My arms were up above my head, and I could feel the attacker at my back still. Or at least I thought it was them; the sweatshirt material where their chest pressed against my bare arm felt the same as it had by the trains. The bare arms meant my coat and shirt were gone, including my car keys and cell phone in the front pocket. The chest pressed against my arm was raised, and for a second I couldn't figure out why. And then it dawned on me; my attacker was a woman. I had assumed they were a man. After all, you always heard about girls being mugged or kidnapped by men, never other women. It was just against the female code or something, making another girl feel that physically helpless when we had all been raised on the threat of being raped or murdered by some guy twice as big as us. The fact I had been kidnapped by a woman hadn't even occurred to me. Slowly my brain was starting to process things again. I was being strung up to the ceiling by some chains and hand cuffs, and. "Eight P.M. found me at the frame building that housed the FVW. I explained to the gate keeper who I was and why I had showed up there. He called inside for Uncle Deacon. I knew Deacon was somewhere in the club because I had seen his 1958 Ford Fairlane convertible in the parking lot. It took him a couple of minutes to reach the door and vouch me in."Come on in we have been waiting for you." Before I could ask about the we, I stood over a table with two women. One was at least forty which seemed really old to me, and the other was closer to my own age. The lights were dim so I gave the young one five more years just for the hell of it. That made her late twentyish."Preacher this is Selma and Tommie, ladies this is the preacher I told you about." Uncle Deacon nobody has called me preacher since I got home. I wish you would stop it." The women laughed."Especially when meeting two women," she smiled at me knowingly. She was also the older of the women. Since it was a table nobody was.
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