Rules are Meant to be Broken

Rules Are Meant To Be Broken!
By
S.K.Stanley

Prologue
Seattle, WA

“We’ll use the team approach.” My idea seemed reasonable since I was the logical thinker. What my partner in crime thought as she sat across from me however, would be anyone’s guess?
“How about the young, plump one over there by the corner of the bar?” she suggested. “He appears to be alone.”
“I can’t see him, Ashley.” My head bobbed as I craned my neck around to the back of our booth to seek out our target. “If you would have picked a less raunchy nightclub, I may have been able to amble over there to check him out. As it turns out, my shoes are stuck to the beer on the floor.”
“He’s the one resembling the three hundred pound Michelin Man,” Ashley said while leveling a look at me- Victoria Ryesy- her previous co-worker and perhaps previous friend. “So… how are you going to get him into the bathroom cubicle?”
“Me?” Surely my eyebrows reflected my amazement. “A ‘team approach’ means working together. Besides, you’re the one gifted with a come-hither look, the Hollywood actress impression I could never achieve. Go and do the Greta Garbo thing… you know, ‘The Look’.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes at me before sauntering toward the bar, flipping her long dark hair back with one hand. I nervously followed with my long fuzzy braid swinging and my small hands wringing, trying not to trip over my feet and land in the testosterone.
We found our easy mark. He appeared overly warm and fleshy. A victim totally void of proper hygiene or throbbing veins. Maybe we picked the wrong guy.
Leaning in from behind him, Ashley whispered into his ear. He jerked with surprise as he looked at me. I laced my arm through his. “Yah, whatever she said.” I jerked a thumb toward my only friend in this God-forsaken world.
We three walked arm in arm to the unoccupied men’s room. I glimpsed at the smutty condition of the WC and immediately knew why it was empty. The patrons in the bar would rather take their chances and pee in the back alley.
Ashley pushed our human tire into an empty stall then huskily suggested, “We can do things with our teeth that will send chills down your spine!” and proceeded to trail one long nail along his neck to emphasize our intention.
“Huh? Wow!” He unzipped his pants and dropped them to the floor. Blue striped boxers the size of a Hummers front grill flashed before my eyes and stunned my thoughts like headlights to a deer.
“What the?”
“Bring it on ladies. I’m gonna be your mast’r of love.”
I don’t know what we expected, but this wasn’t it.
Two things happened at once. The tire icon grabbed Ashley in a boa constrictor-like hug, and pressed her into the back of the stall while rubbing his manly parts all over her. Next I heard a couple of guys falling into the doorway sounding like whatever they drank in was on its way back out.
Things were not coming together as planned. Pulling on what I assumed was an arm proved to be a futile motion. Our man would not loosen his grip on Ashley. We had to get out of there fast, so I did a knee jerk reaction with the only thing I could think of; I bit him in the ass. Hard. As he started to yell, Ashley stuffed an empty toilet paper roll into his mouth which produced a sound only heard in the English Channel. He sort of swayed, then leaned, pinning Ashley to the wall. His skin felt cold and stiff. He didn’t move or breathe when I poked one of his white inner tubes.
My guts began to twist and my breath came in hyperventilating gasps as beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I don’t like it when people die. Correction, I didn’t like it when I died. “He’s not dead, is he?”
Ashley’s voice was quite muffled. “Er, no, I think he passed out.”
Relief was instantaneous and so were my shrewd remarks. “Although I would love to find out what Connie did to…I can’t read some of this…is it Allen? This dismal cubicle isn’t big enough for all three of us. Can you get out from under there?”
“Victoria, help me...Oomph.” A single hand waved from behind the stack of rubberized male.
“Hey! Whas’s goin’ on in ‘ere? I wan’ in on de ashion…”
“I’ll do my best to lower him down onto the toilet,” I whispered. The restroom started attracting a crowd as someone ralfed in the next stall. My forehead dripped with sweat from the weight of our mark, but I did get him onto the crappy throne, pants and all.
My friend now looked rather flat with her dark mane stuck to the dirty wall. She rubbed her sore neck and started crying. “This isn’t working. We keep making mistakes. We can’t do this on our own. We need to get out of here.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Then we’re leaving. It’s ‘Game-Over’.” Grabbing her hand, I pulled her away from our victim. “We will not survive by conventional means any longer. We are not the ones who started this. But we are the ones who will end it. We don’t have to live this way.” Standing by her side, I pushed her gently towards the exit. The rules we always had followed in life are, at the moment, destined to be broken.
Now, it would help if I only knew what those rules were...