Stupid.

Crying in here is stupid.

I should have known better than to come in at all today. Not after last night. How could I? How could I do my job with the image of Bryce, naked, fully erect, and standing there clueless? Same with my sister, using a velvet burgundy sofa cushion for her knees. Both are totally still. Maybe they thought I wouldn't notice her sky-blue fingertips wrapped around his cock. Or maybe it was just paralysis. Fight, flight, freeze kinda thing. I don't know.

But they didn't move so now I have the portrait burned into my memory. "A Family Affair," a title flicks through my mind.

Jesus fuck. I'm gonna have to paint it. It's already taken that special spot in my brain reserved for art. Mother fuckers. Now I'm going to have to pick the right kind of salmon pink for his quivering dick and figure out which sponge technique best captures that whores bricked nipples.

But at least the bank also sucks. At least the customers treat me like I personally set each 4.32 convenience fee. At least Mr. Harper talks to me like I'm developmentally impaired. At least this bathroom's stalls are partially broken, so I can see out, and whoever can peer right the fuck back in.

And see me crying.

Which is stupid.

The Pepto pink entrance swings open, and a man walks in. I watch, waiting for him to look about, confused by the lack of urinals. Happens sometimes. We've got a shitty layout, and the signs on our doors suck. Doesn't even occur to me to be worried. It's 10:15 on a Thursday. What's going to happen?

He's handsome. A little older, late 40s, I'd guess. Slight wrinkles and the barest hint of a five o'clock shadow. Man didn't shave this morning, which causes my legs to adjust as the image of him between them fires off. The stubble would tickle, and I'd like it.

But it's the hair that catches my attention. A living, vibrant silver combed back like waves of moonlight. His dark navy suit, tailored to a strong body, highlights splashes of color. Red, especially at his throat and breast pocket

Hell, I'm a woman scorned. I've got every right to push open this stall door. Smile and invite him inside. Could even tell Bryce all about it.

Except I look like shit.

He peeks back out and waves to an unseen friend.

Messy copper-red hair catches the fluorescent light, bouncing atop a round-faced, cheerful little hippie. Short and curvy. Her breasts and ass bounce every energetic step. The ochre yellow sundress seemed to lay upon her skin. For some folks, their outfits paint them; for others, the cloth binds nakedness, and still more hide in their choice of clothes. But her. The floral printed garments seemed like one of my painting covers. A temporary sheet ready to slide off at any moment, revealing the artwork.

Her eyes immediately turn towards my stall, and I scoot back. Now, I can't see, and pray she didn't notice me peeking.

"We're all set, Queen," the silver man's voice rumbles like thunder. The vocal pitch fit for a romance novel. But eager to please. Desperate even.

"Is the alarm cut, sweetie?" she responds.

"Destroyed."

"Excellent. And your weapon?"

"Right here,"

"Let me see."

I hear a zipper, followed by a soft giggle.

"I meant the gun, hun."

"Right. Sorry, Queen."

"Don't put it away! I enjoy your cock hanging like this. Not everyone's dick makes such an impression. You're very special."

"Thank you... I...."

"Finish your sentence,"

"I want to please you?"

"Oh, I know. And you will. But first things first."

A pause. Time stretches in the four or five seconds she waits. The moments drag, and my mind races. What do I do? The alarm is down. They have guns. My phone is in my locker, and all I want to do is lean forward to see if I can catch a glimpse of the silver fox's dick hanging out of those dark blue slacks.

"Baby, hand me your gun."

"Sorry, Queen."

A click, and I assume a weapon is handed off.

"Look at this; your cock is almost as long as the barrel. See, and certainly thicker. I can hardly wrap my hands around you. And you're still soft. Imagine this dick hard. Makes our little pea shooter feel insignificant, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Queen."

"Are you proud of your cock, stud?"

"I love my cock 'cause it makes you cum."

"That's all it's good for, ain't it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Boy, you isn't wrong. I do love this salty fucking thing. Feeling it grow in my throat. Been drinking your pineapple the way I said?"

"Every day. I want my cum to be sweet for you, Queen."

"Good boy. Such a good boy. That's why I let you fuck me good. That's why I let you stick that monster deep in my ass. You like that, don't you?"

"Yes,"

"Why do you like it so much."

"Cause I feel like you could crush my cock inside you. You're so fucking tight."

"Seems you should repay the favor."

"What can I do? Anything"

"Undo your pants, get on your knees, and stick your bubbly little behind in the air."

I don't have time to breathe before I can see him again. The silver-haired robber presses his face against the tile. This euphoric, childlike grin plastered against his face. If he adjusts slightly, he'll see me, unable to look away. But he's entirely focused on-

"Good. You shaved the way I like," her voice sounds even closer now. I want to move. To look, to slip my hands inside and feel my wetness. Anything. "Shaved, oiled, and prepared for me. Such an obedient little man."

"Uhh," he moans. I guess her fingers have wrapped around his sensitive nuts. They must be so vulnerably displayed.

"Lucky for you, I never go anywhere without my lube," her voice a rough, husky whisper. "Because it's dangerous enough to take a revolver up the ass. Would you do it raw if I asked?"

"Fuck me raw! Fuck me with the gun. Fuck me until I'm dead, queen. But please. Please. Make me cum first. Let me fucking cum."

"See, this is why you need me here. I'm going to make you squeal, baby. I'll have you stain this floor; if you're lucky, I'll make you lick it up. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Mm-hmm. Thank you, Mistress. I'm so grateful."

"Eager. But I'm going to take these bullets out, and I'm gonna lube the gun. Cause it's not just about you. Your ass belongs to me."

"Everything. It's all yours."

"I know, baby. I know. Now beg for me."

"God, please. I'll do anything for you. Kiss every inch of flesh. Lick your cunt until I drown. Fuck, I'd... FUCK! That feels good, mistress, thank you. I'll do anything, but don't stop. Jesus, I'm your bitch. I'm your whore. I'd do anything, but don't ever stop."

"Rob this bank for me!"

"Yes, I'll rob them blind. I'll put a bullet into anyone who gets in your way. Whatever you want!"

"Are you ready to cum?"

"Yes, Mistress. Oh, god, daaamn. I'd love that. Will you let me cum? You'll let me stain this floor and lick it up?"

"No. I've got a better treat. Get on your knees."

He shuffles, and I lose sight of that marble jaw. His mouth had opened, and his tongue hung out his mouth like a dog. But now I'm left with only his lower half. I can see his balls, tight and ready to pop, a plum red. I can only see the first few inches of his shaft. But there had been no exaggeration, even cut off that thing is a monster.

And whoever the bubbly, sweet-seeming hippy was, she owned him.

I want to touch myself so fucking bad.

"Use that tongue, baby. Good. A little higher... perfect. Fucking perfect. I'm going to stain your face baby bitch. Ohhh! You like it when I call you a fucking whore, don't you? Got such a talented mouth my beautiful fuck toy. I'm going to reload... son of a bitch! If you can make me cum again before I finish reloading, I'll give you a treat. Ready...
One,
Two,
Thr-- FUCKING YES. Good job. Three.
Four.
Fi-fi- jesus- fucking... Magnificent little bitch. Oh, fuck. FIVE Mother fucking FIVE. And Six. Ok. It's... I'm gonna cum again.... hard... grab that fucking beast and go. Make us both cum at the same time. That's it. Good. Now show off for me, pretty boy. Show off."

The stall door swings open. She's there, a revolver aimed above my head, a demonic grin plastered across her face. The red hair sticking to her forehead from sweat. Between those sun-kissed legs, the silver-haired bandit hidden under the sundress is her property. One broad hand cups the queen's ass, assuring balance as another orgasm threatens. His other hand flies up and down the full length of his cock.

"Yes" Is the closest thing to a word I can describe. It's more of a rolling shriek as the waves of orgasm hit. Her knees press into his shoulders, and he finishes. Creamy white hits the floor and wall.

"I'd stay here, pretty lady," The hippie winks. "And don't cry. Everything always works out in the end."

I only nod. It takes a moment for them to be ready. He adjusts, forcing his dick back into the pants. He offers a stunning smile in my direction before passing the scarlet pocket square to me.

"Keep it. I've got others."

Then they're gone. And I only hear a few shots in the air and the screams. No one dies. I'm sure of it. But they get their money and go. I gotta say. I couldn't give a shit.

But thinking back to them framed in the doorway, the second after climax. "Contentment," a new title and image to replace the old. A scene burned into my mind.

I've got painting to do.