That Old Feeling

Marge pushed her handkerchief into the clerk’s mouth before he could finish the objection. Bernie jerked the clerk’s thin arm and secured his left hand with the other handcuff ring. He pulled the bound clerk into the middle of the shop.

Marge turned back to the door. “Oh look, they even have a shade to cover the glass door. I haven’t seen a roll down shade in years.”

Bernie pushed the clerk onto an old wooden chair. His eyes, wide and terrified, found the old man was much stronger than he looked. Bernie quickly used two plastic zip ties to secure the cuffed hands to the ladder-back chair. He feverishly tried to spit out the wadded handkerchief, but Marge was ready with another kerchief and tied it around his head, keeping the first gag firmly in place.

“Not very strong, is he?” commented Marge.

“Not at all.” Bernie laughed. An unpleasant tingle went up the clerk’s neck at the discordant sound. “Felt like I was wrestling with a ten-year-old. That’s the trouble with this generation. They grow these skinny, nerdy wimps. This is what ‘cool’ is now.” He laughed again, but it turned into another coughing fit.

Marge sat on the young man’s lap, startling him by the sudden intimate act. “I don’t know. He’s kind of cute. Maybe we could mess around with him first. We could take turns.” She laughed and grabbed between his legs. The clerk wiggled his legs to dislodge her, to no effect.





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