Rape Stories

Warning!

Closing Time

I'm not sure how to begin...

Something keeps happening to me. Something bad....something shameful. I've been unable to speak of it to anyone and I hope no one ever sees these pages....but I have to write it down. I think I could go mad if I don't. Writing this down is part therapy, part confessional...and who knows...perhaps it'll hold some clues--for me while trying to figure this out, not only the events themselves, but my own reactions to them--and for anyone else who may find this....just in case.

How do I speak of the terror I feel each night at closing time? The terror and the unspeakable, undefined other feelings that rush thru my blood along with my fear and dread? This won't make sense to anyone (including myself) till I just tell it, so I guess I should start at the beginning.

I manage a small store located in a well-lit, relatively low-crime area. There's several other stores surrounding mine; some small, a few quite large, and as far as I know there hasn't been any hold-ups or anything at any of them, including mine. I say that so you'll understand why I've always felt safe here, and why closing up for the night alone never scared me. I'm not going to reveal anymore about my store or myself for that matter, than that. After you read this you'll understand why I'm a bit paranoid.

Closing time was almost always a quiet, boring bit of time, made up of just waiting for the clock to cooperate so I could slide the Closed sign over, lock the door and finish the closing procedures I had always started about an hour before. There's also plenty of times that the last hour is busy--sometimes it's even been the busiest hour of the day--with last-minute customers who don't leave till the bitter end, but most nights the last hour is quiet.

I'm often alone during either part of, or sometimes all of that last hour. I was never afraid when it was quiet...I always enjoyed the peace and the bit of time to unwind a bit before heading for home. So unless there was something that needed my immediate attention, I would take advantage of the quiet...sitting at the desk in the back room, often with a book, sometimes writing things on scratch pads...daydreaming, listening to music, having a smoke...whatever...all with one eye on the clock.

I was smoking a cigarette, deep into a Stephen King book with ten minutes to go till closing time the night this whole nightmare began. I groaned inwardly when I heard the annoying electronic chimes over the door that indicate someone has come into the store. With a resigned sigh, I arose from my chair at the desk, put down my cigarette and book, then walked thru the door at the back of the store leading to the front, prepared to greet this late-comer as graciously as possible.

I saw him immediately and was startled at the sight. Usually I have to look for the customer for a moment if they come in while I'm in the back, and I normally find them already browsing when I spot them. This one, I saw right away...he would have been impossible to miss. He was very tall, at least 6' 5", but I think he was even taller than that....and built. Jeez was he ever built...I could tell that right away despite the long coat he was wearing....but none of that, remarkable as it was, is why I was startled so by him.

His head was sort of down--the bill of a baseball-type cap obscured his features at first. His stride was bold, purposeful...not like someone browsing, but heading straight for what they came for. The strange and startling thing was that he wasn't heading for any of the merchandise; his destination seemed to be the door to the back room that I'd just stepped out of. I felt a clutch of fear immediately, all my internal alarms shrieking. The way he was closing the distance between us, bearing down on me it seemed, reminded me of that old movie, The Terminator. At least I didn't see a gun.

He stopped when he saw me, as if startled himself. I took a few steps toward him...trying to ignore the sudden terror and fumbling for the normal routine--as if that would prove that I was just suffering a case of the willies-- and spoke my standard greeting, "Hi...can I help you?", aware that my voice was shaking.

He had only stopped momentarily, then kept coming toward me. Before I was even finished with my lame, shaky greeting he was right in front of me, gripping my upper arms in his large and powerful hands.

"Here's what I want", he said in a low, rather matter-of-fact voice.

I was gaping up at him, every nerve now on red-alert. Since I stand a very petite 4' 11" he was like a giant to me, and a powerfully built giant at that. I was shocked but not entirely surprised that he'd grabbed me...not after his strange entrance. So far, the sequence of events had only elapsed within a few seconds and I was stunned by how suddenly the night wasn't quiet anymore. I opened my mouth to scream, I think, but nothing came out, as if my sudden shock had stolen my breath. I gazed up at him and his features were handsome, almost like a rough Joaquin Phoenix, and young, late twenties perhaps...but his eyes were so cold...

He turned me around, toward the direction I'd come from, and was pushing me along toward the back room. He was so much bigger than me that he wasn't so much pushing me as propelling me. His grip was still firm on my arms...my feet barely touched the floor as I was swept along.

I think I knew instinctively that this wasn't going to be a robbery. I also knew I was in big trouble, but I still couldn't manage a scream....I couldn't even control where I was going. He moved me as easily as if I were a doll. I seem to remember moaning in a voice that had no strength, "No, ...Nooooo...Oh Noooo..."

As soon as we came thru the door to the back room he shut the door, hitting the light switch beside it.

Plunged into darkness, I remember pleading without hope, "Don't!....Donnnnn't....oh Please!!"

None of my weak and frightened protests stopped him, nor slowed him down. He pulled me back against his body, his hands relaxing their grip on my arms only to roam my body, gripping my breasts, squeezing them...then travel further down, rudely rubbing between my legs.

My cries got louder at that point. My heart was pounding wildly... I was so scared I couldn't think...and I couldn't escape. Swiftly, one of his arms circled my waist while the other jerked at my slacks and pulled them and my panties down in the same effortless motion. Before it had even registered on me that I was naked down below, I felt myself being lifted (also effortlessly) and dropped onto the desk I'd been sitting and reading so peacefully at only moments before. I could smell the butt of my unfinished cigarette smouldering nearby...my arm landed on my book.

He pushed me into something of a laying-down position, although my shoulders and head were against the wall, my neck bending painfully. My pants were bunched around one ankle, and one of my black low-heeled shoes had fallen off.

"Wait!!", I cried out suddenly, "The store's still open!"

"Quiet!!", he snarled while running his hands over my legs, spreading them.

"Somebody will come in!" I persisted, knowing it was very possible but not likely...hoping to scare him off...to stop him from what I knew he was about to do to me.

He ignored me in his explorations.

This was bad. I couldn't scream. I was totally frozen. The guy hadn't threatened me with a weapon or even with words. He hadn't hit me or tied me up, but I couldn't move! His massive size alone, compared with mine had already intimidated me and rendered me helpless to fight him, scream, or even try to run. I just lay there scared shitless as his hands fondled, squeezed and basically felt me up like a piece of meat.

My paralysis broke when he stopped groping me long enough to undo his pants. He hadn't even removed his coat or hat yet, and it was dark--the only light in the room spilling from my small office further back and down the hall--but I still knew that's what he was doing. It hit me then that I was about to just lay there, frozen like a terrified hunted thing while this guy raped me. I COULDN'T just let that happen! With that thought, I made a sudden move to bolt off the desk and run--to where I didn't know, and still don't...out the front door? With my pants trailing behind me by one ankle? Out the back door, which was much closer, but almost directly behind him? I'd never make it. I wasn't thinking anything close to coherent at the moment and only wondered these things later. All I knew was that I had to try Something!

It had appeared that his attention was away from me while freeing himself from his pants, but in that assumption I was mistaken. At my sudden jerking lunge toward the edge of the desk, one of his hands was suddenly at my throat with alarming speed, rendering my escape attempt pitifully futile before it could even be called an attempt. His grip on my throat wasn't brutal, or even painful, but it was firm, solid, as if reminding me how easily he could hurt me if I tried that again. He didn't say a word while putting down my brief rebellion with one hand...he didn't have to. Somehow the silent threat was scarier than any words he could have uttered.

While his hand was still on my throat, he started groping me again with his other. I gasped then whimpered louder when I felt him shove two of his fingers inside me.

"Oh NO!! No, please....DON'T!!" I cried out.

He started moving them in and out of me....then his fingers started doing amazing things--moving around and around as well as in and out, curling and flexing, then massaging my g-spot with diabolical precision. Soon, despite my fear and revulsion of what was happening my body helplessly responded to his skilled manipulations. I heard myself moaning with something besides fear; my breathing harsh and rapid. I felt my muscles contract as waves of unexpected but undeniable pleasure washed thru my senses.

At some point thru this, I was aware that his other hand had left my throat and had fumbled at his pants some more, then he started making the unmistakable motions of stroking himself. I knew he was about to rape me, and my mind was numb with terror, but my body didn't seem to care about anything but the frenzied motions his fingers made inside me. I felt my back arch as the muscles inside my vagina contracted and throbbed as the final jolts of tingles exploded inside me, travelling thru my entire body.

Panting, I lay back, limp, as he removed his fingers, then held me down while his other hand continued to stroke himself, faster now, and harder than before. I closed my eyes and tried to prepare for the invasion I knew was about to happen....then I heard him groan..."Yeeeaaahhhh...ooohhhhhh yeaahhhhh..." with what sounded like utter delight, then I jerked in surprise when, instead of feeling him try to enter me, I felt instead a warm spurt of wetness on my right leg. He continued to hold me down as he pumped every last drop onto me. Almost immediately I felt a towell or something being wiped across my leg.

"You're not going to tell anybody.....right?" It sounded more like a statement of fact than a question, but I shook my head and somehow found my voice.

"N-n-no...um no" I stammered.

Then...he was gone. The electronic chimes sounded distant thru the roaring in my ears as he helped himself out the same way he'd come in.

I sat up on the desk, still naked below the waist...still shaking from the strange encounter, still flushed from my own strange response....and puzzled by the fact that I hadn't been raped after all...not technically....in fact....What the HELL was THAT??

Realizing the store was still unlocked, the open sign still showing, I leapt down from the desk, nearly ran out front still half-naked, then caught myself and pulled my pants back on, turned the light back on, then made my way back to the front, where I locked the door. I stood there a while looking out the glass front wall, wondering where he went, where he'd come from, or if he'd return before I could get out of there.

I still had to do the closing procedures, but it was impossible at the moment. I mean, how could I possibly do paperwork when I was pacing around, shaking, chanting "Omigod....omigod...oh shit!!...OHGOD!!"?

I went to the bathroom to clean myself up a little bit first. True, he'd cleaned up his own mess, but there was still the matter of my own shameful wetness to deal with. While still in the bathroom I threw water on my face, took several deep breaths, looked at the mirror a long time, then asked my refection out loud, "What the hell was THAT??"

He'd said "You won't tell anyone". I'd agreed. I was too stunned (and still scared) to do anything else at the time. But then I wondered....should I call the police or something? And tell them....what? That I'd been raped? I wasn't! There'd been no robbery...not even technically a break-in since he'd come into a store still open to the public. He'd forced me into the back of the store, true. He'd used no weapons or any real threats other than the hand at my throat. His massive size and build had been enough to intimidate me...ok, there's that, officer. And of course he'd clearly sexually assaulted me. But....rather than being hurt or brutalized, I'd had an orgasm. Never mind, officer.

Somehow I did manage to finish my paperwork. I had a bad moment when the phone rang and no one was there....could it have been him? I had no idea, but I'd had enough at that point. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I had a flash of guilt then. Should I have done something? Should I warn the others? I dismissed that, since I'm the only female ever alone in the store at any time. I should just forget it. I wasn't hurt...I wasn't even raped, not really. And he'd have to be NUTS to ever come back. I decided the best thing to do would be to just shrug it off as one of those strange things that just happens sometimes, and count myself lucky that it hadn't been worse.

What I didn't know was that it was about to get much worse....

Nothing else happened for a month at least, probably longer. I was sure I'd seen the last of the strange intruder. I set about my business as usual, determined to put the whole weird night out of my mind...but that proved to be impossible. There were too many things that bothered me about it; like...why?? Why did he choose my store? Why did he choose me? Had he targeted me? Been watching me? Or was he just some nutty guy who went around molesting women all over town? And of course, the most disturbing question of all....and the one that left me the most annoyed with myself....why didn't he rape me? I mean, why would he go to all the trouble and risk of grabbing me, rendering me scared, helpless and open to him if all he wanted to do was manipulate me to a stunning orgasm, then jerk off on my leg?? It made no sense. I'd find myself wondering if maybe he didn't find me attractive enough...(I KNOW! that's SO fucked up but I couldn't help it)....but do guys usually jerk off over someone they don't find attractive? Was he scared of AIDS? That almost made sense, but why didn't he wear a rubber...or better yet, why bother at all?

I got so angry with myself when I thought of these things...I mean, who cares?? One would think I'd wanted to be raped. When I was sure it was about to happen I remembered the fear, the panic and revulsion I'd felt. I knew I didn't want that to happen! So why couldn't I just forget it and be glad it didn't? It was all very confusing.

After all that's happened, I now know that he'd wanted me to be in that state of confusion. It was part of an elaborate mind game. The fucker was patient, I give him that. He game me time to let all those thoughts simmer. He even gave me time to stop being scared at closing time.

For the first few weeks after the strange attack, I'd been very skittish the closer it got to closing time each night, and.....oh shit, I really hate admitting this, but sometimes.....sometimes remembering the encounter made me...almost unbearably aroused. It's terrible to say, but for a while...watching the clock, wondering if he would return, I'd feel real fear...but I also felt real tingles..sexual ones. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I was totally disgusted with myself.

Eventually I stopped jumping every time I heard those chimes close to closing. Every time I did, it was always just another late-comer with no more nefarious motives than looking for something to buy. I didn't forget it, really, but at least I felt I'd shoved the whole weird episode to the back of my mind where it belonged.

another few weeks....

Once again it was nearly closing time. I was in the back, into a book with one eye on the clock, intending to go close up as soon as I finished my cigarette.

The damned chimes annoyed me. It was late even for the most hardcore of last-minute stragglers. Stubbing out my cigarette, I headed up front, determined to tell the latecomer that we were about to close. To hell with them...I was tired.

I got about halfway to the front before I saw him this time.

He was standing by the door, waiting for me. He almost smiled at my shocked gasp.

"I'm back, bitch", he declared quietly.

We stood staring at each other for a moment. I was too stunned to even think straight.

He slid the closed sign over himself, then locked the door. For a brief crazy moment I wondered how many times he might have watched me from a distance doing that very thing myself before whatever internal clock he operated on told him it was time to return.

The spell broke then, and with a frightened cry I turned and ran back the way I'd come, thru the door to the back room. I was running toward the back door, which was unlocked and led directly outside. My immediate plan was to burst thru that door like a shot. Surely he wouldn't chase me outside.

I almost made it, but he closed the distance between us quickly, and his body slammed me against the door just as I reached it...just as my arm had outstretched to open it.

"NO!!!", I cried out, "Leave me ALONE!!"

Without a word, while still holding me plastered against the closed door with his body he reached over and locked that door too.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I really didn't think he'd dare show up again. I'd made the mistake of thinking the last time was just a random weird thing and that lightning wouldn't strike twice, but here it was...in the form of this big guy turning off the lights again while squashing me against the door.

Holding me firmly against him, I could feel his excitement growing (quite literally) as his hands went up my sweater and under my bra where they grabbed both my breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly.

I suddenly shouted, "Dammit!! Who ARE you? What do you want from me?? WHY are you DOING this??"

"Shhhhh, now," he said in a mockingly soothing tone, "am I going to have to tape your mouth shut?"

As soon as he said that, his fingers pinched my nipples cruelly. I couldn't help crying out at the sudden pain.

"Yeah, it looks like I'm going to have to", he sighed as if annoyed. I felt him pull something from one of the pockets of his voluminous coat. Moments later I heard the unmistakable ripping sound of heavy tape being pulled free of its roll. I honestly don't know if he was able to rip it off without cutting it, and if he cut it I don't know what he used because he still hadn't shown me a knife or anything.

Pulling my head back by my hair he muffled my whimpers and any further protests with a big swatch of the tape, pushing it firmly over my lips. With that he grabbed my upper arms and steered me toward the desk, yanking my sweater off me before I'd even known he'd reached for it. He removed my bra just as quickly, with a deft skill I' ve never seen in a man before...there was none of the typical fumbling. Within moments he had me stripped completely, save for my sheer black thigh-high stockings and one black heel since, just as before, one of them had fallen off in the scuffle.

Pushing me against the desk, he stood behind me, his body pinning me against it, forcing me to bend over it somewhat just to keep my balance.

His cruel fingers once again found my nipples, totally exposed now, and clamped onto them again, causing a scream of pain to erupt from inside me, only to die out as an impotent and muffled squeal trapped behind my sealed lips. More such screams followed as my tormentor pulled my nipples out from my body, elongating them and pinching them ever harder while I screamed behind the tape, writhed in agony and tried uselessly to wrench his hands from me. It was like trying to move trees from the ground and I shuddered at how strong he was.

Soon enough he removed his hands of his own accord, spun me around to face him, then once again lifted then dropped me onto the desk, pulling my legs apart the moment I'd landed, then shoved one of his fingers inside me.

He'd been silent thru most of this, just like before. By silent, I mean he didn't say much, speaking only when he deemed it necessary. However his breathing had become heavy...and so had mine. His groans of sadistic hunger mingled with the harsh breaths escaping from my nose as my distressed whimpers continued to vibrate against lips that were unable to release them while he moved his fingers in and out of me. After a few moments of that he did speak.

"Yeahhh...you're getting nice and wet," he informed me, "you like this, don't you?"

He chuckled when I shook my head no, my eyes wide and pleading over the tape on my mouth.

"Ahhh, yes you do....you LOVE this".

Suddenly he stopped what he was doing, pulled his fingers out quickly, seized my legs under the knees, then pulled them till my bottom was at the edge of the desk, placing them in a spread out position on either side of himself; his body preventing me from closing them. It was then, and also when he impatiently shrugged out of his coat, flung his hat to the floor, then pulled his shirt off (confirming to me for sure how powerfully built he was), that I knew I wasn't going to get away with just being groped and fingered this time.

Just as I feared, he quickly undid his pants, and I gazed up at him in a kind of swooning panic as he leaned over my prone body, placing his hardness against me, steadily pushing his way inside me. I moaned with dismay, shaking my head NO, but part of that dismay was because the nerves and muscles in my vagina had come to a rebellious life of their own, squeezing and throbbing against his invading shaft, sending tingles all thru me.

I lay terrified and overpowered, unable to control anything. I made some feeble attempts to push him off me, but it was, of course, impossible. I couldn't escape or even close my legs.

Once inside me, he slid his arm under my right leg at the knee, hoisting my leg up, forcing it towards my chest as his hand gripped my arm, holding it down at my side. He took full advantage of this position of deeper penetration by driving into me with hard steady strokes, forcing a likewise steady series of muffled cries from me. Still he stayed silent save for his harsh breathing and grunts of effort.

He broke his silence when he pulled out, stepped back from me and commanded me to turn over. Thinking it was probably best to comply, I scooted off the desk, then haltingly turned around. Impatiently he pushed me till I was bent over the desk. While holding me down in this position he started groping and squeezing my ass. I had a very bad feeling that got worse in a hurry when he suddenly bent down, his face close to my ass, then spat. I struggled against the strong arm holding me in my bent-over position when I felt the sudden wetness land a perfect bulls eye on my butt hole. I knew what he was going to do next and I was horrified; voicing my intense protest with even louder squeals behind the tape, shaking my head NO with a frantic urgency. I felt him fumbling behind me for a while--obviously the difference in our heights was making it difficult to find a good angle because I suddenly found myself being lifted and pushed forward onto the desk till my feet were no longer on the floor but splayed out behind me in midair, on either side of my attacker once again.

His body pressed against me from behind. I could feel the swollen head of his cock pushing against the tiny opening of my anus relentlessly. My hands madly clawed at the desk in a useless attempt to crawl away from the slow but steady forward thrust that was opening me so painfully, but his grip on me was too tight. My screams were loosening the tape on my mouth and the muffled noises were forming words....useless pleas that I knew would do no good as I continued to writhe and tense myself in a desperate attempt to keep him from going any further inside me. My efforts wasn't stopping the steady pressure of his advance, only making it hurt more.

"I'm getting in there...", he said in his maddening matter-of-fact way, and strangely enough, that's what finally made me stop fighting and try to relax my muscles. As soon as I did he pushed into me further and further until he was deep inside me. He paused a few moments until I'd stopped most of my wailing, then leaned over me further, placing one hand over my loosely-taped mouth while the other held me firmly beneath him. That's when he began pumping in and out of my impaled ass, smothering the new screams he knew this would evoke.

"Oooohhhh....ohhh yeaaahhh..." he chanted while he drove into my violated bottom with ever deeper and faster strokes.

I absorbed the pain and humiliation of this torment, bawling behind the hand firmly clamped to my mouth, till it began to lessen somewhat, the unbearable pain changing to an intense friction that caused my screams to fade into the rhythmic cries as old as time of one being fucked and accepting it. It wasn't pleasure I felt at this point, but the increasing intensity was sweeping me away with it, and I knew if this continued, I would probably cum. I'll never know for sure, because it was then that he spoke again, into my ear as he pulled my head further back by the hand still over my mouth.

"I'm going to cum all up inside your ass, bitch....oohhhh...uuhh...here it comes..." he panted, then set about making it happen by thrusting into my tortured ass even harder, driving in and out of me with a frenzy, bringing forth frantic new screams to match the fresh pain--screams that he muffled effectively with his hand, holding my head against his chest while forcing me to endure the last and most intense part of this sadistic ride.

There were no groans of satisfaction to signal that he was done, only the sudden wetness I felt spreading inside me. He slowed down then, finally and withdrew, leaving me there, the tears beginning to flow.

I could hear him pulling his clothes back on hurriedly. I really didn't want to move, but I felt stupid just lying there crying with my ravaged backside uncovered, so I scooted backwards and made an ungraceful landing, nearly tripping over my pants that were still twisted and balled up around one ankle. I saw my sweater in the floor and keeping my eyes averted I bent to retrieve it, holding it almost protectively over my exposed breasts, finally raising my eyes just in time to see only a glimpse of my attacker as he vanished thru the back door this time without a word.

Shaken and trembling, I cleaned myself up, put myself back together as well as I could then calmly finished the closing procedures as if in a dream. In fact, it was only the soreness in my bottom and the later-discovered bruises on my breasts--in the perfect shape of finger-tips--that kept reminding me that it hadn't been some crazy dream. There's been times since that night that I wondered if I somehow didn't make it all up in my mind. I think crazy people can feel phantom agonies if they sincerely believe they're being attacked by something. I know that sounds far-fetched, but no more so than anything else that's happened.

Somehow I finished what I needed to finish at the store--all the while numb and half-terrified once again that he would return before I could leave. I gave the back room a quick inspection before I left, however, to make sure nothing was out of place, and there I saw something I'd missed during my earlier haste to be dressed again, something that seemed to prove it really happened. A roll of duct tape sat on its side in the middle of the floor. Before leaving I took it to my office and locked it in the filing cabinet. It sits there still....sometimes I look at it.

He struck again about three weeks later. I won't rehash all the details this time since it was almost the same; the only really notable difference being that this time he made me suck him for a while before proceeding to violate me in the same ways as before. When it occurred to him that he wanted to use my mouth, he grabbed the back of my head by my hair after he'd set me on the same desk, forcing me to bend way over from the waist while sitting there, clutching his coat in both my fists to keep from tumbling off. Later he also varied his attack by wrapping my bra around my neck while raping me, periodically squeezing off my cries to nearly silent struggles for breath. He managed to take me every way possible before finishing off in my ass once again....then he was gone, as usual, without a word.

Thru the tears that fell freely while I dressed alone in the dark, I had a flash of resentment that was so incongruous to the situation that I had to laugh also. When I realized he was gone I'd thought "how rude!"; this was the third time he'd attacked me and each time when he was done with me he'd always left without a word...no "that was great", "that was lousy" or any comments at all. Well, he was a rapist after all.....what did I expect? A dozen roses?? that's the thought that made me laugh even as I shakily tired to put myself back together thru my tears.

It was only another few weeks before he came thru the door at closing time again like he owned the place--or at least owned the manager. By now he did own me in many ways...as I'm sure he was aware.

I'd had strange, terrible moments during that time. Everything was escalating--the frequency of the attacks as well as the intensity of them. He was being rougher, more violent each time, frightening me terribly. Even so, I felt helpless to stop it. The crazy thing is that I probably could have stopped it somehow--like making sure I was never alone at closing time. Or I could have called the police, but I couldn't bear the knowing looks I imagined they would greet my report with. "You say he's attacked you on three separate occasions...and you never reported it till now?" I couldn't bear their questions, probably because I had no answers for them. I didn't even have any answers for myself.

My mind was also playing tricks on me. One day while in my office I was busy with some paperwork, my mind totally on my work, my rapist the furthest thing from my mind...when I felt him. I can't really think of a better way to describe it. I felt him just out of my range of vision, coming up behind me. A small cry of terror escaped me as I spun around suddenly, feeling his hand close over my mouth and his other arm encircle me in his usual powerful grip....when I saw that I was alone after all...with only my pounding heartbeat for company. I sat there stunned and still frightened by the suddenness and intensity of my vision. It had felt so real, yet it was all in my mind. It made me question my sanity--and his existence. Was I losing my mind? That wasn't the only occurrence that made me wonder such a thing.

Another day, while alone in the store, but several hours away from closing time I had another vision. I was sitting at the back-room desk (that's right, that desk), busying myself with schedules during a slow hour, waiting for the afternoon shift to come in when the door chimes sounded. As I walked thru the back-room door to the main part of the store I saw him...heading toward me with the same wild look in his eyes, coming down the same aisle, bearing down on me with the same purposeful stalking stride as that first night. My heart nearly stopped....then he disappeared. I closed my eyes a moment to clear my vision of the phantom, then continued to the front of the store to wait on the elderly lady who'd really come thru the door when the chimes had sounded.

It was no surprise when he entered my dreams at night as well. They were strange disturbing dreams in which I'd find myself imprisoned somewhere, sometimes chained to a wall, sometimes tied to a chair, sometimes in a jail cell, and often in a small steel cage. I would be terrified, knowing he was coming for me, yet awaiting his arrival impatiently, as he was the only one able to free me. Then when he does show up he always takes me cruelly...savagely....and in these dreams I always climax violently--great waves of mind-blowing spasms that leave me weak, my heart pounding at an alarming rate upon awakening. I only climaxed for real that first time. Maybe because it all happens too fast--maybe because I'm too scared at the time....but I always feel on the verge after he's left me, my nerves bunched up and demanding release. Maybe that's why the release is so exaggerated in the dreams.

I was in a crazy bad way for a while. I didn't feel in control of anything. The best way to illustrate this is my behaviour when he returned for the fourth time. As I said earlier, he'd strolled right in like he owned the place while I was at the front of the store this time. It was a bit later than his usual visits by a few minutes. I'd slid the Closed sign over, but forgotten to lock the door--make of that what you will. I looked up at the sound of the chimes , saw him and froze. He held my gaze a moment, then continued walking to the back room without me--not even bothering to grab me first, pulling off his coat as he walked, saying to me as if it was an afterthought, "Lock the fucking door....Now!", taking completely for granted that I would obey. Later I remember thinking, "what a dumbass!" He tells me to lock the door, doesn't even bother to watch me, but waits for me in the back room! Really absurd, right? What could possibly stop me from running right out the door? So what did I do? That's right...I fucking obeyed. I locked the door....crept slowly to the back room....and then I was grabbed.

Later, he didn't bother to restrain my arms....they moved of their own volition it seemed...reaching up and trailing my nails down his chest while he fucked me...my breathing as ragged as his own....my moans held very little dismay. Then, after using me every way possible in his economical one-shot manner, after leaving me naked, in tears and humiliated again....he left me for the last time without a word.

* * * * * * * *

After nearly three months of expecting another visit, I've finally come to the conclusion that he's done with me. I can never be sure, of course. I've assumed this before and I was always wrong. But this time I think my mysterious phantom rapist has vanished for good. I'm relieved, of course....of course I am...however...my dreaming self seems to feel differently.

The other night he came thru that door again in my dreams. I was at the counter in the front of the store, just as I was the last time. I heard the chimes....looked up, met his eyes.....and smiled.

* * * * * * * *

It's been nearly another month since I've written what I thought was the end.

I saw him today.

I've seen phantoms of him everywhere since this began...in stores, on the street, in untold numbers of cars...but it was never really him. At first I thought today was just another instance of that, although the more time that's passed since last time, the less frequent are these sightings.

It was him this time....I know it.

After seeing him today I wonder how I could have ever been fooled before by the impostors my mind had conjured.

I happened to be at the front of the store, as I am right now while writing this, when I saw a car slow down while driving past. It was him. I'm not sure if he could see me where I stood but it looked like he did....our eyes seemed to meet.

Now here it is, nearly closing time, and I have a strong feeling he's coming for me again. I really have no reason to believe this. I don't know why he stayed away for so long this time--it seems logical to assume he won't return....but he's coming, I know it...and this time I'm more scared than ev...

* * * Prologue * * *

On the day after this final, incomplete sentence was written, presumably, the morning shift was surprised to find the doors unlocked when they came to work. The closing procedures were left half-done and there was no trace of the manager, save for the sheets of paper the above story had been written on in longhand, scattered all over the counter and the floor.

Their surprise was soon replaced with worry while reading these pages, then outright fear when they came to the last page and saw, scrawled over the top of the written words as well as the blank portion, in a different hand, these words:

HEATHER IS NEVER COMING BACK!!

Was she abducted by the intruder she wrote of? Was it all a hoax? No one knows for sure, but the woman who wrote the above account has never been seen nor heard from since....

The End

**********

Special thanks to my good friend Max for suggesting the ending...dare to dream baby! ;)

And to my fantasy phantom rapist--whoever and wherever you may be...I'll be seeing you again, as always...in my dreams...