out, that it was a 
major relief when I was finally safe at home.  I 
soaked for half an hour in a very hot shower.

It was while I was drying off that I remembered my 
appointment the next morning.  I had not even looked 
at the new client's file, and in my haste to get home 
I had left my attaché case in the car.  Oh, well, it 
could wait.  It wouldn't be the first time I had gone 
into an interview without adequate preparation.  It's 
amazing how well one can do by just faking it.  
Clients typically will tell what you need to know.

After all the excitement, sleep came late that night.  
Usually I wake up before the alarm goes off, but the 
next morning I was still sound asleep when the chimes 
sounded.

Hurrying to make my morning appointment, I retrieved 
my case from the car trunk and opened the file only 
long enough to check the address.  It was in an area 
not far from the office.  I drove there and parked in 
front, suddenly surprised when I found the building 
number on that same little coffee shop where I had 
been the previous night.  

Warning lights flashed in my head.  Ever so 
cautiously, I opened the door and peered in.  There 
was an attractive girl behind the counter, but I did 
not recognize her.  She was wearing a white apron that 
was all-so-very-familiar.  With a sudden attack of 
paranoia I looked closer to make sure it was not all 
she was wearing.

"I believe I have an appointment," I told her.

She called over her shoulder, "The insurance man is 
here!"  Then she smiled back at me, "The owner will be 
out in a moment.  Meanwhile, if you'd like a 
complimentary latté, I'll fix you one." 

"That would be nice," I told her.  "You choose one you 
think I would like."  With that, I sat at one of the 
center tables, not really ready to risk sitting in a 
booth.  I did, however, make sure that I was facing 
the door.

A moment later, she came into the room.  I was 
dumbfounded.  Approaching me was the girl who had been 
the waitress the previous night, only now she was 
dressed in a very attractive blouse and an expensive 
pair of slacks.

"Good morning," she smiled.  "I trust you had a good 
night's sleep."

"I've had better," I informed her.  "Don't tell me you 
own this place?"

"Quite right," she smiled again, sitting in the chair 
opposite me.  My husband and I just bought the 
property a few weeks ago, and you need to know right 
up front that this meeting is not a joke.  We really 
do want to purchase insurance on this business."

"After last night, I can understand why," I responded.

"Have you spoken with Ms Frost yet this morning?" she 
asked.

"No," I countered.  "Is there a reason why I should?"

That's when he came from behind the counter.  He was 
dressed in a sport coat and blazer, fresh and neat, 
but even cleaned up and properly dressed it was 
obvious that he was the previous night's "armed 
robber."

"Oh, here's my husband now," the waitress smiled.  "If 
you had spoken with Ms Frost, she might have warned 
you, but I guess she wanted you to work this out for 
yourself."

"Apparently," the man agreed.

"So the 'armed robbery' was all a hoax?  A made-up 
charade?" I asked, finally realizing why I had felt 
suspicious the entire evening.

"Something like that," the man smiled as he sat down.

"You see," the girl continued, "she's been interested 
in you ever since your divorce, but office affairs are 
not always good for business."

"So we worked up this little scheme," the man began, 
"to allow her, shall we say, to check out the 
merchandise."

"Don't worry," the girl laughed.  "You passed."

"Passed?" I asked, still amazed at this strange turn 
of events.

"Approved," she corrected, "and just as soon as you 
can sell us proper insurance coverage, you need to 
call her.  I think she intends for the two of you to 
take the rest of the day off."

"Together," the man added.  "Together."

~~~~~
The Beginning?

Your comments are invited.
erotinthraller@gmail.com





  
Armed Robbery