The lovely summer weather continued in Seattle after they had returned home. They were both excited about the prospect of living together and they decided that Monica should start moving some of her things into the house. Removing both rear seats from his minivan converted it into a passable moving van. Over a period of days, they used it to transport various items of furniture that would no longer be needed in her apartment.

As the end of her downtown job came closer, they began to make plans "Since Friday is my last day, I'll have to clean out my office," Monica said. "Do you think you could come down after work and help me with some boxes and stuff? There are a couple of big potted plants that won't fit in my car."

She asked him to meet her at her car at 7 PM. He could help her carry things down in the elevator and his larger vehicle would easily carry anything that wouldn't fit in her Miata. After loading up, they would drive both cars back to her Capitol Hill neighborhood, where a trendy new restaurant had recently opened. It was reputed to have the best exotic Asian food in the city. They made reservations for 8:30.

They both grew more excited as they counted down the days. Having a great new job and living in a wonderful house with her dominant soulmate sounded like heaven to Monica. Her only worry was that something would happen to end what seemed like a wonderful dream.

Cole thought that having her with him every day and snuggling together every night would be the perfect life. Neither thought much about the kinky sexuality they both shared. They took it for granted that this was a basic part of their lives. Their concerns at this point were exactly the same as those of any vanilla couple in the same situation.

The final day at her old job was a Friday. She went through her files and discarded large quantities of old papers. Several documents and books were given to her replacement, who had the new responsibilities added onto his existing job. There was the usual little office party with a supermarket cake that tasted like cardboard and shortening. Everyone signed a going away card and a few people said they envied her for being able to leave. At 5 PM, she started a major effort to pack her personal items into several cardboard boxes.

Cole called her from his office at 6:15 and told her that he was on his way. He would look for her Miata in the garage and meet her there at seven. As he drove into downtown Seattle, he noticed that the area around the tall office towers seemed to be nearly deserted on this Friday evening. No doubt the office workers couldn't wait to leave and start their weekends, he thought. It was a beautiful, warm early August evening that he hoped heralded an equally nice weekend.

He drove into the seven floor parking structure and pulled a ticket from the machine that demanded his attention with an obnoxious buzz. The yellow crossbar lifted and he proceeded up the ramp with his eyes scanning the parked cars. The garage was well lit as a security measure, so he had no doubt that he would easily spot Monica's car. Cruising slowly, he drove quietly up to the second floor, then the third. He noticed that the parked cars became less numerous as he went higher. The fourth floor had only a few cars. Still no sign of the little Miata.

The fifth floor was also nearly deserted. As he neared the area where the only cars were parked, he suddenly noticed something in the traffic lane that would require him to slow down and maneuver around it. The object appeared to be a cardboard box of the type that was used for storing documents. A common sight around any office building. The top had fallen off and some of the papers were strewn across the dirty concrete. Perhaps someone had placed it on top of their car and driven off? The vehicle nearest the box was a large sport utility wagon with no sign of a driver.

Moving slowly up to the fallen box, he could now see past the large vehicle and noticed the rear of Monica's little sports car parked with its nose against the wall. Something inside him suddenly sounded an alarm and he stared intently between the cars looking for movement. There, on the driver's side of the sports car, a man stood between the two vehicles. He was looking down at something with his back to Cole. The minivan rolled forward just a little more and it was possible to see that someone else was down between the vehicles against the concrete wall.

Fighting for calmness against an adrenaline surge, Cole allowed his van to roll back several feet before putting it in Park and stepping out with the keys in his hand. He pressed the lock button on the remote and moved forward to confront the unknown man. Walking up quietly, he could see that the person on the floor was Monica. She was terrified. The man had completely ignored Cole's approach and was talking to her. There was no way to make out what he was saying, but the tone was obviously threatening.

Cole stopped several feet away from the parked cars. He realized that he needed to get the man away from Monica and out from between the vehicles.

"Hello!" no response. "Hey Buddy, whatcha doing back there?" he shouted, in a non-hostile voice.

Finally the man turned around and looked at Cole. He saw a bearded guy dressed in an expensive suit and wearing little round yuppie glasses who did not seem to be a threat. But, "he could call the police and spoil my fun", the man thought. He turned away from the cowering woman and stepped out to meet the meddling stranger.

Cole saw that the man was in his twenties and powerfully built. Stepping back slowly, he drew the man farther away from Monica. "That's close enough," he barked in his command voice. "The fun's over. Get lost before I call the cops."

Although he was under the influence of various street drugs, the man realized that he may have misjudged the wimpy guy in the suit. This would call for stronger measures, he calculated. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folding combat knife with a five inch blade and displayed it to frighten his intended victim.

Cole's vision centered on the knife and he knew he had to act quickly. Before he could consider his options, his hours of practice came into play and his pistol appeared in his hand as if by magic. He took another step backward to maintain a safe distance from the knife wielding thug. He knew that a man with a knife could deal him a fatal wound if he was allowed to come within roughly twenty feet. The assailant could cover that distance in the time it took the brain to make a decision and send the proper instructions to the trigger finger. He was prepared to fire if necessary. Monica was safely on the cement floor between two parked cars and the rest of the parking level was deserted.

His voice was calm and coldly rational, "If you come within twenty feet, I'll have to kill you. Why don't you leave now while you still can?"

The man hesitated for a moment, then took one step forward. He blinked and shifted his eyes from side to side as if trying to clear his vision. Cole noticed that the man was too well dressed to be a homeless vagrant. Fresh haircut, clean blue jeans, white running shoes and a T-shirt with a baseball team logo. Perhaps someone who works in the mailroom of a company in the area, Cole speculated.

In a macho, hostile tone, the man said, "You won't shoot me, sissyboy. You wouldn't dare."

Cole replied quietly and precisely, "Do you want to bet on that? At this range I can put a forty five slug through each of your eyes before you can blink. Just think of all the nice recreational drugs you'll miss out on. You can't do drugs when you're dead."

Cole watched every detail with hyper-alertness. He saw the knife being shifted in the large, meaty hand and the film of sweat on the man's face. His vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on the assailant, his hearing excluded all unimportant sounds and time seemed to slow down.

Something must have penetrated into the man's brain and changed his plans. The sissyboy's bearded face seemed to have taken on a distinctly devilish appearance. The would-be killer's attitude changed from one of hostility to fear. He backed away for several steps, then turned and ran for the stairway.

Cole returned his pistol to its holster inside his waistband and rushed over to Monica. She was already standing up and reaching out for him. "Thank you," she said before bursting into tears. His senses were now returning to normal and the sudden reorientation was a most peculiar sensation. He forced himself to calm down and think about what he should do next.

He comforted Monica for a minute while keeping watch for the possible return of the thug. There was no way of knowing if he might have some friends to act as reinforcements.

He made a quick survey to see if Monica had been injured. The jacket of her expensive gray business suit was missing. Her white blouse had been ripped completely open and there was a long tear in the front of her skirt. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of serious injuries.

He checked to make sure that her car was locked and led her over to the minivan. After she was safely inside, he picked up the fallen box and papers, which he placed on the floor behind the driver's seat. He briefly considered calling the police, but the assailant would be long gone by now and it seemed more important to get Monica home where she could recover emotionally. Continuing to keep a tight rein on his own emotions, he drove quickly and precisely home.

Safely at home, Monica got undressed and checked to see if she was injured. The only casualty was a skinned knee, which he offered to bandage after she showered. She stepped into the shower while Cole fixed her a strong Irish coffee in the kitchen.

Relaxing in bed later, she was able to recount the events that happened before Cole arrived at the scene. The man had entered the elevator where she was struggling a bit with a heavy box of papers. She thought he was drunk or high. When she refused his offer of help, he followed her to her car, then grabbed her purse and pushed her down on the floor of the parking structure. Unsatisfied with the contents of her purse, he proceeded to threaten her with various types of harm including rape. As the endless minutes wore on, it became apparent that rape had become his primary desire. The thought that Cole would arrive soon and that he would probably be armed helped keep her from collapsing completely

"Why couldn't the building management provide a little security?" she asked. "They installed video cameras last year, but I guess they aren't being monitored. I guess the appearance of security is what really counts. As long as we feel safe, that's the important thing," she said bitterly.

"Welcome to the nineties, Monica. Feelings come first. Look who we elected president," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Then she told him the one thing that bothered her the most. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but when I realized that I couldn't escape, I started to feel submissive. I guess it's my natural state or something. Even though I was trying to remember those self defense classes, some part of my mind kept telling me to let him do whatever he wanted. I was ready to give in and let him rape me without a fight... I might even have enjoyed it," she sobbed.

"Don't worry about it Little One, it sounds pretty normal to me. You've had a big emotional shock and you probably aren't thinking too clearly right now. Let's talk about this some other time."

Her tears flowed freely, as her words spilled out rapidly, "You don't understand Howard, When he started ripping my clothes, I got turned on. I couldn't control it. What if it happens again? I'm such a slut I can't even take care of myself."

"Here, finish your drink, you earned it. I think you were very brave and I'm proud of you for holding him off until I showed up. We'll go back and get your car tomorrow. If you want, we can call the police then. Maybe those security cameras recorded something and they can catch the guy."

When her mug was empty, he tucked her into the large bed and got in beside her. Monica was asleep in minutes, but he stayed awake most of the night, replaying the events in his head over and over.