The tight nylon material of the stocking mask was distorting my vision. I again waved the pistol at the cashier in front of me indicating that the young woman should fill the carrier bag I had thrown on to the counter. As we made eye contact I suddenly thought that I recognised her. I remembered the advice from the old robber in the Green Man - avoid looking directly at anyone, and if your eyes meet, immediately look away.
Yet I held the young woman's frightened stare for far too long before scanning the office of the small building society. The middle-aged man who had just emerged from a rear office remained standing in front of the open door. He would be the manager and did not pose a threat; after the recent fatal shooting of a building society cashier in Wood Green all staff had been instructed not to put up any resistance when faced with an armed robbery. This information also came from our friendly expert in the Green Man. An elderly woman sitting at a desk in front of the manager's position was unconcernedly studying some paperwork in front of her, as though unaware that an armed robbery was in progress, or maybe she was too near to pensionable age to consider any heroics.
I cursed myself as my eyes again met those of the young cashier. She had finished stuffing bundles of notes into the carrier bag and was pushing it in my direction. I grabbed it with my free hand and raced for the door.
As I ran the few yards along Mare Street, I realised that I was making yet another mistake. The pistol was still in my hand and several frightened shoppers cleared a path for me. I pushed the weapon into the carrier bag when I reached the side street where John was waiting in the stolen Cortina. He had already switched on the engine and as soon as I jumped into the passenger seat we took off with squealing tyres.
An elderly black woman pushing a pram was nearly knocked down as we took the next bend at speed and I realised that John was shouting at me.
"Terry, take off your fucking mask!"
It was my third mistake within two minutes.
I asked, "What do you do?" noticing that the shiny lipstick had been re-applied with care. "I run a stall in Chapel Market with my daughter where we sell antiques, and anything else we can get a hold of. What do you do?"
"I rob banks." As I made the statement I realised that Aunt Sarah would not be in the least surprised by this revelation, the entire Miller family were villains of one sort or another. "Are you any good at it?"
"I get by. Where's your daughter now?"
"In her bedroom next door. She won't disturb us, but I'll put some music on anyway so she knows that I'm entertaining."
She walked over to the stereo unit and got down on all fours to search through her collection of records. The short nightdress had ridden up to reveal a well rounded, pure white backside, with the red triangle clearly visible. It was being placed in such a way that it looked as though it was talking to me.
I didn't need talking to and walked up behind Sarah. She half looked over her shoulder and wiggled her bulging bum invitingly. As I kneeled down behind her an exploratory finger confirmed that she was ready at both entrances. I settled for the larger, more juicy one and edged my cock into a most willing hole. Elvis Presley had started to sing one of his latest hits, which provided a satisfying rhythm to our endeavours.
With both hands gripping the wobbling, pure white buttocks in front of me, I watched as my cock slid in and out of the wet fanny, its tan colour strangely offset by the whiteness all around. The King was singing another song when Sarah joined in. Only, she wasn't singing, she was making strange howling noises that reminded me of the Hounds Of The Baskervilles film. The music was quite loud, but Sarah's wailing became even louder.
I was still concentrating on the red fanny and my cock sliding into it, when the lounge door suddenly opened. A young, red haired woman stood in the doorway looking in my direction. She was wearing a long white nightdress and I could see the outline of a slim figure beneath. Her clear green eyes sparkled with anger as she said, "Mother, can't you keep the noise down a bit. And you . . . try and keep Lassie quiet." She disappeared from view as the door was slammed shut.
I hadn't even altered my rhythm and knew that another climax was near as I ignored the interruption, increased speed and bored deeper into Sarah's fanny. She had kept up the wailing sound and its volume increased to a crescendo of unbelievable noise as the wobbling arse vibrated at an alarming speed. I emptied everything I had to give into the howling monster in front of me.