Held Hostage by Kurt Miller
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The bank in which Phyllis Ragan worked was a quiet little savings and loan in a quiet little town. Almost everyone in the town knew everyone else, and as a result, the bank president had deemed it unnecessary to put in the expensive anti-theft devices most of the other surrounding banks used. As a result, the Seymour Savings and Loan was wide open and begging for a robbery. There were no TV cameras or moving picture cameras filming what was going on. Nor were there devices in the bottom of each cash drawer to sound a silent alarm when the last bill was removed. The guard was “ye olde neighborhood cop” who had retired and was living on a fairly comfortable pension.

Phyllis Ragan herself was a pretty little thing with a twelve-year-old face on a twenty-year-old body. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, cut page-boy style, bangs and all. She had wide, bright eyes, a short, cute little pug nose, and full, pouting lips that made a man wonder whether he ought to let her suck his penis or buy her a lollipop. Phyllis affected men in strange ways. Her girlish face made her want them to buy her a baby bonnet, while her thirty-six(B)-twenty-four-thirty-five figure made them think all kinds of lascivious thoughts.

Phyllis was well aware of her baby face, and used very little makeup, wanting to accent her cuteness, while at the same time wearing the tightest skirt-suits imaginable to titillate the imagination of every male in town.

Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.

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