The Banker

This started out as part of a time traveling story, hence the 1930's setting.

Would love feedback on whether this idea is worth pursuing.

Of all the Bonnie and Clydes bank robberies, this is not one of the more famous. Well not famous anywhere but here, in my hometown. Here, it is plenty famous, and not so much because of Bonnie and Clyde, but because of the humiliations that were perpetrated on me.

I am the bank manager of the Springfield Bank and it was my bank that was robbed.

It had been daddy's bank, but he had been dead going on three years and so it fell to me to run things.

Daddy had been a hard man and while he was respected, he was not well liked.

I was following in his footsteps.

I remember when he sent me off to college, he told me, "learn the rules so you know how best to break them."

And that I did.

I came back home with all kind of schemes that made us richer and the rest of the town a little poorer.

Not too soon after daddy died I got married to Nora, the prettiest girl in town, of course.

It was a marriage of convenience. I needed a pretty young thing on my arm and Nora, well Nora needed the bank not to foreclose on her parents home.

We moved into the house I grew up in, the largest house in town.

Nora was abashed when I moved Momma into the guest room so that we could have the larger bedroom. She kept apologizing to Momma, but I would not be moved. She even tried to convince me to at least let her have my old bedroom, but I wanted to turn that into my study, and I did, so Momma was moved into the guest room.

It all worked out fine until Momma's sister came down from the city to visit one time. Momma insisted that her sister was used to the finer things, so she gave up her room and slept in the maid's quarters on that occasion. I still laugh when I think about it.

As I said, I had modernized the bank and instituted measures to make sure that it was as profitable as possible. One way I did this, and it was very modern for its time, was to have an all female compliment of tellers. In this way, I cut my payroll in half.

I also installed an alarm system, basically a glorified telegraph machine that could be used to tap out an SOS over at the Sheriff's station should we ever need him.

I tested it out one time just to ensure it worked.

It did.

Once the sheriff caught his breath after racing over, he lectured me severely. I replied he might want to start an exercise regimen as he seemed overly winded from the short run. That did not go over too well.

Not too long before the robbery, Mike, the butcher, who had his shop directly across the plaza, had come in to try and renegotiate his loan. Mike had done some research and found that our interest rates were higher than banks in surrounding areas. I did a lot of fast talking about the length of the loan, how our loans included insurance and a bunch of other gobbledygook that I hoped would appease him. It did not, and soon thereafter I was getting some sideways glances from other loan holders.

It was late on a Friday afternoon, just before we were set to close up.

I had Agnes and Betsy at their teller stations, each with about six people in line.

This was not unusual as Friday meant payday for a lot of people and they liked to get their money deposited so they didn't have it lying around at home over the weekend.

A stranger walked in and I immediately perked up. A stranger could mean a new customer. If he was moving here, that could mean a new house, a new business, perhaps both.

As I rose from my chair to greet him, he was suddenly shoved to the floor by a man who came in right behind him. This man was followed by a women, both wearing bandanas across the lower part of their faces.

"Everyone down on the floor," the man yelled. "This is a robbery!"

He then went over to Ike, my enfeebled security guard and said "you too old man" as he relieved him of his pistol.

As everyone went down, I quickly tapped out an SOS.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the woman yelled.

She ran over and knocked me to the floor using the back of her hand that held her pistol.

I was grateful she hadn't pistol whipped me or worse!

So their little robbery had gone south before it had even started.

In short order, the sherif and his deputy were stationed across the street, rifles pointed at the front door. The sheriff used a megaphone to announce that the bank was surrounded and that whoever was in there needed to give themselves up.

Hardly surrounded. You had the Sheriff and his deputy out front and a part time deputy out back to cover the rear exit. They needn't have bothered as I kept it illegally locked to keep my girls from taking furtive smoke breaks.

Oddly enough, the two robbers proceeded with the robbery as if nothing had happened.

When I questioned them on this, the man turned to the woman and said "oh we've gotten out of worse scrapes than this, haven't we Bonnie?"

Well, hearing the name Bonnie set the room a buzzing.

"Okay, here's what we are going to do," said Bonnie, taking charge as she stuffed the cash from the teller drawers into a small bag.

"Ladies stay here in the lobby and the menfolk head into that office over there."

I was surprised when Clyde did not immediately follow us in leaving us alone to plot our escape.

We started talking all at once, weighing our options. I had just about convinced the other gentlemen to rush Clyde when he came back in, figuring he could probably only get one of them before he was overwhelmed. I, of course, would hang back.

But then the stranger spoke up. "Even if you do take him, Bonnie still has a gun and I hear she is a crack shot."

Well that cooled the room down.

"I reckon they'll come for you in a minute," the man said pointing at me. "You've already pissed 'em off once, you better be straight with them or I reckon they won't hesitate to put a bullet in your skull."

Sure enough, a few minutes later Clyde opened the door and said "Banker, come with me!"

Clyde walked me into the vault and asked me where the rest of the money was. I explained that it was all out in the tills.

"We bring it out every morning and put it back every night."

He raised the gun to my head and said, "I know there's more somewhere."

Before I could lie that that was everything, Agnes called out, "he keeps a strongbox in that desk over there," pointing to where I had been sitting when they came in.

Clyde strode over and pulled the drawer open and smiled. He reached down and emptied the box of it's contents.

I shot Agnes a look that I hoped conveyed "your fired."

"Don't look at her like that," Bonnie scolded, "she may well of just saved your life."

"As a matter of fact," Clyde said holding up the large wad of bills he'd just liberated, "thanks to Agnes here, we will let you ladies keep the money you walked in here with."

Everyone gasped with delight except old Miss Henderson. She wrung her hands and pulled her shawl tight as she moaned that she hadn't come in with anything, in fact she was desperate to withdraw five dollars.

Clyde winked at me and said, "what do you think banker, can we give her five on the house?"

"You can give it to her," I said, "but I will deduct it from her account."

Everyone groaned at this and then Agnes spoke up again. "He's probably got that in his vest pocket."

"Oh really" said Clyde. He strode over to me and placed two fingers into my vest pocket and pulled out six dollars.

If anyone would know there would be money in that pocket, it would be Agnes.

"How did you know that money would be there Agnes?" asked Bonnie.

Agnes didn't answer. She just gave me a hard stare.

I looked over at Bonnie, and knew she knew.

She may not have known the details, but she knew.

The details were these.

Agnes had come to me once after closing, needing an advance on her pay. She said she was desperate.

I didn't ask why, I didn't care. I just liked that word "desperate."

Feigning concern, I asked Agnes how much she needed.

"Five dollars," she answered.

I let out a little whistle. "Well that's a lot of money for a woman to be carrying around. If I loaned it to you, I'd have to know it was safe."

She looked at me blankly.

"I hear," I went on, "that some women tuck money into their brassiere for safe keeping."

Again she stared at me and then whispered, "I could do that."

Now we stared at each other for a long minute until Agnes reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and then the second and then the third.

The tops of her large round breasts came into view as the fabric from her blouse fell away.

"One more," I said.

With the fourth button undone, I whistled at the site before me.

I pulled five ones out of my vest pocket and peeled one off.

I then folded it three times and placed my hand with the bill over her right breast and slid it deep into the brassiere, giving a few firm squeezes before I pulled my hand away. I then did the same with her other breast.

I then held up the other three dollars and said "I know and even safer place for these."

Before she knew what was happening, I lifted up her dress and thrust my hand down her underwear. I let the dollars fall away and started to slide a finger inside her.

With that, Agnes regained her senses, pulled back and slapped me.

As she ran out the door crying, I laughingly called out, "we haven't even talked about the interest on that loan!"

"Maybe he has more money in other pockets," Bonnie suggested, shaking me out of my reverie.

She took five of the six dollars from Clyde and handed them to Mrs. Henderson.

Then Bonnie, looked at me and a slow wide smile spread across her face.

"Take that vest off for me, so I can check it myself for other funds," she said.

I did as I was told. She checked the other pockets, found nothing and then tossed it aside.

"Now the shirt," she said.

Agnes, Betsy and the other woman chuckled, seeing immediately where this was going.

I started to protest, but both Bonnie and Clyde started to raise their guns so my fingers flew to my shirt.

As I was unbuttoning my shirt and peeling it off, Clyde was putting on my vest.

"What do you think ladies? Does it suit me?"

"It sure looks better on you that it did on him," Betsy said.

There was a general murmur of agreement.

I handed my shirt to Bonnie. She made a show of inspecting it for cash and then wadded it up and tossed it in a corner.

"Shoes and socks!"

She held up my socks like they were something disgusting and again made a show of waving a hand over each shoe as if they reeked. She was enjoying herself and amazingly so was her audience of women being held hostage at gun point!

"Hmm, pants or undershirt ladies, I can't decide."

A few calls for pants and a few others for undershirt. No one remained silent. No one said "leave him alone."

"Pants it is then," called out Bonnie.

More tittering as I undid my belt and then unbuttoned my pants.

My humiliation was compounded as my pants slid to my ankles revealing my droopy white underwear.

"God you are a sight," Bonnie said as she rifled through my wallet, pocketing a few more dollars.

"Undershirt!"

I peeled off my undershirt, revealing my pasty white skin and a bit of a paunch. I felt ridiculous.

I could not meet anyone's eye. Surely this was as far as it would go.

"Undies!"

And then Clyde spoke up. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Whoa, Whoa, whoa. Hold up here."

Was Clyde going to spare me? After all, how did it look, a woman humiliating a man like that?

We have to stand up for each other, right?

I was just letting out a sigh of relief when Clyde continued.

"Let's make this interesting. I have read that the average flaccid penis (and at this most of the women gasped) is between three and a half and four inches long. So I'm going to need everyone to make a guess. Is our friend here below average, average or above average?

No one guessed above average.

Honestly, I had no idea!

"Agnes," Clyde asked, is there a ruler handy?"

Agnes walked over to my desk and pulled out a ruler. "Found one" she said beaming as she walked back and started to hand it to Clyde.

He laughed and raised his hands palms out, "no, not me, we'll let you measure it."

Can I pull them down? Asked Betsy.

Everyone laughed at this as Betsy strode over. "Well it just seemed like Agnes was getting all the fun."

I guess all those not so furtive massages of Betsy's firm round buttocks were not as welcomed as I had imagined.

"Count down everybody," she called out to the group.

And they did. "Ten, nine, eight..."

At "one," Betsy looked me in the eye, giggled and then knelt down and shimmied my underwear down a bit, and then a bit more and then with one violent yank that sent them to my feet.

There was an audible gasp from most people in the room, including me, the rest were wide eyed with a hand over their mouths.

After a minute, Clyde said, "well Agnes, lets get to measuring."

Agnes took Betsy's place in front of me and lay the ruler next to my thigh.

Not knowing what else to do, I looked down to see. As best I could tell I was just at three and a half inches.

Agnes looked a little disappointed, but then she looked right into my eyes and started to laugh.

"Two and a half inches," she called out. Well below average!!

There was some chuckling as I started to protest.

"That's not true, I stuttered out, I'm..."

WHACK!

It was Agnes, she had smacked my ass with the ruler.

"What's that," she said. Are you calling me a liar?

"No," I complained, "I am simply..."

WHACK!

"Ouch, no, I..."

Agnes raised the ruler again and out of instinct, I cover myself with my hands as best I could and stepped away from her.

Bonnie, wiping away tears of laughter, said to Clyde, I think I might have just figured a way out of our situation.

For the next ten minutes or so, Bonnie and Clyde had talked intensely over by the front door. Quite a crowd had congregated across the street. They called Agnes and Betsy over and had them identify the people there as best they could. At one point Bonnie let out a snort and said, "perfect," and laughed a little more. Then she sat at my desk and wrote a note and sealed it in an envelope.

In the meantime some rope had been found and my hands were tied securely behind my back.

"Are you listening? I need you to listen carefully. If this envelope falls out of your mouth or this ruler drops from your hands, I swear to God I will shoot you," said Bonnie.

I nodded dumbly.

"So say it back to us," Clyde said.

"I'm going to walk across the street with this envelope in my mouth and this ruler in my hand, not dropping either one.

And then I am to make sure that whoever grabs the envelope, follows its instructions.

"Good boy," said Bonnie, ruffling my hair.

And then she placed the envelope that said "Please open and read these instructions out loud, or else!" Between my lips.

Clyde opened the front door and waved a white flag, well, my underwear actually, and yelled "don't shoot, we're sending someone out with our demands."

And that's when I was gently guided/pushed out the front door. I looked across the plaza at all the people gathered there. There must have been at least 30 people.

I turned back towards the bank, but knew that wasn't a good option not that it was ever an option.

So I turned back and took a deep breath, as best I could with an envelope in my mouth and started to walk across the street with as much dignity as I could muster, which admittedly wasn't very much.

Here I was, naked with my hair tousled thanks to Bonnie, an envelope pressed between my lips, my hands tied behind my back, accentuating what would forever more be referred to as my tiny penis and the ruler I held in my tied hands that must have looked something like a rooster's tale.

At first I received sorrowful looks, people no doubt feeling sorry for this pathetic, sympathetic figure. But then someone shouted out, "Holy Shit, it's the banker," and those sorrowful looks morphed into little smiles and then outright laughter.

I would have turned and headed straight for home, but for all I knew, Clyde had a gun trained right at the back of my head, so I pressed on.

Once across the street, everything and everyone just kind of stood still, me staring at everyone, everyone staring at me.

I guess I kind of expected that the envelope would be gently pulled from my mouth and then a blanket would be tossed over me and I would be whisked away to safety.

Instead, as I say, a staring contest ensued.

I started to cry out, "Tek de nvolp, tek de nvlop," but people just continued to stare and laugh.

Finally, the sheriff came over and with a combined look of disgust and amusement, pulled the envelope from between my lips.

On the outside of the envelope it said, "Open and read out loud."

The sheriff handed the envelope to his deputy and he in turn handed it to Miss Ames, the school teacher. I guess neither of them were too comfortable with reading aloud.

Miss Martin was an attractive woman in her mid twenties who had only recently started at the school. She had come in to set up her new bank account not too long ago.

I like to take a "hands on" approach with our new customers. Well the ladies anyway. As I recall, she was not amused by my advances.

Miss Martin opened the letter and gave it a quick skim. I could see her eyes grow wide as a slight smile curled across her face.

She gave me the once over and then started reading aloud.

"Citizens of Springfield, we seem to be at a bit of a standoff. We would like to leave your town and no doubt you would like your loved ones returned to you unharmed.

As a show of good faith, we are willing to release all of the woman hostages if you do exactly as this letter says.

First, I think we can all agree that if Bankers like yours here were not so greedy and parsimonious with what is technically all of our money, then people like us wouldn't have to rob banks."

Unbelievably, there were murmurs of agreement as this was read.

"Now when we get caught, we are invariably punished, so all we ask is that the same goes for the banker."

A few Hear Hears, rang out.

"So please take the ruler from your bankers hands..."

And at that Miss Martin took the ruler and held it aloft, "...and have Mrs. Williams, the Minister's wife give him 20 whacks on each butt cheek. Once this is done, read on for further instructions."

With that, everyone gasped and a few downright guffawed and then all eyes turned to Mrs. Williams.

Mrs. Williams was in fact one of the most attractive women in town. While she dressed conservatively, it was obvious that her clothes covered a most curvaceous body.

It was only a few months ago that I sat admiring it as I turned her and her husband down on a loan to repair the old steeple.

She was a bit nonplussed with all eyes upon her, but then she seemed to gather herself and said, "well I'm going to need a chair."

With that, everything else was forgotten. Someone ran off and then right back with a sturdy straight backed chair.

It was placed on the street in front of the crowd and dusted off. Ms. Williams walked over and sat down as if she was royalty. She looked at the crowd and then at me and patted her thighs.

I was guided over and draped awkwardly across her lap with my hands still tied behind my back.

"Here, you'll need this," said Miss Martin a little breathlessly, handing Mrs. Williams the ruler.

Mrs. Williams caressed my rear for a few seconds as if sizing up a melon and then THWACK, hit my right butt cheek with such a force that I screamed out as everyone else winced.

As the blows continued, I tried to stifle my screams as others tried to stifle their nervous laughter. None of us fully succeeded.