tagNonConsent/ReluctanceOut of the Stones Pt. 1

Out of the Stones Pt. 1



Chapter One

Darkness and cold, enhancing each other in the frozen metropolitan city. Pedestrians passing through and underneath the skyway matrix bundled up against the wind that threatened to numb and tear away the fattened flesh. Difficult to believe that in this city with its dirty snow and ice crystals, that humanity has so chosen to thrive. A unique breed that not only enjoys the biting and stinging cold, but also seem to excel in its presence. Gordon and Martha Babcock, two prime examples; he dressed in a warm down filled parka, with coyote fur lining the hood and overly large gloves, mimicked only by the dime store Santa’s. Born and raised in this part of the country, a descendant of the many Scandinavians that had settled here over the years. Gordon had donned the traditional three layers of clothing, including a pair of thermal underwear. He was fully prepared to face the night of bar hopping that both him and Martha enjoyed on a regular basis. Martha was a stark opposite of her light skinned husband. Martha had been raised on the West Coast, with plenty of sunshine and regular bouts of rain. She had come here as a promotion to a job after her college graduation out west. She had learned to adapt to the cold, but she would never be as comfortable in it as her husband. To make matters worse, Martha was very vain in her selection of clothes. She tended to dress more for fashion than for any function. Tonight was no exception, a small leather mini-skirt barely covered her posterior, and she had noticed several of the bar patrons trying to be sly and catch glimpses of her lace covered crotch as she would cross and uncross her legs. She liked the attention her clothing, or lack of drew, although she would never admit to being anything of an exhibitionist. Martha was a beautiful twenty-eight year old woman, and she liked to occasionally flaunt those gifts donned upon her by the genetic gods. Martha and Gordon stepped out from the McCairns Irish Brew House, and stood under the street lamps.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the skyway over to the car?” Gordon was genuinely concerned with his wife’s health, dressed as she was in the cold. “Why don’t you wait inside and I’ll bring the car around.”

“Oh don’t be silly, it’s not that cold out and I need the fresh air to clear out those last two drinks from my head.” Martha’s voice was not overly high, she had smoked through most of her teenage years, and even though she had quit, the nicotine had taken its toll on her. The voice was always arousing to Gordon, and he was feeling amorous to begin with. He had wanted to get in at least a “quickie” before they had even left the house, but Martha had wanted to get out as soon as possible, promising to make it worth his while upon their return. Gordon was always a little leery of Martha’s sexual promises. She had a tendency to want to stay out too late or drink a little too much, so that they were both too tired by the time they got home.

The two walked down Hennepin Avenue making their way south toward the parking garage. The wind started to pick up. Gordon occasionally turned his head into the multitude of strip bars and sex shop windows. The wind had a devastating effect on the eyes, burning away the moisture and causing them to feel dryer than the Sahara. The wind also had an exhilarating if not masochistic charge as it blew up Martha’s short skirt. Her teeth started to chatter and she tried to snuggle into Gordon as they quickened their pace. Gordon offered her the jacket, but she wouldn’t hear of it, besides it would still leave her legs and toes open to the elements. Better to be all the way cold, than just parts of her. More than six blocks to go and both were starting to regret having parked so far away. Gordon had wanted to park the car at his special parking garage, he thought it was safer there than the dark ones further up Hennepin. As another gust picked up and was intensified by the funneling effect the multistory buildings around them caused, Martha slipped into a doorway of an older abandoned building.

“On second thought, can I wait here until you get the car?” Her teeth were really chattering at a face pace and were increasing with each breath she took in.

“Hey no problem, I’ll be right back. You sure you don’t want the jacket?”

Martha had stopped even bothering to talk, her teeth were clicking far too much to not have it sound comical. She shook her head and waved him off to hurry.

Gordon took off around the corner of the little alcove; not daring to run as the ice had not been scraped completely off of these sidewalks. His flat-soled Italian shoes gave absolutely no grip as he tried to speed walk down the street. He looked back to make sure Martha wasn’t following or trying to get his attention. The light was very poor where he had left her, and he couldn’t see anything. Better just to hurry and get to the car. Two blocks to go. He turned sharply, thinking that he had heard something. Gordon was starting to feel the cold even through his multiple layers; he felt a pounding of sympathy for his wife and a twinge of guilt that he had not forced her to keep the jacket. “So much for chivalry” he snorted to himself.

The car was bathed in a yellow light, and ice crystals had formed on the windows. “Darn, I’ve got to scrape these or I won’t even make it out of the garage.” Talking to himself was a way he had discovered to cope with the cold. Keep your mind on something else; ignore the cold he thought. Gordon fumbled with the lock. Manipulating the key without taking off his gloves, it seemed like it took him ten minutes just to retrieve them from his jacket pocket. His heart started to race as he thought about his scantly dressed wife out in this cold. “Bet her nipples are hard as rock.” Gordon was starting to remember her promise, and his dick was already starting to rise to the occasion. One crank, two, damn cold was making it hard on the car. The car whined at each crank of the starter, moaning out its protest to having been left out in the elements instead of tucked away nicely in a heated garage. Finally and begrudgingly the engine turned over, it wasn’t idling well. Gordon hopped out and started scraping the windows, noticing that a thin layer of glaze was forming on the inside of the window. The Ford was doing it’s best and the defroster was slammed over to it's highest setting, but this was Minnesota after all. It was going to take time for the heater to take its effect. After what seemed like an eternity Gordon was racing around the serpentine garage, making his way down to the third avenue exit, whipping it around to Hennepin again. At each turn the whine and groan of the power steering belt echoed throughout the garage. “Shit” Gordon slammed on the breaks as the stoplight turned red in front of him. He peered down the streets, figuring his odds of success if he should so choose to run the light. He revved the engine, hoping to increase the heat. The light changed, but still Gordon was forced to wait as a group of teenagers crossed the street against the solid “Don’t walk” sign. Gordon raised his fist at the kids; shit wasn’t there a curfew for them at this time of night. Gordon prepared himself for the maelstrom of curses that Martha would no doubt inflict on him for not being quicker about picking her up. He started to get defensive, even though he was only arguing with himself, after all it wasn’t his fault she had to go out dressed like that, he had asked her to wear warmer clothes. He became aggressive as he pulled up to the little alcove; this was actually all her fault, why couldn’t she just listen to her husband. Gordon honked the horn and unlocked the passenger side of the vehicle. He peered into the alcove and waited for her to come racing to the car. There wasn’t any movement that he could see through the darkness. Gordon unstrapped his seatbelt and crawled back out into the cold. “Martha, lets go.” He yelled into the alcove, his voice seeming to blare through the quiet of the night. Still there was no answer, Gordon figured that she must be hiding back there with her teeth chattering and couldn’t answer, hell served her right for not listening.

Gordon walked to where he had left her, “Honey?” He was confident that this was where he had separated from her, but she wasn’t there now. “God damn it. I’ll bet she went back to the fucking bar. Shit it didn’t take me that damn long to get back.” His anger was slowly rising and the blame was getting placed more and more on his petite wife. “Probably, back there flashing it off to those guys again…. Shit, she thinks I never noticed.” Gordon turned and headed back towards his car and misplaced his footing. He came down hard on the ice, “Oh that does it, she can take a fucking cab.” He turned to get his hands underneath of himself, and felt the firm feeling of something in his hand. The actual texture was beyond his sensation, his gloves obscured that. He lifted the object to his face. It was Martha’s stiletto shoe. Gordon looked around for the other; he tried to fit the puzzle together. They would be hard to walk in, on the frozen ice, but he couldn’t imagine her walking down the street barefoot. Gordon’s heart started to race, he left his car and ran down the street towards the bar. He continued to stumble without the traction of a good rubber sole shoe, but he was no longer concerned with falling. “Just let her be all right.” He started to chant to himself.

He plunged into the bar, which had mostly emptied out and peered through the smoke at the bar and tables. He knew that he shouldn’t panic, but something wasn’t right with all of this. No Martha. Maybe she caught a ride with a friend and was just getting back to the alcove. He ran back down the street. The sweat from his forehead was freezing off and making his skin feel stretched, the wind was burning his eyes worse as he ran, causing them to tear up more. All of the moisture seemed to have been whisked away from his lips, and his lungs burned with the cold as he drew in breath harder and harder. He paid no attention to it as the adrenaline was coursing through his body. He didn’t know weather to be angry, afraid, or guilty… he just wanted her to be safe and warm with him again.

Again back at the alcove and no Martha. He screamed her name into the night, hoping that she would hear him if she had wandered further down the street. Gordon fumbled with the keys in the ignition and opened the trunk of his still running car. He grabbed up the flashlight and tried to see if there were any tracks he could follow through the snow. Unfortunately the snow had been shoveled, and the remainder had frozen so solidly that no imprint could be seen. He flashed the light around to see if he would find her other shoe. He stopped suddenly as he saw a dark pool that had just recently started to freeze. He reached down and placed the tip of his glove into it. It came back up like tar and he knew instinctively that everything had gone wrong. He screamed and jumped quickly to his car, only now removing his gloves as he tried to dial the numbers to 911. Through a parka and three layers of clothes, Gordon was freezing inside.

Martha stood in the alcove holding herself tight, trying to block out the bitter wind that still seemed to sneak its way around the corner. She imagined she could actually see her blood thickening in her veins, moving slower and slower. She could never remember having been this cold. Martha peered around the corner to see where Gordon had gotten off too. “Please hurry baby, my tits are gonna fall off out here.” She squinted against the wind and felt the urge to just let her eyes close and go to sleep. The thought of sleep drifted her off to her own warm bed; she could feel the weight of her comforter falling across her breasts. She dreamed of Gordon’s warm body snuggling up next to her.

“Hey there, this is no place to sleep.” A stranger’s voice startled her back to the moment and her teeth began to chatter again. She wasn’t sure if her teeth had ever really stopped chattering. She was slightly perturbed by the interruption. Martha looked into the eyes of a man with a ski mask. Ski masks in the middle of the night anywhere else would have been enough to make Martha scream for help, but they were so common here.

“Not really dressed for Minnesota are you?” The voice was soothing and friendly, and she felt at ease answering.

“Just out for a night on the town with the hubby, he’ll be back here any minute with the car.” She managed to chatter out between breaths.

“Good, otherwise I do believe you’d expire from hypothermia out here dressed like that. Look I’ve got an extra coat in my car, how about I get it for you.” The voice sounded strangely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. The scent of cologne, sweet and musk with just a touch of the man's own aroma reached her nostrils. Martha found it oddly drawing.

“OK, yeah, sure….ah, thank you.” Her head was nodding faster than she wanted it to, but the cold was muddling her thoughts.

The man didn’t really even seem to leave as a coat was thrown around her shoulders. It felt like a blanket was thrown around her as well.

“Why, you’re half frozen aren’t you.” The man stepped closer to Martha. She could smell him, and he smelled good. He put his hands on her arms and started to rub them furiously, trying to help her warm up.

“Really, it’s OK, my husband will be here in a minute with the car.” She wasn’t sure how Gordon would feel if he saw her with a total stranger, especially with the stranger touching her.

The man didn’t seem put off any, “yeah, well you need to be warmed up until he gets here. What kind of guy leaves his wife out in the cold.” He continued to rub her arms and shoulders. He had slipped around behind her and the warmth was starting to reach her arms. Stranger or not, this was starting to feel good. The man did have a point, Gordon should have insisted that he leave at least his coat with her. The man continued to rub her body, and Martha was starting to feel aroused by it. He was standing directly behind her now, and his rubbing seemed to be slowing into more of a gentle rub. She couldn’t help herself, and she started to sway back and forth. Was it just her imagination or was he pressing himself up against her now? His hands reached around and slowly eased around her stomach, caressing and warming it was delicious she thought to herself. Thoughts of Gordon slipped away. Oh god, she thought, his hands are on my thighs. The stranger was now venturing higher and higher, until his hands reached under her skirt and began ministering to her dampening pussy. He ran his hands gently over her pubic mound, pressing down on the top of her pelvic arch seductively. So erotic Martha thought, no guilt, so delicious. She wanted to feel more of this man and his warmth. She was thrusting her ass against an obviously large erection. She licked her lips and dreamed of the dick inside this man’s pants, how it would feel as it would pound inside of her.

“Seems you’re getting warmer,” he purred into her ear.

“Mmmmm,” was all she was able to muster, she wanted this man to take her.

Martha turned to look into his eyes, damn what a fantasy come true. A masked mystery man bringing her to new heights in such a public place. Her husband would be here soon, the possibilities of getting caught drove her plateau of ecstasy to even greater levels. The man reached under the jacket and handled her breasts roughly, her nipples were so hard, and the cold was now an enhancement rather than a danger.

She felt a sting above her eye, she reached out to touch it, but things seemed to slow down. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her hands dropped limply to her sides, she felt warm though, and that was nice.

“Time for a nap darling.” She heard the stranger laugh and still she didn’t feel afraid.

Lots of people crowded the small Irish bar; it was kind of the hangout for so many wanna be eclectic groups. You were liable to see everything from longhaired guys wearing kilts to yuppie couples pretending to be hip while their kids were home with the nanny. Unlike so many bars in the neighborhood, this one encouraged the use of tobacco, especially pipes and cigars. It was rumored that bringing in an especially unique blend or the right cigar could get you a free drink or more from the owners. And with the right questions, other desireable weeds could be gotten as well. They slung mostly beers, ales, and an occasional hard cider in this place. Sometimes the right occasion might bring out a good bottle of whisky. People were friendly with each other here, regardless of their racial, economical, or political standing. Regulars sat in the dark corners throwing darts or trying to make up limericks. In the very darkest portions lovers would hide and grope each other. Word had it that some rich philanthropist moved this bar from the emerald isle, directly to the states; of course this was total marketing and without any merit. Martha and Gordon sat at the bar watching the activities around them, talking with the other patrons. She was beautiful and caught the eyes of many a passing or sitting man. One man watched so intently that he spilled his beer when his wife slapped him for staring.

She winked at one younger fellow as he pointed her out to his buddy sitting next to him. When she crossed her legs they applauded. When Gordon turned to see what was happening, they looked away towards the television above them. Martha spun around on her barstool and tried to keep a straight face.

“What were they clapping about?”

“Oh shit you know these Irishmen, probably watching a soccer game.”

Martha continued to move slowly to the music playing in the background. Five bars they had hit tonight, and she had to piss so badly. “Be right back babe, gotta go.”

Gordon held her close and kissed her, patting her bottom gently. He was trying to let the other blokes in here know that she was claimed territory. He always felt a little uneasy when she dressed up like this to go out. Oh well, he knew that she loved him and that was what was important.

She winked again at the two young men as she made her way back into the women’s restroom. She did love to tease. She would never consider cheating on Gordon, but the attention was so very nice. Tonight had been a good night; lots of guys were checking her out.

The bathroom was in bad shape, typical for a downtown bar on a Friday night, especially this close towards closing time. There was actually urine on the floor. Obviously some lady had not quite made it to the porcelain or had tried to pee standing up. Martha chuckled at the thought. She raised her skirt and sat down to complete her business, before she realized that there wasn’t any toilet paper. Drip dry, great. Someone else was in the bathroom with her, she could smell perfume. It smelled good, if not a little masculine, but with the crowd in here it wouldn’t be surprising to have a few androgynous types too. Martha stepped out of the stall and looked at the sink, she hated to stop to wash her hands. No one was watching so she went ahead out of the bathroom. How funny she thought, we wash our hands if no one is looking. She’d have to remember that the next time she went to shake someone else’s hand.

The two guys watched her leave from the bathroom, and she felt playful. She stopped before she got to Gordon and reached down to straighten out her stalkings. There were only two problems with this, she bent over at the waist, and she wasn’t wearing any stalkings. These were lost on the two as their mouths went dry from the exposed flesh flashed in front of them. Gordon turned as she stood and smoothed out the wrinkles from her skirt. He looked back to see the other fellows again watching the soccer game.

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