Most women hate it when men ogle them, or whistle at them on the street, or try to "accidentally" touch them. But Jen wasn't "most women." She enjoyed the attention of men, however she got it. Sometimes she wondered why she wanted male attention so much. Sometimes she thought it was because her father had so seldom noticed that she was even alive. She had learned many tricks over the years to try to get his attention. She was funny, and she could make him laugh sometimes (even though he was a sourpuss). She was smart, and she could sometimes impress him with her intellectual abilities (but only if she was the best at something).
And, when she had become an adolescent, she had gotten his attention by rebelling, and that included rebelling sexually. She started to dress provocatively. This not only made her father notice her (even if it was just to yell at her and tell her what a "slut" she looked like), but it did something even better: it made other men notice her too. Jen learned to get attention by wearing short skirts and low-cut blouses. She learned that if a man wasn't looking at her cleavage, she could almost always get him to look by casually fumbling with the top button of her shirt. She had learned to do it so casually that it looked like a mannerism, rather than what it was, a come on.
Once, in college, she had a professor who had so much concentration that even the button trick didn't work. She had to wait until he was facing her during lecture, and then actually put her hand into the top of her shirt -- like she had an itch, or had to adjust her bra -- but she left it there for a long time. Jen always smiled when she thought about how that was the move that finally got him. For the rest of lecture, every time he turned in her direction, his eyes flipped down to her cleavage. Then he'd look up into her eyes, and she'd smile at him. After that, he invited her to come to his office hours for some "extra help." The extra help turned out to involve the two of them making out and feeling each other up on the small couch in his office. But that is another story ....
It was also in college that Jen started to explore her bisexuality. She'd spent so many years trying to get men to want her, so it was a wonderful and unexpected surprise when she realized that another woman was coming on to her. At first Jen didn't even realize what was happening. It was a fraternity party, with people putting back plastic cups of 100-proof punch like it was mineral water. Jen was already well lubricated (from both alcohol and lust), and was in the middle of a huge mass of dancing people. Some people were dancing with partners, but others (like Jen) were just twisting on the dance floor by themselves like snake-charmers in a trance. Jen knew some guy would pick her up soon. She was hoping tonight for a sort of preppie-jock type with a big cock. Instead, a pretty woman that Jen knew from one of her classes started dancing with her and smiling at her. Jen smiled back, pleased that the woman was being so friendly with her. Soon, the woman took the silk scarf from around her neck, put it around Jen's waist, and pulled Jen toward her.
Before she knew it, the woman's hips were grinding against Jen's, and Jen's were instinctively grinding back. The party was loud, so it was hard to hear, but the woman leaned forward so her mouth was next to Jen's ear. (Jen felt a spasm between her legs when she felt their chests touch, even through their shirts.) "Why don't you walk me back to my dorm?" the woman asked. This was pretty much standard code on the campus for "I want you to come to my room and do it with me." Jen dreamily left the party holding hands with her new lover. They didn't say a word on the walk to the dorm, and when they got to her room -- well, I should save that story for another time too.
Our story about Jen starts a few years later, after Jen had graduated and gone to work in a graphic design firm. Jen's almost unique combination of artistic and technical skills made her a valued employee, and that made her proud. And she also took every opportunity to "get attention" from the men who worked there. Things were quiet at work today, though. So Jen decided to take off early for lunch. As she left work, she thought about how over lunch she might sit and move to give the maximum exposure to the men in the bistro she planned to go to. These thoughts excited her, so she decided to take a shortcut to get to lunch more quickly.
As she turned down the alley, Jen noticed something odd. A van that had apparently been driving down the road behind her suddenly came to a screeching halt right past the alley. It then backed up and turned down the alley. The alley was pretty narrow, so it was a tight fit for Jen and the van. She stepped to the side to let the van pass. She was surprised when it stopped and the window nearest her, on the passenger side, went down. Inside was a friendly and pleasant looking man. He was dressed in a nice shirt and tie, like a businessman or other professional.
He smiled and said, "Excuse me, miss? I'm really sorry to bother you, but I'm from out of town, and I'm trying to find a restaurant where I'm supposed to meet someone. I'm kind of late, and this is an important client, so I was hoping you could point me in the right direction." He smiled hopefully. He seemed quite sincere and harmless, and besides he was way over on the driver's side, so what could he do? Jen smiled back and asked which restaurant it was. It was a complicated story. It was apparently supposed to be down by the docks, but the name his secretary gave him wasn't listed in the phone book or on his tourist map. Jen suggested several names that sounded vaguely like the name his secretary had given him, until they hit on one that was probably it. She told him what street it was on.
"Oh, great, thanks!" he said. He held up his map. "So I'm here right, so I just head north?" He pointed to a place on the map nowhere near where they were. Jen laughed and said, "You really are lost. Here, let me show you," and she gestured for the map. He smiled gratefully and stretched the map out to her. Jen reached up to take it in her hands, and without warning a woman lunged from behind the passenger seat and grabbed Jen by the upper arms. Jen was completely taken by surprise, so she froze, and the woman was surprisingly strong, so it was easy for her to pull Jen into the back of the van.
Jen found herself on her back with the woman straddling her. It was too dark to get a good look at her. Before Jen could do anything, the woman had wrapped a long, wide piece of tape over Jen's mouth and around her head. Jen struggled desperately to push the woman off her, but the woman expertly pinned Jen's hands over her head, and Jen heard the "zip" of handcuffs closing, and felt the cold steel tighten around her wrists. The woman flipped around so she was straddling Jen facing the other direction, roughly tugged off Jen's shoes, and looped some kind of cord around both of her feet. The cord was wide enough to allow her legs some movement, but it would obviously make Jen hobble slowly and awkwardly when she walked. Jen suddenly realized that the van had been moving for a while, and the driver was whistling as if he were just out for a pleasant afternoon jaunt. The woman in the back of the van started to put Jen's shoes back on. She was much more slow and deliberate about putting them back on than she had been about taking them off. They were bright red shoes with spike heels: classic "fuck-me shoes." The woman had not seemed to exert herself at all when she was tying Jen up, but she seemed to be breathing more heavily as she ran her hands over the hose covering Jen's feet. After gently caressing Jen's feet for a few moments, she slowly and carefully put the high-heels back on, then kissed the toe of each shoe when she was done.
Tears of fear were running down Jen's face. She imagined all the awful news reports, documentaries, and movies she had seen about serial killers. "I'll never see my friends or family again," she thought. But the woman turned around again, and put her face right over Jen's. She gently caressed the side of Jen's face and whispered in the most comforting voice, "Sweetie, I want you to listen to me, and you must believe everything I am about to say. We are going to take you back to our place, and we are going to do things to you -- bad, sick things." Jen sobbed even harder than before. "BUT!" the woman continued, "you are not going to die. When we are through with you, you will be returned.
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