Damn. Somebody took my parking place. How dare they. Well, I'll have to cruise for one. Ellen Stevens was annoyed because she was already running a bit late for her weekly meeting with her stepdaughter. Tea and talk. Poor girl. Never did learn how to manage money. Or men. That place is too tight. I'll never be able to get out of the car. She's better off without that deadbeat husband. Who am I to criticize her men? I had to raise her alone because her dad left. Okay, I'll circle the whole complex's parking lot one more time and then try the street out front.

When Misty Stevens heard the doorbell of her apartment ring she shouted, "Come in" over her shoulder and re-tied the knot of her bathrobe's belt as she went into the kitchen to put on water for tea. No telling what Ellen's gotten herself into now. Misty looked forward to the Saturday morning visits with her mother.

"Miss Stevens?"

The man's voice stopped Misty in her tracks. She turned and walked into the living room. "Who the hell are you?"

"Miss Stevens?"

"Yes."

"Misty Stevens?"

"Show me some ID."

In a flash he was across the room, had pulled her robe down behind her to immobilize her arms and thrust her against the island in the kitchen. "You don't have anything to say here. You do as you're told and don't ask questions."

"I..."

"No questions. You don't return calls. You hang up on our telephone callers. You refuse to answer letters. So this is how it's going to be."

"Oh, hell. Are you the guy from the credit card company?" She turned to look at him.

He twisted the robe harder and thrust her against the island. He pushed her head down on the island with one hand while the other hand was on her back.

"David Peterson. United Credit, Miss Stevens."

"Oh, that. I thought as long as I kept making the minimum payment..."

"Miss Stevens, as long as you keep making the minimum payment, your debt will continue to increase, not decrease. You need to start paying off the principal. And you haven't been making the minimum payment these last few months." His voice wasn't loud but it was harsh in her ear.

"What?"

"We want you to start paying off your debt, Miss Stevens."

"If I could do that, I wouldn't need the fucking credit card."

"That's a problem, Miss Stevens."

"For me or for you?"

"For both of us."

"What do you suggest? Shall I rob a bank?"

"Don't talk like that. Even talking about robbing a bank is against the law. It's conspiracy."

"Like this isn't?"

"This is for your own good."

"Fuck that! It's for your own good." She struggled in vain against the bondage of her bathrobe. The pressure of Peterson's hand on her back pushed Misty's breasts against the cold countertop.

"You're ten thousand dollars in debt, and it's mounting every day."

"That's none of your fucking business."

"It is my business, Ms. Stevens. It's exactly my business. It'll only hurt worse if you squirm like that."

"Oh, all right. What do you want me to do? Fuck you? Or are you going to rape me?"

"How's that going to pay your debt? No, that won't make you any money."

"Cheap bastard!"

"You trying to sell yourself to me?" He laughed a tight laugh.

"Well..."

"What you've got is free in any bar, lady. Nobody's going to pay for that. You need some money. Now."

"How? I've been looking for a job." She pulled against the robe. "Let me go, creep."

"Sit down. There." Her robe gaped open as he pushed her into an armchair.

"We know. But you haven't found anything, have you?"

"Well, I'm still waiting for something to come along."

"It's been more than a year since your divorce. You're not getting any alimony. You..."

"Ok, ok, don't remind me. What's your plan? If you're really not going to rape me."

"We got you the job."

"What job?"

"Lingerie Shop. In the mall."

Misty laughed. "Modeling lingerie?"

"No, doing a window show. You're going to do it. No option. No choice." His voice was firm.

"Or else what?"

"Or else you're gonna have to find out what that twat you've been giving away is worth on the street, lady. That's or else what."

Misty wished her stepmother would walk through the door and end this nightmare. "What kind of show? Modeling bras?"

"No. You're gonna get in their store window and you're gonna play with yourself 'til a crowd gathers to watch, then you're gonna come for all of them while they watch."

"Like hell...

"Nobody's gonna be looking at your face anyway."

The doorbell rang and again Misty shouted, "Come in."

Ellen Stevens went in. She was willowy, five foot six, long necked, bobbed brown hair, hazel eyes, the hard nipples of her small breasts outlined in the fabric of her white shirt-dress.

Ellen took in the scene in one glance. The six foot, auburn haired well-muscled man with brown eyes, straight nose, and full lips towered over her well-built honey blonde stepdaughter who lay splayed across the armchair with her robe open to show her considerable charms.

"Oh, am interrupting something? You remember that time when you were fifteen and I came into your bedroom and Alex was butt fucking you?"

"Ellen!"