Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
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(Let me be completely honest about this story. When I was first struck with the notion of doing a Celeb story, I had a few doubts as to whether I could do it justice. I really wanted to tell a tale about something that could really happen. I knew that this was going to take a lot of character development and story structure. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was up to the daunting task this developed into. When I first started, this was going to be a “quickie” as I call them. But the more it became reality, the more I knew I had a real monster on my hands. This is going to be a multi-part story. There’s no way I could shove this into one chapter. To be brutally honest, as I started getting deeper and deeper into this, I seriously considered making this one of my published tales. But after all the kind response I got from the poll and from a few personal correspondences about the upcoming story, there was no way that I wasn’t going to share this with everyone. So, I hope you enjoy it, as this has been one of the most pleasurable, albeit painstaking, stories I’ve written. Please have patience with the upcoming chapter(s), as I have no intention of rushing this for the sake of speed. Thank you very much, and enjoy!--Dave2112)
The midmorning sun shone upon Los Angeles, cutting through the ever-present haze provided by it’s inhabitants. It shone upon the shops and the newsstands, it shone upon the losers and the winners alike. And it shone upon a particular young woman, indistinguishable from the rest of the throng that flooded the sidewalks on their way to whatever destination that guided their lives.
The young woman in question had no intention of being guided this morning, however. Miss Rachel Lee Cook, youthful star of several hit films, blended in with the crowd, for once enjoying anonymity. The blond wig that covered her short red locks was expensive, but effective. The dark glasses and baggy clothing were to the L.A. streets what camo netting was to forest hunters. She blended in, unnoticed. For the first time in several years, Rachel felt free.
There was nothing quite like being in the world’s most active city and forced to remain apart from all it had to offer. It was the price she paid for her stardom, she knew, but she was still young. She had yet to grow out of the things that made young women happy, yet to accept the secluded, lonely mansion life that her future most likely held if her success grew. These were the times to live, to shake off the bodyguards and once again be normal. They all did it. She knew that her good friend Tara had a slew of disguises for just such an occasion, and urban legends were popular; that the homeless guy that hangs out on the corner of Hollywood and Vine was actually Clint Eastwood, Jack Nicholson or some other actor getting in touch with his roots.
Rachel had three days before principle shooting began on her next film. Three days to absorb what she’d missed out on for the last few years. Today’s itinerary included a relaxing walk in the park, lunch at a good, but not famous, restaurant and maybe a quick trip to one of the moderately populated beaches. But first, a trip to the bank to withdraw some “fundage” as she liked to call it. The only credit card she had was in her real name, and didn’t want the hassle associated with some pie-eyed counter-person recognizing her. So, cash it was.
Rachel actually enjoyed standing in line. She was getting too used to things being done for her. She still had a sense of self, and feared becoming “above it all”. She was just a person, albeit one with a recognizable career. The inside of the BankAmerica branch was cool and the art on the walls reminded her that one of L.A.’s museums should also make it’s way onto her schedule. Slowly, her place in line moved forward.
Rachel was broken out of her reverie by something that snapped everyone else awake as well.
A gunshot.
“Everyone down on the floor…NOW!” was all she heard as the people around her either hit the ground or panicked. The screams were confusing, as was the general mayhem of bodies. It was a robbery, and Rachel was caught in the middle of it.
Wasting no time, she hit the floor and covered her head. Peeking out of the corner of the coat sleeve that covered her head, she watched in horror as the lone security guard drew his revolver and fired a single shot and missed.
He was taken down immediately.
These guys are serious, she thought. Keep it together, don’t make a sound, and hopefully they’ll leave with the money. That part didn’t take long, as two men, dressed in the appropriate black clothes and ski-masks brought powerful looking shotguns to bear on the terrified bank teller, who was quickly loading bags full with thick wads of cash.
Relief came soon, as a siren was heard from outside the branch office. Thank God, Rachel thought. But after a second to clear her head, a disturbing thought came to her.
Why only one siren? Shouldn’t there be more? Was some rookie cop out there, waiting desperately for back-up? She kept her head to the floor to attract as little attention to herself as possible.
“Shit, man!” she heard one rough voice yell, “Cops! You said we’d be in and out in…”
“Shut up!” replied the other voice, “Just let me think….shit, shit, shit…..”
Rachel was praying that the thieves’ own ineptitude would get them all out of this, when one of them said something that made her spine tingle.
“Grab someone! Grab a woman! They’ll never shoot if we got a hostage! Come on, man…NOW!”
Rachel kept as still as possible. The moments seemed like years as she heard the click-clack of shoes on marble flooring…
…getting closer to where she was.
“Hey, would ya look at this? I’ve always liked blondes….get up, bitch!”
For a moment, Rachel told herself that he was not talking to her, but the rough hand at the scruff of her neck soon ended that hope. It yanked her off the floor with a strength she thought impossible. Oh, Jesus, she thought…please no….
The man had his arm across her chest as he and his partner headed out the door of the bank. The shotgun the attacker was holding was given to his partner and Rachel’s captor revealed a powerful looking handgun, pointed at her head. Her mind was spinning. Please don’t let this be a shoot-out…I’m too young to die like this…..what if they do get past the cops, then what?
Her thoughts were cut off at the sight of a single police car parked outside, with two officers shielded behind its doors and frame.
“Drop it! Drop it NOW!” the older-looking of two yelled in their direction.
“Back off, fucker!” said the one dragging Rachel along, “I’ll kill her, I fucking MEAN IT!”
The officers looked desperate, and the younger of the two met her gaze for a brief moment. She saw the resignation in his eyes as he was forced to hold his fire. A waiting van was the next and last thing Rachel saw as she was thrown into the back, her captor holding the back of her neck.
“Take care of that, so we can figure this out! Hurry!” shrieked the driver.
Without a word, Rachel’s attacker produced a roll of duct tape and began binding her. Her tiny frame was no match for the hulking criminal, and she also knew that fighting was most likely going to get her killed. Within a minute, Rachel’s hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were roughly taped together. The thief finished by placing strips of the sticky stuff over her mouth and eyes. She was terrified. What were they going to do with her when they no longer needed a hostage? Tears leaked through the corners of the crude blindfold as she thought of her friends, her career, her parents…all of her life compressed in a moment of mortal self-realization.
The one who bound her gave her a sharp slap on her ass, which was followed by a rebuke from the driver.
“Cut that shit out and get up here! Those guys are only a block behind us and we need to ditch the van. You’d better pray the car on Sepulveda is still there…”
“Don’t worry, it will be….turn there…hurry!”
After a few agonizing minutes of feeling the van rocket around corners and alleys, Rachel heard the tires squeal. Within two seconds, she was bundled over the shoulder of one of the men. Feeling herself lifted, she then heard a car door open. Once again, she was unceremoniously dumped into what she figured to be the back seat. For some reason, she was able to retain some modicum of calm, although the breathing through her nose was becoming more rapid as her heart threatened to punch through her chest. But she knew that trying to scream only ran the risk of angering her captors.
For a fleeting moment, she had hope as she heard a siren…close. The car sped away, going who knew where, and Rachel’s brief hope faded as she heard the siren grow softer in the distance.
“YES!” she heard one of them say, “Stupid pigs! By the time they search the van, we’ll be long gone….”
“So…now what?” said the other, and Rachel could only imagine that he was talking about their unexpected passenger.
“I don’t know yet,” replied the first, “Just let’s get to the warehouse, and I’ll figure it out from there.”
As the car sped away into the oblivious Los Angeles infrastructure, Rachel cried fully this time. They would kill her, she had little doubt. Especially if they found out who she was. They’d panic and shoot her.
She had little time to contemplate this further as the car screeched to a halt and she was once again lifted onto the shoulder of one of the men. She heard a large door open and clang shut. She heard the echoes of her captor’s footsteps as they strode deeper into wherever it was that they’d taken her.
She was plopped onto what felt like a chair. Then she felt the point of a knife at her throat.
“We’re gonna make you more comfortable,” she heard a voice say, “don’t even THINK of trying anything.”
Rachel nodded in hope that her captors would appreciate her cooperation. It must have been the other man that cut her ankles and wrists loose, as she never felt the hot breath of the knife-wielder leave her face. Her freedom was brief, as her hands were repositioned behind her back around the chair and re-taped. Each one of her feet was roughly bent back to set along on of the chair’s legs and taped in place. It was then that the gag and blindfold were ripped off her face.
“Ouch!” she squealed out of reflex.
“Yeah, Ouch,” said one of the men, putting the folding blade away, “There’ll be a hell of a lot more Ouch if you give us any shit, little lady….got it?”
Rachel knew that the question was far from rhetorical as she shook her head and feebly said “Yes, I got it.”
“It looks as if you may be with us a while,” said the man addressing her, “so you may as well call me Mike…and you can call him Jake.”
Rachel only nodded as her mind twirled around the statement made by Mike. The fact that he said she’d be here awhile meant that they at least weren’t planning on killing her right away, but on the other hand, she wondered why they would keep her around. Her question was quickly answered.
“We may need a hostage, if the cops manage to trace us here.”
Great.
Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted by the other man, Jake, coming closer to her, subtly pushing Mike out of the way. He seemed to stare at her with an inordinate amount of interest.
“You know, umm…Mike, she looks kinda familiar…”
Rachel’s heart-rate shot up two-fold at the statement. What would these two criminals do to her if they found out who she really was?
“Yeah,” Jake continued, “real familiar…”
Rachel cringed as the man placed his hand on top of her head. Grasping the hair of her expensive wig, he pulled upward. The wig came off.
The moment was frozen in time as Jake stared into her eyes, looked her up and down and backed away. He grasped Mike’s arm.
“Jo…MIKE!,” he caught himself, “do you have any idea who this is??”
“Yes I do, JAKE,” the man over-annunciated the fake name, “she’s a hostage until we can figure out what to do next! If you hadn’t taken so much damn time getting the cash…”
“NO! I mean, we got us a real-life celebrity here! Look at her!”
Mike took a few moments to look over his hostage. It seemed to Rachel that a certain level of recognition was present, but Mike was having trouble placing a name to a face.
“Mike!” the other man excitedly yelled, “That’s that Rachel Lynn Cook chick!”
“Lee.” Rachel said, hanging her head.
“Yeah, whatever,” replied Jake, “You know…the one from that Pussycats movie? She was in some other shit, too. Teeny-bopper movies.”
“Holy shit.” was all that Mike replied with.
“Do you know what this means?” Jake asked his partner.
“Yeah,” he answered, “ it means that we’re in deeper shit than we thought. I know she hasn’t seen our faces, but still…”
“NO!” Jake cut him off, “it means that what we got is chump-change compared to what someone will pay to get her back! Get it?”
Realization dawned upon Mike as horror dawned upon Rachel. But this might at least give her a stay of execution, so to speak. She knew that anyone associated with her would pay any ransom.
“I don’t know, Jake…I gotta think about this. Robbery is one thing, but extortion and kidnapping is another. This was supposed to be easy-in, easy-out. Now you’re telling me we got a Hollywood starlet tied to chair. This is Federal now, if it gets out.”
The two men walked away from her. She could still hear them talking, although quietly. Rachel had good ears, and they proved even better when her ass was on the line. She slowed her breathing to take in the low conversation.
“Look, dude,” the one called Jake said to the other, “we get a contact number out of her and let them know we have her. See? I got her bag. There’s a cell phone in there. We keep the conversations to under two minutes, don’t let anyone get a trace. Besides, if we can call her manager or keeper or whatever these rich-bitches have, we scare him into thinking she’s dead if we don’t get the money in a half-hour or so. We tell him to make the drop, then we paste him. Probably going to have to do the chick, too.”
Rachel’s heart stopped in her chest. She had no idea how they were going to go about this, but she suddenly felt outraged. They were going to get a contact out of her, then possibly kill her. Her only thought was of the police car that had passed them by. Surely they must still be looking for the two criminals, right? If she could walk a fine line between being cooperative and stalling for time, it might be her only chance. But God alone knew what they’d do to her.
It was then that she concentrated on the voices again, subconsciously slapping herself for not listening for a few moments.
“…we can still get something out of this,” said the one called Jake, “look what else is in the bag. Her credit card. See? We get the PIN number out of her and take a slight cash advance, just to cover our asses. You have any idea how much someone like her probably has in her account? In any account?”
“Look,” Mike replied, “let’s take one thing at a time. I’m not so sure about the extortion thing. But I’ll make you a deal. We’ll get the PIN number, I’ll go to an ATM and make the transaction and see what she’s got. If we still want to do what you talked about, we’ll take it up then. Ok?”
“Yeah….I guess so.”
Rachel had a feeling tickling the back of her mind. Did this Mike guy sound a bit hesitant? Maybe this was his first real crime? If she played her cards right, she may be able to create an ally. Or was she just fooling herself in the middle of a life-threatening situation? The train of thought she occupied her fear-riddled mind with was cut off by the two men suddenly approaching her.
“It seems you picked the wrong day to go incognito,” said the one calling himself Mike, “you wouldn’t happen to want to tell us what the PIN number for this thing is, would you?”
He had her credit card in his hand. Rachel’s mouth came close to simply spilling the four-digit number, but she remembered her previous plan. If she could just stall for a little while, maybe the cops would find her. She really didn’t know why she was being so bold. It was funny how a real-life situation differed so very much from the scene you create in your mind, knowing that in all probability it would never actually happen. She found herself pissed. Pissed that these two idiots were holding her against her will and planning on taking her money and possibly her life. She wasn’t a fool, and had no plan on trying to take them on, but perhaps if she showed a little strength, she could buy some time. The one called Mike might fall for it, he seemed a little scared, or at least inexperienced. The other one, though….
“Forget it.” The words escaped her lips before she’d really even thought of them.
“I told you she wasn’t going to just…” Mike said before being cut off by the blur of gun-barrel.
“Maybe this will work.” Jake said as he placed the barrel of the handgun against Rachel’s forehead.
“Godammit, Jake!” said Mike, reaching for the gun and pulling his partner’s hand away, “you kill her now and we don’t get the number and don’t get a paying collector, you know?”
“So what do you suggest we do? Tickle it out of her?” Jake fumed.
There was a still silent moment as the two men looked at each other through the blank masks.
“Well,” said Mike, “if we hurt her too quickly, the game’s up. You might not have a bad idea there….”
“Are you freakin’ serious?!?!?” Jake responded.
“Just hear me out,” said Mike, “She’s tied up, right? We can get the PIN out of her, not hurt her….yet anyway, and she’s still aware enough to interrogate her later about the contact. If you beat the shit out of her, we lose one way or the other.”
Rachel could only sit, bound to the chair, stunned by what the two thieves were talking about. At least they were talking about something she could hold out against, giving the cops more time to find her. Right? She had serious doubts as to the mental stability of these two, however, considering the topic they were discussing. It was Mike who made the first move.
Walking behind the chair, he knelt down. Rachel’s feet were facing him, tied individually to the chair legs. As he spoke, he was unlacing her shoes.
“See, Jake? Trust me. She’ll give it to us….”
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Rachel shrieked in spite of herself.
“Feisty one,” said Jake, watching from his place across the room, leaning against a post and stroking his gun.
“Not for long….” said Mike as he peeled away the white socks covering Rachel’s feet.
Rachel had no idea what to even think. Was this guy actually going to tickle her feet? She had little exposure to the criminal element, but even she was stunned. Maybe this would work in her favor. Just hold tight, girl, she told herself, and you might get out of this.
“Nice feet, my dear,” said Mike as he held her right foot in his hand, “would you like to give me the PIN number to that credit card?”
“Not really,” Rachel said, shocked, “Just let me go! Please?!?!?!? I haven’t seen your faces! What would I tell anyone? Just listen…AAAIIIGGHHH!!!”
Rachel’s squeal was quickly submerged. She felt a finger stroke down the length of her bare foot and the reaction was involuntary. She bit her lip, hoping against hope to hold out long enough to give her potential searchers some extra time.
But she was completely unaware how long she could hold out for.
“Come on, dear…It’s just one little number…” said Mike as he ran the finger up and down her sole.
Rachel bit harder into her lower lip as the sensation shot up her bound leg. She really had little experience being tickled, and was totally unprepared for this. Her eyes clenched shut as the single finger became four, scrabbling over the surface of her helpless sole.
“Tickle tickle tickle….” Mike teased as his partner intently watched, “you’re going to give, so you might as well just tell me.”
“Mmmnnppphhh…..RRRggghhhhh…” Rachel said through clenched lips. She needed more time. That, and another thought hit her. If she gave in, Mike was going to go away, leaving her alone with Jake, who she trusted with her bound body about as far as she could throw him. That thought scared her. Maybe if she could really hold out through the whole thing, Mike would forget about this plan and they’d just start talking about ransom. More time on her side.
Rachel steeled herself as she felt her left sole being stroked along with the right one.
“You starlets sure do take care of yourselves, I’ll give you that much. You have beautiful feet.” said Mike as he ran his fingers up and down the wriggling soles. For all of Rachel’s hard-fought silence, Mike could see in her feet that he was getting to her. Her toes instinctively curled against the ticklish onslaught.
“RRRRggghhh……MMMnnnppphhhh….” Rachel spouted through sealed lips. Tiny tears were dripping from the corners of her big doe-eyes, squeezed shut in an attempt to cancel the ticklish sensation shooting into her brain. How long had it been?
“Are you sure you’re doing that right?” Jake said from his corner, “doesn’t look like you know what you’re doing there, bud.”
“You just watch,” said Mike.
The thief grabbed Rachel’s left foot by the tiny toes, pulling the foot back, arching it and stretching the sole tight. He wriggled his fingers over the helpless skin, first in long, slow strokes, then using all of the fingers of his free hand in a wild assault.
Rachel pulled against the bonds holding her to the chair. Her tiny body thrashed against them in a desperate attempt to escape. Although her body moved violently against the heavy chair and her head whipped from side to side, her feet remained prisoner to the cruel man torturing her soles for information. She was losing it, but grunted hard, promising herself at least a few more minutes. Her rescuers HAD to be coming, didn’t they?
“Looks like you got a fighter on your hands,” said Jake. He was lowering one of his hands to his crotch, and cared little if Rachel saw. For the brief moment that she opened her eyes and gazed in that direction, she did see. This was not good. If Mike left, he was leaving her in the hands of a pervert, whether he knew it of not. And she knew that there was little to be gained in playing one off the other, at this point anyway. When would she ever hear the welcome sound of sirens? How long could she hold out?
“Kitchie Kitchie Koo…” teased the ski-masked man tickling her feet, “four little digits, and all of this stops…”
Mike took her right foot in his hand and repeated the same torment as he did with the other. Rachel’s resistance was worn thin by the torture she’d already received as tears poured down her face. Giggles started escaping her lips and she knew she was slowly losing the battle. She honestly had no idea that she was that ticklish. It was something she always avoided.
Until now.
“RRRgghhh…HeeeHeeee….MMMMnnnPPPPhhh….HaahaahaaHEEHEHHE!!!!”
“There she goes!” said Jake with a satisfied grin.
Mike picked up on the momentary slip of the bound red-head and doubled his efforts. He let the foot he was holding go, and attacked both soles with both hands. Rachel could feel nothing, knew nothing but the tickling of her feet. It was as if electricity were being injected into her body. She was losing her grasp on self-control.
“MMmnnpphh!!!….HHAHAHAHAAAAAA…….SSSSSSTTTOOOOOPPP!!!!….PLEASEPLEA…HEEE..HEEESSSSSTTOOOOPPP!!!!!……MMMMMNNNGGHHHHHH….RRRRRGGHHHH!!!!”
She’d lost it for a moment, but managed to bite down on her lip again. Just a little longer. If anything was in her favor, it was the fact that neither of the men seemed to be getting pissed. If anything, the perverts were probably enjoying this. Just a little longer…..
“Tickle tickle tickle…Kitchie Kithcie Kooooooooo…” Mike sang as he did something Rachel was completely unprepared for.
He put his mouth over the toes of her left foot.
Rachel lost all self-control as she felt the slippery tongue probe her toes. The skin beneath her toes was screaming in protest as she let go with a scream.
“AAAIIGGGHHHHH!!!!…NONONONONOOOOOO!!….PPPPLLLLLEEEEASE SSSSTTTOOPP!!!!…….OHGODOHGODNOOOOOO!!!….I-I-….HAAAAHAAAHAAAAA…I-I’LL…..DAMMIT!…..HAAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA……I’LL……T-T-T-…HAAAHAHAHAAAAA!!”
“I think she’s trying to tell you something…’Mike’…..” said the tall thief from the corner of the dingy building.
Pulling his mouth away from Rachel’s toes, Mike raked all of his fingers down the bare feet and gave the helpless girl his ultimatum.
“Tell me the number….or Jake gets a crack at you. He’s forgotten more about tickling girls than I’ll ever know….”
“HAAAAAAHAAAHAHAAAAA!!!!…..P-P-PLLLEEEAASSEEEEE….NOMORE….Ha Ha Ha….NOMORE!!!!!……TWO…HAAHAHAA….THREE…..HEEHEHEEHAAIIGGHHH…..S-SEVEN…..HAAHAHAAAAAAIIIIIII……F-FFFOOOUUUUURRRRR!!!!….NOMORENOMOREPLLLEAASSEEEEEE!!!…HAAAHAAHAHAAAA!!”
“I got it!” said Jake.
Mike tickled the helpless feet of the bound Rachel for a further few moments before finally giving the girl a break. Even after he stopped, Rachel was hitching for breath, slumped against the bonds that held her to the chair.
She was unaware of what the two were talking about in hushed tones as she tried to regain her composure. What was happening to her? Could this even be real? She couldn’t even comprehend that she’d been tickled….tickled of all things….into giving away her PIN number. But she had managed to stall for, what? An hour? It sure seemed like it to her.
Mike approached her.
“Rachel? Oh, Rachel?” he said as he pulled her head up by the chin, “I’m going to go make sure this number works…and you’d better PRAY that it does. It is the right one, correct?”
“Y-Yes…” was all she could get to come out of her parched throat.
“Very good. In the meantime, Jake is going to keep you company. I’ll be back soon, and maybe we can all get out of this mess.”
Rachel couldn’t turn her head far enough to see, but could hear the clanging of the door as Mike left the dilapidated surroundings. It was a few moments before Jake spoke. He was pacing around her bound form, as if struggling with some inner turmoil. Rachel most certainly did not like the looks of this. If there was one of them that she might be able to reason with, it would be Mike. Not this guy. She couldn’t explain it, but she simply got what her Mom would call a “bad vibe” off of him.
“So,” he broke his silence, “you’re ticklish?”
Rachel said nothing. What could she say that wouldn’t set this unpredictable character off?
“You know,” he continued, “Mike’s not a bad guy. A little naïve, but not bad. I, on the other hand, could give a shit about you. I’m in this for me. You think you’ve got it made, don’t you?”
“NO!” she replied quickly, trying to plead with whatever senses lay beneath this crazed criminal, “I don’t think…”
“Shut UP!” Jake cut her off, “All you ever do is rake in the dough, while guys like me have to scrape by. You think I LIKE stealing? I ain’t even gonna tell you my story, you’re not worth it.”
Rachel definitely did not like the way that this was turning.
“We’ve got some time before my buddy gets back,” he said as he hovered over her, appearing as a giant to her small bound form, “What do you say I get a chance to….play? You think Mikey’s your new boyfriend? You’re making me jealous, you know…”
“Noooooo” Rachel wheezed as she turned her gaze from the frightening figure.
“Yeah,” he said as he slowly approached her with outstretched hands, “just you and me…”
(To be continued)
The midmorning sun shone upon Los Angeles, cutting through the ever-present haze provided by it’s inhabitants. It shone upon the shops and the newsstands, it shone upon the losers and the winners alike. And it shone upon a particular young woman, indistinguishable from the rest of the throng that flooded the sidewalks on their way to whatever destination that guided their lives.
The young woman in question had no intention of being guided this morning, however. Miss Rachel Lee Cook, youthful star of several hit films, blended in with the crowd, for once enjoying anonymity. The blond wig that covered her short red locks was expensive, but effective. The dark glasses and baggy clothing were to the L.A. streets what camo netting was to forest hunters. She blended in, unnoticed. For the first time in several years, Rachel felt free.
There was nothing quite like being in the world’s most active city and forced to remain apart from all it had to offer. It was the price she paid for her stardom, she knew, but she was still young. She had yet to grow out of the things that made young women happy, yet to accept the secluded, lonely mansion life that her future most likely held if her success grew. These were the times to live, to shake off the bodyguards and once again be normal. They all did it. She knew that her good friend Tara had a slew of disguises for just such an occasion, and urban legends were popular; that the homeless guy that hangs out on the corner of Hollywood and Vine was actually Clint Eastwood, Jack Nicholson or some other actor getting in touch with his roots.
Rachel had three days before principle shooting began on her next film. Three days to absorb what she’d missed out on for the last few years. Today’s itinerary included a relaxing walk in the park, lunch at a good, but not famous, restaurant and maybe a quick trip to one of the moderately populated beaches. But first, a trip to the bank to withdraw some “fundage” as she liked to call it. The only credit card she had was in her real name, and didn’t want the hassle associated with some pie-eyed counter-person recognizing her. So, cash it was.
Rachel actually enjoyed standing in line. She was getting too used to things being done for her. She still had a sense of self, and feared becoming “above it all”. She was just a person, albeit one with a recognizable career. The inside of the BankAmerica branch was cool and the art on the walls reminded her that one of L.A.’s museums should also make it’s way onto her schedule. Slowly, her place in line moved forward.
Rachel was broken out of her reverie by something that snapped everyone else awake as well.
A gunshot.
“Everyone down on the floor…NOW!” was all she heard as the people around her either hit the ground or panicked. The screams were confusing, as was the general mayhem of bodies. It was a robbery, and Rachel was caught in the middle of it.
Wasting no time, she hit the floor and covered her head. Peeking out of the corner of the coat sleeve that covered her head, she watched in horror as the lone security guard drew his revolver and fired a single shot and missed.
He was taken down immediately.
These guys are serious, she thought. Keep it together, don’t make a sound, and hopefully they’ll leave with the money. That part didn’t take long, as two men, dressed in the appropriate black clothes and ski-masks brought powerful looking shotguns to bear on the terrified bank teller, who was quickly loading bags full with thick wads of cash.
Relief came soon, as a siren was heard from outside the branch office. Thank God, Rachel thought. But after a second to clear her head, a disturbing thought came to her.
Why only one siren? Shouldn’t there be more? Was some rookie cop out there, waiting desperately for back-up? She kept her head to the floor to attract as little attention to herself as possible.
“Shit, man!” she heard one rough voice yell, “Cops! You said we’d be in and out in…”
“Shut up!” replied the other voice, “Just let me think….shit, shit, shit…..”
Rachel was praying that the thieves’ own ineptitude would get them all out of this, when one of them said something that made her spine tingle.
“Grab someone! Grab a woman! They’ll never shoot if we got a hostage! Come on, man…NOW!”
Rachel kept as still as possible. The moments seemed like years as she heard the click-clack of shoes on marble flooring…
…getting closer to where she was.
“Hey, would ya look at this? I’ve always liked blondes….get up, bitch!”
For a moment, Rachel told herself that he was not talking to her, but the rough hand at the scruff of her neck soon ended that hope. It yanked her off the floor with a strength she thought impossible. Oh, Jesus, she thought…please no….
The man had his arm across her chest as he and his partner headed out the door of the bank. The shotgun the attacker was holding was given to his partner and Rachel’s captor revealed a powerful looking handgun, pointed at her head. Her mind was spinning. Please don’t let this be a shoot-out…I’m too young to die like this…..what if they do get past the cops, then what?
Her thoughts were cut off at the sight of a single police car parked outside, with two officers shielded behind its doors and frame.
“Drop it! Drop it NOW!” the older-looking of two yelled in their direction.
“Back off, fucker!” said the one dragging Rachel along, “I’ll kill her, I fucking MEAN IT!”
The officers looked desperate, and the younger of the two met her gaze for a brief moment. She saw the resignation in his eyes as he was forced to hold his fire. A waiting van was the next and last thing Rachel saw as she was thrown into the back, her captor holding the back of her neck.
“Take care of that, so we can figure this out! Hurry!” shrieked the driver.
Without a word, Rachel’s attacker produced a roll of duct tape and began binding her. Her tiny frame was no match for the hulking criminal, and she also knew that fighting was most likely going to get her killed. Within a minute, Rachel’s hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were roughly taped together. The thief finished by placing strips of the sticky stuff over her mouth and eyes. She was terrified. What were they going to do with her when they no longer needed a hostage? Tears leaked through the corners of the crude blindfold as she thought of her friends, her career, her parents…all of her life compressed in a moment of mortal self-realization.
The one who bound her gave her a sharp slap on her ass, which was followed by a rebuke from the driver.
“Cut that shit out and get up here! Those guys are only a block behind us and we need to ditch the van. You’d better pray the car on Sepulveda is still there…”
“Don’t worry, it will be….turn there…hurry!”
After a few agonizing minutes of feeling the van rocket around corners and alleys, Rachel heard the tires squeal. Within two seconds, she was bundled over the shoulder of one of the men. Feeling herself lifted, she then heard a car door open. Once again, she was unceremoniously dumped into what she figured to be the back seat. For some reason, she was able to retain some modicum of calm, although the breathing through her nose was becoming more rapid as her heart threatened to punch through her chest. But she knew that trying to scream only ran the risk of angering her captors.
For a fleeting moment, she had hope as she heard a siren…close. The car sped away, going who knew where, and Rachel’s brief hope faded as she heard the siren grow softer in the distance.
“YES!” she heard one of them say, “Stupid pigs! By the time they search the van, we’ll be long gone….”
“So…now what?” said the other, and Rachel could only imagine that he was talking about their unexpected passenger.
“I don’t know yet,” replied the first, “Just let’s get to the warehouse, and I’ll figure it out from there.”
As the car sped away into the oblivious Los Angeles infrastructure, Rachel cried fully this time. They would kill her, she had little doubt. Especially if they found out who she was. They’d panic and shoot her.
She had little time to contemplate this further as the car screeched to a halt and she was once again lifted onto the shoulder of one of the men. She heard a large door open and clang shut. She heard the echoes of her captor’s footsteps as they strode deeper into wherever it was that they’d taken her.
She was plopped onto what felt like a chair. Then she felt the point of a knife at her throat.
“We’re gonna make you more comfortable,” she heard a voice say, “don’t even THINK of trying anything.”
Rachel nodded in hope that her captors would appreciate her cooperation. It must have been the other man that cut her ankles and wrists loose, as she never felt the hot breath of the knife-wielder leave her face. Her freedom was brief, as her hands were repositioned behind her back around the chair and re-taped. Each one of her feet was roughly bent back to set along on of the chair’s legs and taped in place. It was then that the gag and blindfold were ripped off her face.
“Ouch!” she squealed out of reflex.
“Yeah, Ouch,” said one of the men, putting the folding blade away, “There’ll be a hell of a lot more Ouch if you give us any shit, little lady….got it?”
Rachel knew that the question was far from rhetorical as she shook her head and feebly said “Yes, I got it.”
“It looks as if you may be with us a while,” said the man addressing her, “so you may as well call me Mike…and you can call him Jake.”
Rachel only nodded as her mind twirled around the statement made by Mike. The fact that he said she’d be here awhile meant that they at least weren’t planning on killing her right away, but on the other hand, she wondered why they would keep her around. Her question was quickly answered.
“We may need a hostage, if the cops manage to trace us here.”
Great.
Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted by the other man, Jake, coming closer to her, subtly pushing Mike out of the way. He seemed to stare at her with an inordinate amount of interest.
“You know, umm…Mike, she looks kinda familiar…”
Rachel’s heart-rate shot up two-fold at the statement. What would these two criminals do to her if they found out who she really was?
“Yeah,” Jake continued, “real familiar…”
Rachel cringed as the man placed his hand on top of her head. Grasping the hair of her expensive wig, he pulled upward. The wig came off.
The moment was frozen in time as Jake stared into her eyes, looked her up and down and backed away. He grasped Mike’s arm.
“Jo…MIKE!,” he caught himself, “do you have any idea who this is??”
“Yes I do, JAKE,” the man over-annunciated the fake name, “she’s a hostage until we can figure out what to do next! If you hadn’t taken so much damn time getting the cash…”
“NO! I mean, we got us a real-life celebrity here! Look at her!”
Mike took a few moments to look over his hostage. It seemed to Rachel that a certain level of recognition was present, but Mike was having trouble placing a name to a face.
“Mike!” the other man excitedly yelled, “That’s that Rachel Lynn Cook chick!”
“Lee.” Rachel said, hanging her head.
“Yeah, whatever,” replied Jake, “You know…the one from that Pussycats movie? She was in some other shit, too. Teeny-bopper movies.”
“Holy shit.” was all that Mike replied with.
“Do you know what this means?” Jake asked his partner.
“Yeah,” he answered, “ it means that we’re in deeper shit than we thought. I know she hasn’t seen our faces, but still…”
“NO!” Jake cut him off, “it means that what we got is chump-change compared to what someone will pay to get her back! Get it?”
Realization dawned upon Mike as horror dawned upon Rachel. But this might at least give her a stay of execution, so to speak. She knew that anyone associated with her would pay any ransom.
“I don’t know, Jake…I gotta think about this. Robbery is one thing, but extortion and kidnapping is another. This was supposed to be easy-in, easy-out. Now you’re telling me we got a Hollywood starlet tied to chair. This is Federal now, if it gets out.”
The two men walked away from her. She could still hear them talking, although quietly. Rachel had good ears, and they proved even better when her ass was on the line. She slowed her breathing to take in the low conversation.
“Look, dude,” the one called Jake said to the other, “we get a contact number out of her and let them know we have her. See? I got her bag. There’s a cell phone in there. We keep the conversations to under two minutes, don’t let anyone get a trace. Besides, if we can call her manager or keeper or whatever these rich-bitches have, we scare him into thinking she’s dead if we don’t get the money in a half-hour or so. We tell him to make the drop, then we paste him. Probably going to have to do the chick, too.”
Rachel’s heart stopped in her chest. She had no idea how they were going to go about this, but she suddenly felt outraged. They were going to get a contact out of her, then possibly kill her. Her only thought was of the police car that had passed them by. Surely they must still be looking for the two criminals, right? If she could walk a fine line between being cooperative and stalling for time, it might be her only chance. But God alone knew what they’d do to her.
It was then that she concentrated on the voices again, subconsciously slapping herself for not listening for a few moments.
“…we can still get something out of this,” said the one called Jake, “look what else is in the bag. Her credit card. See? We get the PIN number out of her and take a slight cash advance, just to cover our asses. You have any idea how much someone like her probably has in her account? In any account?”
“Look,” Mike replied, “let’s take one thing at a time. I’m not so sure about the extortion thing. But I’ll make you a deal. We’ll get the PIN number, I’ll go to an ATM and make the transaction and see what she’s got. If we still want to do what you talked about, we’ll take it up then. Ok?”
“Yeah….I guess so.”
Rachel had a feeling tickling the back of her mind. Did this Mike guy sound a bit hesitant? Maybe this was his first real crime? If she played her cards right, she may be able to create an ally. Or was she just fooling herself in the middle of a life-threatening situation? The train of thought she occupied her fear-riddled mind with was cut off by the two men suddenly approaching her.
“It seems you picked the wrong day to go incognito,” said the one calling himself Mike, “you wouldn’t happen to want to tell us what the PIN number for this thing is, would you?”
He had her credit card in his hand. Rachel’s mouth came close to simply spilling the four-digit number, but she remembered her previous plan. If she could just stall for a little while, maybe the cops would find her. She really didn’t know why she was being so bold. It was funny how a real-life situation differed so very much from the scene you create in your mind, knowing that in all probability it would never actually happen. She found herself pissed. Pissed that these two idiots were holding her against her will and planning on taking her money and possibly her life. She wasn’t a fool, and had no plan on trying to take them on, but perhaps if she showed a little strength, she could buy some time. The one called Mike might fall for it, he seemed a little scared, or at least inexperienced. The other one, though….
“Forget it.” The words escaped her lips before she’d really even thought of them.
“I told you she wasn’t going to just…” Mike said before being cut off by the blur of gun-barrel.
“Maybe this will work.” Jake said as he placed the barrel of the handgun against Rachel’s forehead.
“Godammit, Jake!” said Mike, reaching for the gun and pulling his partner’s hand away, “you kill her now and we don’t get the number and don’t get a paying collector, you know?”
“So what do you suggest we do? Tickle it out of her?” Jake fumed.
There was a still silent moment as the two men looked at each other through the blank masks.
“Well,” said Mike, “if we hurt her too quickly, the game’s up. You might not have a bad idea there….”
“Are you freakin’ serious?!?!?” Jake responded.
“Just hear me out,” said Mike, “She’s tied up, right? We can get the PIN out of her, not hurt her….yet anyway, and she’s still aware enough to interrogate her later about the contact. If you beat the shit out of her, we lose one way or the other.”
Rachel could only sit, bound to the chair, stunned by what the two thieves were talking about. At least they were talking about something she could hold out against, giving the cops more time to find her. Right? She had serious doubts as to the mental stability of these two, however, considering the topic they were discussing. It was Mike who made the first move.
Walking behind the chair, he knelt down. Rachel’s feet were facing him, tied individually to the chair legs. As he spoke, he was unlacing her shoes.
“See, Jake? Trust me. She’ll give it to us….”
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Rachel shrieked in spite of herself.
“Feisty one,” said Jake, watching from his place across the room, leaning against a post and stroking his gun.
“Not for long….” said Mike as he peeled away the white socks covering Rachel’s feet.
Rachel had no idea what to even think. Was this guy actually going to tickle her feet? She had little exposure to the criminal element, but even she was stunned. Maybe this would work in her favor. Just hold tight, girl, she told herself, and you might get out of this.
“Nice feet, my dear,” said Mike as he held her right foot in his hand, “would you like to give me the PIN number to that credit card?”
“Not really,” Rachel said, shocked, “Just let me go! Please?!?!?!? I haven’t seen your faces! What would I tell anyone? Just listen…AAAIIIGGHHH!!!”
Rachel’s squeal was quickly submerged. She felt a finger stroke down the length of her bare foot and the reaction was involuntary. She bit her lip, hoping against hope to hold out long enough to give her potential searchers some extra time.
But she was completely unaware how long she could hold out for.
“Come on, dear…It’s just one little number…” said Mike as he ran the finger up and down her sole.
Rachel bit harder into her lower lip as the sensation shot up her bound leg. She really had little experience being tickled, and was totally unprepared for this. Her eyes clenched shut as the single finger became four, scrabbling over the surface of her helpless sole.
“Tickle tickle tickle….” Mike teased as his partner intently watched, “you’re going to give, so you might as well just tell me.”
“Mmmnnppphhh…..RRRggghhhhh…” Rachel said through clenched lips. She needed more time. That, and another thought hit her. If she gave in, Mike was going to go away, leaving her alone with Jake, who she trusted with her bound body about as far as she could throw him. That thought scared her. Maybe if she could really hold out through the whole thing, Mike would forget about this plan and they’d just start talking about ransom. More time on her side.
Rachel steeled herself as she felt her left sole being stroked along with the right one.
“You starlets sure do take care of yourselves, I’ll give you that much. You have beautiful feet.” said Mike as he ran his fingers up and down the wriggling soles. For all of Rachel’s hard-fought silence, Mike could see in her feet that he was getting to her. Her toes instinctively curled against the ticklish onslaught.
“RRRRggghhh……MMMnnnppphhhh….” Rachel spouted through sealed lips. Tiny tears were dripping from the corners of her big doe-eyes, squeezed shut in an attempt to cancel the ticklish sensation shooting into her brain. How long had it been?
“Are you sure you’re doing that right?” Jake said from his corner, “doesn’t look like you know what you’re doing there, bud.”
“You just watch,” said Mike.
The thief grabbed Rachel’s left foot by the tiny toes, pulling the foot back, arching it and stretching the sole tight. He wriggled his fingers over the helpless skin, first in long, slow strokes, then using all of the fingers of his free hand in a wild assault.
Rachel pulled against the bonds holding her to the chair. Her tiny body thrashed against them in a desperate attempt to escape. Although her body moved violently against the heavy chair and her head whipped from side to side, her feet remained prisoner to the cruel man torturing her soles for information. She was losing it, but grunted hard, promising herself at least a few more minutes. Her rescuers HAD to be coming, didn’t they?
“Looks like you got a fighter on your hands,” said Jake. He was lowering one of his hands to his crotch, and cared little if Rachel saw. For the brief moment that she opened her eyes and gazed in that direction, she did see. This was not good. If Mike left, he was leaving her in the hands of a pervert, whether he knew it of not. And she knew that there was little to be gained in playing one off the other, at this point anyway. When would she ever hear the welcome sound of sirens? How long could she hold out?
“Kitchie Kitchie Koo…” teased the ski-masked man tickling her feet, “four little digits, and all of this stops…”
Mike took her right foot in his hand and repeated the same torment as he did with the other. Rachel’s resistance was worn thin by the torture she’d already received as tears poured down her face. Giggles started escaping her lips and she knew she was slowly losing the battle. She honestly had no idea that she was that ticklish. It was something she always avoided.
Until now.
“RRRgghhh…HeeeHeeee….MMMMnnnPPPPhhh….HaahaahaaHEEHEHHE!!!!”
“There she goes!” said Jake with a satisfied grin.
Mike picked up on the momentary slip of the bound red-head and doubled his efforts. He let the foot he was holding go, and attacked both soles with both hands. Rachel could feel nothing, knew nothing but the tickling of her feet. It was as if electricity were being injected into her body. She was losing her grasp on self-control.
“MMmnnpphh!!!….HHAHAHAHAAAAAA…….SSSSSSTTTOOOOOPPP!!!!….PLEASEPLEA…HEEE..HEEESSSSSTTOOOOPPP!!!!!……MMMMMNNNGGHHHHHH….RRRRRGGHHHH!!!!”
She’d lost it for a moment, but managed to bite down on her lip again. Just a little longer. If anything was in her favor, it was the fact that neither of the men seemed to be getting pissed. If anything, the perverts were probably enjoying this. Just a little longer…..
“Tickle tickle tickle…Kitchie Kithcie Kooooooooo…” Mike sang as he did something Rachel was completely unprepared for.
He put his mouth over the toes of her left foot.
Rachel lost all self-control as she felt the slippery tongue probe her toes. The skin beneath her toes was screaming in protest as she let go with a scream.
“AAAIIGGGHHHHH!!!!…NONONONONOOOOOO!!….PPPPLLLLLEEEEASE SSSSTTTOOPP!!!!…….OHGODOHGODNOOOOOO!!!….I-I-….HAAAAHAAAHAAAAA…I-I’LL…..DAMMIT!…..HAAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAA……I’LL……T-T-T-…HAAAHAHAHAAAAA!!”
“I think she’s trying to tell you something…’Mike’…..” said the tall thief from the corner of the dingy building.
Pulling his mouth away from Rachel’s toes, Mike raked all of his fingers down the bare feet and gave the helpless girl his ultimatum.
“Tell me the number….or Jake gets a crack at you. He’s forgotten more about tickling girls than I’ll ever know….”
“HAAAAAAHAAAHAHAAAAA!!!!…..P-P-PLLLEEEAASSEEEEE….NOMORE….Ha Ha Ha….NOMORE!!!!!……TWO…HAAHAHAA….THREE…..HEEHEHEEHAAIIGGHHH…..S-SEVEN…..HAAHAHAAAAAAIIIIIII……F-FFFOOOUUUUURRRRR!!!!….NOMORENOMOREPLLLEAASSEEEEEE!!!…HAAAHAAHAHAAAA!!”
“I got it!” said Jake.
Mike tickled the helpless feet of the bound Rachel for a further few moments before finally giving the girl a break. Even after he stopped, Rachel was hitching for breath, slumped against the bonds that held her to the chair.
She was unaware of what the two were talking about in hushed tones as she tried to regain her composure. What was happening to her? Could this even be real? She couldn’t even comprehend that she’d been tickled….tickled of all things….into giving away her PIN number. But she had managed to stall for, what? An hour? It sure seemed like it to her.
Mike approached her.
“Rachel? Oh, Rachel?” he said as he pulled her head up by the chin, “I’m going to go make sure this number works…and you’d better PRAY that it does. It is the right one, correct?”
“Y-Yes…” was all she could get to come out of her parched throat.
“Very good. In the meantime, Jake is going to keep you company. I’ll be back soon, and maybe we can all get out of this mess.”
Rachel couldn’t turn her head far enough to see, but could hear the clanging of the door as Mike left the dilapidated surroundings. It was a few moments before Jake spoke. He was pacing around her bound form, as if struggling with some inner turmoil. Rachel most certainly did not like the looks of this. If there was one of them that she might be able to reason with, it would be Mike. Not this guy. She couldn’t explain it, but she simply got what her Mom would call a “bad vibe” off of him.
“So,” he broke his silence, “you’re ticklish?”
Rachel said nothing. What could she say that wouldn’t set this unpredictable character off?
“You know,” he continued, “Mike’s not a bad guy. A little naïve, but not bad. I, on the other hand, could give a shit about you. I’m in this for me. You think you’ve got it made, don’t you?”
“NO!” she replied quickly, trying to plead with whatever senses lay beneath this crazed criminal, “I don’t think…”
“Shut UP!” Jake cut her off, “All you ever do is rake in the dough, while guys like me have to scrape by. You think I LIKE stealing? I ain’t even gonna tell you my story, you’re not worth it.”
Rachel definitely did not like the way that this was turning.
“We’ve got some time before my buddy gets back,” he said as he hovered over her, appearing as a giant to her small bound form, “What do you say I get a chance to….play? You think Mikey’s your new boyfriend? You’re making me jealous, you know…”
“Noooooo” Rachel wheezed as she turned her gaze from the frightening figure.
“Yeah,” he said as he slowly approached her with outstretched hands, “just you and me…”
(To be continued)
