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It was 6:30 in the morning. Jenny Marie Stephens and her daughter, Stephanie, sat down on their front stoop to take of their track shoes. They had managed to do their ten miles before Stephanie had to take her summer classes and it began to get hot and muggy. Jenny did not envy Stephanie's afternoon workout.

She worked out with the city track club in the evening before it got dark; after the main hot spell. They ran 100 and walked a 100, doing intervals which increased to a couple of full out 1600's at the end. There were boys, girls, and adults of all ages. The only thing there wasn't much of was talking or laughing.

Jenny alternated between going three times a week to their evening workouts and just jogging through the park. Roanoke Park was a huge basin between the Valentine Area of Kansas City, Missouri and the river which stretched a couple of miles.

The park was good for jogging because it had lots of rugged up-hill runs. It was lines with hundred-year-old trees and plenty of shade.

The only bad thing about it was safety. There was a big community center with several basket ball courts. During the summer large groups of excellent basketball players and "wannabees" gathered to play "make-it-take-it" As long as you scored, you got the ball back. Promising younger high schoolers often got to test their skills with the college, pro and semi-pros home for the summer.

Occasionally Jenny had to jog past a couple of pickup loads of young men with bandannas over their heads that were drinking beer in the parking lot. Jenny had mixed feelings about being alone as she went by; thankful that her daughter was not exposed to this, and yet apprehensive for her own safety.

Jenny went upstairs to take her shower in her own bath, and Stephanie went to her own bedroom. Now that Stephanie was fourteen and a half, she was allowed to drive to classes and work by herself. Jenny was still in the shower when she heard the 1985 Yamaha FZ75 wind up as it went down the road towards the highway for class.

Jenny was not happy with her daughter on a motorcycle, but it had been a cheap solution. They did not have to buy a car. She did not know that her husband's old bike was actually the first stock motorcycle that Yamaha made with a full out racing engine. They had just put it back together. He had shown her how to measure the valve shims, do the math and put in the right ones to get the right clearance on the 20 valve engine. Jenny was happy that her husband and his daughter were spending time together.

Joe's wife had died not long after Stephanie had been born and he had mostly raised her himself. Jenny had met him at a poetry writing group that met at a coffee shop nearby.

Joe had recently retired from being an anesthesiologist at the Regional Hospital down the street. He had saved a lot of money and inherited even more. With Jenny's property being sharecropped they both had enough income to retire. Although being only forty, Jenny had no plans to give up working. She had planned to finish several stories she had started and try her hand at getting them published. Joe, on the other hand, needed something constructive to do.

Jenny was combing out her long reddish brown hair when she heard the sound. It was the high soft whine of the trash truck in the distance. She could hear it driving up to their house. It went by, and then stopped. It was one of those new fangled trash trucks.

The old ones drove down the road with two men standing on the running board along the back. It would stop and both men would run to the trash cans on their side of the street; throw them on the back of the truck and empty them. The empty metal cans were then tossed; clanging and rolling all over the driveway as the truck sped to the next house.

This truck was different. It had an enclosed cab for more comfort in summer and winter. The glass was tinted. You couldn't see the driver. There were no others hanging on the back. Instead, a long robot arm reached out; picked up the now plastic trash cans; dumped the contents towards the front of the truck and placed the empty fifty gallon container in the exact same place it was. Then it was off to the next house.

The strange thing was that it often came right to Jenny's house first; going past and picking up the first can at her neighbor's. From there, it would be several hours before the truck looped back to pick up her trash. Jenny hadn't thought much about it, except that she couldn't put her trash cans back behind the house at 7:30 when it first came by.

Joe came up to the room when Jenny was finished with her shower. He made small talk with her as she dried her hair. He watched her as she lay down, wrapped only in a towel with her head hanging over the end of the bed. He watched her as she combed her hair out and starts the French braid. When she was done, and sat up, the long rope-like appendage hung to her waist. It gave her the image of a young girl that long hair does. It gave her the image of a sophisticated middle aged woman that she was, because it was tight and away from her face. It was a combination of young and old that was becoming for her.

Joe watched her as she lowered her towel and repositioned it around her waist in order to put on a bra. She was still rather timid about having her husband standing around gawking at her while she dressed. She didn't quite know to be flattered that he was showing an interest, or embarrassed at his starring.

Joe watched in silent fascination. He was mesmerized at the long pink nipples that seemed three times the length of anything else he had seen. The length and color were not what he had been accustomed to seeing through the years.

Her breasts were not huge by most standards. However they stuck straight out in a gravity defying shape that would have been impossible except for the surgically-enhanced women he had seen at the strip-bars. Hers were natural, melon sized breasts with unusually long pink nipples.

Jenny reached in her drawer and pulled out one of her sheer, quarter-cup bras that she knew her husband favored. It had support from the stretch fabric that she did not need. It was the transparent look that he was enchanted with. When she put on a blouse, her long pink nipples were barely concealed. She was not comfortable with the look, but it seemed to be what he needed.

Joe was about sixty now and his interest in sex often needed help. This seemed to be the latest fascination with him. She didn't look at him as she fastened it behind her, but she could tell he had a flicker in his eyes he could not hide.

Jenny dropped the towel and reached for some clean panties. Once again, he had his favorites. She picked out another thin, transparent, pantyhose type of garment. It had a full panel on the front and back that went almost to her belly button.

Joe watched her check herself out self-consciously in the mirror. Her reddish brown patch was enchanting. It looked like it had been manicured. It was thicker in the middle; just enough that you couldn't quite make out the folds between her labia. The hair was soft, downy fuzz like the curls on a Hawaiian fern. The down in the middle faded to a light blond towards the edge of the pubic patch. It had been shaved so that nothing came close to the edge of her bikini, but it also tapered down in thickness from the thicker part at the center to a sparse sprinkling of curls at the outer extents. You could almost smell the soap and skin of a newborn baby in it from across the room. "It was unfair for the rest of the men in the world to not know her." Joe thought to himself.

Jenny laid back in the bed with her feet in the air as she struggled to slide the boot-cut, form fitting Levis over her. She didn't need a belt, but put it on for appearances. It was what she needed to hold her cell phone holster.

Jenny's shoes were a dark brown high heel leather boot that zipped up the sides. You could not tell that they stopped just below her knees because the boot-cut jeans flared out enough to conceal the boots.

Jenny picked up her tiny laptop and headed down the street to the local coffee shop. Valentine Road, which ran along the edge of Roanoke Parkway, let to the 39th Street corridor, which was a little like Beale Street in Memphis. The shops had been converted from brick and stone warehouses well over a hundred years ago. The new shops had restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques, and small business along the tree-lined drive.

If the people only knew that the smooth asphalt covered streetcar tracks and brick pavers, the street might have appeared to be even more like the 150-year-old community it was. People used to stop nearby on their way up the Santa Fe, California and Oregon trails on their way west.

Jenny walked along the winding, tree-lined road until she got to 39th street. She picked out an upscale coffee shop. It was practically full of young people on their way to work or just stopping in to read the paper and drink a cup of $4.50 syrup and whip cream laced coffee. Jenny plugged in her laptop and put in the flash drive. She pulled up several story outlines and decided to start in on one. She had finished the "Shades of Gray" series and had been online with other authors; chatting about their evaluations of the book.

She would have a couple of hours or so to herself. It would be a while before some of the single men started to approach her. It would be less time before the married men did. She always told them she was married. She was courteous with all of them. Her husband, Joe, liked it that way. He would come in soon and watch her. He would watch the men try to pick her up while she worked on her story. Eventually, he would saunter over and start a conversation. They would act like they didn't know each other. Eventually, he would pull out a roll of hundred dollar bills to flash. Eventually she would leave with him. That pretty much put a bulge in everybody's Levis; watching this spectacular, middle-aged woman respond to a proposition from this older man.

The next time she came in, it only threw more fuel into the fire to stoke their interest in her. At some point, she would have to move on to another coffee shop. But for now, this seemed to be the think that stoked her husband's fire. He got a real boost if people thought this old man could pick up a good looking woman twenty years younger than himself.

He would escort her out, open the door and whisk her off in his 1964 black Chevelle convertible. They might go home for sex, or he might drop her off downtown at an upscale bar and be back in a few hours. Jenny was lukewarm about the game and the attention. Today was okay. The jeans and the thin blouse weren't so bad. She could deal with the faint outline of her nipples showing through more than some of the outfits.

She could even deal with the scandalously short dresses she had been ordered to wear. It was the times when she was asked to remove her panties under the short skirt, or go without a bra that caused quite a bit of anxiety for her. When that started, she would at least insist that it be later at night, when the lighting wasn't so good.

If it would get him in the mood, that was at least some compensation for her concessions. Jenny was middle aged, but still naive about why or how men responded to her sexually. She did not really understand that any man would have sex with her whether they were in love with her or not. She took it as a direct reflection of their affection for her because that was how she felt about it.

While Jenny was out, Stephanie was on her way to class and Joe was getting ready to leave, there were other things going on. Claude Leaureaux was working his way back to the Stephens house. He had been there many times before.

Claude was a dichotomy of personalities. He had gone to college on a track scholarship. He had a promising position on the French development team for the next Olympics. The U.S. colleges had convinced him he was wasting his time pursuing a career in amateur sports. He went on to take a scholarship in track and football both. The football scholarship was to pursue professional offers. The track was to hone his speed. He would have been one of the biggest and fastest wide receivers in the NFL.

It lasted several years; from age 20 to 28, when he twisted his knee and never was quite the same again. He still had options to coach. He was still a national hero back home, but he just wanted some anonymity for a while. He went back to school to finish his degree. He was a genius with computers. The professors were quite shocked to see a classroom full of Chinese and Caucasian geeks and then, in the back there was this huge 6'-6" black man towering over the rest of them even when he was sitting down.

He enjoyed the anonymity of these classes. Computer geeks had no idea he had played in the NFL. He was known as another computer geek; except on weekends he went out to play "pickup" basketball at the local community centers.

The high school and college players knew who he was. It was a different story when he went out to the bars with them after a workout. But there it was; two separate lives. Claude enjoyed being seen and unseen.

It was with this idea that he took the job with the local trash hauling business. His idea was that he would get to learn all about it in order to start or buy his own company. It was an unexpected surprise when he saw the two leggy women at the end of their workout one morning. He had become fascinated with the two women who looked like they could be sisters.

At the time, Claude was just driving down the road, dumping trash. He decided to change his route. He started his route just before Jenny's house so that it would be his last stop at the end. Once he was done, Jenny's trash was at the top of the heap. When he dumped his truck load, he could always get the papers on the top and take them home.

At home, he had a flatbed scanner and had developed his own program. He was able to take all the shredded personal papers, bills and letters and put them back together. Before long, he knew their bills; what they ate; their hours at home and away. He knew where they shopped and all of their passwords on their bank accounts, and computers.

He was able to read their security cameras to see what they could see. When they were gone on some weekends, Claude would go over, get into their house, disarm their security system and examine their house.

The house had been about a hundred fifty year old stone mansion in deep disrepair when the couple got it. It was an "L" shaped house with the corner facing the street. The open corner of the plan faced the park. It had a walk-out basement.

In it's heyday, the lowest level had spaces for cooking, laundry, food storage, furnace and some living quarters for the help. The main level had a covered porch, where the carriages could drive up and the passengers could approach the entry under cover. It was a half flight up to the main level.

The main level had a central hallway for the stairs going down to the basement and up to the bedrooms on the next floor. The main level had been revised to have an upscale kitchen just behind the hall circulation space. It was between the large main dining area, and the living room. Both the living and dining areas were open to the upper and lower spaces with a huge towering atrium filled with plants on the lowest level.

A spacious outer deck joined the living and dining spaces and had a wonderful view out towards the densely wooded park below. With the park at a lower level, nobody could see into the house. The bedrooms on the upper level had also had beautiful views to the park, but not into each other. Every room had a fireplace.

The 12/12 roof pitch was covered with slate tile. The lowest level of the walk-out basement also had a large patio and a pool. Beyond the pool was a Carriage house with toilets and change rooms for the swimmers. It was common to see deer wander into the yard to eat apples off of the trees.

Claude would spend hours in the house when he knew they were all out of town. He was able to install his own concealed camera system into the house. There were so many things you could do with cameras, computers and wireless networks now.

Finally Claude got tired of just watching them. It was going to be a four-day-weekend. They were going to have Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off. Jenny and Joe were off playing their "Coffee House Games." Stephanie had not yet returned from her evening workout.

Claude walked from 39th Street to their house. He was sort of dressed like a jogger; track shoes; football pants and a hooded jersey. He got to the house and used an application on his cell phone to over-ride the alarm system.

He got in the house and hid in the attic. He listened to the mundane conversation as the unsuspecting family ate supper and sniped about what to do for the next few days. Joe was the last to go to bed; probably about midnight.

Probably about 2:00am, Stephanie was surprised to wake up with a hand over her mouth and a huge switch blade held to her throat. "Keep your fucking mouth shut and turn over." She heard the hooded figure whisper to her. He half turned, lifted and flipped the terrified fourteen-year-old onto her stomach. She could feel her hands being duct taped behind her. He duct taped her eyes so she couldn't see. He duct taped her mouth shut so she couldn't scream. He told her to stay still or one of the men (he didn't have) watching her would slit her throat. The terrified girl was afraid to breathe.

Claude crept into the couple's bedroom. The naked couple were asleep, with Jenny's back to her husband and his arms wrapped around her. It was easy. When Claude slapped Joe to wake him up, he heard "Don't make a fucking sound or my friends will kill your fucking daughter."

Not knowing what the real situation was, the couple froze in panic.

"Take this tape and tie your husband's hands behind his fucking back. Do it quick or I'll cut his fucking throat."

Jenny was so scared she could hardly move. She was so terrified she had no time to be concerned with her nudity. Too numb to think, she did as she was told. Joe was turned on his back and his hands taped behind him. His mouth and eyes were taped just like his daughter's.

When her husband was helpless, Claude took the tape and pulled Jenny's hands behind her. He took the roll of tape and pulled her hands behind her. He wrapped the tap above her elbows; pulling them tight behind her. He didn't bother with her eyes or mouth.

The living room lights were on and he led the hostages, one at a time into the living room. Joe was brought in first. He was laid out on the floor and his ankles taped together. He was hogtied with his hands taped behind him to his ankles.

Jenny was placed upright, sitting in the leather sofa. Her legs were taped behind her to her wrists. She could not sit upright with any dignity. Her legs were pulled behind her, so they were splayed out and open. Her beautiful pink nipples were pointing straight up in the air. By now, Jenny was fully awake and understood the position she was in. the tissues of her soft pink labia were gaping open because of the tension in her legs. She was aware of the hooded intruder in dark glasses above her.

He bent down onto his knees, put his hands on her thighs and stuck his nose up against her. He inhaled like one does to absorb the fragrance of a newly cut rose. It was excruciatingly humiliating to be unable to present herself with any manner of dignity. Her worries about her dignity evaporated when he came back with Stephanie over his shoulder.

The fourteen-year-old nymph was wearing a baby-doll nightie. She had no panties. Steph's bare bottom was about the only thing Jenny could see above the frantic kicking and flailing of her feet. She could hear the sobbing through the duct tape.

Claude laid her out on the top of the large oak dining table. He brushed aside the chairs to make room for himself at the end. He pulled out the 12" long glittering blade and put it under the flimsy fabric. It passed through the fabric from the hem to her neck like a hot knife melts through butter.

Stephanie lay there, shuddering and sobbing into the tape; her long stem pink nipples jiggling like manometers to reflect the wrenching in her abdomen. The young girl had not been naked in front of a man before. Her legs hung over the edge of the oak table and her labia were bared for viewing.

Claude laid the open switchblade on a chair beside him. He massaged her clit and reached for the laces of the fly of his football pants.

Jenny screamed ant tried to fling herself at their tormentor. With her legs hogtied behind her, she fell to the floor, short of the dining table. "P ... p ... p ... please don't do that to her. I ... I ... I'm begging you. She's only fourteen. Can't you give us any mercy?"

Claude was in no position to grant his hostages any favors. He had been watching them for months; watching them and putting together hundreds of sheets of paper to make this possible. Maybe he was on to something.

Maybe if he used the mother first, he could get more cooperation out of her, rather than having both of the women fighting him. "Why the fuck should I listen to you, you miserable cunt?" The words hurt, but Jenny was desperate to protect her step daughter.

"Please spare her. She is so young. You know I can please you much more than her. I will cooperate with anything you want to do. You will get much more pleasure out of me. I will do anything." She sobbed. Jenny was just getting words out. She wasn't really aware of what she was saying; but he did hesitate.

Claude picked up his knife; leaned over and cut the tape joining her ankles to her arms. He pulled one of the dining room chairs up to the end of the table and sat down. He parted Stephanie's legs; leaned over with his nose and face buried into her parted labia and inhaled. He was savoring the young girl and trying to decide.

He would take them both, but that would not be something he would bring up right now. Now it was time to negotiate. "It's so hard to decide between a nubile young girl like this and her old mother. Let's see which smells better? He inhaled again like a man with a smuggled Cuban Cigar. He savored the aroma. He knew what he was going to do, but wanted to make Jenny struggle to convince him.

As he exhaled, he raised his finger and wiggled it; signaling the now terrified woman over. "Convince me Miss Jenny."

Jenny was trembling now. The words weren't just words now. They were beginning to become real. She knew what she had said in desperation. Now she had to dig down into herself to back it up.

"I've got to do this. I've got to do this. I've got to do this." She repeated over and over to force the reluctance out of her and try to get her body to respond.

Jenny struggled to stand with her hands bound behind her. She was desperate and determined to do whatever it took to divert his attention away from her stepdaughter. Once she managed to gain her balance, she staggered over to the table.

Claude had scooted Stephanie over a little bit to make room for Jenny. Jenny turned and raised one leg so she could get her butt and left thigh up on the table. By tip-toeing, she could lever her slender body up to a sitting position on the edge of the table. She shuddered at what she was doing.

She just tried to shut her mind down as Claude put his hand on her forehead. He tipped her head back until she started to tip off balance onto her back. With her hands only partially bound, she was able to reach back and support herself and prevent being tipped clear down onto her back. She felt the knife between her legs, used like the reins on a horse to signal a command.

Without being told, Jenny parted her legs. The humiliated woman could feel the air-conditioning wafting between her legs. Claude sat down and scooted the chair up close. He put the knife down again. Jenny groaned and tried not to vomit as she felt the curly whiskers of his day-old beard and nose between her. She could feel him inhale. She cringed at the image in her mind of their positioning.

Joe was on the floor, bound and gagged. He couldn't see, but he could hear. He could tell what was going on. With the lack of verbal commands, it sounded to him like she was doing this willingly. "Oh, Miss Jenny. You have one sweet delicious pussy." Jenny's ears burned; knowing that her husband and daughter could hear.

"I'll be good to you if you just leave our daughter alone. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you." She was crushed to hear her own voice saying these things that she did not feel, but she had no choice.

"Untie me. Let's go to another room. Turn the lights off and leave them here. I beg you."

Claude didn't say anything. Instead, he went over to Joe and slit the bindings holding his wrists to his feet. He lifted him like a toy into the sofa Jenny had been sitting in. He pushed the tip of the knife between the man's temple and the tape. He sliced the tape covering his eyes and peeled it off.

"You need to see what your wife is doing, old man. She has offered to fuck me in front of you and your daughter. How do you feel about that?" Joe looked down. He could not bear to meet his wife's eyes. He had no alternative other than what she was offering. He wanted his daughter spared more than Jenny did.

"What do you say, old man? I would rather have the younger girl than your cunt of a wife." Joe had no good options.

There was a long silence. "My wife can make you very happy." It came as a whisper. Jenny didn't seem to hear it at first. Then it came to her that her husband had said something. Her mind back tracked and played it over. It was faint, but she had heard it. It was her psychological defenses kicking in that tried to prevent her mind from accepting what her ears took in.

Jenny was stunned to hear those words from her husband. She was "A ship at sea; cast alone with no hope of survival." Her mind screamed.

"Joe; is she good at sucking dick?" The couple was stunned. She had managed to sidestep the issue enough in their early marriage, that he had quit insisting. Never-the-less, it had been a bitter point of contention between them in an otherwise pleasant marriage.

Joe nodded, almost imperceptibly. "She's okay. She'll take care of you." Jenny's ears almost exploded at the betrayal. "Liar." She wanted to scream. On the other hand, the big picture was that she had to placate the man to divert him from their daughter. "I've got to get through this." Her mind screamed.

"Give me a chance, mister. Take me upstairs. Please allow me that dignity." She whimpered.

"Let's try it this way. Go upstairs to your daughter's closet. Put on her gray silk button-front dress. Bring down your high-heel boots. I think we should go for a ride." Jenny's heart was racing now. She had managed to divert the man's attention away from her daughter, and even managed to bargain him out of fucking her right there in front of her husband or daughter.

Jenny went upstairs as she was told. She looked frantically for her cell phone. It was gone. So was everybody elses. The house phones weren't working. She couldn't escape without something bad happening to her daughter and husband.

In a daze, she went to her daughter's closet. There in the middle of the pole was the grey dress. The other dresses had been pulled back so it stood out by itself. Right below the dress were her high heel boots.

Jenny could hardly see as she fumbled with the buttons. His commands made it pretty clear that he wanted her in the dress and the dress only. She knew better than to put on any panties or bra. She wiped her tears away in an attempt to see what she was doing as she sat on the edge of the bed to put on her high heel boots. She zipped them up; stood and headed to the stairs.

The stairs framed her beautifully as she clip clopped down the half flight to the landing. As she turned on the landing, she was now open to full view of her tormentor. Stephanie's dress fit her like a glove. They were the same size. The difference was in modesty. The fourteen-year-olds had a hemline that barely came to their wrists.

Jenny reached for the handrail. Her knees shook so badly, she would surely fall in her high heel boots. The boots and short dress framed her long tanned legs perfectly. She was an enchanting sight. Her other hand fidgeted nervously with the French braid.

"You look spectacular, Miss Jenny. Get your husband's keys to the Chevelle while I make your husband and daughter comfortable." Jenny went back upstairs to fish out the keys from Joe's pants pocket. When he came back down, Claude had duct taped each of them into the large oak captain's chairs which were being used for dining room chairs. The chairs had been taped together, back to back, so they could not tip them over or scoot away. The two chairs had actually been duct taped on each side of a wooden column, making escape unlikely. Their only hope might be that some teenage boys might wander by in the night and see them with the living room lights on.

Joe guided her with his arm around her waist to the convertible. "We're going to have a good time tonight. We're going to continue the game you and your husband play during the day. Except this time it will be just a little different." Jenny's heart skipped, wondering what diabolical scheme this devious degenerate had in store for her.