| Author's Note: Before anyone takes up an irate quill citing "plagiarism, plagiarism," It ain't so! Literotica will not permit me to use my better-known name of Peter_Pan as it is already in use. Be assured however - I am me!
Luke Randall wasn't exactly what you'd call a good-looking guy, not even half-ways worthy of a second glance from a girl's viewpoint. In fact as far as that was concerned, there weren't any girls in Trinity, Idaho had gotten as far as even HAVING a viewpoint as to Luke's particular existence.
Now nineteen, he had somehow completed his education at Westmore High, his grades having been no more impressive than his peer-ranking. Perhaps his science lecturer had nailed it succinctly when he wrote on Luke's essay "Atomic Fission: The Post War Challenges"... "Luke, if you ever find yourself within the proximity of a nuclear reactor – don't touch anything!"
Five-nine at a stretch, dark lanky hair that defied any particular style. It simply grew! More than his share of acne and with a dress sense that ranked somewhere between white trailer-trash and Dennis Hopper mid adolescence.
It wasn't as if he had the opportunity to excel in sport. He could neither wield a baseball bat or cut it as a line-back. Not that he was especially weak, simply un-cordinated as all hell. Thus, with basically no friends, no future and less than no self-esteem, you can understand Luke's resentment at having been born.
Life at home was little better. The youngest of three children, his two sisters being several year's older, Luke himself was an unplanned and in his view unwanted addition. His father, a retired welding contractor, had no interest in anything much beyond keeping an eye on the beer stocks in the fridge. Parenthood had simply been a rude interruption to his life-style. He knew he'd had a son but would have needed prompting to describe him.
Luke's mother, one might kindly refer to as a faded beauty, but then one would really be lying. A mousey blonde, her best days were long behind her at sixteen, not that this would have been a problem for Luke's father, whose eyes rarely strayed between the neck and knees of any girl......then or now.
But Luke had one friend, two if you include his driver's license! She was his ideal companion. Uncomplaining, she accompanied him everywhere. He would even stay-up nights just looking at her, the fading sunlight reflecting off her shapely rear-end as she sat there on the grass resplendent in all her finery.
Almost eighteen-foot long give or take an over-rider, that gold '69 Buick Electra hard-top was Luke's greatest, if not only joy. He had nursed her though ill-health, spent most every dollar he had earned from part-time work on her betterment and she had repaid him handsomely by way of unshakeable loyalty and reliability. He loved her, but now she had to help him.
He had never actively pursued the opposite sex at High school. Partly from fear of rejection, partly fear of acceptance, but principally, in recognition of his limited social standing. Definitely from the wrong end of town for the sort of girl he dreamed about.
The hormones had kicked-in on time but the call had never been answered. Between them, Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione and Larry Flynt had only been able to offer temporary stapled relief and anyway, silicone implants really weren't the sexual panacea Luke was looking for. He wanted a cute and loving little home-town girl, no manufactured blonde fantasy hot off the bench-press.
Within striking distance of twenty now, his craving for youthful female company had reached critical mass. There was only so much solace to be derived from cyber-porn, sexstoriespost.com and the old standby -his trusty bar of soap.
At the car-wash where he held down a casual job, there were a couple of girls in the office. One he had summoned-up the courage to ask out – before she cut him dead with the needlessly hurtful reply. "No offense Luke, but go look in the mirror – I DO have a reputation to look after y'know!" Kristy the other girl, already had a full-time boyfriend who just happened to be the star pitcher for the State League team.
Loneliness gave way to despair, desire to unfettered sexual imagery. He began imagining what it would be like to have a lover, one who would accede to his every whim unquestioningly. His orgasms became stronger and more prolonged, in direct proportion to his evolving dark fantasies. He began spending more time in his own room, a converted garage at the rear of the property, alongside which his father had helped him build a corrugated iron car-port to house the Buick. The arrangement suited the entire family. No-one need ever be expected to more than simply acknowledge the other's existence.
With seemingly no likelihood of ever being able to engender a normal heterosexual relationship, Luke began reading true-life rape tales. Whether or not they were in fact kosher really didn't matter to him. Just the thought of having that awesome power over a young and innocent girl, filled him with longing. He began to see it as his destiny. Payback of sorts for all those years of put-downs and snide comments.
He began cruising local schools, just watching the girls as they left for the afternoon. Just the way they would giggle, hold hands, toss their hair back and every other little affected girlish mannerism, he missed no detail. He began to imagine some of them back in his room tied up, breasts open to his touch, their skirts so easy to push up and those hot little panties exposed for him to look at from whatever angle he chose...for as long as he chose.
Some days he would return to his room and beat-off several times before he was able to shed the hot images he had so fancifully created.
Implementing a plan however was another question. He could hardly cruise-on down to the school gates mid-afternoon, parents and relatives offering clustered protection and especially in a car which just about every second resident of Trinity would recognise two hundred yards distant. No, he would need to think this one through.
Night meant increased safety, while at the same time virtually eliminating opportunity. What school-girls would be walking around town unaccompanied after dark? For sure, none that he would be interested in! He figured he owed it to himself at least to go check-out the scene that evening.
The mere reality of his being on-site, "prowling" the sidewalks that night sent a hot flush through him. A predator-come-lately perhaps but at least he was "doing," not "dreaming." He had parked the car in a dark back-street just off the main drag, yet five minutes walk from the center of town. Not that Trinity had what you could call a "Town Center" as such, just Union Park with its Council chambers and old stucco Town Hall which rather like Trinity itself, had long since seen better days. A light breeze induced some brief motion in the flag atop the Court House fronting the main entrance to the Park and through which one or two people were obviously about to take their evening constitutional.
A young couple strolled past Luke as he stood just inside the doorway of Al's Diner that had been forced to close the previous month, having been several weeks behind on the rent. Their happy chatter and the loving expression on the girl's face as she clutched the man's hand as they passed, angered him momentarily.
He walked towards the eastern boundary of the park now, crossing Marriot Boulevarde at the lights. Two girls in a black Saab convertible screeched to a halt. Eminem was emphasising the depth and resonance of the car's sound system insisting "Two trailer-park girls walk round the outside, round the outside, round the outside....." The girls stared at Luke and the one driver's side called out to him, "Wot you lookin' at dickhead?" They accelerated off before he could reply, leaving him little but the use of his middle finger.
"Couple of hoes," he thought to himself. He wasn't far wrong either.
He walked for twenty minutes or so, not with any particular plan, just checking the lie of the land as it were. As he crossed to the corner of Third Avenue, "Brent's Alnite Drugstore" loomed large, a shimmering beacon of blue neon light that illuminated as area at least fifteen feet across the sidewalk and onto Marriot Boulevarde itself. Standing at the shop's entrance, Luke caught the not unpleasant odour of pharmaceutical and medical preparations, toiletries and allied drugstore supplies. A thought came to him. At the counter he was surprised just how easily he had ordered it.
"A small bottle of chloroform please," he had requested.
When asked if it was for him, he simply replied that he was just getting it for his mother and that he didn't know what she needed it for. He was most convincing and the pharmacist handed it over with no fuss.
Aside from a few girls in small groups leaving the theater, there didn't appear to Luke to be too many opportunities presenting themselves. He foresaw that it would be much the same any night and manic depression began to overwhelm him once more. He didn't want to go home already as it was only a quarter after nine and all that awaited him there was a pile of stained magazines, fuzzy video cartridges and wall to wall loneliness. He decided that hunched-up in the corner of Rick's Charcoal Chicken Basement with a hot coffee and a ham on rye was probably as good as anything else on the horizon.
The caffeine coursed through his venal system – shame the rye was yesterday's. Luke sat there sullenly, watching customers play out their seemingly happy lives, purely at the expense of his escalating torment, he figured.
At that moment a young girl with a back-pack stepped through the entranceway, sending the plastic strips into temporary confusion. She looked very unhappy but walked up to the counter and ordered a Coke and a sandwich. Luke watched as she sat down with her back to him just a couple of alcoves up, shuffling her tray around nervously as if deciding whether to eat or drink first. From what he had seen, she was rather pretty.
The girl had fairly long light-brown hair, shining and obviously well-cared for. Prettily swept back into a ponytail, it was held in place by a piece of dark-green ribbon that contrasted sharply with the caramel colored top she had on. Her short dark skirt accentuated both her youth and the slender perfection of her legs. He wished he could see her face again.
As he watched, she seemed distracted and put down the coke. The sandwich he noticed, she had barely touched. As she lowered her head, he heard her begin sobbing as she covered her face with her hands. By no means hysterical crying, she was gripped obviously by some deep personal misery.
This was a situation outside Luke's experience....most any situation was come to that! Something about the girl's immediacy touched Luke and as no-one else seemed to be paying her much heed...an older couple two tables up turned and glanced at her before continuing on with their conversation.....he got up and walked towards her. "Excuse me Miss," he said standing alongside her table somewhat awkwardly, "Are you OK?"
She glanced up at him, evidently surprised by his presence. She didn't seem to be annoyed by the intrusion.
"Yes....I...I'm fine thank you," she lied. "Just got a few problems...but thanks for asking. I'll be fine." She dabbed her eyes with a serviette and Luke found himself staring at point-blank range at the prettiest of little-girl faces. Even tear-filled, her blue eyes were enough to melt his heart. Beautiful soft features, cutest little turned-up nose set between smooth cheeks with all the flush of youth. At her temples, strands of brown hair curled into little feathery bangs just overlapping the tops of her small but clearly defined ear-lobes. She wore tiny golden ear studs, that for a moment reminded him of the Electra. Most appealing though was her mouth. Intensely kissable and lightly glossed lips that curved delicately upwards just enough to let you know that here was mother nature truly unplugged, a rare example of female genetic perfection.
"Want to tell me what's wrong Miss?" he managed somehow to get out.
She looked at him for a moment, instinctively aware of his social discomfort.
"Look, its nothing really, just a few issues at home." she replied.
"C...could I sit with you for a minute?" he asked, hardly daring that she would ever acquiesce. "My name's Luke by the way," he added hopefully.
Inviting him to sit down, she told him her name was Ashley. He learned that she was just eighteen and attended St Angelus College, an expensive private educational facility in the northern and far newer sector of Trinity. When she predictably asked where he lived, he felt a flush of embarrassment, telling her simply, "Oh, just near the rail terminus," but she didn't seem to make any adverse connections.
The "issues" she mentioned earlier proved to be stubborn parents that she felt were denying her her freedom. Specifically a father who, refusing to admit to himself that his daughter was no longer a child, would not allow her to go out to a rock concert with other girlfriends even though technically an adult. She told him she had just walked out of the house that evening in anger as she had been given free tickets and it was something she was really looking forward to.
All the time she was speaking, he was gazing at her and wondering if this was simply God indulging himself in another round of humor at Luke's expense. Tempting him beyond the boundaries of sanity with the immediacy of this exquisitely beautiful young girl.
"Have a good look son, it's as close as you're ever gonna get!"
An unheralded vision of her tied-up helpless on his bed brought a blush to his cheeks. He looked away momentarily. He felt the small bottle in his trouser pocket and immediately rebuked himself for the images it brought.
"Well Luke," she said, "I suppose I'd better be getting home. I've never 'run away' before...even if it was only for an hour or so! My dad will be looking for me soon coz I switched my cell off."
On impulse, he said to her.
"Well hey Ashley, I have a car just round the corner. Let me take you back, you can't walk home alone this time of night." Then, as an afterthought, "It's OK...I'm pretty safe!"
She smiled at him.
"Sure it's not out of your way?"
"Yeah, like at least ten minutes," he replied in a mock-inconvenienced tone.
She gathered up her back-pack and they left Rick's Charcoal Chicken.
Luke's mind was in hyperdrive as they walked to his car. He knew she would never, COULD never, go out with him. This was the only opportunity he could ever see himself as having. She was the girl over and above any that he had fantasisied about and if he was to do it...this was the moment. Still chatting to her idly, he slowly retrieved the small bottle from his pocket.
"Whoa!" she said when they reached the Buick. "Is this really your car?"
"Yeah," he replied. "I've had her for a couple of years. Bit heavy on gas, but she's a dream to ride in."
"Really cool car Luke," she said. "I love it."
Opening the passenger's side door for her, he ushered her in. The glow from the courtesy light permitted Luke a momentary glance of her skirt riding up her thighs as she sat down. Being a really warm night, he had her lower all four windows from the central console."
"Just have to get my bag out of the trunk Ashley, hold on a sec." He glanced around the darkened street....not a person in sight.
He almost dropped the tiny bottle in his haste. He hadn't realised it until that instant, but the adrenalin-rush had imbued his body with a fit of shaking. Retrieving a small cloth he kept near the spare tire, he quickly unscrewed the bottle and poured several drops of fluid on to the rag, soaking the center part, while keeping it at arm's length and being careful not to breathe more than necessary. He hadn't been thirty seconds.
"Ready now," he called to her. A last glance around revealed no newcomers to the street.
In two steps he was beside her. Clamping the cloth tightly across her mouth she struggled immediately of course, trying desperately to force his arm away. She beat at it, but to no avail. The car being pillarless, he was able to hold her tightly against the seat and in a matter of seconds the chloroform took hold, her struggles subsided and she yielded no further resistence. He let her breathe the fumes for just a couple of seconds more to ensure she was deeply under. He then tossed the rag back in the trunk, climbed into the driver's seat and buckled up. She looked for all the world like a sleeping girlfriend.
Driving straight into his carport, he knew no-one would be outside. His father would either be watching TV or getting drunk....hopefully both. His mother if she was home, and not at a friend's place as usual, would be in bed by now and asleep. Both sisters had moved out long ago.
The stillness of the night contrasted to that of his heartbeat as he got out and retrieved the key from its customary place over the door lintel. Leaving the front-door ajar he returned to the Buick where Ashley still lay unmoving across the seat that he had set to the maximum lay-back position. By moonlight, she looked to him an angel at rest. Just for an instant as he moved her, the light reflected off the little pendant that hung around her neck, murdering his conscience, imperiling his very soul.
She was so light, her arms hanging loose by her side as he carried her inside quickly. As he entered the solitary little room, he tried to imagine if this was what it felt like carrying one's bride across the threshhold. The young girl's breasts were clearly accentuated now given her limp and vulnerable position. He lay her gently down on his bed and hurriedly returned to the trunk to fetch the chloroform bottle should he be needing it.
He saw the room so differently suddenly. Its shortcomings were underscored by her very presence. His bed now, looked to him the worn and pitiful item of furniture that it was. The creased and far from clean quilt contrasted with her neat attire. The threadbare carpet seemed to complete the picture. Beauty and the Beast...with new players.
He partly addressed the problem by turning off the harsh center light and switching on the bedside lamp that at least made some pretense at gentility. He simply could not take his eyes off her. He had caught a glimpse of her light-colored panties as he laid her down. Now as she lay on her back, he could see a hint of them once more. He felt a substantial stirring right where he needed to.
He approached the bed and very gently re-arranged her legs so that more of her undies were visible. She was still out cold and he had free rein for now. Sitting in the chair opposite, the view now was substantially improved and he unzipped himself. Definitely no need for soap tonight he realised. He began to rub himself as his fantasies kicked-in big-time given the scene before him.
He remembered his digital camera. Here surely was the opportunity of a lifetime? Yet as he looked at that scene through the viewfinder, he experienced a momentary twinge of conscience, though not enough ultimately to sway him from his endeavors. He became more creative and pushing the girl's skirt right up, stared now at her fully exposed knickers. His erection was dictating operational procedure. He took several pictures before pushing her knees up and setting her legs wide apart.
From the chair, her fully indecent pose suggested to him, innocence betrayed and in his mind she was doing this to arouse him further. Staring at her panties, he visualised her rubbing herself and whispering to him to watch. He got up, cock in hand and taking hold of her left arm, managed to get a hand inside her panties. Backing up a few feet, he took a picture of her 'pleasuring herself.'