Flash Fiction: Shoe on the Other Foot

Looking down the street, Stan pulled Lynn back into the shadows and whispered, “We’re trapped.”

The short blond woman looked down the street, finding the man standing on the corner and frowned. “Our phones are gone; how do they keep heading us off?”

Stan shrugged his large shoulders. “Old fashion stake out. There’s only a few ways out of this neighborhood.”

Bringing her here had been a mistake. Now it was, sell her out, or die covering her escape. “You disappear, I’ll break cover, and they’ll converge. Once the shooting starts, join the crowd running for cover.”

She put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “If they are not actually tracking us, I can get us out of here, if you can get us to the shop we passed half a block back, and you’re willing to trust me completely. “

“I trust no one. But I can get you that far.”

**

Lynn grinned evilly, holding up the tiny briefs she picked up in the shop. “Everything off and put these on.”

“You have to be kidding. I can’t wear that,” Stan told her.

“Trust me, the less you have on, the less chance that they will pay the right kind of attention to you.”

He sighed. “I’m too big; I won’t fit in those.”

Her grin grew. “Even better. They stretch, and the more you stretch them, the less they will think of you as anything else than mindless beefcake.”

He tapped his arm. “My tats will give me a way.”

The smallish feminine man running the shop said, “Body paint will take care of that. A gold and black tiger stripe would go perfect with that gorgeous physique.”

“You have a tiger’s mask?” Lynn asked the clerk.

“Deery, I have four different ones. Animal play is very popular.”

She turned back to him, “Get changed and we can start painting you.”

Stan growled, but pulled off his jeans. The other option was trying to draw the assassins in and kill them.

“Oh my,” Lynn said, looking at his package.

**

“The manacles and leash are necessary!” she said, holding them out. “There’s no way in hell anyone would believe I am really dominating you if you don’t have them on. If they question that they may look at us deep enough to figure it out.” The leather buster, spiked crotch-high boots and dark wig had transformed her. Stan had little doubt she could walk out of the area untouched if she left him. They might be after her, but he was the one harder to hide.

“If I have to fight, I can’t.”

“If you have to fight, we’re dead already.”

She was right. After this much time, snipers undoubtedly had rooms covering the streets they needed to cross. He extended his massive wrist.

“No, behind your back. Nothing can be in the way of anyone seeing how big a package you have.”

Turning, Stan put his hands behind him, and she wasted no time putting the manacles on him, each with a loud click as she locked them.

“|Now practice going down to your knees.”

“What!”

“You have to blend in. That means having the right moves. One of them is to go to you knees any time we are not moving. It also means no more talking. From this moment on, until we get somewhere safe, you need to stay silent.”

Going to his knees and standing back up with his hands shackled behind him was no harder than doing it with a rifle pointed at a target, and he did that in practice every week. The third time he went down, she put a collar around his neck with a leash attached.

“Dressed like this, in this part of town, we could only be headed for the Rusty Lock,” Lynn told him. “Doing anything else will stand out.”

A romance writer that knew the kinky underside of the area should not have surprised him but did. She led him out the door by the leash, then the bitch stopped and ran her hand over his package.

“Do not step out of character or you’ll get us killed,” she told him.

The woman was crazy. Paid assassins were after them, and she was excited. She led him down the street, passing right by two of the men hunting them. They never gave them a second look. This may just work.

Three blocks over, an unmarked door led down some steps to a long, dark hall. Stopping at the door, she said, “Stay in character. If you don’t fit in, they’ll toss us out, and that will bring the assassins right to us.” She opened the door onto a red lit club half full of people and led him in by the leash. Picking a tiny table that only had one seat, she sat and pointed to the floor beside her.

Stan knelt down next to her. The different people staring at him made his face flushed, though the mask hid it.

A woman approached and held out a C note to Lynn.

Lynn took it, and the woman bent down and started stroking him.

Stan burned with rage at being pimped. Just as he was about to object, his eyes caught the armed men in the corner. He kept silent.

The fat bitch knew what she was doing, and he had no choice but to rise. Nor did he have any choice the next two times.

“William wants the see you,” a man said once the third woman finished humiliating him.

Lynn stood and led him to the back.

“What is going on, Lynn” said an old man behind a desk as the three bouncers looked on.

“This asshole is supposed to be my bodyguard but led me into a trap. Now I need a new passport, plane ticket and ride to the airport.”

“What are you offering for it?”

“Just him, though he isn’t broken in yet.”

Pain made him look down. A dart stuck out of his leg.