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PunkerPearl
Sara Lundy
United States, Indiana, Indianapolis

Words: 2276
Access: Public
Comments: 1

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The Root of All Evil

It went perfectly. Exactly to plain. I had never been a part so beautiful. And I couldn't wait to sit back and let the good times begin to roll. . . at least that's what they way, and that was the plan.
See, this was our third bank heist in about a year. This was the one we put all the thought into. We refused to keep chickening out. Well, I should say he was the one to finally grow the pair. He always ran out of line before I could even finish writing out the note demanding the cash.
This time he trusted me, I could tell. I dressed him; and he looked so dapper. He looked like more than a professional. Then I emerged from the bathroom looking straight out of 1945. Who could possibly expect the pin-up beauty and her playboy boyfriend to demand more than thirteen thousand dollars in cash? And that's exactly what we got. A satchel full of money and away scot free.
We had been surviving on the good nature of our friends. One week with this couple, one with that single guy. They were all nice enough to accept clean dwellings and fresh breakfast each morning as payment. And of course we were glad to do it. But tonight, because of our newfound fortune, we wanted a real bed. We wanted to sleep in a place that wasn't shared by anyone. He wanted to eat the breakfast he cooked instead of handing it over. I wanted to sleep on sheets that someone else had laundered. We hand agreed on a nicer motel. It was known that if we went for the five-star hotel, we would be found out. We would stay just tonight, and be gone by morning.
We got into the room and everything was white. The sun was shining in from the windows and it reflected around the room. To me, it was how Heaven must look. I decided I had better get a good look now, because I was sure my chances of admission were pretty well stacked against me.
He threw the bag on the mattress and money came spilling out. Our white motel comforter was now a now a beautiful said of old-cash green. For a moment, we were both so taken with it. We stared, frozen, like the bills hand cast some kind of spell. We let the smell go to work on our noses. It was the first time I ever liked the smell of money. He grabbed me and kissed me hard. He had never been that deliberate with me, and I really liked it. Then he tossed me on the bed and I landed on top of fifties an hundreds; twenties and tens were the new bedclothes. Turned on by the money, the fact that we finally did it, and how manly he was being, I started removing my clothes. I pulled my skirt up to my hips and fought with the zipper on my dress. He crawled on ope of me and aided my disrobing. I laid on top of the cash, exposing my boustier and garters. Before he started to undress, I stopped him.
"Let's celebrate," I blurted.
He crawled off of me, "How?"
"Um," I thought. Or he was sure I was. "Champagne."
He smiled wide, "Anything else?"
I smiled back, "Anything you think we may need."
He plucked a hundred dollar bill off the bed, "I really like the way you think."
"Thanks."
Then he winked at me was out the door.
I listened to the shuffling of his feet until the sound coming from him was gone. Unlike him, I didn't need to convince myself of courage or my plan. And as soon as he was gone' waling to the store' I went into action.
I jumped up immediately. I grabbed his bag and started stuffing cash in it. I grabbed all that would fit in my hands and stuffed it deep down in that bag like I was trying to push the bottom out of it.
I went into the small motel bathroom and started to dress. My dressed went back on over my head and my hair was still in place from the first time I did it. All I had to do was put on my shoes and leave. Then I would've gotten away for the second time today. Of course, leaving the bank was easy. I'd been sleeping with a certain bank-teller since we'd been planning this latest heist. The bank-teller knew I had to keep the act going until today. My bank-teller is the one who gave me the cash. He's also the one who put in his notice two weeks ago. He's the one who helped rob his bank on his last day. And he's the one that didn't call the police after the pin-up beauty and her playboy boyfriend left. He's the one I'd be running away with today; right after I left this motel room.
That was it, I was finished' ready to go. Run away again. I threw the bag on my shoulder like an oversized purse. I reached out my hand, turned the knob, and was certainly surprised by what I saw.
"Your boyfriend's got a big mouth," an unthreatening looking' so probably very dangerous' man said.
I was tempted to ask which one he was talking about, "Who are you and what do you mean?"
A second man, who looked much like the first, walked past me, forcing all three of us back into the hotel, "Give us the ring, or give us the money."
"What ring? What money?" I asked as I clutched the bag on my shoulder.
The first man spoke again, "You heard him. Give us the ring, or give us the money. We haven't been paid back yet, and we're laving here with something."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I should've been getting scared by these two men demanding something from me. But I was getting so angry from being so confused.
As if they were taking turns, the second man spoke. "Your boyfriend thought he was smart. He so desperately wanted to propose to you. But how could he buy you a ring when you live out of your car?"
"So, he came to us to borrow money," the first intruder started, almost mocking. "Which is no big deal. We just ask that you pay us back by the time you promise. Otherwise you make us angry."
This was my time to offer my defense, "Well, and I'm not trying to be rude, but you can see I have no ring. And I don't know why you'd think I'd have any money. So, I'd like to be on my way now."
I got up to walk out but was pulled back by the bag on my shoulder. I was then pushed down on the bed. One of the men' it didn't matter which one anymore' unzipped the bag right in front of me.
"Look what we have here," one said to the other.
"It looks like we've ben lied to again," the second man said as he turned in my direction.
"Okay!" I said frantically. "I got some money, but we're trying to get set up'"
"You've got our money," the second man said coldly.
"Where did it come from?" The first one hissed.
Fear turned into honesty and that over came me. I told the truth, a version of it at least, "He took it! He took it for me, for us. He said he wanted to start a life with me."
"Oh, nice try princess," the first man patted my face. "But he told us you'd be taking that money and we'd be repaid this morning."
"That's where the idea came from, you know?" The second man said. "But he's not here, and you' and our money' are. I hope for your sake that he wasn't trying to stiff us."
That bastard! He was going to take that money! That money that he was too much of a whimp to take on his own. The money that I got us. How dare here? He finally got up the nerve because he had to pay a debt?! As if I wasn't going to leave him before.
The men turned to each other and started counting the bills.
"How much do you think is here?" The second man asked the first.
"Looks like a whole teller's drawer," the first man turned to me. "Not bad, you may have made a bit of a profit."
"Like hell they made a profit!" The second man yelled. "We told him the deal, now we're taking it all. Might take this little peach too."
I freaked out, without having planned to, "Nobody's taking anything! This is my money and my motel room. Now get out!"
That turned out to be a mistake.
Both men grabbed me, picking me up by each arm. They took me into the bathroom. The first one held my wrists together while the second one wrapped duct tape around them. They then repeated the act with my ankles. They finished off with a strip over my mouth. I sat in the bathroom just like that. I was helpless and I hated it. All I could do was sit and listen and wait.
These men were smart than me and I hated it. They were mean too. They couldn't just take the money and leave. That would've been too easy. But they wanted to twist the knife. They set me in the bathroom in a way that I'd be the first thing he saw when my playboy boyfriend walked in the door.
He walked in, with champagne and' of course' roses. He saw me and the most worried look too hold of his face. He ran to me, and all I could do was look sorry. Before he could get to me, one of the men stepped out of the bathroom, block his path, and punched him square in the face. He was knocked out cold. Being more scare than I realized, I fainted.
When I woke up, I was waking up with him on the bed. He was now bound the same as I was. That was as close as we'd been all day, but because there was nothing either of us could do to help the other, we felt miles apart. Suddenly, I was feeling disgustingly remorse, mixed with slight hatred. I was sorry that I planned on leaving him, but so angry that I was taped up on a bed because of him. None of this would've happened if he didn't love me so much. Sounds like a stupid thing to complain about' being loved.
All of the sudden we heard a loud pop and I was sure it was a gun. And I was sure that I was dead. Turns out it was nothing more than the cork in the champagne. The men who had taken control of the room were enjoying our champagne. Then one stood and walked around to the side of the bed.
"You obviously lied to your little girlfriend. And as it turns out, you two are made for each other. She was lying to you just as well."
I got frantic. They had to have found the letter. How could I have forgotten about the letter? This is going to ruin everything. I tried to hold back tears. Tears that were honest. And then they started to read that letter.
"I'm sorry to tell you this way. But don't come looking for me. I'm not coming back to you. I've found somebody else. . ."
I quit listening when my eyes caught his. He looked angry, upset. But he also looked like he understood. And I hated him for it. And I love him for it. I let the tears burn in my eyes as I tried to show him how sorry I was. I knew then that he was the one I wanted. He looked at me like he knew that, and I was glad that he was.
The man stopped reading and threw the letter between us on the bed. The other man set the roses on the bed. They both finished another glass of champagne each. Then they packed the counted money in the bag. We heard it zip up. Then they left. And we were left there.
We were left there, unable to touch or talk to each other. But I rolled closer to him, and he put his hand on top of mine the best that he could. I loved him so much right then. It was one of the most wonderful, erotic moments of my life. We were there, just the two of us. We had started out with so much this morning. But I realized then that I had all I ever needed.

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Comments  
Dakota Comment by: Dakota - 2008-01-25 15:38
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Amazing. I was really taken with the realness of something that could have been cliched.
I felt like I was there - feeling the emotions as surely as I'd been standing there. You have a real knack of imbuing a story with true feeling. It captivated me.
Thank you so much. Really moving.

On a technical note - if there were more spaces - especially between paragraphs and dialogue - it would make it easier to intice the reader. You have so much going on - it's a shame to bury it in this format.
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