A Sack Full of Bricks [18+]

part 1

(content notes: domestic violence, physical abuse, violent man, caning, abusive BDSM, healthy dom-sub relationship, invasion of privacy, profanity, street harassment, pedophilia mention)

      I felt my face sour while I stared at the movie poster plastered on the bricked side of the theater. All in monochromatic scale, an attractive man held an attractive woman against a wall by her jaw, her arms held above her head in his other hand. She looked….concerned, to say the least. Shaken. Uncomfortable. Out of her depth. He looked tense, his shoulders tight and lifted and his jaw set, chin low. White text drawled seductively across their hips.

     Lose Control.

     Ugh. I’d passed it at least three times a week for months now and I still hated it. It was tipping toward late afternoon, but I’d only gotten out of bed a couple hours ago to scoop my hair into a high ponytail and paint on sharply winged eyeliner before my evening shift, and layer on clothes warm enough for the sharp February wind. The stiffness still hadn’t left my muscles - maybe that’s why it irked me more today. 

     “Hey, are you a freak too honey?”

     I stiffened immediately, clenching my jaw. Great - another clueless wannabe. At least the creep was in front of me this time and I could see him. I stared daggers at him, to no effect. Lazy smirk slapped on his dopey face, he kept strolling towards me. 

     “You looking to find your own? I’m no millionaire but I can still be a Sir, baby,” he oozed, sauntering up beside me and looking too far south. You’d think he had x-ray specs, with how little pause my huge parka gave him. I glared at him and started walking again instead of saying anything, hoping being stared at like he was an idiot would make him realize he was one.

     He stepped in my way, and I jerked to a stop, immediate anger flaring between my shoulders. I wasn’t about to put up with this. I made a show of rolling my eyes and huffing at him.

     “Hey, I asked you something. Don’t be rude. That’ll get you spanked, little lady,” he simpered, finishing it off with having the balls to wink at me and bite half his lip. 

     “Piss off,” I spat at him, and shouldered past rough enough to stagger him. I shrugged my coat closer around my shoulders and cranked the volume back up in my headphones to drown out whatever insults he felt suited me now that he knew he’d no chance. My fingers curled tighter around the spring assisted pocket knife that lived permanently in my coat pocket, and after a few steps I paused my music. Just in case.  I heard him yelling but no real words, and my mind drifted to stringy brown hair and clammy skin. This week had been taxing enough already - recurrent dreams meant I didn’t sleep, any out of place noise made me jump, and everything just felt overall wrong. Like my skin didn’t fit. I didn’t need this, especially when it brought prickly phantom pains to my wrist.

     Several minutes later, I  finally took and released a full, deep breath as I lurched open the heavy wooden door of the book store; Frat-boy ‘Freak’ had been smart and continued on his skeezy way. The smell of paper and ink swelled to meet me and as I rubbed the tension from my tingling wrist and shrugged the pins-and-needles of hyper-awareness away from my shoulders, I relaxed some. Unfortunately it was short lived - big book stores didn’t get loud per se, but the definite shuffling of more hands and feet than normal was quick on the book-scent’s heels. This was going to be a day. 

     I clicked my teeth together as I ventured further in and saw the steady, lingering flux of people into and inside the café.  Most were fairly quiet with their books and laptops spread out on the tiny circular tables, but there were plenty who had friends and were happy about it, chatting about the shopping they were here to do and the weeks they’d had and how they’d spent the holidays. Yep...it was going to be a day. I quickly slipped down the back hallway to the breakroom to put up my coat and grab my nice green apron, and paused for a moment to collect myself. After I wound up my headphones and stuck them in my coat’s pocket, I popped open my text messages and tapped one out.