Grand Larceny (Pt. 01)

It was a beautiful June day as I drove my truck over to the bank. The site supervisor had passed out paychecks the day before and I was using my lunch break to replenish my checking account. I'd already written my rent check and I figured it might be helpful to have some money to cover the paper.

It was also a nice chance to say "hi" to my grandmother. She'd gotten the job at the bank after grandpa died, about ten years earlier. And, since I'd dropped out of college, gotten a construction job, and started receiving my weekly wages, she'd suggested I use her brank. It wasn't too far from my new apartment and having a relative keep track of overdrafts was a big help.

I parked the truck and bopped into the bank lobby. A lot of other people must have gotten paid the day before, because the lines in front of the teller windows were long. I waved to gran behind her window and joined her line. She smiled at me and nodded.

There were only two people in front of me when the lobby doors banged open and a deep, harsh voice announced: "This is a holdup. Everybody on the floor."

Things started happening in slow motion. All of the seven or eight people in the lobby, including me, swiveled our heads toward the trio of men in dark clothes and ski masks and our jaws dropped.

I was just turning back around to find grandma when the same voice barked: "On the floor, motherfuckers. NOW!"

Grandma's big green eyes - - stretched wide in shock - - met mine just as I hit the floor.

Three pairs of boots pounded past me.

"All of it," the same voice shouted. "Put it in the fucking bags."

My fellow customers were spread out around me, their cheeks pressed to the floor. Some were spinning their eyes back and forth. Others had their eyes screwed shut.

It was just about then that we heard the sirens. They were warbling closer and closer.

"Fuck!" A different voice muttered. "What the fuck?"

"Close the shades," the first voice shouted. "Get that door locked."

The wailing sirens were just beyond the glass windows of the bank. A pair of boots thumped past me.

After a back and forth, a voice commanded us: "Everybody, up. Everybody, up."

We all climbed to our feet. Two robbers stood in front of the teller windows. The third guy peered through the vertical blinds to the street outside. They were all armed with pistols. Red and blue lights strobed into the lobby.

"You, you, you, and you," the boss-robber growled, pointing to myself and three other customers. "Over here."

He banged the butt of his pistol against the plexiglass wall in front of the tellers.

"Open up," he snarled.

There were three tellers. All women. Grandma. A woman her age. And, a younger woman. I knew the older woman's name was "Shirley," and she was the one who, trembling with fear, stood and walked over to the door between the tellers' windows and the lobby. She unlocked and opened it.

"Come on, you fucktards," the robber said, gesturing to the door with his gun. "Get in there."

He wrangled us through the doorway and past the tellers. Grandma and I exchanged a quick glance. I could see her hands trembling with fear.

"It's okay," I mumbled to her as I passed. "Gonna be okay."

"Shut the fuck up," the robber said, pushing his pistol into my back. "Keep moving, shithead."

He herded us into a hallway and then he and his buddy moved each of us into a separate office. He pushed me forward through a door and I stumbled against a desk.

"Wallet," he grunted.

I fished my wallet out of my back pocket and handed it to him.

"Stay here," he said, slipping the wallet into the pouch at the front of his black hoodie. "Don't make a sound."

He banged the door shut.

I waited in the office, trying to catch my breath. A minute or two later, the door flew open and grandma came tumbling into the office. She staggered against me.

The robber behind her laughed. "You two are related?"

I nodded. "She's my grandmother."

He laughed again. "Perfect," he muttered before slamming the door shut as he left.

"Gran," I said, holding my grandmother's trembling body in a hug. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, Stan" she groaned. "Oh my gosh. What is happening?"

I hugged her. "It's gonna be alright, gran. We'll be okay."

------

Thus began the famous Bentonville Hostage Standoff, a 16-hour ordeal that changed my life forever.

Gran and I slumped together against the office wall. I held her little hand in mine and steadily reassured her. She kept nodding but I could tell she didn't believe me.

A half hour later, the office door opened and the head-robber reappeared. He closed the door carefully behind himself.

"Up," he said, waving his gun. "Stand up."

I helped gran to her feet.

He pulled two drivers licenses out of his hoodie pocket and peered at them.

"Stanley Wilkins," he read off slowly, glancing up at me. "Betty Wilkins." He looked at gran. "Grandson and grandmother, yes?"

I nodded and slipped an arm across gran's shoulders to comfort her.

"You're a big boy, Stan," the robber continued. "That could be a problem."

He stepped closer and I squeezed gran against me.

"And, you... Betty." His eyes bent down and he wagged his pistol. "Pretty good looking broad for a senior citizen."

Grandma gasped and turned her face away from him into my chest.

"Yeah," the man continued in a softer voice. "A regular Mrs. Robinson."

He chuckled. "Whaddya say, Stan. Is she a Mrs. Robinson or not?"

I squinted at him.

"Yes or no," he responded, pointing the gun at my head.

"Y - y - yesss, sure," I stuttered. "Please, man. Just let us go."

The robber nodded slowly and let his gun drop to his side.

"Sure, sure. But it's not up to me, dickhead. It's up to those men in blue outside."

He flicked his head over his shoulder.

"If they play ball, everything will be fine. If not...."

He clicked his tongue to finish his sentence.

"You two just hang tight here... Stan and Mrs. Robinson," he guffawed. "You play ball and you'll be fine."

He reached over and yanked the phone from the desk. After he left, gran and I slid back down the wall.

"It's gonna be okay," I mumbled to gran. "They'll get their money and we'll get out of here. Don't worry."

Gran sniffled and nodded her head against me.

An hour went by. We heard voices on a loudspeaker somewhere outside. At some point, grandma fell asleep, her head resting on my shoulder. I started getting antsy. I glanced out the narrow ceiling-to-floor office window. The sidewalk was empty but I could just make out a cop car parked at either end of the street.

It started getting hot and stuffy in the office. I remembered from a heist movie how the cops shut off the air conditioning in a bank to encourage the robbers to leave. I unbuttoned my shirt and wrangled it off my shoulders, taking care not to wake gran. My t-shirt was damp with sweat.

The door opened and the number one robber entered. He stopped and stared down at us.

"You work out?" He asked in a strangely conversational tone.

"What?"

"I asked you if you worked out, meathead," he replied.

Grandma stirred next to me. Her eyes blinked open and she grasped my arm when she saw the robber.

"Look," I answered. "Can't you just let my grandmother go? I'll stay here. She's scared."

The robber nodded.

"Sure," he answered. "No problem. I'm happy to do you a favor. But, you've got to do one for me."

Good news, I thought. I nodded my head.

"Of course."

I could see a smile stretch beneath the robber's mask.

"So, you're gonna play ball?" He asked.

I nodded again, more vigorously.

"Good boy," he said.

He seated himself on the desktop, his gun hanging at his side.

"Your grandma is pretty hot for an old broad." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Real hot. Hotter than Mrs. Robinson, even."

He chuckled. At the sound of his voice, grandma squeezed my arm harder.

The robber sighed and raised his gun.

"I wanna see her tits," he said in a flat voice.

"What?"

He laughed again.

"I wanna see those big titties," he continued.

I frowned.

"Take off her blouse," he said, waving his gun.

"Nooooo," I replied. "No way. Fuck off."

The robber raised his arm, the gun barrel pointed at me. He slowly shifted it to point at grandma.

"You wanna play ball," he said, his voice hitching. "You take off grandma's blouse."

Next to me, grandma whimpered.

"Hey, man...," I started.

The robber stood and took two quick steps toward us. He brushed the barrel of his gun across grandma's thick, silver hair.

"Think about it," he said to me. "Whaddyou think, Mrs. Robinson?"

Grandma whimpered again and pushed her face against me.

"Okay, okay," I finally said. "Just leave her be."

The robber stepped away, taking up his position against the desk.

"Go on, Stan," he said.

I looked down at grandma. Sweat and tears had mussed her makeup. She moved her head and her big green eyes met mine.

"Stan," she mumbled.

"It's okay, gran," I said in a low voice. "We just do this and they'll let you go. Okay?"

Grandma choked back a sob. With her eyes still glued to mine, she nodded weakly.

My fingers found the top button of her blouse and I fumbled it open. Grandma's body trembled. I worked my way down until her blouse was open.

"Take it off," the robber commanded.

"It's gonna be okay," I said to grandma as I slipped the white blouse off her shoulders. "You won't be so hot and sweaty."

Grandma's lips vibrated and she nodded. Her torso and shoulders were bare except for the white lacy bra that contained her enormous breasts. I tried to look away but they were surprisingly huge.

The robber made a low whistle.

"Damn," he said. "Super rack."

"Okay," I said to him. "We did it. Now let her go."

The man in the mask nodded.

"Almost," he said, raising his gun slightly. "Stand up, grandma."

"Hey," I almost shouted.

The gun waving at me shut my mouth.

"On your feet, babydoll," the robber continued. "You too, meathead."

I helped grandma to her feet. She still clung to me, her arms around my bicep.

"Lovely," the robber said. "Now...," he wagged the gun at us. "Unzip that skirt."

"Heyyyy," I said, wrapping an arm around grandma's shoulders. "That's enough."

The robber clucked his tongue and stood.

"Fine," he said, straightening up. "You don't wanna play ball... you two can stay here all day and all night."

I looked down at gran. I had to get her out of here.

"Gran," I whispered. "It's gonna be okay. Let's just get outa here."

A burst of voices on a loudspeaker snapped my head back up.

"Cops are getting nervous," the robber said. "That makes me kind of nervous."

He waved the gun at us.

"Go on, Stan," he said.

I patted grandma's hands on my arm and slipped around behind her. My fingers found the zipper at the back of her skirt and I pulled it down. The skirt dropped to the floor.

The robber whistled. "Damn, son" he hissed. "That is one fine woman."

Gran stood in front of me, her arms crossed against her chest. I glanced down. Though I was freaked and my pulse was racing, a part of me acknowledged the robber's compliment. Grandma had always been a buxom woman - - wide hips and big chest. But seeing her in front of me, I could see how shapely she was - - long calves, full thighs, a lush bottom, hips that still tucked in, and toned shoulders. I gulped and quickly popped my chin up to return my eyes to the robber.

"Whadday think, Stan?" The robber said in mocking tones. "Is she a stone cold fox or what? Look at those titties, son. And those legs."

A sweat broke out across my forehead.

"Come on," I answered. "We did what you asked... now let her go."

The robber tapped the barrel of his pistol against his chin in mocking consideration.

"We're getting there," he finally said. "Put your arms down, Betty," he commanded.

Grandma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

"P-p-please," she whimpered.

The robber chuckled. "I bet all the guys say that to you, baby." He raised the gun again. "Go on, Stan," he directed me. "Get her arms down."

"Come on, man," I grunted.

The robber shook his head slowly and extended his arm, the gun pointing straight at grandma and myself. Grandma backed up a half step, pressing her backside against my chest and groin.

"I said... get those arms down, son."

If I could have smashed him in the face, I would have. My head boiled with rage.

I leaned down and whispered in grandma's ear. "It's okay, gran. We're almost done. Then you're free."

Grandma choked back a sob and slowly dropped her arms to her side.

"Bingo," the robber said. He paused, gun still pointed our way. "Now, Stan, put your hands on those big titties."

My head spun and my body vibrated.

"Fuck you," I snarled between gritted teeth.

The robber laughed. "Yo," he said. "I think I'm the one holding the cards here, son."

He wagged the pistol.

"Go on... see what them titties feel like."

I ground my teeth together and closed my eyes. There was only one way out, I said to myself, and that's through. I moved my hands delicately to the front of grandma's bra. She flinched at my touch.

"Uh uh," the robber growled. "I said... feel them titties. Not use them like hand rests."

"Jesus Christ," I muttered.

I squeezed my hands and grandma gasped.

"That's it, Stan," the robber encouraged me. "Feel 'em. Grab 'em. Give 'em a good workout."

I've enjoyed a fair number of breasts but I'd never held such heavy, full beauties in my hands. I squeezed again and slid my hands under grandma's bra. Instinctively, my thumbs flicked across her nipples, still concealed by her bra ups. Grandma jerked backward and hunched her shoulders.

"Please... please...," she mumbled.

"Oh yeah," the robber ignored her. "Damn those titties look like some fun. Keep going, son."

I massaged grandma's breasts, at first with hesitation but then more confidently. I closed my eyes and imagined they belonged to my last girlfriend, a farm gal from Evanston. That didn't help because images of Carrie's tits and her athletic body plus the big, warm dollops of flesh in my hands only sparked something in my groin.

I opened my eyes and shook my head, trying to chase the images away. Grandma's big, soft ass was pressed firmly against the front of my jeans. I almost groaned with embarrassment as my cock stiffened.

"Good, good," the robber said in a breathy voice. "Real good."

He stepped closer to us and placed the muzzle of his pistol under grandma's chin.

"Now, baby," he said in a low whisper. "Listen to me very closely. You're almost free." He paused. "Only one more little thing." He pushed grandma's chin up with the gun. "You gotto kiss your grandson."

My hands froze and I was about to open my mouth when I heard grandma utter a strangled "no."

The robber nodded his head and the muzzle of his gun raised her chin until her eyes were pointed to the ceiling.

"Oh yeah, baby" he practically cooed. "You're gonna kiss that fine young stud behind you. And... I think you're gonna enjoy it."

Grandma shook her head.

"It's the only way, baby," the robber added.

Her eyes flashed sideways, trying to find mine.

"S-s-s-stan," she whimpered.

I bent my head and our lips met. They parted quickly.

The robber laughed.

"No half-ass kissing allowed," he said. "I want to see a real, honest-to-god, you're-my-man kiss."

Grandma exhaled. My hands still clutched her breasts. She flexed her neck until our lips met again. They remained together for a few seconds and then her mouth opened a fraction. I pushed my lips harder against hers. Her body jerked and her mouth opened wider. Her tongue jabbed between my lips. It was like two hot wires crossing. My tongue slid against hers and I reflexively squeezed her big tits.

She made a little sound in her throat and tried to stuff her tongue all the way into my mouth.

"There we go," the robber said from somewhere in front of us. "That's what I want to see."

His threatening presence started to fade away as grandma and I explored the kiss we shared - - our wet lips sliding together, my tongue lapping against hers, our jaws working up and down. Gran pushed herself harder against me and I squeezed her breasts and flicked her nipples. Blood surged to my crotch.

I remember surfacing briefly and asking myself: what is happening? Then, I sank back into our passionate kiss.

We were still kissing and I was still playing with grandma's breasts when I heard the office door shut. We didn't stop for a minute or two until grandma pulled her lips from mine. She was panting and her chest was heaving.

"He's gone," she huffed.

Her backside was still pressed tightly against my front. My hands were still on her breasts. My cock stretched against my jeans.

"Honey," she gasped. "He's gone now."

Her big ass leaned against my crotch, but I dropped my hands from her breasts. She exhaled and took a step forward.

"Oh my god," grandma said as she turned toward me. "I'm sorry, Stan. Ohhhhhhh. I'm so sorry."

I took a deep breath.

"It's okay, gran," I answered. "You didn't do anything wrong. We didn't do anything wrong." I paused and ran my hand through my hair. "That bastard had a gun on us."

Grandma hunched over and began sobbing.

"What are we going to do?" She whimpered.

I stepped to her and put my hands on her shoulders.

"We'll get out of here," I said. "I promise."

Grandma stepped into my arms and I hugged her. Her bare skin was warm and slick with sweat. She huddled in my arms.

"Do you want to put your clothes back on?" I asked.

Her body tensed.

"What if he comes back?" She whispered.

I thought about that. He would be back. But was he done with his sick games?

"I'll just put my blouse on," grandma said. "It's so hot in here anyway."

She bent down and plucked the blouse from the floor. I helped her slide her arms through it and secured a few buttons.

"The horrid things he said," grandma said, looking up at me with watery eyes. "How could anyone?"

I hugged her.

"I know, gran," I answered. "I know. Don't think about it."

We stood together silently for a few minutes.

"Honey," grandma interrupted the quiet. "I need some water. I'm parched."

I nodded and released her to walk to the door. I banged my fist against the pane of frosted glass.

"We need some water," I shouted. "Give us some water."

I kept banging until a figure appeared in the glass. It disappeared and returned. The door opened a few inches and a gloved hand slid through the opening. The hand was wrapped around a bottle of water.

"Please," I said as I accepted the water. "Let this woman go."

The hand disappeared and the door clicked shut. Everything had gotten quiet outside the office. Grandma and I resumed our seats, backs against the wall on the other side of the office. She curled into me and I tugged the tails of her blouse over as much of her hips and bare legs as I could.

An eternity later - - it was probably an hour or two - - I jerked my head up to the click of the door lock. In the fading sunlight, I watched a hand slide a pizza box through the door, which quickly shut again.

I retrieved the box and brought it to grandma. We munched on oily, lukewarm pizza slices. When she had finished a slice, grandma turned around, her eyes focused away from me on the opposite wall.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," grandma whispered. "I'm scared."

I patted her shoulder and rubbed it gently.

"We'll get out," I responded. "I won't let them hurt you, gran."

The sun had set outside the bank. Flickers of blue and red flashing lights bounced against the blinds on the window. I was just drifting into a nap when the door clicked open. It was the boss of the robbers. My eyes blinked open and grandma stirred against me.