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Chapter 2 – A Rose Ripe For The Plucking
Star was walking down the street in the late evening, on her way back to the studio, chatting amiably to a cameraman. The sharp-eyed cameraman spotted the biker gang and quickly pulled her into an alley.
"A pretty woman like you doesn't ever want to be even a remote blip on the radar for those guys. Trust me."
"OK. I always trust guys who say 'trust me'!"
They laughed quietly together as the thunderous sound of the massed Harleys crescendoed mightily, reverberating powerfully in the alleyway. The sound gradually faded as the biker gang moved on. The cameraman looked at her seriously.
"Really. Don't mess with them. I think they kidnapped the last weathergirl, the one before Lola. She just disappeared one day and nobody's seen her since. I don't have any evidence, but I think it was bikers."
Star nodded dubiously.
"Could be anybody, George. There are lots of crazies. Some of the details on those news stories I do are too gross to even mention on the air. It's really scary sometimes. There was the Hillside Rapist last year. He wasn't just raping women and killing them afterwards. He was carving off their breasts and keeping them in plastic freezer bags in his fridge."
Star shuddered delicately. Her 38D tits shuddered right along.
"Yum! Yum! Fortunately, we can leave that sort of detail to the tabloids."
For a few minutes they walked in silence, contemplating the grim world of violent mayhem that was their bread and butter. Star perked up.
"Frank just told me that he's sending me on a special assignment. He's calling it Iraq-na-phobia."
George groaned as Star chattered on brightly.
" It's about whether we are doing enough about Iraq. I'm supposed to interview this childhood friend of Saddam Hussein who's living in the States."
The cameraman raised his eyebrows.
"That is a scoop. I thought all of Saddam's childhood friends didn't survive. They've all had little 'accidents'."
"As long as you consider a bullet to the brain or being hung from the nearest tree accidental! This guy survived, probably because he's nowhere near Iraq. I'm supposed to get the inside scoop."
"That's great!"
"Lola's taking over for me and Frank's airhead daughter Melissa is taking over as weathergirl temporarily."
"At least Lola's got two brain cells to rub together. I don't know about Melissa."
"You admire her brain cells? I think everyone else watches Lola to see her two tits rub together."
"You say that like it's a bad thing! It's not like you're under-endowed yourself."
Star preened briefly.
"And, unlike Lola, mine are real."
The cameraman nodded approvingly.
"Lots more jiggle."
Star punched him in the arm.
Later, at the airport, Big Bill fired the opening salvo in Phase Two of Lola's master plan.
The blond bimbo was next.
Big Bill watched with interest. The bitch looked bored and impatient as she waited in line to go through airport security before boarding her plane.
Big Bill loved the newly heightened airport security. There was something inherently pleasing about watching a proud beauty being forced to stand with her arms out and her shapely legs spread while the wand scanned her, running just an inch from her firm, toned flesh. The superb blond in her form-fitting navy blue jacket and skirt with a tailored blouse, sheer stockings and expensive high heels was the very picture of stylish elegance. Star obviously spent a lot of time at the gym toning her professional assets.
The exquisite blond anchorwoman stepped up to the security guards with brisk self-confidence. An experienced traveller, she obviously knew the drill. Star put her purse and carry-on luggage in the tray and stepped through the archway. Big Bill grinned as the sensor beeped strongly. The blue-eyed bitch, looking disconcerted and confused, held out her arms and spread her legs for the wand.
The wand beeped as it passed her jacket pocket. He sniggered as the blasting cap was extracted.
Instantly, Star was surrounded by guards and hustled off, protesting volubly. A hard-faced matron greeted the guards and escorted the indignant beauty into an interrogation room. It looked like Star was going to enjoy the dubious pleasures of a strip search. If she mouthed off enough, and Big Bill felt that this was an excellent possibility, she'd talk herself into a full body cavity search.
Regretting only that he couldn't watch, he assumed his travel guide persona and went to greet the new arrivals (or fresh meat, as he preferred to think of them). According to the travel agent who had arranged him to be their 'guide', they were a yummy selection of cheerleaders on vacation, looking for the hotspots. Big Bill felt sure that he could oblige them, another group of young heifers to be cut from the herd. By nightfall, after an introductory beating and gangbang, they'd be playing sucky-fuck for the customers in the biker gang's whorehouse.
A short while later, the hard-faced matron eyed a greatly chastened Star with some sympathy. Stripped to her filmy black bra and thong panties, Star licked her lips nervously. Her firm breasts with their perfectly formed nipples and her smoothly shaven cuntlips were clearly visible. The matron had a theory that women who shaved their cunts loved getting laid. It looked like Star was keen, not that the matron thought this was bad. Her own cunt was shaved as smooth as a baby's bum, not that it was on display at the moment.
"I suppose that you want me to remove my bra and panties next."
The matron laughed.
"I don't think so. I can see that you haven't got a hand grenade hidden in there."
Star flushed a bright scarlet, thoroughly humiliated.
The matron had inspected Star's exquisitely crafted jewellery, top of the line Toshiba laptop, Gucci handbag and run every inch of her expensive, fashionable clothing through her envious fingers. She eyed the obviously shaken anchorwoman and smelled a rat. The hard-faced matron knew her scumbags. Star simply didn't belong to the club.
"Did you piss anybody off recently, Star?"
"I'm an anchorwoman. Some of my male colleagues seem permanently pissed off."
"And the rest probably want to get inside those see-thru panties!"
Star laughed ruefully.
"You got that right. In addition to that, I probably piss someone off with every newscast."
The matron winked at her.
"Do you want a tip? Although I'm not sure you need it."
Star was surprised at this sudden display of friendliness, but the matron had made up her mind.
"Uh, sure."
"Only put out for the right people. Putting out for the wrong people is a loser concept. Trust me on this. You don't have to experience it yourself!"
Star giggled.
"I think Lola, the weathergirl, has the same philosophy! If it looks like it'll do her an ounce of good, she'll spread her legs and do the nasty."
The matron, a big TV fan, loved this insider info.
"Really? She looks so prim and respectable on the air."
"The make-up girl can do wonders!"
They both had a good chuckle. The matron gestured at her clothing.
"Put your clothes back on, Star. We'll have to talk about who could have planted that blasting cap in your jacket pocket. You aren't stupid enough to knowingly walk around an airport with a blasting cap in your pocket. Bombers are mainly men. Some guy set you up."
After Star had dressed, they sat down and discussed men, two women of the world who saw eye-to-eye on the perfidious male sex. Courtesy of Lola and her buddy Big Bill, lovely Star was going to get a lot of first-hand experience.
Having missed the last flight of the day, Star was lugging her laptop and luggage back to her car in the car park. Her high heels clicked hollowly in the deserted parking garage as she walked as quickly as she could, a nervous nookie all alone at night.
She never heard them coming.
Suddenly, a hand cupped the back of her pretty head and the sharp point of a slim ice pick was inserted two inches into her left nostril.
"Don't twitch, bitch, or I'll ram it into your brain. I've sharpened the tip of the ice pick to a very fine point so I can punch through, stir vigorously and whip your brains into a fine puree."
Star froze, holding her laptop with one hand and her luggage with the other. A two-man team, her attacker's partner was squatting behind her. His hands ran down the sensitive back of her legs. She wondered if these were the Tag Team Rapists, so-called because they took turns holding the ice pick. They were famed for the silence of their attacks on unsuspecting victims, seeming to materialize out of nowhere.
"Step out of your high heels."
The man behind Star unbuckled her ankle straps. He cupped a hand under the back of her knee and lifted gently. Helpfully assisted, balancing carefully, aware of the cold sharp spike quivering deep inside her, sheathed by her nostril, on the very verge of penetrating her brain, Star stepped out of her black fuck-me pumps. The concrete felt cool under her stocking feet.
The man behind her stood up and took over the ice pick. Star started to speak. She gasped instead as the ice pick was given a quick warning twitch inside her nostril.
"Shut the fuck up, cunt! Nobody likes a mouthy bitch."
The man in front unbuttoned her blouse. She shivered as she felt the fabric slide smoothly against her skin as he untucked it from her skirt. He eyed her see-thru bra as he resumed control of the ice pick.
"Nice nips!"
Star felt her skirt lifted. The rapist's fingers were cool against her flesh as they insinuated themselves into the waistband of her pantyhose and tugged slowly downwards. She quivered in fear as she felt the nylon dragging against her bare skin as he peeled her pantyhose delicately down her smooth thighs and heart-shaped calves until it was nestling around her ankles. He cupped the back of her knee and lifted.
"Step out."
Balancing carefully, Star pointed her toes prettily as she stepped out of her pantyhose. She had small, perfectly shaped feet, toenails nicely buffed and polished. Both the rapists could feel her, quivering like a frightened sparrow in their grasp.
"Nicely shaved cunt, bitch. We'll be taking a lot closer look at your snatch very soon. Just be patient."
The one holding the ice pick nodded. She felt his beery breath puff against her cheek as he whispered agreement.
"Yeah! Very soon, bitch."
His partner in crime pried the laptop and luggage from Star's slim fingers and put them carefully for future reference on the garage floor. Star clenched her fists at her sides, her manicured fingernails digging into her sweating palms. He undid the cuffs of her white silk blouse and slipped it off her creamy shoulders. He dropped it. It fluttered like a wounded butterfly to the cold concrete floor of the garage.
He undid her 38D bra and, for the second time, Star was showing her firm breasts and perfectly formed nipples to total strangers. Star sobbed quietly as they took turns giving her tits a good squeeze, fondling them gently, rolling her perfect nipples between their fingers, teasing them erect.
They switched position on the ice pick once more. Star felt the hands run through her silky blond hair as they switched around cradling the back of her head and then exchanged grips on the ice pick's handle.
The one in front unbuttoned, unhooked and unzipped her skirt. It fell to her feet.
Star shuddered as she felt her thong being daintily peeled out of the crack of her ass. It came out from between her dimpled, tightly clenched butt cheeks with obscene reluctance. Her filmy thong panties, a sight usually reserved for the most intimate male friends, slid down her legs and fell on top of her skirt.
"Spread 'em, bitch."
Shaking badly, her bare breasts quivering delectably, Star spread her legs. Between her legs, she felt questing fingers caressing her cuntlips, parting them gently. She whimpered as a middle finger wormed its way into her fuckhole.
"Hey! What's going on here?"
It was the hard faced matron fumbling for her gun. The Tag Team Rapists disappeared like smoke, ducking down and moving soundlessly behind the vehicles. The tough policewoman started to pursue, radioing for back up.
"Don't leave me!"
Poor, naked Star's frantic, pathetic cry halted her in her tracks. The hard-faced matron came back, holstering her gun. She watched protectively as the naked beauty scrambled to put her clothes back on, hampered by the fact that the rapists had absconded with her bra and panties. She shook her head sympathetically.
"I bet that I'm seeing more of you these days than most of your friends do."
Star laughed and then burst into tears.
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