Chapter 3
Kelly Neal stood at the kitchen sink doing the morning dishes. A moment before she'd thought she'd heard the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. But it was impossible. Who would be coming by at this hour?
She put the last of the rinsed, sparkling plates into the orange dish rack at the far side of the sink and picked up a small, white terry-cloth towel. One by one she dried the breakfast plates and returned them to the wood cupboard above the sink. She'd pulled open the silverware drawer and was about to put away the forks when there came a knocking at the front door.
In a way, Kelly looked forward to having visitors during the morning. The house was so big, and to be alone with her thoughts was always a strain. So it was that she headed for the front door in a cheerful frame of mind, curious to see who was paying her a visit. Just before she opened the door, she cinched up her robe and made sure the lapels were pulled back and in place, lying flat above her voluptuous breasts. She took a deep breath and asked in her sweet little girl's voice, "Who's there?"
"Jack's Plumbing," came a gravelly voice. "Toilet troubles? Mr. Neal called this morning?"
"I didn't know he called a plumber," said Kelly, turning the handle and pulling the door open.
"He didn't," said one of three men standing in front of the young housewife. And then, suddenly, without so much as a single word of warning, almost before the front door was completely open, the first man leapt forward into the house. The others followed and the door slammed shut. Kelly stood surrounded by the three of them, her hand over her mouth.
"Wh-What are you doing?" she asked, looking the men over in a dead fright. "I-I didn't order a plumber! Y-You're not plumbers!" Her eyes bulged with fear as she looked the three men up and down. One wore a rumpled suit and the other two were dressed in levies and sweatshirts. The one in the suit was obviously in charge. His tie was loose, and his collar was dirty. His eyes darted around the house, inspecting and searching. "You alone here, lady?" he asked Kelly quickly and a little nervously.
"Y-Y-Yes, I'm alone, b-b-but I want you to leave!"
Before she could understand it, this man's hand raised and crashed down on her face, smacking loudly, a bolt of pain charging her ears and her jaw, sending her head bobbing to the side. She turned back blushing with tears welling up in her eyes and before she could say another word, the shock and protest coming into her face, the same man who'd smacked her reached for the lapels of her robe. "Come here, honey," he said softly, his whispering voice low and guttural. "I wanna get to know you . . . " His one hand held her up close to his unshaved face, and the other reached in between her and him and slid into place under her robe.
Kelly's eyes widened with fright as she felt this total stranger's fingers gripping her breast and squeezing it with quick, feeling tugs and rolls. And before she knew it, he'd felt up her other soft breast as well. And then he was shoving her backwards, into the arms of the other two men.
"Come on," he hissed, "let's make sure we're alone here. We got a long day ahead of us. Plenty of time for that little bitch, too."
They pulled her along with them as they checked out the entire house, upstairs and down, and then they ended up in the living room with the blinds pulled. They threw Kelly into the sofa and sat around looking at her, all three of them just staring and watching for her reaction.
"What's this all about?" she asked, her lips trembling fearfully as she looked from one to the other of them.
"Should we tie her up, boss?" asked the burliest of the three.
"In a minute," said the leader, the man in the rumpled suit and disheveled tie. "First let's take her robe off."
"Oh, please," she said, starting up from the sofa, "I don't know what you want or why you're here, b-b-but-" He was upon her, his quick strong hands grabbing the robe for a second time, pulling it over the smooth rounds of her young shoulders, revealing her full and naked breasts.
"Oh, God," moaned Kelly, "please, no, I don't want you to do that . . . Please!"
He held firmly to her robe and pulled it away from her despite her fierce efforts to hold onto the silky garment. She ended up trying to cover herself, frantically using her hands to cover her thighs and the auburn triangle of curly pubic hair that camouflaged her frightened vagina. She cowered back away from him, falling against the sofa and he hovered over her, looking at her naked breasts, her trembling shoulders and her large, green eyes. She averted her gaze by looking down the sofa, and then fearfully at the other men. They were staring at her, their eyes drinking in the fullness of her voluptuous nakedness, their gazes stroking her long smooth slender thighs and her shapely girlish hips and her fine, well-formed naked breasts. She could feel them caressing her, their hands touring her naked voluptuousness, taking from her things she'd never even imagined possible!
"Oooh," she moaned, closing her eyes and looking downwards, "please go away! Please?"
She felt two fingers take hold under her chin, pulling her face upwards. "Open your eyes," said the man in charge. "Look at me, honey. I want you to get to know me."
Cautiously, frightened, she opened her eyes. His face was only inches from hers. "Listen to me, Mrs. Neal. Listen real good. I'm Marty Kips. That man over there is Ted Alexander. Dumbo there is Link Kurtis. We're your guests for today. We're convicts and we got out of your dumpy little city jail here in Dover, and we're gonna stay here in you and your hubby's place for the next eight hours or so. Till nightfall. And then we're gonna leave. You'll never see us again after that. So don't worry, eh? It's just for today. Just a little hospitality, let's call it. For just one day!" He chuckled sadistically and turned her chin in her fingers, pushing her face back and forth, taking another look at her face, this time in profile. Then he continued: "Now say my name, Mrs. Neal. Say it nice and soft."
She trembled, unable to speak.
"Come on honey-talk. Or do you want me to smack you around some more?"
"N-No, please. Please don't hit me."
"Oh, say, fellas, you hear that? She talks!" said Marty to the other two men. He looked back at her, his fingers still holding her chin. "Now say this: Marty, please kiss me. That's not too hard for you to say, is it?"
"N-No," she said. "I won't."
"She's dumb," said Marty Kips, and before she knew it that bolt-of-lightning-like hand had raised and smashed a second time into her face, striking her with a loud smack. The other two men chuckled and this time the tears came streaming with a loud, deeply felt sobbing.
"Now say it," said Marty. "Say it nice and clear so everyone can hear it." He held her chin again and waited. "Mrs. Neal? You just have to say that one little thing, and then I'll let up for a while, you understand?"
"M-Marty," she stammered, "p-please k-kiss me . . . "
"Be glad to," he said, and he leaned forward, still holding her face with one hand and planted his lips up against hers, digging into her quivering, frightened lips with his long wet tongue, filling her up even in the throat with his Frenching soul kiss. His free hand toured downwards to her breast in particular and started squeezing. He pulled his mouth from hers and with lecherous contentment spreading across his heavy dark-featured face continued to massage and roll her aroused nipple and hearty, resilient breast. "Mmmmm, Mrs. Neal, I think you're going to be just the hostess we needed today. Yes, indeed! You're going to be just right!"