Any expert will tell you that it is not necessarily how quickly you act, it’s how determined and forceful your actions are. Instinctively, Turk knew that acting in a rush could complicate things. The girl could be spooked by the telegraph of intentions. A hurried snatch caused commotion, courted recklessness. The Turk knew better.
When Denise turned to see who had called out her name, she spelled out her doom. The Turk smiled up until the last second. He reached out his hand, as if to greet Denise with a handshake. Her eyes were directed to the extended arm. She did not notice that the other hand was removing something from the Turk’s left pocket. Suddenly, the friendly, extended hand was at her throat, actually lifting her from her feet. The Turk’s large, strong hand clasped Denise’s windpipe as he lifted her up and into the apartment. Denise reacted by dropping her purse and reaching for the hand that held her. Calmly, Turk kicked the purse into the apartment and nudged the door closed. His left hand snapped open a six-inch long blade. He held it to Denise’s face.
She could see the shiny steel blade, but was slow to comprehend what was happening. After a moment, her need to breathe became intense and she realized that the man was choking her. She wet her pants.
The Turk ignored the girl’s involuntary release. It was normal. It was irrelevant. All at once, the Turk’s mind came back into focus. He was committed. If he released the girl, she would certainly put two and two together rather quickly. That left two options; let the dangling, choking woman suffocate or take her. He realized that he had intended to take her the first moment he had seen her. He needed her, needed all of the Cheryl in her. If he couldn’t possess Cheryl, he would possess the next best thing.
She struggled futilely, her legs dangling, her arms fruitlessly trying to unhook the Turk’s steel hard grip around her windpipe. The Turk spoke to her for the first time. He waved the sharp, awe-inspiring knife in her face. “If you make one sound, if you struggle, if you disobey me, I will cut your face into ribbons. Understand?”
Denise had little communicative ability, but she blinked her eyes in what she hoped would be taken as assent. Satisfied that he had instilled the requisite degree of terror, Turk lowered the frantic woman to the floor and relaxed his grasp of her neck. Denise took deep, strained breaths. It was too soon to speculate what was happening here. She needed to recover herself before she could think. Turk did not give her time for reflection.
“Take off your panties!” he ordered.
Denise looked at the hulking, dangerous man with astonishment. Was this a rape? How did he know her name?
The Turk resumed his tight encapsulment of Denise’s vital air passage. “Now!” he growled.
Quickly, Denise reached under her skirt to pull down her panties. At this point she realized that she had peed and was mortified to let this brutal stranger know it. But she knew she had no choice. Since the man wouldn’t let her bend over, Denise had to raise one leg at a time, hopping on one foot as she struggled to get the panties over her sandals. When she had finally freed them, she went to toss the offensive garment aside.
“No!” Turk hissed. “Put them in your mouth!”
Denise cringed at the command. She could already smell the pungent odor of her own waste, she could feel the panties’ wetness. Could he really mean that she should put them in her mouth?
The clenching fist around her throat drew tighter. She could feel the pressure on her windpipe. She saw stars as the pain exploded in her head. Without further delay, she stuffed the offensive garment in her mouth, tears now streaming down her face. She was now incapable of muffled speech, let alone a cry for help that could be heard outside of this room. She was defeated even before she had begun to fight.
Turk wasted no time. “Get down on your knees,” he commanded. Denise obeyed, her downward movement tracked by the hand around her tender neck. Once on her knees, the Turk pushed her forward so that she was lying on her stomach. He moved on top of her, sitting on her thighs, as he pulled his belt free. Putting the knife away, he wrapped Denise’s wrists in the belt, tying it off securely.
Now that he had her secured and silenced, the Turk stopped to think. “I must be out of my mind,” he thought to himself. He was committed to either killing or kidnapping the girl. Either way, if the police were not suspicious now, they soon would be. If he killed her, the only evidence would be anything he had touched or left behind. He could take care of that. If he was going to kill her, now was the time to act. He had only just stepped in the door. He hadn’t touched anything. There would be no physical evidence of him ever being here. The only witness would be the young mother in the elevator, and she had hardly looked at him.
On the other hand, if he kidnapped her, he would have to either sneak her out to his van somehow or he would have to go get the van and his equipment. That would mean leaving her here alone for at least twenty minutes, probably more. He couldn’t take a cab to his van on the chance that a cabbie might remember him. Shit!
Denise’s mind was racing too. She had put it together already. This man, who had accosted and bound her, knew where Cheryl was. Either he was the person who had kidnapped her or he was associated with those who had. Why? Why Cheryl? And why her now? She was no closer to figuring out who had taken Cheryl than the police. And what was this guy going to do with her now that he had her? She remembered the knife and his vicious face. He was going to kill her!
Denise panicked. She began to squirm and tried to get up to her knees. She had no idea what she would do, but she didn’t want to die without a fight. Turk was stirred from his reverie by her movements. He put short shrift to her efforts by grabbing her arm, pulling her to her feet and slapping her hard, twice across the face.
The slender girl was stunned by the blows. She stared at her assailant in terror. Turk remembered that look. It was Cheryl all over again. This time, he would give her something to be terrified about.
Turk grabbed Denise by her hair and dragged her towards the bedroom. Once there, he slapped her twice again, each blow landing with a loud “crack!” Denise was frightened beyond her wits. This man had suddenly become a terror. She realized that she was about to be raped.
Denise began to cry and tried to beg the man, through her stuffed mouth, to spare her. Her desperate words emerged only as muffled sounds. The Turk grabbed the bodice of the pretty yellow dress that Cheryl had worn and ripped it wide open. Denise’s breasts, encased in a dainty white bra, were exposed. Turk pulled out his knife. Denise’s eyes widened with fear. But the Turk was intent only on removing the rest of Denise’s garments.
With the knife, Turk cut through the straps holding the rest of the dress on Denise’s body. He pulled it down and it fell to the floor. Denise was now naked, but for her bra and sandals. Her arms pinioned behind her back thrust her chest forwards making her already ample bosom more prominent. The Turk expertly cut the straps of Denise’s bra and then sliced it open between her breasts. The bra fell away revealing Denise’s tits in all their splendor.
Denise compliantly permitted the Turk to undress her. She didn’t want to be raped, but she didn’t want to be killed or beaten either. Her nipples were stiff with fear and her skin tingled as if electrified. No moment in her entire life ever seemed so real as this one. She was never so conscious of her body or her nakedness. She was trying desperately not to cry, but the tears were streaming down her face.
Turk took in the piteous figure of the girl before him. His cock was hard and ready. All he could see was Cheryl and all he could feel was anger at the torment that her memory gave him. By raping this woman who so closely resembled her, he would be casting out a demon, shattering an illusion.
He pushed Denise backwards, causing her to fall onto the bed. It was the same bedspread that Cheryl had lain on. He could almost imagine her lying there. Quickly, Turk shed himself of his clothes. Denise cringed when she saw his rigid manhood, large and engorged. Turk knelt on the bed and crept over to the trembling girl. After removing her sandals, he placed his hand on her breast and squeezed, at first hard, so that the pain would register immediately to the naked young woman. Slowly, his grasp eased, he cupped it gently. To him, it was Cheryl’s breast. When he looked up, it was Cheryl’s eyes he saw. Suddenly the urge to brutalize this woman escaped him. He wanted her all right. He would fuck her. But it would be Cheryl he would be making love to.
Denise was startled by the man’s sudden tender touch. She felt his warm lips on her breast and moaned when he took the nipple in his mouth, sucking at it softly, almost lovingly. This, she was not prepared for. She didn’t want to experience pleasure. But as Turk shifted his attentions from the right breast to the left, she felt her loins warming, filling with the blood of passion.