Page 315 of S is for SEX

“We’re gonna need to talk about this, brother,” I said softly as I held my hands out in front of me with my palms down.

“I ain’t your brother, you Dwayne The Rock Johnson lookin’ mother fucker. Get the bitch out of the car and step to the side. I’m taking it,” he demanded as he waved the pistol toward the car again.

I’ve never tried to steal a car or force someone to do anything at gunpoint. If I were, especially in public, I would guess time would be of the essence. He seemed all too eager to wave the pistol around and make demands, and not very willing to just shoot someone and make something happen. I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, willing to be shot. Something in my mind convinced me this guy might shoot, but it wasn’t his immediate or first choice.

“Stay in the car, Liv,” I said dryly.

“Mike?” she cried.

“Stay in the fucking car no matter what this prick says,” I growled over my shoulder as I maintained eye contact with the walking turd.

“I’m taking the car, and if I have to I’ll shoot your big ass,” he said as he waved the gun in my direction.

You’re not takin’ the car.

I stood and stared quietly.

“I’m taking the car one way or another. You can either live or you can die,” he said as he raised the pistol to my chest.

And that is when things changed. I was sure of it. Because…

My cock twitched.

Naturally a person wants to live as long as possible. One would expect in any similar situation, they’d step aside and let the man take the car, collect an insurance check for the loss, and go on with living life. The longer I stood and looked at the gun wielding fuck bubble, the more certain I was he wasn’t going to take my car anywhere. I had to figure out a way to get him close enough to beat on him, or we’d be standing and talking all night.

Or I’d be shot.

“She ain’t getting out so you can kill us both. Take the car with her in it,” I offered.

“Mike?” Liv’s voice sobbed.

“It’s okay baby. I got this,” I assured her as I maintained eye contact with him.

“Fuck you, that’s kidnapping,” he responded.

Well, maybe this isn’t his first time doing this.

“That’s your only option. You want the car, take it. Keys are in it,” I lied.

I figured I would make him walk past me to get in the car, and some way or another he would get close enough to allow me to beat on him. If not, when he got into the car, I’d beat him through the window as he attempted to start it without the keys.

I maintained eye contact with him as I watched his every movement. Nervously, he glanced around the empty lot again. As he looked to his left, he became startled. As he turned to face the street, I realized it would probably be my only opportunity. It was all I needed - a split second with him facing away from me.

Quickly, I stepped left foot first, toward where he stood. As soon as I followed with my right foot, I swung a right hook with everything I owned, aimed for the side of his head - his temple to be more specific. In what seemed as a slow motion scene from an old black and white movie, several things came into play.

His body continued to rotate to his right, as if he were going to run away. Naturally, I tucked my chin as I threw the punch, and did not look straight ahead. Had I, I would have noticed what later became apparent that he had noticed out of the corner of his eye.

My fist slammed against his right ear, immediately dropping him where he stood. Before he hit the pavement, and immediately upon my fist contacting his head, he instinctively pulled the trigger on the pistol. The sound echoed throughout the empty lot. And it was then I looked up and made note of what had startled him.

The police car as it pulled into the restaurant entrance.

And the other one as it followed directly behind the first.

And the two other police cars parked in the street blocking traffic.

“Drop the weapon,” an officer screamed from the corner of the building.

“He did,” I screamed as I looked down at the pistol a few feet from his body.

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