I opened the letter, and was instantly intrigued. It simply said:
Dear Sir! We do not know each other, and (to my knowledge) have no common friends. However, by talking to people who happen to know you, we have heard many good things about you, and having read some of your stories feel that you are the perfect candidate to act as a “chaperon” for our fourteen-year old daughter.
As of this Friday, we will have to go on a trip with some friends of ours for an unspecified amount of days, and sadly have to leave her behind, as she obviously still goes to school. We are quite sure she is more than capable to look after herself, but we have certain rules in this household that we do not want her to ignore, just because we are away. “When the cat’s not there” and all that; we are sure you understand.
We would like you to come on Friday about noon, so we can have chat before you meet our daughter, Mellissa.
Yours truly
A. Steadson”
Around noon on said day, I stood on the front porch of rather a large three-story house, situated a good two-hour bus-ride outside of town, and pressed the bell button.
The door opened and a grey-haired quite distinguish-looking man opened. However, his stern-looking face lit up, when I introduced myself, which made him look much younger.
“Ah, Mr. Kolm; please come in. My wife is in the living-room.”
Mrs. Steadson turned out to be as distinguished and grey-haired as her husband, if not more so.
She rose and shook my hand, her hand feeling like a fish that had been dead for a long time. She invited me to sit in a high-backed chair, while her and her husband and sat on in the sofa.
“Mr. Kolm,” Mr. Steadson began,” you have to understand our daughter is very precious to us, as she is the only one of our four children who is still alive. Therefore, we have taken steps over the years to ensure her wellbeing. Having said that, we are a bit old fashioned, so we have never allowed her to wear anything but blouses, skirts and dresses in the daytime.”
“I understand you concern, I really do, but I’m not sure I understand why you have brought me here? At fourteen, she must be capable of looking after herself, I know I was. Surely, you don’t want me to be around just to help her get undressed in the evening and dressed in the morning?”
“That will actually be some of your jobs; yes,” Mr. Steadson dryly smiled. “To better understand the rest, we must take a walk through the house.”
We left the living-room, and walked up the stairs to the middle-floor, where Mellissa had her room. The walls were painted in the most glitzy, pink colour imaginable, and in the middle stood a bed with high bars on all four sides, the sheets also being bright pink. Every wall-space not occupied by furniture, posters or paintings was filled with flowers, teddy-bears and/or hearts.
I looked closer at the bed, and noticed there were straps attached to the bars on the head- and foot-end. I was just about to ask, when Mrs. Steadson opened the doors to a giant wardrobe, revealing most of the girls’ clothes, and then I noticed something else; there were some shelves which seemed to contain bundle upon bundle of rope and chains. Mrs. Steadson must have foreseen my question, because she said: “No; your eyes are not deceiving you; there are rope and chains, even cuffs and gaggers on one of the shelves. There is a little box up there too, containing the keys to the locks, all numbered so they will easier to find, for you.
When our daughter is at home, we always keep her restrained, one way or another. She complains sometimes, mostly when she has friends over, and we seldom pay any attention to it, really. Once they’re gone, she’s usually as good as gold! We put her hands in cuffs in front of her, as soon as she steps through the door in the afternoon, and if she is alone we also gag her until she goes to bed, and we keep her tied and gagged as much as possible on the weekends. Any questions, so far?”
“Yes,” I said, “two: Why; and is she allowed to go out on week-nights and weekends?”
“Because we don’t want her to get into any trouble, that’s why. I’m sure there are other ways to get the same result, but this is the way we chose, and yes, of course she’s allowed to go out on week-nights, provided she is back home no later than nine o’clock and on weekends. If she wants to go out and we’re not with her, we always put cuffs on her; or rather she makes us.”
At that point, the door-bell rang. It was Mellissa, dressed in a yellow shin-length plush, long-sleeved dress, with tulle petticoats. Her blonde hair was straight, and cut off in a straight line mid-back, and held in a pony-tail by a huge bow-tie, and the fringe just covered her eyebrows. She had frilly ankle-socks, and black leather sandals.
As soon as she came through the door, she picked up a pair of handcuffs, held her wrists together in front of her and her mother put them on.
“Ah, Mellissa,” her father said, “come and say hello to Mr. Kolm, who will be staying here when we’re away.”
“How do you do, Mr. Kolm?” Mellissa politely said and held out her hands.
“I’m very well, thank you.” I replied as I took one of them in my, surprised by the ceremonious choice of words, “But please; call me Peter. After all, you’re going to be stuck with me for the next few days, so there’s really no need for ceremonies.”
She gave me a smile which made my knees go all wobbly, and said: “Peter? I think that name suits you.” Then she turned to her parents, and became quite regal, when she said: “Now dad; you may gag me and put plugs in my ears, because I’m going to do some studying before dinner! And Pete; you may wind and lock the chain around my waist, as soon as I’ve sat down. But please; do it tightly!”
We did as she commanded, and when I asked her if I had wound the chain tight enough around her waist, she gave me another one of those smiles, put her hands on either side of my face and nodded. Her father plugged her ears, and we left.
In the corridor, I stabbed my thumb over my shoulder, and remarked: “She really knows what she wants, doesn’t she?”
“You have no idea,” her father sighed. “You have no idea!”