episode 4 – unwilling partnerWith a growing sense of unease, Sandy confronts the reality of what her teasing behavior provokes.
With a growing sense of unease, Sandy confronts the reality of what her teasing behavior provokes.
« Audio Unavailable »
A Need For Help
Barrooms must stop serving drinks at 2 o’clock in the morning. So Sandy… stuffs her tips in her bosom and calls a rideshare service to get home. One night, a handsy customer follows her outside to continue his fondling. She freezes with the sound of her mother’s warning the first night Sandy slept outdoors. Then she recalls the advances when she was a masseuse.
The customer appears to be making inroads before she returns to reality, swinging to slap him as hard as she can. However, her hand misses, and the man vanishes. She looks down and sees a burly guy manhandling the cowering attacker.
Sandy straightens her outfit and attempts to appear tough.
“Thanks for the assist, but I can handle myself.”
“All right. This isn’t a safe place alone so late. Next time I’ll stand back and see how you handle it.”
“Wait. Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. I’ve seen you around but don’t know you, so I have to be defensive. I’m Sandy. What’s your name?”
“You can call me… Crowbar.” As if making up the nickname on the fly.
“That’s an interesting… name. I work here at the bar. When I get off around this time, perhaps you can make sure I get home safely.”
He stops close enough to make her uncomfortable. “That’s what I do. But it’ll cost you.”
Her heart pounds in her chest. Could she say no? Would he let her go if she wanted to? She doubts it.
“Of course,” she replies calmly while turning her back to pull out a twenty-dollar bill, knowing he could be a bigger threat than the first guy. He invades her space, looking over her shoulder to get a good look at where she keeps her cash.
“Let’s say I give you this for keeping an eye out until my ride comes.”
“I’ll take that for now, but my services require much more.” The next day, she exits the bar with an additional twenty dollars. He snatches it before saying, “Now let’s go home.”
“Wait a minute. I can give you another ten dollars. That’s all.”
“Get in the car. We’ll settle up at your place.”
Sandy objects to being shoved inside. “Wait. I’m not one of those ladies on the corner.”
A Time to Keep Quiet
Sandy looks at the puny driver, who’s no match for the mounds of flesh tilting the car to one side. Either the seatbelt won’t fit, or Crowbar doesn’t fasten it to chase after her if she jumps out at a stoplight. She fidgets all the way home, wondering if she should have the driver head to a different destination. A large hand blocks her phone screen. Perhaps when the door opens, she could outrun her “protector,” but he knows where she works.
Hoping for compassion as the car nears her house, she sheepishly says what all her barroom teasing contradicts: “I haven’t… done this before.”
The admission doesn’t change his countenance. “Nice. That makes your payment more valuable. Doesn’t it?”
Her heart pounds harder than it did when she fled her father’s house. The car door opens, and she hopes Crowbar will stay behind, but two sets of footprints echo toward her personal sanctuary behind the garage. Like a crowbar, this man is prying himself into her life, and each step feels like one toward her gallows….
Her mind drifts elsewhere, already denying what’s just happened. By morning, Crowbar is gone. Within days, the truth sinks in—she’s not on an island of pleasure. With this being what men expect from all her teasing, it’s a wonder this hasn’t happened sooner…. With her limited experience, she wonders if women pretend to like this thing that seems to benefit men most.
With comfort in the routine growing, Sandy straightens her clothes and pulls the curtain back to watch her delighted Crowbar leave. His heavy steps fade into the night. Acceptance leads to healing, she reasons.
On a day off, she goes to get a tattoo on her back. The scraping of the needle feels rebellious, but also therapeutic. It transforms her emotional pain into something beautiful.
During the grimacing, Sandy reflects, realizing that in her moment of surrender, Crowbar saw something else entirely. In his eyes, her resignation became affection—her silence, an invitation. He’s taken her survival as proof they belong together, and now there’s no way to untangle the lie from the truth. She knows everything comes at a cost on the streets, but this? This cost is steep. Fortunately, the tattoo artist can’t hear her muttering over the Jamaican music….
Continued…
Scope: These terms apply across the platform, not per-story. Viewing and evaluation are allowed. Express agreement required for downloading, redistribution, adaptation, or production. Use of this material for generative training or republication in any format without authorization is prohibited. Any relation to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Return twice weekly for new episodes. Login provides the most immersive experience. Visible content is optimized for device size.
