Mickey rolled the dolly and box in her direction, calling to her to please hold the elevator door, a squeaky wheel on the dolly signaling his approach. In the next moment they were together in the elevator, alone. She had pushed twenty-six with perfectly manicured Ferrari red nails.
“Floor?” she asked enticingly.
Floor, he thought, did you hear the way she asked floor? Having the presence of mind to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket on which he had written; gloves, tape, box, dolly, hat, pretending to read it.
“Twenty-six, please,” he said attempting to look bored.
“What’s that?” she nodded in the direction of the large box.
“Stove,” he replied, half surprised at the question since there were large pictures of a stove on all four sides of the box beneath the letters STOVE.
“It’s taken a lot longer to install than I, err, that is, we expected. Ahh, it happens, you know. We’re just about finished, just want to make sure everything is working right before we leave.”
Mmm, I’m sure they would appreciate that,” she said watching the floor numbers light up over the door, sixteen, seventeen , eighteen. No longer looking at him but thinking she must have seen him in the building before, he seemed sort of familiar.
They arrived at twenty-six. Mickey enveloped in a heavenly cloud of sexy Nikki Deveroux perfume, she probably had her own personal scent. Once the door opened she held it for Mickey, with that talented, firm rear end, placing one of her fantastic hips in front of the electronic eye, leaning down, gathering up her shopping bags,
“You go ahead.” she said, firm breasts bouncing, jiggling, almost begging to jump out for him but unfortunately confined by some dastardly foundation system.
Mickey rolled the dolly into the hall, exiting through a cloud of Nikki perfume, turning left, slowly squeaking down the longer length of the hall, betting the odds she’d follow in the same direction. He lost, of course, she didn’t give him a second look exiting to the right and wiggling her fantastically talented rear end in the opposite direction. Her breasts a bouncy half step ahead of her, like the sculpted prow of some marvelous pleasure yacht, the good ship Nikki Deveroux.
Mickey quickly turned round and followed her, closing the gap with what was going to have to pass as clever conversation.
“Gee, I don’t know what it is about this side of the building,” he said, squeak, squeak, squeaking toward her as she looked back, “but I always go the wrong way.”
She didn’t seem to rush but he sensed a tightening of the now famous Deveroux buns, perhaps just a barely perceptible increase in her pace. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do next, but knew that whatever it was he would need his roll of tape. He squeaked to a stop, standing in front of the door next to hers, smiled, then opened the top of the box, reaching for the roll of tape. He thought maybe he could just dash in before the door closed behind her, grab her in the privacy of her own unit. Her abduction a private little something between the two of them, something they would share laughingly in calmer, quieter times, over a glass of her favorite wine, just the four of them, Mickey, Nikki and her fantastic boobs.
She bobbled and dropped her keys, looking up at him at just that moment and he knew she knew, saw the change in her eyes, the animal look, a momentary enlargement of her beautiful brown eyes. She was suddenly fumbling a little too much with the keys, concentrating first on Mickey, then the keys, then back to Mickey, he took it as a sign from above, quickly moved toward her.
He was just reaching, ready to grab sweet, sexy Nikki, spin her around, gently tape those luscious lips so they wouldn’t cry out and ruin the moment. He was close enough to become enveloped in Nikki’s perfume again, about to experience the good fortune of that fantastic Deveroux rear end pushed into him, Nikki’s breasts rubbing firmly against him as she suddenly realized there was absolutely no point in fighting her own urges, coyly surrendering to this muscular hero who was. Wham!
With the first explosion Mickey saw stars, literally, bright light, jagged white stars. The side of his head exploded just next to his left eye, leaving him just barely conscious enough to discern her sharp elbow drilling him directly in the solar plexus. Bullseye! Feeling the wind hammered out of his chest cavity in one massive, sledge hammer blow. Mickey only vaguely aware of this new pain before she grabbed him forcefully by the ears, scrapping and digging her manicured Ferrari red nails in deep. Then ripping and scrapping her nails back up the sides of his neck before yanking his head down in the direction of her midsection.
His first thought, which turned out to be way off base, was what a strange way to initiate coitus, only to glimpse her delicious, fantastically firm Nikki thigh bring her cute dimpled little Nikki knee smashing up into his nose.
His head bounced up on impact, his scraped and shredded ears torn from her grip by the sheer force of the blow, rocketing his head backward, ricocheting it off the hallway wall. He gasped for air, staggering back against the wall, hands reflexively grasping his splattered, bleeding nose, in a final submissive stance.
“Arghhh, Arghhh” he gasped, staggering a step or two, defenseless, beaten, coughing blood down his chest.
“Hey,” she said dropping her fist from its cocked position, ready to deliver the final blow. Only now did she recognize him standing in front of her bleeding, holding what remained of his nose with both hands, weaving.
“I know you, you’re that, that moron who rear ended us, the, the guy with that dreadful shirt.”
It was all the chance he needed, the only chance he had left and he took it, cold cocking her with a right hook. He hit her as hard as he could in a final desperate attempt to save his own worthless, fat, beaten rear end. She crumpled, collapsing on the floor, down, down and out, cold.
“Huh, glass jaw, I knew it,” he said, only it came out “Glasth jaw, I knew ith,” not sounding in the least bit triumphant. He quickly grabbed her keys, opened her door and dragged them both inside, where he collapsed in a heap on the floor just as the door closed behind them. He drifted in and out of consciousness, for how long he never knew, coming to only moments before Nikki began stirring, propelling himself into action, the animal fear of another beating a powerful motivator. Moving as quickly as the intense pain allowed, gasping air through his mouth, his splattered nose reduced to a mere cosmetic appendage, he had to protect himself.
He had a throbbing knot on the left side of his head where his eye brow used to end. His ears felt like they had been frappéd in a blender and his nose, well his nose was non-functioning and smashed out in the general direction of both cheekbones. He managed to tape her wrists behind her back, secure her ankles together, before winding the tape round and round her, like a mummy, leaving nothing to chance.
Finally satisfied she couldn’t get to him, that he was safe at least for the moment, he got a towel, made an ice pack and pressed it against his throbbing head, his nose so horribly damaged it was unrecognisable.
He sat there in the dark, legs spread across the floor, back against the wall, getting up three or four times for more ice in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the pain and swelling down. Every time he rose to retrieve more ice he grunted and groaned, leveraging against the wall as he staggered to his feet. Always moving cautiously, making sure he kept a couple of steps beyond the shapely little duct taped Nikki on the floor. Not knowing what she might try, fearing she was capable of almost anything.