9 Paradise Lane

I took out my flashlight and shined it on Chuck. I gasped; he was bleeding from the head. I shined it on his wife, who was whimpering and looked terrified.

"Fuck, things had already gone wrong," I said to myself, wondering what to do next. The plan was falling apart.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to regain my composure, my eyes stinging from my own sweat. I turned and rifled through some desk drawers and just tossed things around, remembering that I was supposed to make it look like a robbery. I moved over by the bed and saw the woman trying to pull her nighty down with her bound hands. It struck me as funny, so, being mischievous, I pulled it back up, way up, reveling these little white panties. They seemed to be mesh. I gave her a playful smack on the ass and went about my duties.

I didn't find anything worth keeping. I recalled that Rebecca told me about an office. I tied the woman's feet to a bedpost, and raced down the hall and found it on my second try. (I have a bad memory, and all the doors looked the same in the dark.) I flipped on a light switch and saw some money on the desk with a wallet and a few coins. I cursed, as his money was a mess and made up of mostly ones. I put it in my sack with the wallet and then started rifling through the drawers. I found his truck keys. "Yes!" I cried out. There was one drawer that I couldn't open until I used the tire iron. Moving some papers, I found a camera.

"It's got to be," I thought to myself. "It looks the same." Relief flooded over me. I had what I was looking for. Now I just went around the house, knocking shit over. It was kind of fun.

I raced back into the bedroom. Chuck was moaning. I flashed my light on him and saw he was pulling at his bindings. I shook my gun at him and moved him down and tied him to a bedpost. He was cursing into his gag. He didn't look so big and tough, now.

When I stood up, I noticed his wife again. She looked so helpless all tied up on the bed, squirming about. She had managed to pull her nighty down again.

Something suddenly caught my eye. I jumped back in panic and then let out a deep sigh. It was only my mirrored moonlit reflection. I had almost forgot about the ski mask. I stared at my reflection. It got me thinking. I shifted my eyes to the woman on the bed. Rebecca's voice ("You'll have a gun...she'll do whatever you tell her") was ringing in my ears. I battled with my judgment.

"Ah, a little peek won't hurt." I untied her feet and then grabbed the woman by the ankles and dragged her off the bed, while Chuck was frantically screaming into his gag. I pulled her up to her feet and pushed her down the hall into their office.

I led her over to the desk. With my arm I cleared off the desk in one swipe. I picked her up by the waist and sat her on the desk. I took some breaths before I put my tire iron, flashlight, and the sack (I was tired of carrying them around) on a bookshelf. I kept the gun. I moved back over to the woman to check her out. She looked away and moaned when I brushed against her. She smelled so womanly; it sent my heart racing even faster. I wanted to see more.

I pulled on the top of her nighty and took a peek. (Wow! Rebecca was right about her large breasts.) I pulled on this little bow on her nighty that was right in between her breasts, but I stopped. I thought about how exciting it had been in that closet, watching Rebecca being made to strip. I knew I could have torn her clothes off, but I wanted her to do it.

I untied her hands (not the smartest criminal move in the world) and stepped back. Her hands went to her gag.

"NO!" I snapped, waving my gun. She whimpered and dropped her hands.

"On your feet."

She didn't move until I pointed the gun at her.

I looked her over. Her nighty was baby blue with white lace. So Sexy. I pictured it lying on the floor. Even sexier.

"Strip," I said, as forcefully as I could. I was surprised that she didn't even waver until I realized that I still had my gun pointed at her. I gulped when she slipped one shoulder strap off and then the other and it slid down her body. She covered her ample breasts with her arms as I stared at her. I was also in awe of my power. I waved the gun, and her arms dropped. I gulped again. Her breasts were large and firm, and she had these awesome pink nipples. I just stared at them with lust. She must have taken my stalling as wanting more because she reached down and slid her panties down. (Oh god!) She was shaved totally bald, and I thought I saw a piercing down there.

I made her turn around for me. I had to lower the gun because my arm was trembling. She had one of those silly wavy tattoos on the small of her back, but otherwise she was perfect. She spun back around. It was like she was right out of those magazines that were not so well hidden under my bed. I laughed inside, thinking her name had to be Amber or Brittany. I wondered if she was real. I moved closer. She moaned into her gag and backed up against the desk. I ran my gloved hand down her body and then back up. I spent some time fondling her breasts (which seemed real). I could have spent hours feeling her up, but I tore my hand away and slid it down her body until it nestled in-between her legs. (What the...!) It might have been my imagination, but she seemed to part her legs voluntarily. She was also moaning into her gag pretty good. It was weird. Maybe she was enjoying this or maybe she wanted to say something.

I reached up and untied her gag. She took some deep breaths and puckered her lips. It surprised me, but I leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and inviting, I pressed harder. I felt her tongue on mine. I was starting to get into it when I felt a stinging pain.

"Ahhh...What the fuck!" I screamed out. (She'd bit my bottom lip.)

She laughed mockingly and then spat at me, "Rapist!"

I raised my hand, but I hesitated, realizing what she just called me.

"What's the matter, pussy. Get it over with. Is this the only way you can score? I know your MO." She was taunting me. (The masked man in the newspapers never physically hurt any of his female victims.)

"You think I'm scared of that little thing?" she said, looking down at my tented pants.

Now she pissed me off. I'd only wanted to see her naked, but now.... I spun her around and pushed her back against the desk. I also put the scarf back in place, cursing myself for taking it off in the first place.

"Is this what you want?" I screamed, pulling down my pants. I bit off a glove and licked a couple of fingers. "Huh?" I grunted, thrusting my fingers into her pussy.

"It looks like you're ready to go." I kicked her feet apart and ran my cock along her ass cheeks. It took me a little repositioning, but then I was able to slide into her pussy. I used her hair for leverage and didn't even care about how hard I was pulling it. I mean, even with a gun, I don't get any respect. I wiped some blood from my lip. It made me think about her asshole or even her mouth, but both seemed like problems, so I kept at it. Her pussy was plenty satisfying anyways. I fucked her as hard as I could until I came deep inside of her pussy. (She remained emotionless throughout.)

"Was it good for you?" I asked, pushing her down against the desk.

I heard some rustling behind me. I snapped around.

"Freeze, asshole!" It was two cops, their guns pointed at me. Two more joined them.

Things got hazy quickly. One of them must have told me to drop my gun because I did. I was numb...like I'd gone into shock. I was flung to the floor, my pants still down around my ankles. The cold cuffs snapped into place.

I don't know if I blacked out, but the next thing I remember was lots of screaming and threats from onlookers as I sat in the back of a squad car.

They had caught the masked maniac.

*************************************

I told the truth about Rebecca blackmailing me, but I wasn't surprised that no one believed my story. After all, I had been caught, pants around my ankles. Deep inside, I knew I should be punished for my actions that night, but I wasn't the villain they thought I was.

That first night in jail was the scariest of my life. Up to that point I didn't even have a parking ticket on my record. The next day wasn't any better, as I had to face my mortified parents and try to explain. It didn't go too well. I never saw them again.

The next day I got taken down to this interrogation room. The detective that I first saw was there smoking a cigarette.

"Rebecca Anderson put you up to this, you say?"

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Still sticking to that one, eh?"

"Yeah, I told you."

"I know what you said, but we know better."

I wasn't really surprised that he didn't believe me, but it was starting to bug me.

"You see, I just saw Rebecca Anderson, and I must say you did quite a number on her."

My head snapped up. My brain screamed, "She didn't!"

"Seems like your so-called partner was attacked by a masked man the other night," the detective said, blowing smoke in my face. "We collected some evidence, and it's on its way to the lab."

"It was consensual," I cried out. "Only a blow job. I told you."

"Right." The detective tossed some photos on the table. I didn't have to look at them. I know it didn't look good. "Plus, it says here she suffered some anal damage and a few whip marks. Still want to stick to that consensual blow job story?"

"I told you, it was that big guy and his boss who did that."

"I know. I know. While you hid in the closet. And then you went over to his house...to get a camera was it?"

"Yeah."

"And then you just HAD to stick your dick in his wife?"

I had no answer for that one.

The detective moved closer and got in my face. "And you said it was a guy named...?"

"Chuck. I told you, Chuck."

The detective laughed and then threw another picture on the table in front of me. It was a man, but I didn't recognize him right off the bat.

"Are your eyes ok?"

"Yeah, but I don't know him. I don't think."

"It's a guy name Richard. Ring a bell?"

"No," I said, a bit flustered under the hot lights.

"He is the guy you hit with a tire iron!" the detective screamed. "And then you raped his wife before we caught your scummy ass."

"What?" I snapped. It felt like I was going to be physically ill.

"Care to change your story?"

I didn't and didn't understand. For the first time I asked for a lawyer.

I spent the next few days in thoughts and dreams. I, like most of the men who share my days, ponder how...? How things got to this point. I don't know how many times I've said to myself -- what was I thinking? The one thing that REALLY bothered me was they thought I was the real masked maniac. I was now the scum bag.

I finally met with my court-appointed lawyer. He informed me that they had put a hold on the masked maniac cases. They were convinced that it was me, and none of the victims wanted to testify -- except for Richard's wife and Rebecca. He said it like it was good news.

A couple of months later, while waiting for trial, my lawyer gave me some documents to look over. He was trying to prove my case, but things weren't going well. He said they even found some fibers from my mask at the mother and daughter's house, and they all identified my gun as the same.

"Although the gun wasn't even loaded. Ah, stolen in California."

"Really?" I said, shaking my head. "Wait, you said they found fibers at that other house?" I scratched my head.

"Yeah, ones that matched your mask. Although it's a common type, so that's not too damning. But they all said it looked just like the one they caught you with."

"How could that be?" I wondered.

"Although they were surprised at your age."

"Huh?" I said, looking up at him.

"Yeah. Same size and all, but some of them thought you'd be older."

It hit me. "Oh, fuck!"

"What?"

"I'm so stupid. The real masked maniac...I know who it is."

My lawyer scrunched his face.

"It's Rebecca's husband...what's his face? Yeah, Mr. Anderson."

My lawyer sat back.

"Yeah, you remember I told you that Rebecca gave me the gun and the clothes and the black mask. That's why they match. He's the real one. I've never even been to California. He's a pilot, so I'm sure he has. Somehow she must have found out and, for love or whatever, set me up to take the fall."

My lawyer's face lit up. "So you're saying that Rebecca must have found out, and she set you up so everyone would think it was you. If her husband stops now he's scot free."

"Yeah...," I said (a little annoyed that my lawyer always repeated me just to make sure he understood). "You said the cops got an anonymous 911 call the night I was arrested, saying they saw someone breaking in. Rebecca must have called because no one could see into that backyard. You also said the attacks stopped now, that's because they're both in on it. "

"All well and good," my lawyer said, folding his arms. "But we have to try to prove it in court. And we can't find those two guys you saw. It would have helped if you remembered what they looked like. Never mind that Rebecca is sticking to her story, and they caught you red handed.... See what I'm saying?"

I did. I knew I was fucked. I also knew it was time to prepare myself for days and nights behind bars, and not in jail but in prison. And, with the list of charges facing me, I had a feeling I was heading there for a long time.

Our time was up. My lawyer vowed to do his best, and I was led back to my cell.

I felt so stupid. It was like I could see it all now. I don't know how I didn't question Rebecca when she gave me those clothes and that mask. She must have cleaned the gun and that's why only my fingerprints were on it. She probably unloaded it as well. I don't know how she picked that house that night but she obviously knew them and didn't like them. Maybe I'll never know.

I suddenly pictured that poor lady I attacked. It got me talking to myself.

"Yeah, all that sexual teasing and promises of more. Rebecca had me so horny, that's why I did what I did."

"How could I have thought that a woman like Rebecca would ever be your plaything? Idiot! As it turned out, I must have been her toy all along."

Some would say that none of that matters. I still attacked an innocent woman at gunpoint. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm headed right where I belong.

But maybe one day I'll get out and make another visit to 9 Paradise Lane and exact my vengeance. It's all I have to look forward to.

The End

*

Thanks for reading my story. I hope it was worth your time.

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Edited by C. Lakewood