The Go-Go Bandit Returns
Monday, can’t trust that day.
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way…”
You have to love the Mamas and the Papas – and it was so appropriate that was playing on the radio as I told the woman not to scream or panic. It was a warm June day, and she was wearing a lovely chocolate brown dress sleeveless dress with a white collar and belt, the laces of the belt hanging down the side of her leg.
The skirt of the dress was interesting too – it barely covered her crotch at the front, but flowed down to the floor at the back so that the tops of her stockings could be seen. As fits my modus operandi, she was wearing white go-go boots as well, with a stack heel – beautiful.
Her hair was brown and curled, but her eyes were wide open as she looked at me, and then again at the gun I was pointing at her, before I told her to draw the drapes over the windows, and then to show me where her valuables were. She nodded as we walked to the rear of the bungalow she lived in, and into the bedroom before she showed me the boxes her jewels were in.
They were nestled in a drawer where she kept her stockings – very useful, as I told her to lie on the bed, with her hands on top of her head. As she did so, I took four stockings and used them to make sure she stayed right there – one end of each stocking tied round a wrist or an ankle, the other end secured to one of the posts at each corner of the bed.
She then watched me as I made sure all her jewellery made its way into the bag I was carrying, before I turned and walked back to her. I was wearing a blazer over a black jumper, black pants and Chelsea boots, and dark glasses – but as I stroked her cheek with the back of my gloved hand, she turned away, and pleaded with me not to hurt her.
I had to tell her I had no intention of hurting her in any way – I was not that sort of person – but I did have to make sure she was not going to raise the alarm until I had a chance to get away. She asked me how I was going to do that – which was actually a better question than she thought.
You see, I really had not planned to visit anyone today – I was walking down the main street when I saw her come out of a salon, flashing her rings and earrings as she went to her car. It was parked near mine, so I followed her and – well, you know the rest.
Which reminded me – I carefully removed her rings from her fingers, and her earrings, and placed them in my sack along with her gold watch, before I took two more stockings from the drawer, and balled them together before stuffing them into her mouth to make sure she stayed quiet for a while.
I didn’t even use another stocking round her head - that would have been too cruel, and besides, I got the feeling she was just glad I wasn’t doing anything else to her. So I left her here and walked back to my car – I had some visits planned for the next few days…
“When I was a
little girl, I had a rag doll
Only doll I've ever owned
Now I love you just the way I loved that rag doll
But only now my love has grown”
The sounds of Tina Turner could be heard through the open window of the house as I pulled up outside and looked over. The lady of the house was hopefully alone at the moment – her husband worked at the local bank – and as I got out I put the sunglasses on, and made my way round the side of the home.
Opening the side door and getting in was not a problem, and as I peeked in the doorway I saw her dancing in the main room, moving round the steel and leather furniture. She was a tall, coloured woman, with a dark brown beehive of a hairdo, and she was wearing a white jumper with a diamond pattern on the front, a short brown skirt and knee length brown suede boots.
So you can imagine her surprise when I grabbed her from behind, putting my gloved hand over her mouth, and told her not to scream and stay calm. I kept talking to her telling her I only wanted her valuables, and I had no intention of harming her – and eventually she did calm down, and when I told her to lie face down on the long seat, keep her face turned to the back, and to put her hands behind her back without saying a word – well, that’s exactly what she did.
I was prepared for this visit – so I drew some length of brown rope from the pocket of the jacket I was wearing, crossed her wrists behind her back, and made sure they were tightly secured together, before I crossed and bound her ankles together in the same way.
The way the cords sank into the soft brown material, lightening under the pressure of the binding….
Anyway, I then told her to turn her head, so she saw me in the denim jacket, t-shirt and jeans - before I covered her lips with the strip of brown sticking plaster, patted her cheek and told her not to move while I had a look round. She nodded as I turned the radio up, and left her there while I searched the rest of the house.
She had some nice valuables as well, which I helped myself to, and then went down to check on her. She was still there, but she had been trying to get free – sweat was on her cheek, and she had a look that said it all when she saw me standing there.
I just told her to lie still, someone was bound to come round soon, and left her to enjoy the music.
So, two days, two visits – all nice and civilized. But sometimes, even someone like me needs to cut loose and have some fun as well…
“Wild thing, I
think you move me
But I wanna know for sure
So come on and hold me tight
You move me”
She worked in a local nightclub, and she liked to dress to shock and tease the men – so this day, as I watched her in the porch from my car, she was wearing a black leather play suit, with short sleeves and hot pants, a belt fastened round her waist, as well as tight white go-go boots.
This was a contract job – one where I’m paid to do certain things for certain reasons – so I was wearing my black jumper and pants with black sneakers. I watched as she went back in, and got out of the car with my bag. As I got to the door, I looked round, and then pulled a black stocking down over my head before I knocked three times.
As she opened the door, I walked quickly in, pressing my gloved hand over her mouth as she stood against the wall, and kicked the door closed with my foot. “Is there anyone else here,” I growled, and she shook her head as I looked at her.
“Good – I’m going to take my hand away, and you’re going to turn round, keep quiet, and not move – right?”
She nodded again as I took my hand away, the dampness on the black cotton of my glove there as she slowly turned round. I could hear her breathing as I opened my bag, drew out some white rope, and brought her hands behind her back before I bound them tightly together.
I then took out a longer length, and passed it round her, pulling tight under her chest so that her arms were forced against her chest, and then wound it round her again and again, so that she wasn’t able to move her arms at all, framing her chest in the process.
A little further than I usually went? Perhaps – but I had my reasons, as I used smaller lengths to tighten the bands between her arms and her body. I turned her round, seeing the look in her eyes as I took more rope from my bag, doubled it over, and fed it under the bands between her breasts, then pulled it down tight as she let out a gasp.
“Talk again and I gag you.”
“You would not dare…”
I smiled as I took the red ball from the bag, and pushed it into her mouth, then covered her mouth with the sticking plaster. I then turned her round and pulled the rope back between her legs, making her squeal as I secured the ends to the ropes behind her.
I then walked her into the front room and made her lie face down on the floor, glad the blinds were down as I crossed and lashed her ankles together, then pulled them back and tied them to the rope between her legs before one last length brought her legs together below her knees.
And oh did she thrash round like a wild animal, as I left her there and helped myself to her jewellery, before walking out of the house.
You think I went a little too far? Well, she was the one paying for me to rob her, and she set the rules…
“On our block
all of the guys call her flamingo
Cause her hair glows like the sun
And her eyes can light the skies
When she walks she moves so fine like a flamingo”
She was dressed in purple rather than pink, but the manageress of the boutique certainly acted like the song. The dress was made from a material with a metallic sheen, with a short skirt and a sash round her waist, and she was wearing the white go-go boots I like so much.
It was getting to closing time, so I got out of my car and put the sunglasses on, and walked over to the store, looking in the window before the last customer was about to leave, then holding the door for her before I slipped in.
“I’m sorry sir,” she said, “we’re about to close.”
“Yes, yes you are,” I said as I locked the door, and set the sign to say closed, before taking the gun out of my inside pocket and pointing it at her. “So I’d like you to cash up, and put the money in the bag I am going to give you.”
Well, that did take her by surprise, but she didn’t offer any resistance, as I walked to the till and handed her a small canvas bag. She put the contents of the till in, before I said “do you have a safe?”
“Open it for me,” I whispered as she started to walk to the office at the back, and I grabbed some things from the counter before following her. She knelt down and opened the safe before I said “put your hands behind your back.” As she did so, I used the long lilac silk scarf I had picked up to bind her wrists tightly together, and then the white one to secure her ankles – before using a blue bandana to link her wrists and ankles.
I then gently pushed a folded blue scarf into her mouth, and cleave gagged her with a red one, before I laid her on her side and emptied the contents of the safe into my bag. I could hear her struggling, but I had a job to do, so I turned and told her if she stopped, it wouldn’t be so bad or so scary.
Fortunately, she accepted my advice, and I left her there – minus what I had taken…
“You're acting funny, try to spend my money
You out there playing your high-class games
Of sorrow, sorrow
You never do what you know you ought to
Something tells me you're the devil's daughter
I was meant to have today off again, honestly – I wasn’t even dressed to do any work, in a polo shirt, grey slacks and black shoes, but then I saw her coming out of the bank with a large bag. She had a slim Nubian body, and was wearing a white blouse with bell sleeves, and a black mini skirt made of leather – the same shade as the leather her boots were made of. They had a brass panel on the outside, the same shade as her belt – but there was something about her walk that intrigued me as I followed her.
She eventually went into a classy apartment block – but I slipped in after her and watched as the lift went to the fourth floor. Taking the stairs, I emerged to find there was only one door on that floor – and when I looked at the name on the door, I knew where I had seen her before.
Performing the previous week on the Ed Sullivan show. To my surprise, when I tried the handle the door opened, and so I let myself in, putting on my sunglasses as I did so. She was in the main living area – but when she saw me, she leaped at me and started to claw at me.
I’m a strong man, but she was determined – and it was only when I held a gun to her head and told her to stop fighting that she understood the situation. I then asked her if she had any tape in the house – and she said there was some in the utility room.
Frog marching her there, I saw the roll of silver duct tape, as well as an old high backed wooden chair – so I told her to sit in the chair and keep quiet, while I grabbed the roll and used it round her stomach to make sure she did not get up.
Her wrists were next, her arms taken round the chair back and then her wrists taped together, before I took the roll round her upper arms and body as well. Walking round and kneeling in front of her, I pulled her ankles to the legs of the chair and taped them there, tightly – so tightly she would have trouble getting her legs out of those boots.
I then taped over her mouth, round her head to muffle her protests, which were most forceful and terse in the language she used. I guess I could understand why she was upset, but as I raided her belongings, I had to put that behind me.
Professional ethics and all that…
“Dear Sir or
Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job”
So, back to planned visits – and this was one that did require some planning, because I was visiting the wife of a publisher. Not the top rank one, but one that was very profitable dealing with what gets laughingly called “Airport Novels.”
She was in her early forties, and I watched from my car as she drove into the driveway of her walled off house in her topless Chrysler. She had long brown hair, and was wearing a white sleeveless dress with a short skirt. I watched as she got out, seeing the chain at her waist at the front and her knee length tight cream boots, before I drove to the back of the house.
I was wearing a blue boiler suit over a white t-shirt for this visit, as well as boots, leather gloves – and a black balaclava over my head as I threw my bag over the wall, and then followed by climbing over myself. The lawn was well manicured – and yes, there were flamingos in the pond – but the big surprise was as I approached the large glass doors at the rear of the house, and she opened them, looking at me.
“I wondered who was parked out front,” she said as she held a glass in her hand, and then took a sip before continuing “let me guess – you’re going to tie me up, gag me and steal my valuables.”
She shrugged and said “had to happen eventually – I won’t give you any trouble, is you agree not to hurt me. Deal?”
A willing victim? I nodded as I said “fair enough – but prove it. Go back in, and let me see you disconnect the telephone.”
“Fair enough – come in,” she said as I followed her, and then watched her pull the telephone wire out of the wall.
“Then you may as well be comfortable – take me to your bedroom.”
“Thank you,” she said as we walked up the stairs, and into a very well-furnished bedroom. I put my bag on the bed, and took out a long coil of rope, making a lasso as I said “One length of rope – just stand still.”
The lasso went over her head as I pulled it tight, making two bands as I framed her chest and held her arms against her sides. She then lay on her back and crossed her wrists on her stomach, watching as I wound the rope round and between them, then took the rope down and secured her legs together below her knees, and finally her ankles, the boots squeaking as the rope rubbed on them.
“Very nice,” she said as I took from the bag a roll of white medical tape and tore a length off, waiting as she pursed her lips and then pressing the tape down over them.
“It might be more believable if I also cover your eyes with tape – close them please.”
She did so, and then I blindfolded her with the tape before raiding her room, finding jewels and money as she wriggled round.
“Uhrwhlhchm” she mumbled as I left her there…
girlfriend's run off with my car
And gone back to her ma and pa
Tellin' tales of drunkenness and cruelty”
It was a sunny afternoon and I was relaxing with my girlfriend, drinking cold beer and watching the ballgame on my television. She was wearing a red and black tartan minidress, open to the navel at the front and with a very, very small skirt, as well as black tight knee length boots, her red hair up in a bun.
Thing is, she would not stop talking and was stopping me watching the game – so I told her if she did not just relax, I’d make sure she had to relax. Did she stop?
Well, no – so I walked over and rolled her onto her stomach, before using white medical tape to secure her arms together behind her back, at her elbows and wrists, then took the tape round her body to hold her arms against her sides. She didn’t fight me, even when I taped her ankles and legs, then rolled her over and taped over her mouth.
I made sure to sit with her and hold her, with her head rested on my shoulder – she wasn’t going to argue with me.
After all, she didn’t when we met professionally, before we started dating – but that’s another story…