tagLoving WivesBank Holiday-Nude Day Naked Revenge

Bank Holiday-Nude Day Naked Revenge

bySuperHeroRalph©

This is a Nude Day contest story. Please vote.

Middle class baby boomer couple uses Nude Day to make their protest


*

Jerry and Joan sat in their car waiting for the bank to open. Counting heads, they watched as some of the bank employees arrived for work, while others were already there in place. The minutes that slowly ticked by were excruciating. With everything preplanned, everything prearranged, all of it organized, and nothing left to chance, they had watched enough bank robberies on television to know all the tactical tricks the police played to get them to surrender, before getting what they wanted.

Only, in their favor and to their advantage, they didn't want to rob the bank. They didn't want their money. They didn't want anything that they didn't earn. They only wanted to keep all that they worked a lifetime to accumulate.

Therefore, they didn't need to get away or to have a getaway plan in place for what they needed to do today to work. They just wanted to take over the bank. With the bank their public forum, their mission was not to rob money but to deliver their message. Their message was one they hoped the rest of the country would pick up and run with, when they were dead or behind bars and no longer able to continue their protest.

It was just before 9am, Thursday, July 14th, National Nude Day, when the first van pulled up with bottled water and made their delivery. They watched the armed guard open the front door to admit him. Then a second vehicle pulled up delivering a dozen pizzas, sodas, and an urn of coffee. Again the guard admitted him through the front door without question, even though all deliveries were made at the back door.

Already paid for, he watched the deliverymen deliver and leave with some confusion from the bank manager, but with little argument or protest. Just as Jerry figured, perhaps the bank manager figured there was a meeting he had forgotten about and not penciled in on his calendar. With minutes to spare and nothing left to lose, Jerry and Joan, kissed and embraced, before stepping from their car. Without having to look up, knowing it was there, they stripped off their clothes in front of the security camera that monitored the bank parking lot.

Jerry was out of his clothes in record time, as if about to take a shower. Probably from nervous embarrassment, Joan took longer to strip naked. Instead of tossing her clothes in the front seat of the car in a heap, as Jerry had done, she removed one article of clothing at a time, as if at home folding laundry. So as not to wrinkle her clothes, she carefully folded them and neatly placed them on the car seat, as if she was returning to the car to get dressed again.

First she unbuttoned her blouse to expose her long line of cleavage and to reveal her full sized, white bra. She removed her blouse and neatly folded it, before kicking off her sneakers. Then, holding onto the car, she wiggled her short legs out of her pants and folded that, too, before reaching around behind her and unhooking her bra, while turning unabashedly and immodestly to face the camera.

With this being Nude Day, if there was someone watching, as planned, she wanted to give him enough of a show to maintain his focused interest on her without arousing his suspicion. Last, she removed her panties. Now both naked but for the cell phones taped to their hands, they were finally free.

Away from the camera, Jerry came around the car with a chain and a police scanner he had removed from the car and smiled at his wife of 30-years. With an arm around her waist, he pulled her close. His hand fell to feel the familiar roundness and firmness of the curvaceous contours of her buttocks. Then, he leaned into her and grabbed a handful of her breast and fingered her nipple, while she fondled his cock. They kissed again, maybe for the last time.

After giving him three healthy children, a son and two daughters, Joan may not have been the best looking woman in the world but to him, faithfully loyal, she was his Wonder Woman and his super star. Having had better looking women before her, women who cared more about themselves, about their hair, their clothes, and their shoes, than about him, none of them measured up to his Joanie and he wouldn't trade his loving wife for any woman in the world. His best friend, trusted confidant, and close companion, he couldn't imagine his life without her. Always there by his side, in bad times and in good, he knew she had his back whenever he wanted it and she freely gave him her front, whenever he wanted that, too.

So very close, when they weren't sitting on the couch watching a movie or going for long walks while holding hands and talking about everything and laughing over nothing, they had shared a long and happy life together, that is, until now. Even looking somewhat alike, they could have been brother and sister, instead of husband and wife and all of their friends and relatives were envious of their perfect marriage, comfortable comportment, and close relationship. If only their friends and family knew the turmoil that brewed and seethed beneath the surface, before erupting in a volcanic flow of angst, anger, suffering sorrow, and emotional pain.

With long-term unemployment, no savings for retirement, and a remortgaged home that wasn't worth what they paid for it nearly 30-years-ago, they viewed a future that promised to drown them in a tsunami of financial devastation. With a lack of opportunities upon their college graduation, lower wages and higher costs for gas, food, and housing, the wake of today's financial crisis vowed to even suck their children in its spinning out of control vortex with unemployment and impossible to come out from under student loans. Today was their day to make their stand. Nude Day was their day to make their personal protest.

"Ready, honey bunny?"

"Let's do it, Jerry," said Joan pulling the tape to her cell phone tighter on her hand. "Let's get even with these motherfuckers!"

As soon as the bank doors opened, to the horror filled looks of employees and customers, the naked duo strode inside the bank, as if they owned it. Except for their cell phones taped to their hands, they were naked. For sure, no one would figure that the bank was in any danger from the likes of this naked, overweight, middle-aged couple.

With the guard's eyes fixated on Joan's shapely, nude body, and mesmerized, no doubt, by her free flowing, big breasts, Jerry quickly and easily overpowered the security guard and relieved him of his weapon and cell phone. In a move he had mastered a lifetime ago in Ranger school, with a hand to his throat and a flip of his hip, he put the guard face down on the floor. Trained as an assassin, a human weapon, and a lethal and legal killer in the name of God and his country, he had served three tours of forward position, reconnaissance duty in Vietnam, nearly 8,000 miles away. With the wrists of the security guard bound behind his back with plastic, Jerry and Joan were now free to do what they needed to do.

Joan's long and unruly, dark brown hair did little to hide her sagging D cup breasts. Forsaking the beauty salon, so that her husband could still buy his beer and cigarettes, it had been a long while since she had her hair done or had the money and the desire enough to buy makeup. Once somewhat attractive, her better years were long behind her. With a wild bush of cinnamon and sugar covering her honey pot, specks of gray hair peppered her brown pubic hair. Jerry loved her Rubenesque womanly figure with her big breasts, Cupid like tummy, and Victorian ass.

No doubt energized over all that she was doing for the sake of her husband, her family, and the rest of those Americans experiencing similar detrimental effects of a mismanaged global economy, she was wild with adrenaline. With her wide eyes bulging and her face reddening from her focused demeanor and pent up anger, but more, no doubt, from her high blood pressure, she took control. As if she armed with an AK-47, instead of a mere cell phone, and was holding hostages on a tarmac at an international airport, instead of at a downtown neighborhood bank, to all those who watched her, she must have looked like a crazed terrorist. Her nipples were already erect and hardened with her excitement and after watching her moving about with purpose, as if the bank lobby was her kitchen and she was making dinner, Jerry wished he could have sex with her right there on the lobby floor and in front of everyone.

"This is a fucking bank takeover," screamed Joan kicking over a chair and taking a perch atop a secretary's desk. "If anyone fucking moves, I'll blow all of you fucking bastards to smithereens," she said holding up her cell phone taped hand. "Now all of you fuckers get the fuck down. Get down, you motherfuckers! Get down! Get the fuck down and don't make a fucking move or we're all dead! Dead! Dead! Fucking dead!"

Jerry locked the front door behind his wife with a heavy chain that he carried in with him from the trunk of his car and deposited at the door, as soon as he entered the bank. Joan went from person to person checking for weapons, removing purses, and cell phones, and dumping everything in the bank's trash bucket. Useless against the police, nothing more than buying them some time and making it appear that they meant business, Jerry knew the chain was nothing more than a deterrent than it was a barricade. Unless it was a dire situation, SWAT would never dare smash and rush the front door or enter the back door with all the hostages they had and with what they were wearing taped to their wrists.

Just as planned, Jerry knew someone would sound the alarm and summon the police, and they had. The cops responded faster than the time he called the police to report that he had been mugged and pistol whipped. The thief stole the engraved, gold watch his father had bequeath to him. Had he not been knocked unconscious from behind, he may have fought the man and, with the man having a gun and being thirty years his junior, he may have been just another unsolved murder statistic.

The police responded faster than the time that Joan had called the police, after she had been sexually assaulted and nearly raped. She would have been forcibly raped had she not bitten the man's cock, when he tried to force her to suck it. Fortunately for her, in addition to the emotional trauma, all she received out of the violent attack was a black eye.

The police responded faster than the time they called them after their house had been burglarized and the high on drugs burglar was still inside waving a gun and threatening to kill them, unless they gave him more jewelry and cash. Even though they gave the detectives a solid description, they never caught the man. Since they didn't even bother to fingerprint his house, knowing he'd never have his personal possessions returned, Jerry figured that they didn't even bother looking for the man.

Once living in a good and safe neighborhood, a place where they raised their children and socialized with their neighbors, their town had soured and turned bad with the economy. Now, the police seldom ventured to his part of town. Obviously with the police arriving so quickly to the bank, the FDIC insured money of the bank was more important than anything that had personally happened to them.

Within minutes the police had sealed off the entire block that surrounded the bank. The neighborhood homes were beginning to empty and fill the streets with people, who had heard the sirens and seen the police. With more and more people coming out to see the commotion, with traffic blocked in every direction and people out of their stopped cars, easily, there were already more than a thousand people and a dozen police cars within view and, by the sound of the sirens and all the commotion, more people and police were on their way.

Jerry listened to the police scanner he brought with him and that he had setup on the bank's counter. SWAT was summoned and was on their way, too. Already in place and standing with a megaphone outside, a police negotiator filled the air with his voice.

"You in the bank. This is the police. We have you surrounded. Pick up the phone and talk to me."

Jerry walked to the ringing phone, picked it up with his free hand, and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"This is Lieutenant Brannigan, what's your name?"

"Jerry. What's your first name, Lieutenant?"

"Michael."

"Pleased to meet you, Michael."

"Likewise, I'm sure," said the police officer in a calm voice and talking as if they were two friends making plans to see a ballgame. "So, tell me, Jerry, what are you doing?" Before Jerry could respond, the police officer asked two more questions. "Did you think you could rob the bank? And why are you naked?"

"This bank took everything from me," said Jerry taking a breath, when he felt his agitation welling up from his stomach. "They took my job. They're about to foreclose on my house. They're looking for my car to repossess. Then, they put a lien on whatever money I had left to live on and pay my bills. They took that, too, when they froze my account. They took everything and now I have nothing. The only thing I have left that the bank hasn't taken are the clothes on my back and, as far as I'm concerned, they can have those, too. Besides, it's Nude Day and with it being a warm July day, I don't need to wear clothes today. If still alive, I'm ready to forsake my clothes today for a prison jumpsuit tomorrow. This is the one day that I'm finally free from all of that and from all of them controlling my life."

"So, obviously, you're not here to rob the bank, then. Is that right?"

"I don't want their money," said Jerry already exasperated from talking to the Lieutenant.

"Then, why are you here, Jerry? What do you want?"

"What do I want? Just like you, Michael. I want to make a living. I want a job, but I know there are no jobs out there for someone like me. There are too many unemployed men and women just like me, older, wiser, educated, experienced, overworked, underpaid, unemployed, and angry. Why am I here? This is still America and for the time being I'm still a free man able to protest. I'm here to make my personal statement public. I'm here to give what this bank did to me a voice and a face. I'm here to tell my story to America."

"A Job? Is that it? Is that all you want? You want a job? I can get you a job, Jerry," said the detective with a smugness to his voice and talking to Jerry, as if he were crazy. "What kind of job would you like? Just tell me and I'll arrange for you to have a good paying job with benefits. What did you do, before--"

"I'm not a fool, Lieutenant. You can't placate me with a job now that I committed this crime."

"Listen Jerry, you sound like we're about the same age. I'm not trying to placate you. I know some people. I can get you a job that--"

"Before taking over this bank and terrorizing these people, before becoming a criminal, before you charge me with a long list of felonies that will, no doubt, put me and keep me in jail for the rest of my miserable life, or before one of your sharpshooters puts a bullet in my head to relieve me of my misery, you can't get me a job, no one can get me a job. There are no fucking jobs. Besides, after being unemployed for years, after having my life ruined by greedy and ineffective politicians, I am so beyond just wanting a job and a paycheck that will do little more than act as a band aid to temporarily stop the bleeding. Unless I lived in China, and wanted to work for pennies on the dollar, there are no jobs."

"Okay, okay, take it easy, Jerry. Take a breath. Relax. Let's be friends. Okay? Let's start over and just tone it down a notch or two. Okay?"

"Okay."

As if he was thinking of what to say next or checking to see if his men were in place, there was a pause in conversation, before the Lieutenant spoke again.

"Jerry, just as you said, we do have sharpshooters on the way, who can shoot you dead, right where you stand."

"It would be pure folly for you to do that, Michael," said Jerry. "I was Special Forces in the Army and I know something about range and a bullet's inherent trajectory path, when going through thick, bank glass. I'm not stupid enough to give your men a target. Are you willing to shoot an innocent bank employee in the hopes of shooting me? I have hostages and if you miss shooting me, the blood of all these innocent people will be on your hands."

"Hostages? You realize that in addition to robbery for holding people against their will, you'll be charged with kidnapping, too."

"Whether dead or alive, I'm prepared to pay the ultimate price to make my message public, Lieutenant."

"Okay, Jerry, relax. Just relax. Let's just--"

"He's wired for explosives, Lieutenant," yelled a police officer in the distance.

"Do you have explosives on your person, Jerry?"

"On my person? No, I'm naked, Lieutenant," said Jerry with a little laugh, "but the bank is wired to explode and my wife and I have the detonators taped to our hands. With our fingers already taped to the triggers, one of us will surely push a button, before you shoot the other one of us dead."

"Okay, Jerry, okay. Let's calm it down a notch. No one is shooting anyone and one is killing anyone. Okay? No one is blowing up the bank today," said the Lieutenant. "Is that your wife with you, Jerry?"

"Yes."

"What's her name, Jerry?"

"Joan."

"What's your last name, Jerry?"

"Martin, but what does that matter now? By the identification of my license plate, I'm sure you're already at my home with a warrant to search the place."

"Are there explosives at your house, Jerry? Is your house wired to explode when--"

"No, my house is not booby trapped. Your men at safe and free to conduct their search and to take whatever they want. I have everything I need with me here."

Jerry listened in to his police scanner, as the police searched his car and informed the Lieutenant of its contents. They found an empty box of dynamite, an empty box of nitroglycerine, and C-4 plastic explosive wrappers with an empty box of triggers.

"Get all those people back," said the Lieutenant. "Everyone get back!"

"Get back! Get back," ordered the police officers in the distance to the crowd of people still forming.

"We found evidence of explosives in your car, Jerry. With enough explosives to level the city block, you have some serious demolition devices, all of which are felonies to possess without a license. Where did you get all that stuff?"

"You can get anything from China online, Lieutenant, that is, except for a job. Willing to export anything and everything, the Chinese will never export a job to we Americans. They only take jobs from us."

"Tell me how can we resolve this, Jerry?"

"That's easy, Lieutenant. I want to be on TV. Put me on TV and we can stop all of this nonsense now, before it escalates out of control and before someone dies."

"Are you threatening to kill someone, Jerry? Is that part of your protest, to execute hostages?"

"Not unless I have to do that to get out what I want to say."

"He's had food and water delivered, Lieutenant," said another cop in the background.

"Is that right, Jerry? You had food and water delivered?"

"Yes. I've watched enough television to know you'd want to trade hostages for food and for water."

"I see," said the Lieutenant. "It sounds like you thought of everything."

"I have."

"That's premeditation, Jerry. Did you know that? You realize that, if anyone dies in there, you'll be charged with a capital crime and executed, if found guilty."

"With no home, no job, no car, and no money, I'm ready to die right now and right here to get out my message," said Jerry.

"Okay, Jerry, okay. Calm down. Relax. Take a breath. Stay with me Jerry. Okay? Stay with me. No one is going to die today."

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