His pistol moved away as he reached down. It was then that I zapped him with a fifty dollar stun gun. It was one of the better zappers. I kicked his pistol away.“Pick up that gun,” I said to Tonya as I opened the folding baton, which had also been hiding in what I called my Captain Kangaroo vest.The thug was coming around. “I ought to kill you,” I said to him quietly, “but I’m curious. What was your message for me?”He looked up at me and even at Tonya holding his gun and said, “Go home cracker,” he said.“Just those quiet words,” I suggested.“Rough you up a little maybe,” he said.“You mean like this,” I said striking a quick blow to his face. I was pretty sure there was the sounds of bones crunching. To make sure he remember me, I hit him one more time to his right clavicle. In other words he was going to be in some pain for a while.The worst thing was I had an audience for the whole thing. While he sat on the ground leaning on the car parked a space away, I broke his gun apart, wiped. Well, I was standing in front of the mirror, so I tried to see what he saw in me. I was only of average height, and I'd inherited all the Scots genes the family had to offer; green eyes, auburn hair, and pale skin dusted with freckles. Like all redheads, I had to worry about the sun, but at least in my case it seemed only to add to my freckle collection. I smiled experimentally, thrust my chest out; I at least took after my mother, with the soft swell of C-cup breasts straining now beneath my knitted jumper. About the only thing I really appreciated in my looks, though, were my eyes; green with gold flecks, they always drew compliments.Popping a chocolate in my mouth, savouring its flavour, I hurriedly undressed, slipping into the bath tub. As I felt my tension unwind, I called out to my brother.I heard something crash, then the creak of his door and soft footfalls until he peered around the lintel of the door. I'd settled in carefully, my breasts slightly buoyant in the scented.
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