## The Wrong Girl

Post by theseeker » Sun Jan 11, 2009 12:42 am

((Hey everyone. Was reading a couple of stories around here that were very well written and was inspired to try my own. I'm going to try and write this short story like a book would be written, though it's just really an idea right now. If you do like it though, please let me know and I'll continue. Thanks.))
Rustyâ€™s cigarette flew out of his window. It flew from the tip of his fingers to the long, asphalt road his car was speeding down, bouncing off the ground three times before coming to an indifferent stop near a yellow dotted line that split the coming lane from the going lane. Rusty was in the going lane, and the going lane was going deep into the belly of the Colorado plateau, hanging up in the northeastern part of Arizona. His dirty-blonde hair was being tugged back from his head in cool waves from the passing Arizona air, and it wasnâ€™t long before he had another cigarette already up and lit in the corner of his mouth. The sun was starting to drop over the western horizon, and an old Lynyrd Skynyrd tune was cranked up, blasting out of all four of the two-inch speakers that made up the Pontiacâ€™s stereo system. The song was good, but was being slightly thrown out of sync by a series of random thumps coming from the rear end of the vehicle. If there was one thing Rusty hated, it was having a perfectly good Lynyrd Skynyrd song being messed up for no good reason. He played with the idea of ignoring the thumps and simply turning the music up a little louder as he sucked down a long drag off his cigarette. The Arizona desert was ripping by him at sixty miles per hour just over his left shoulder. Just the desert. Nothing else around for miles.
The old Pontiac pulled off to the side of the road, the Skynyrd inside lowered to a volume that did the screaming lead guitars no justice. Rusty stuck the car into park, killed the ignition and with a tug of the handle, kicked the door right out to itâ€™s hinges end. He tossed his booted feet outside and stood up to stretch out and let the sinking sun hit him with all itâ€™s dying glory. The music was over, but the thumps from the rear of the car were growing louder by the second. More frequent to. Rusty let out a long breath and flicked his cigarette off to the side of the road. He stepped around to the back of the car and plugged the keys into the trunk release. He opened it and there she was.
She was laying on her side, faced towards him, and her hands were pulled around to her backside hidden from view. They were like that because Rusty has wrapped about six feet of rope around her wrists horizontally and vertically, binding them and hiding the knot high away from her fingers. Her ankles were wrapped together the same way, keeping her feet from doing much moving. She still was managing to kick the hell out of the inside of the trunk though.
â€œNow why are you doin that darlinâ€™? Raisin up one helluva commotion and wrecking my Skynyrd song?â€ Rusty questioned, placing one hand on the trunk lid and leaning inwards.
The girl had no response. She couldnâ€™t have one. Rusty had wrapped a lengthy piece of cloth around the lower half of her face several times. It was wedged snugly between her lips and teeth, keeping her mouth from doing much moving. Her green eyes were fully of fury though, and did enough speaking on their own. Rusty grinned. He was so happy heâ€™d caught this beautiful creature. Her less-than-shoulder-length brownish-auburn hair hung around her face in sweaty clumps, but he still thought she was stunning. He reached down and pushed some out of the way of her face. She responded by letting out some fierce shouts that the gag in her mouth kept quiet and impossible to understand.
â€œNow you know I donâ€™t understand none of that mumble-talk! If I unwrap that big mouth of yours, you best have something important to say. Itâ€™s a bit of a pain in the ass to do all that wrapâ€™n and unwrapâ€™n for no damn good reason, ya hear?â€
She stared up at him from the trunk with a calm look, patiently waiting in her forced silence for him to continue.
â€œHeh,â€ Rusty let out a husky laugh and rubbed the stubble growing on his chin, â€œYou know when to play nice, donâ€™t ya?â€
She remained still and quiet. Rusty let out a sigh and craned his head around. The long desert highway stretched away behind the parked Pontiacâ€™s trunk. Nothing in sight but the distant, heat-disoriented horizon. He turned back and leaned around to look down the highway the opposite way. He was met by the same picture.
â€œWelpâ€¦ alright then.â€ He said and reached into the trunk.
He scooped his arms under her knees and back and pulled her straight out. She didnâ€™t weigh very much, and Rusty had an easy time getting her out and shifting her around until he was able to easily sit her on the edge of the open trunk. He stepped in front of her, careful to guard his private area from any sudden anger-induced attack, and reached his arms around to the back of her head to find the knot of the gag. She glared at him with those piercing green eyes, and Rusty couldnâ€™t help but think of how pretty she was - even more so up close. She was young, probably no older than twenty, if that. She reminded him of someone he knew once along time ago, in a different life.
Soon enough the cloth was unknotted and unwrapped and she was free to curse him out and spit at him and give him all the hell her throat could muster. She didnâ€™t though. She just sat quietly moving her jaw around to work off the stiffness the gag must have set in it. Rusty headed to the side of the car, stuck half his body in the window of the driverâ€™s seat, and emerged with a twenty ounce bottle of water. He came back to the trunk and held it in front of her face.
â€œWater?â€ He asked.
She licked her lips and nodded. He raised the bottle and she opened her mouth and leaned her head back. She took down nearly all of it before pulling away.
â€œDamn. Sorry bout that. Guess I should have stopped sooner.â€ Rusty told her, downing the last bit of water and tossing the empty bottle into the open trunk.
â€œItâ€™sâ€¦ really hot in the trunk.â€ She finally spoke, her voice was soft and surprisingly calm. Nothing like the girl he saw on stage last night.
â€œYep,â€ Rusty agreed. Just reaching into the trunk to pull her out he could feel the temperature jack up about fifteen degrees. It was a mildly cool Arizona day, but that oven-of-a-trunk was probably making it seem like a Texas burner. â€œI canâ€™t bring ya up frontâ€¦ I can help get those pants off though.â€
Rusty instantly felt the mood in the air change. The girl shifted away from him and her face filled up with all sorts of fear.
â€œNo! I mean! Not like that! Lookâ€¦ I ainâ€™t gonna touch ya or nothing, I just mean itâ€™s a bit hot for jeans! This ainâ€™t nothing like that. It ainâ€™t about THAT.â€
â€œThen why are you doing this!â€ She suddenly shouted. Now she sounded like the girl he saw on stage last night.
â€œDarlin, this ainâ€™t nothing personal! No need to get shouty, itâ€™s just business. I donâ€™t know you. Iâ€™m just doing my job.â€
â€œThen LET ME GO!â€ She screamed and those green eyes went wide and serious.
â€œHey come on!â€ Rusty told her. â€œWeâ€™re just conversing here! You donâ€™t need to go yellin and shoutin waking up all the god damn desert coyotes for the next mile. Theyâ€™re the only ones that are gonna hear ya you know.â€
â€œIâ€™ll pay you.â€ She told him, suddenly regaining her composure. â€œWhatever heâ€™s paying youâ€¦ Iâ€™ll find a way to make it.â€
â€œOh,â€ Rusty started with a laugh, â€œNo honey, not this kind of money you wonâ€™t. Less your planning on robbin a bank anytime soon.â€
The girl looked around and then quickly at him. Her face had changed somehow, like sheâ€™d had an epiphany.
â€œWho are you?â€ She asked, staring intently.
â€œIâ€™m Bob.â€
â€œNo you arenâ€™t.â€
â€œNow how do you know Iâ€™m not Bob!?â€ Rusty teased. The girl smiled.
â€œLucky guess?â€
Rusty stared her up and down. He couldnâ€™t understand what made her mood shift from angry and scared to ready to joke with him so suddenly.
â€œSo Bob, what do you do for a living when youâ€™re not kidnapping people?â€
â€œWellâ€¦â€ He began when a soft sound in the distance caught his ear. He went quiet and tried concentrating.
â€œCome on Bob tell me!â€ She practically shouted.
â€œShhh!â€ He said and raised a finger to her lips. He turned his head over his right shoulder and caught the sunâ€™s reflection beaming off the hood of a car rolling right on down the highway at him.
â€œSmart girl.â€ He said as he turned back to her.
â€œWait!â€ She shouted before he scooped up her legs and shoved them back into the trunk.
He pushed the rest of her body down, but by the time he was ready to put the gag back in her mouth, he could hear the engine of the approaching vehicle right behind him. He could feel the curious eyes on his back. Thinking quick, he used one hand to grab the loop of rope around her ankles and pin them down, he used his other hand to clamp over the bottom half of her face. Her mouth was already working beneath his palm trying to scream. He kept a tight hold.
The car, some old Ford with an ugly paint job, rolled up right next to him and stopped, leaving about ten feet of distance between the protesting kidnapped girl in his trunk and the curious stranger.
â€œHowdy.â€ The stranger called out of the Fordâ€™s passenger-side window. â€œCar trouble buddy?â€
The stranger was an older man, probably around fifty. He was wearing a white cowboy hat and just as he pulled up Rusty heard him dialing down some sappy country song. He was a Good Oleâ€™ Boy.
â€œNah, nothing like that pal.â€ Rusty called back. In his arms, the girl was trying to wiggle her feet free from his grasp as she let out high-pitched squeals from beneath Rustyâ€™s firm hand.
â€œOhâ€¦â€ The Good Oleâ€™ Boy said. â€œNo troubles then?â€
Rusty could hear the curiosity still sitting in his voice. That wasnâ€™t good. You never wanted to wave off a curious party when you were in the kind of business he was in.
â€œWell, tell ya the truth bub, Iâ€™ve got something in my trunk here thatâ€™s been troublingâ€™ me.â€ Rusty called to him with a cheery disposition.
â€œOh?â€
â€œSure do. Got a six-pack of Bud Ice thatâ€™s about to get too god damned hot to drink. Figured I stop here and save the booze while I watch old glory over there fall behind the horizon.â€ Rusty continued, motioning to the orange-red sun that was a quarter of the way set.
â€œAh, I see.â€ The Good Oleâ€™ Boy said and grinned. Rusty had him now. He wasnâ€™t curious any more.
The girl was biting his palm now, but he kept his cool.
â€œWelcome to join me if you want.â€ Rusty offered, already knowing the answer.
â€œGot a wife up ahead in town that wouldnâ€™t care much for that I reckon.â€
â€œI gotcha. Hell hath no fury right?â€
â€œRight friend. Take it easy.â€
â€œYou to.â€
The ugly Ford drove off, the sappy country music coming back up before the license plate was even unreadable.
â€œHEEELP!â€ The girl screamed as Rusty took his hand away from her mouth.
â€œHeâ€™s gone. That was a mighty shitty thing you just did.â€ Rusty told her, rubbing the bleeding spot on his palm where sheâ€™d bit him.
â€œYouâ€¦ you FUCKER!â€ She yelled and slammed her feet into the side of the trunk.
â€œIt ainâ€™t me your mad at darlinâ€™. If it wasnâ€™t me he would have sent someone else. Now lift up your head. Didnâ€™t wanna do this but you did me wrong there, so now the gag is going back where it was. Weâ€™re not far from where weâ€™re goin.â€
She slowly shook her head as she lifted it and slightly opened her mouth to take the rag. Rusty pulled the cloth from his back pocket and leaned in.
â€œThis is nice. If you just cooperate-
Natalie was fast. Before Rusty knew it sheâ€™d pulled her knees up to her stomach, planted her feet on his chest and thrust him back with her legs about as hard as heâ€™d ever been thrust. His head clanged off the roof of the trunk lid. He shouted in pain and dropped to the asphalt holding his noggin.
Natalie swung her legs outside and began to wiggle her body up over the lip of the trunk edge. She got her butt over it, and then twisted her body so she was hanging out of the trunk ass-to-the-sky. It hurt her stomach like hell, but she fought through it and used momentum to fall completely out of the trunk. She landed next to the still-wounded man and immediately began to pull at the ropes around her wrists and ankles, frantically trying to get them free. She tried jerking her legs around to loosen up the knot on her ankle, but he had tied them too well. Her chance at freedom was nearly gone, but she had one more idea.
She stuck the toe of her shoe onto the heel of the other and kicked it off. It dangled on the end of her foot as she looked around. She needed to kick it somewhere that the man wouldnâ€™t see, but someone else might. He was recuperating right beside her, she didnâ€™t have much time. With all her might she flung her feet out as far as they would go, angling her foot at the last moment to let the shoe fly. It made a triumphant flight all of about ten feet before hitting the middle of the road and lying there dumbly. Natalie muttered a curse under her breath, hoping the man wouldnâ€™t see it with all the hope she could muster.
Then he was picking her up, slinging her over his shoulder, and dumping her back into her dark prison in the back of the car. The lid slammed shut without him ever even re-gagging her. She must have pissed him off. Good for him. Now all she had to do was hope someone was looking for her, and that if they were that the shoe would somehow lead them in the right direction. She hoped.
No one was currently looking for her though. However, Rusty did drive off without noticing the one lonely size 8 womans sneaker in the middle of Arizonaâ€™s route 89. If someone was going to look, theyâ€™d have a start.

### Re: The Wrong Girl

Post by ilikebeingtiedup » Sun Jan 11, 2009 1:54 am

love the start. hope to see more ^^

### Re: The Wrong Girl

Post by bondagefan » Sun Jan 11, 2009 7:35 am

Well written hope to read more soon.

### Re: The Wrong Girl

Post by Nicole » Thu Jun 03, 2010 9:46 pm

very nice start. me like.