Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Coffee House Girl I wrote this story in 1996 based on an experience that
was told to me by someone on-line.  Eight years later I cleaned up some
awkward language and grammar to make it more readable.  It involves a
beautiful young woman who encounters a sexual predator while she is alone
at work.  It involves rape and murder.



   The day started like almost any other.  For both of them, it would end
like no other.

   Late one Friday morning I walked to a nearby coffee house, one of those
Starbucks clones that had swept the country, especially Southern
California. This shop, a storefront location, was located on a busy street
but was completely empty when I walked in.  I had been there before and
found it to be rather cozy, and it seemed a fine place to while a way a few
hours on my day off from work.  This was long before laptops, Internet
Café's, and other technological distractions.  People came here to drink
coffee, read a magazine, and socialize.

   When I stepped in the door, my earlier low expectations were immediately
destroyed.  I had never seen a young woman working here, and today, behind
the counter, stood a vision that overwhelmed me.  She was around 16 years
old, Hispanic, 5'04", and weighed about 120 lbs.  She was wearing a short
white and red sundress with thin spaghetti straps that were easy to see
were not supported by a bra.  The dress was short enough to show off her
awesome legs.  Her nails were done and her long black hair was thick and
lightly streaked with red highlights.  This was a girl who took care of
herself, who took pride in her appearance.  She took time to make herself
appealing to men.  This morning she took time to make herself arousing to
me.

   She gave me a very warm smile and greeted me.  We chatted about how
empty the shop always was and how she liked working there.  I carefully
elicited information from her so as to find common ground and use the
information in a clever enough way so as to keep the conversation flow
going.  When she told me she had just graduated from a local high school, I
recalled the principal's name and told her I knew him.  Her eyes lit up as
I told her I had substitute taught at her school several times, and as she
asked me if I knew certain people I gathered more and more info to
establish more rapport.  She was sharp, but naive as to men's seductive
ways.  She told me she had just celebrated her 18th birthday, so I was off
by a couple of years on the age on my earlier guess.  She told me her name
was Wendy.  What a pretty name, I told her.  She blushed, a dark red flush
turning her tan sexy face a darker hue.

   When I told her I was 37 years old her eyes opened wide.  Almost as old
as her father, she told me.  I reminded her that older people have more
wisdom, and she agreed.  I asked if she had a boyfriend and she told me she
was engaged.  I noticed a lot of single women mention this as a way to
establish boundries, but it didn't affect me at all.  I was thinking of
ways to violate every boundry she had ever imagined.  We talked about her
fiancée', who was in the Army stationed in South Korea.  I realized then
that the soft seduction approach wasn't going to work here.  If I was going
to get inside Wendy, it was not going to be based on my charms!  She was
very committed to him, she said, and even showed me his picture and a nice
diamond ring on her finger.  What a waste, I thought.  A prime piece of ass
like this already locked away.  All this time no one had even come into the
store.  This coffee house is a perfect place for me to force my intentions
on her.  I looked into those stern eyes in the photograph of a brave
soldier serving our country and silently said to him, "If you had any idea
what is about to happen to your girlfriend, you'd swim across the Pacific
to save her..."

   I ordered a bagel and cream cheese, knowing from past visits to this
shop that it would require her to leave the counter and go to the rear of
the store.  She said with a big sexy smile, "I'll be right back," and left.
Did she know that every time she talked she was actually flirting?  I
walked to the front door, locked it and flipped the closed sign over.  I
noticed no one was on the street and no one had seen me from outside.  I
walked to the rear of the shop, hidden from the front customer area, and
totally secluded.  "Hi, uh, I'll be right out..." She appeared slightly
nervous at me being in the back of the store.  She was holding a long bread
knife with a serrated blade.  She set the knife down on the counter and I
immediately pushed her back against the counter and grabbed the utensil.  I
needed to take control as soon as I could.  I put my hand on her face and
head, holding it tightly.  The other hand held the knife.

   She just stood there for a few seconds, crying and pleading with me not
to do this.  Then I punched her in the stomach and as she doubled over, I
slapped her hard across the face.  She fell down onto the floor, stunned
and gasping for air.  She looked so helpless, yet incredibly sexy Once she
had caught her breath, I told her that if she made any loud noises or tried
to get away, she'd get a lot worse.  I pulled her up to her feet, pushed
her against the countertop, and told her to undress.  She was still
sobbing, but she shrugged the one-piece outfit off her shoulders and it
fell to he floor.  She was showing herself to be completely passive and
terrified, which is what I wanted exactly.

   Now she had only the a pair of sheer black panties to cover her from my
eyes.  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  As she stood
there I could see that her long black hair reached the middle of her back.
She covered her breasts, which still stood firmly from her chest.  I told
her to turn around and could see that her skin was brown and creamy, with a
few freckles.  Her ass was firm and round inside her outfit.  Now she was
crying harder, saying please stop please don't do this., over and over
again.  I told her that if she didn't keep stop crying that I was going to
kill her.  I told her to take everything off and to turn around.  Her
breasts were perfect.  Large, but not too large for her figure, with pink,
fear stiffened nipples.  Then she pushed the panties off her hips.  Between
her thighs was a small forest of black curls, which she tried to hide with
her hands.  I slapped her hands from in front of her, so she stood with her
arms to her sides, completely exposed to my eyes and hands.  I roughly
grabbed her breasts, and she began to scream.  I punched her in the jaw,
and her mouth filled with blood as she hit the floor.  She was crying
harder now, completely naked and helpless in front of me.  I forced her
down onto a pile of towels and linens that we stacked in the corner.  I
pulled down my pants and stroked my cock a few times.  I reached out and
started to touch her.  My hands moved slowly over her body, squeezing her
breasts and ass.  I gave her a very nice massage, and I shoved my hand
between her legs, doing something that made her jump.  Then I started
pinching her nipples, making her squeal in pain.  This went on for a few
minutes until I could no longer stand to wait.

   I looked for a better place to have her lay down while I violated her
and found a large blanket on a shelf.  I spread it out next to her shaking,
quivering body, and told her to get onto it and position herself to please
me.  With just those instructions she climbed slowly onto the cloth, fresh
tears falling on the sheet, and lay on her back with her arms at her side.
Then I told her to spread her legs.  She did.  Then her sobbing overwhelmed
her and she curled up in the fetal position and cried.

   I held the knife close to her skin and realized that I would either
leave her now and hope she never identified me, or complete the act and
decide then what to do with the only witness.  She was not going to comply
sexually, which was no real surprise.

   "Please, sir..." she whispered, "I have a boyfriend and a family. 
Please stop.  I'll do anything...  please don't." Her begging, and her
soft, raspy voice only turned me on even more.

   I could feel my hard cock calling for relief.  I looked around the
storeroom and saw a container of cream used for the coffee.  I opened the
carton and proceeded to pour it all over Wendy's lower body.  The milky
fluid startled her and she jumped in reaction.  I pressed the knife blade
against her throat and I lowered my head onto her wet stomach and began to
lick the cream off.  She cried even louder, but the increased pressure of
the blade against her throat silenced her.

   I moved away from her and positioned my cock near her wet pussy.  She
pleaded with me to stop.  "I've only been with my boyfriend, please don't!"
Her face and eyes were puffy from her wailing, as my hard cock twitched at
the sight of her nude, young body.  "You stupid fucking bitch, STOP your
crying!!!" And with this I rammed my fist hard into her face.  I punched
again and again, squarely hitting her right eye, which immediately swelled
shut.  Wendy whimpered as I stood up, and I kicked her several times in the
ribs.  She recoiled with every strike, and finally laid there motionless. I
dropped back down to her, grabbed her hips and pulled her to me.  Without
another word I shoved my hard cock into her still wet pussy and started
pumping.  She gasped as I entered her and then began to fuck into her tight
passage.  Her hands laid near her head, covering her eyes and wiping tears.
I needed to watch them, I thought, when everything went bright white.  I
saw a blur and her right arm swinging quickly at my face.  Her tightly
clenched fist caught me square in the middle of my face as I felt my own
blood spray across the room.  She had possibly broken my nose.  It hurt
like Hell as I felt myself falling off her.  She tried to get up but I
pulled her back down.  I grabbed her arm and threw it onto the floor and
pressed my other arm across her throat.  I pushed harder against her
windpipe as she slowly stopped resisting.  My cock entered her again and
continued to pound inside her and I felt a nice rhythm developing.  I
wanted to think she was responding to my thrusts, but I knew she wasn't. 
Her crying was silenced and I watched her erect nipples press against my
chest as I fucked her harder.  I was getting closer to coming, and I
realized that if I came inside her, it would leave more evidence.  I had
been wanted to be careful and not touch anything, not to leave
fingerprints. I forced my tongue inside her mouth and she refused to
respond.  She was so beautiful, so young, and so sexy.  I pounded harder,
her laying on a cold blanket on the floor, cream all over her, her legs
flat on the ground, her face red and swollen.  Her naked body all mine to
do with what I wanted.  I wanted her to suck my cock, but I knew she
wouldn't.  I held the knife in my left hand and pressed my right arm
against her throat.  I felt myself starting to cum and pumped even harder
as it gushed into her young pussy.  She cried even louder as she knew what
was happening.

   I laid on her body, still aware that she may try to hurt me again.  She
remained frozen.  She whimpered to me, "Please let me go..."

   I withdrew my limp cock from her and rolled her onto her stomach,
carefully keeping the sharp blade pressed against her throat. 
"Please...don't hurt me anymore...  I'll do anything..." She moved her ass
away from me, and I realized that she thought I was going to sodomize her.
She whimpered even more, pleading and begging me not to do it.

   But, I was far too tired to anally violate her.  The blood had stopped
dripping from my face, and I looked at her supple body beneath me and saw
every young girl who had ever rejected me.  Perfect curves...  perfect
face...  I knew it was time to leave.  Someone would notice that the store
was closed too long.  I looked around for something to tie her up with, and
retrieved a long, thin dishtowel that was within reach.

   She continued to cry, to beg, and to plead with me to stop.  Her crying
both repulsed me and aroused me.  Then I heard her say it.  She finally
cracked.  She crossed the line.  "YOU ASSHOLE...  I WILL FIND YOU AND KILL
YOU!" she screamed.

   I felt so angry that she would threaten me, and knew that it was no idle
threat.  I could never walk the streets without fearing that she would
recognize me.  I quickly rolled the towel making it longer and slipped it
under her chin and wrapped it around her throat.  She reached her arms back
and tried to stop me, and then reached for her neck to remove the ligature.
She was seriously injured already, and her strength was weak.  She said
gasping, "Please...  don't...  I'm...  sorry...  stop!"

   I pulled the towel tightly around her throat from behind, the weight of
my body holding her against the floor.  She struggled, but with no success.
I pulled the towel tightly, and then released it.  She gasped for air.  I
told her it was okay.

   "Okay," she gasped, "Just don't do that again...  Please...I couldn't
breathe, you scared me..." she said.  She continued rapidly breathing,
trying to catch her breath.  I looked at her perfectly shaped back, covered
with sprinkles of blood and sweat, the back of her neck with the same
combination of fluids, except with the cloth tightly wrapped around her.  I
pulled tightly on the towel and she twitched hard, trying to push me off
her.  She suddenly stopped and I heard and saw her body involuntarily
eliminate all fluids.  Urine and feces spilled out of her.  I was
surprised, and let up on the pressure.  I heard her gasp loudly.  Then I
heard her start to gag, her body and stomach contracting involuntarily,
continuing for several seconds, coughing, crying.  She whimpered,
"Please... Daddy, Mommy, help me..."

   She had parents.  She had a family who loved her.  They would find me. I
thought of the revenge they would seek on me, and I pulled the ligature
tightly around her again.  This time, I decided, I would not let up.  I
would have to finish her.  My arms gathered all their strength as I pulled
the towel tightly around her.  She stopped moving almost instantly, and I
pulled tighter and tighter.  I started counting, 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - until
I hit 100.  Then I let go.  I left the towel on her and rolled her over. 
Her eyes were wide open.  Her left hand was hooked under the towel, her
right hand laying lifeless next to her.  Her mouth was wide open, in the
last futile gasp for air.  Blood, sweat, semen, urine, and feces were all
over the floor.  I looked into lifeless brown eyes and felt sorry for her.
I caressed her breasts, but they had lost their appeal.  I stood over her,
staring at her, and she showed no sign of life.  I gathered my pants and
got dressed.  I looked out to the front of the store and saw that no one
was at the door.  I washed the knife off in the sink.  I gathered up her
clothes, put them into a trash bag, and took them with me.  I peeked out
the back door and exited.  No one saw me as I casually walked away.  The
next day I read the news reports about the rape and murder of a local girl.
She was an honor student, model family, etc.  I saw her parents on TV
crying.  The cops said they had no suspects.  Would I do this again?  After
experiencing that incredible high, it would be hard not to.
   The End