Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 1:21 am

Hello Everyone

It's now 2:07 AM and I have finally finished writing and proofing my latest story. This one has been a long time coming, it took me several months of writers block and many aborted attempts. But it's finally finished and ready to be shared with you all! I'm not exaggerating when I say that many, many hours of work went into planning it and writing it out. I really, really hope you all enjoy it, it took a lot of effort and lot of time to create.

All the usual disclaimers apply of course. Bulky writing, shoddy editing etc. etc.

Oh! And I thought I'd include this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pi4A9bPDvTc

It's called "A Short Ride in a Fast Machine" by John Adams. I love this piece and I thought of it as a sort of musical overture to my story while I was writing it. In case anybody is interested...

So! Here goes nothing...




Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury TUGS)


Overture

The pervasive hum of large electric engines filled the air, a running Amtrak locomotive sat in place on the tracks, ready to carry its passengers on their long journey east from Denver. The hum of the engine and the low rumble it produced could be felt for miles down the line. It’s destination? Chicago. Fifteen minutes before its scheduled departure time, a group of late teens came scurrying down the platform, each with a rolling bag or two in tow. Two guys and three girls ran down the length of the train, trying to desperately to find their car before the crew stopped boarding. Finally, they reached their car and gave their tickets to the conductor. With the era of the hole puncher long since passed, he simply pulled the stub off the tickets and let them climb the steps. The guys climbed on board first and displayed a remarkable act of chivalry in hauling their female friends’ bags onto the train. Those weren’t light bags.

“Ok compartment C is at the back.” One of the girls said.

Staying in single file, they moved through the rows of seats in the first two compartments, ignoring all the other passengers who had already taken their seats. The third compartment was more spacious. It had ten or twelve seats, separated into groups of six facing each other on either side of the compartment, with two tables against the wall that could seat two people each. As the boarding was almost over, the group discovered that they had the compartment entirely to themselves.

“Ok! This is ours. Thank God.” The red head yelled.

The teenagers all began dropping their backpacks or purses on their respective seats as the two guys hauled the rolling bags up to the overhead rack. With that done, they all sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. They were on the train, they were on their way. No one said much of anything for the first minute or two, aside from a couple of smartass remarks that made everyone giggle. A couple of minutes later and the train lurched forward as the engines kicked into gear beginning their relentless push eastward.

“We’re going. We’re actually going.” The blonde girl remarked.
“Kind of hard to believe isn’t it?” One of the guys agreed.

It seemed like a million years since they’d began their final year of high school and pledged to take this trip together. But now, they were graduated, registered for University and headed for New York.

The unlikely quintet consisted of five 17/18 year olds who had all gone to the same high school, but had very little similarity to one another. However, for some reason all five had remained firm friends throughout the trials and tribulations of secondary eduaction and were determined to preserve it for as long as they could. The group consisted of:

A muscular, six foot, eighteen year old named Chris Squire. In high school he was an avid athlete, but couldn’t be considered jockey by any stretch of the imagination. Indeed he scoffed at how stupid many of the guys on his various sports teams were. He wasn’t big into music but was known to pick up a bass guitar every now and then. Much to his own embarrassment he was a hopeless romantic and his life quite distinctly revolved around his girlfriend. He could be considered the alpha male of the group, if such a distinction were necessary. Though, it really wasn’t.

His girlfriend Kate Franklin was an attractive brunette with sharp blue eyes. She represented the most sensible side of the group and had always been good at keeping them on task. She had made all the travel arrangements for this trip several months previously and had skillfully talked the groups’ parents into making it more and more extravagant. She had a head for business and was observant to boot. With her sharp wits, she knew what a good catch she had in Chris and was determined to keep him.

Sarah Parson was a petite blonde, with a boyish haircut that had blue streaks. She was, possibly with the exception of Michael Palin, the nicest person in the entire world. She was happy, bubbly and conciliatory to a fault and would go to the ends of the earth for just about anyone. While her niceness would sometimes get her into trouble, she was no dumb blonde. Her marks were as high as anyone in the compartment. She’d had casual boyfriends off and on throughout high school, but was single at this junction. Sometimes when Chris and Kate were being indiscrete it would bother her. But she never said anything about it.

Hugh Knight was the gentleman of the group. His parents had been strict in his upbringing; while this didn’t make him socially awkward, it did give him a strange sense of old world chivalry that he refused to drop. His was six foot two with brown hair, but he wasn’t as well built as his best friend Chris. Unlike Chris he wasn’t an athlete instead he was an avid musician. A jazz pianist to be exact. Though many people in the jazz world smoked and took drugs, Hugh had always stayed clear of such things, treating his music as a serious art form. He was also single, entirely because he wouldn’t let himself date.

Elizabeth Miller, known to her friends as Liz, was a fiery redhead in every sense of the term. She was vivacious, clever, somewhat scheming and had a penchant for dirty jokes. While her friends liked to tease her about being slutty, the truth of the matter was that Liz didn’t suffer fools and considered most guys just that… fools. While Kate and Sarah were both very pretty in their own right, Liz had always been considered the beauty of the three and she surely was a beauty. She was a passionate singer and stage performer and was determined to make a career out of it however she could.

While the five had started to gravitate towards each other early on, it became quickly apparent that they all had something in common, a certain kink that they all shared. After a single, eventful afternoon during their grade nine year they discovered that they shared a passionate love of bondage. While they realized this by accident, the common bond it created grew into a great friend network, even if no one else at school had ever really understood why. But in any case, thanks to Chris’s popularity as a school athlete, they had come to be collectively known as the Squire gang. They liked the name.

Now they were off by rail to New York, switching trains in Chicago. But this left them with a problem:

“So how long is this going take again?” Liz asked.

Kate stopped to think.

“Around two days.” She said.
“What the hell are we going to do with ourselves?” Chris asked.

Liz giggled.

“Oh grow up Lizzy!” Hugh yelled.
“Well normally we can talk for hours.” Sarah suggested. “Why should this be any different?”
“Yeah but… two days?” Hugh asked.
“We’ll pass the time somehow.”

Right on cue there was an awkward silence that lasted for a good two minutes.

“This is going downhill already.” Liz snapped.
“Ok, ok chill out.” Kate said.
“It’s too bad people can still come and go through the compartment.” Chris said.
“Why?”
“I brought along a few zip ties.”

They all chuckled.

“Yeah we wouldn’t want to get caught doing that, we might get thrown off the train.” Sarah said.
“Yeah probably.” Hugh agreed.
“Even so, if we don’t want to spend this whole trip ignoring each other on our laptops, we should come up with some way to pass the time.” Kate insisted.
“What do you suggest?” Liz inquired.

A thought then leapt into Chris’s mind.

“Ok well how about this.” He began. “If I can’t USE my zip ties on any of you, but we’re still bored… Why don’t we pass the time the way old folks did.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Liz demanded.
“We tell stories.”
“What?... And… What the hell does that have to do with zip ties?”
“We tell stories of when we’ve been tied up.”

His four friends stopped to think about it.

“That could be fun actually.” Sarah agreed.
“Do they have to be true?” Hugh asked.
“No, I guess not.” Chris decided.
“But they could be true?”
“Yes.”
“Actually that’d be perfect, I have a story I’ve been meaning to tell you guys.”
“Me too!” Sarah agreed.
“I don’t!” Liz objected.
“Neither do I.” Kate pointed out. “Make it up! We all like talking out of our asses, well except for Hugh.”
“But I don’t have to!” He agreed.
“Let’s do it!” Sarah said.
“I agree.” Hugh said.
“Alright fine!” Liz admitted. “I’ll need some time to come up with something though.”
“Actually that’s a good question, what order do we tell them in?” Kate asked.
“Uhhh.. well… Let’s draw numbers.” Chris suggested.

By now they were well out of city and the beautiful landscape of rural Colorado zoomed past the window. Chris sat down at one of the tables in the car and reached for one of the Amtrak note pads that sat on it. Taking a pen from his backpack, he wrote the first five numbers on the paper, ripped them off, cupped his hands and shook them about.

“Ok, everybody take one.” He said.

Liz reached in first.

“Three.” She said.

Hugh reached in next.

“Two.”

Kate took her turn.

“Damn, I’m going first.”

Sarah reached in.

“I’m fourth.”

Chris was happy; he’d hoped to go last.

“So do we tell all these at once or spread them out?” Kate asked.
“Let’s spread them out so they last the whole trip.” Sarah said.
“Yeah, one tonight, one tomorrow morning, one after we transfer in Chicago and a couple more the next day.” Chris decided.
“Ok perfect.” Hugh agreed.
“I’m going to need some time to figure mine out though.” Kate said.
“That’s ok, why don’t we go to the dining car and eat and you can figure it out.” Chris told her.

They all liked that idea and made a mass exodus from their compartment. For the next couple of hours they enjoyed a leisurely supper in the dining car. Kate was fairly quiet as she thought frantically about the story she was going to tell. The rest talked away as they usually did, the awkward silences that had characterized the beginning of the trip having since disappeared. After their meal and some unsuccessful scheming by Kate to get the waitress to serve them wine, they returned to their compartment.

Hugh sat down at the table on the left side of the room and Sarah took the other, Kate and Chris sat next to one another on the seats on the left side of the room and Lizzy lay down on the seats to the right.

“Alright sweetie!” Chris said excitedly. “Time for you to tell your tale.”
“Ok. Well, this story isn’t true. In fact it isn’t even plausible. But I think you’ll like it…”
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Kate’s Tale: The Millionairess

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 1:24 am

Kate’s Tale: The Millionairess



It started out as a fairly bland morning; I’d gotten out of bed, had breakfast, showered and gone out to run errands. I didn’t expect to be out of the house for more than a couple of hours and after that I was just going to clean up and do homework. But as it turned out, life had other plans.

I’d stopped at the school, the drycleaners, the grocery store and I was finally running my last errand and heading to my family’s accountant’s office which was on the twelfth floor of a high rise building, next to the mall.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What were you wearing?” Chris asked.
“Oh uhhhh, a dark blue blouse, a black skirt, stockings and black pumps.” Kate replied.
“Ok cool. Continue.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I entered the marble lobby of the building and walked to the front desk where there was a directory. Since I’d never been to the office before, it took me a few minutes to find the firm in the book. But when I did, I walked to the elevator and called one down. When I stepped on I was followed by another girl who really looked a lot like me. Similar hair, same eye colour, similar features. She seemed pre-occupied with something, but she didn’t say anything to me, so I didn’t say anything to her. We rode the elevator in silence, but something made me curious about her. We both got out on the same floor; I waited by the elevator for a moment and then followed her down the hallway.

She turned right into a room that looked like some kind of lounge or waiting room. But across the hall from her was a board room of some kind and I heard some angry voices coming from inside. I didn’t dare open to the door to see who was arguing but it was certainly two men fighting bitterly over something. It sounded like the word “shares” was said over and over again. I was curious to know more, but I heard footsteps approaching the door so I scurried away, down to the other end of the building where my accountant worked.

Once I’d dropped off my papers and gotten tax receipts, I left the office and headed back to the elevator. Down at the far end of the hallway, near the room I’d been eavesdropping on, I saw a man talking on his cell phone leaning against a wall. As I got closer, the look on his face became clearer and clearer. I could tell he was agitated and he eyed me suspiciously. Even as I called up the elevator, his eyes followed me. It made me a bit uneasy, but I tried to ignore him. It was fairly clear he was one of the men who had been yelling in that room. Apparently he had lost the argument.

I’d dropped from the twelfth floor to the third when the elevator stopped and a guy climbed on. He seemed normal enough, dressed in a black business suit. As the elevator started moving again, something about him made me nervous. But I couldn’t pinpoint why. Once we were between the first and second floors, he pressed the stop button.

“Why did you stop it?” I demanded.

When he turned around, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

I threw my hands into the hair, I think my eyes must’ve widened like saucers and I was hyperventilating like I never have.

“Listen to me very carefully…” He said in a low, deadpan voice. “I do not want to hurt you, but I am prepared to if you don’t cooperate. I am going to restart the elevator and put the gun away. I will walk behind you as you walk out towards the back entrance of the building. If you try to tell anyone, or give anyone a sign of what is happening I will kill both them and you. If you try to run you won’t make it more than three steps. Is that clear?”

I nodded in panic.

“Say it.” He said.
“Yeah… yeah, it’s clear.” I breathed.

True to his word, he put the gun back in his coat pocket, re-started the elevator and stood behind me. When the door opened he slowly but firmly pushed me out of the elevator. I hoped against hope there would be a policeman or anyone who could help me in the lobby. But to my horror, it was deserted. Why did I have to come on a Saturday?

He told me to turn right and head through a service door that should have been locked. The elegant marble of the lobby became the dreary white of laminate floors and cheaply painted walls. On either side there were hot water tanks, circuit breaker boxes, or other things that I didn’t recognize. We walked straight down the hallway to a truck-loading bay with opened double doors.

Waiting in the truck bay was a black SUV, it looked fairly nice, like an Escalade or something like that. Another man in a similar looking suit got out of the drivers seat and opened up the trunk. He pulled something out of the trunk that I couldn’t see and walked towards me.

“Go ahead.” The one behind me said.

His partner pulled a white cloth from behind his back and thrust it onto my face. I flailed around, struggling as hard as I could but he didn’t let go. A few seconds and I couldn’t fight it anymore and had to give in to the sickly metallic smell. I started to feel fuzzy, the world got distant and I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, everything went black.

I don’t know how long it was before I came to. It must have been a few hours at least. I still felt sick and the weird taste of pennies still lingered in my mouth. Slowly I pulled my eyes open. I was in some kind of storage room, I faced a closed wooden door and saw nothing but shelves stacked with papers, staplers, folders and all other kinds of office stuff. I tried to stand from the chair I was sitting on. It didn’t work.

It occurred to me that my hands were pulled behind my back through the backrest of the chair. I felt around with my fingers and felt cold steel holding them together. As I pushed and pulled it became clear they were handcuffs. I looked over myself and saw that my feet had been tied together with brown hemp rope and then tied to the right leg of the chair, pulling them into a weird angle. My knees had been bound together and a rope was holding my waist against the chair back.

I tried to scream but the sound was stopped by a mass of tape that had been plastered onto my face. They hadn’t wrapped it around my head, but no matter how hard I tried to work it off, it stuck to my face. Maybe they’d stuck it on with glue, I’m not sure.

Still, I tried to scream and stamp and make as much noise as I possibly could. Using my bound feet I slid the chair sideways until I ran into one of the shelves lining the walls. I reached over with my cuffed hands and managed to grab onto the shelf. I pulled and pulled and the shelf began to tilt and things started to fall off. Papers, books… I even heard glass break.

Finally the door opened. I faced down the same man who had threatened me on the elevator, his stare was even colder now that I was completely under his control.

“Would you mind keeping it down?” He sneered.

All I could give in return was a defiant mmmmmmmph.

“Look, as I said on the elevator, I do not want to hurt you. You’re not going to do yourself any good mindlessly opposing us like this.”

An interesting word choice he made there, I thought, “Mindlessly”. He was right, if I was going to escape from this situation I would have to put them at ease. If they were comfortable and took my good behavior for granted, I might find an opportune moment I could use to escape. I decided to play his game; I utilized an old trick I learned in my childhood and whipped up some tears as I nodded meekly.

Wordlessly, the brute did something I never would have expected. He took a small white handkerchief out of his pocket and dried my fake tears. That done, he turned to leave.

“Everything will be alright. I’ll be back for you in a couple of hours Miss Lee.”

Miss what?

He shut the door and I heard his footsteps as they walked down the hall. I felt somewhat relieved that I was in the hands of what appeared to be professionals, rather than thugs who might do something… unseemly… to me. On the other hand, who the hell was Miss Lee? Why did he call me that?

Of course the only place I could direct my questions to was my own mind. I was still tied up in a closet with no idea where I was, who had taken me, why, or even who they thought I was. My situation was… Well… Bad.

For the next several minutes, though they felt like hours, I methodically examined every bond on me, every loop and every knot. I searched desperately for a weakness of any kind. But there were none to be found. The downside of being held by professionals? They know exactly what they’re doing. If I was going to make some kind of escape, this certainly wasn’t an opportunity to do it. So… I resigned myself to lying back and just waiting. After a while my head started drooping and I fell into a fitful sleep. Minutes blurred into hours.

Before I knew it, I heard the door unlocking again. My captor returned, he had a key and scissors in his hand.

“Alright Miss Lee. I need to take you into another room. I’m going to untie you. If you make things difficult for me, I won’t give you any of the food or water I’ve set out. Do you understand?”

I nodded, though I started mmmmphing concertedly, trying to get the gag off. He didn’t respond.

He started with my ankles, then my knees and waist. With that done, he walked behind the chair and released my left wrist from the handcuffs. I tried to raise my hands up to my face to pull the tape off. But he was quick to grab them and relock the cuffs.

He put his hand on my shoulder and firmly led me out of the room. I was led through what looked like a deserted office, there were many offices and larger rooms filled with dividers and unused work desks. A few old computers were spread throughout the floor, lazily plugged into the walls and covered with dust. Though most of the windows were covered with vertical blinds, I could see past them in a few places. The skyline was filled with tall buildings in the late evening… Meaning I was still downtown somewhere.

I was led into the room at the end of the hall, which I guessed was an old boardroom. My other captor sat at the long black table, fiddling with his laptop.

“You got him up yet?” My captor asked sternly.
“I can call whenever you’re ready.” He replied.
“Good. Do it.”

He sat me down gently at the head of the table.

After a few more noisy keystrokes, the man turned the laptop towards me and pressed the space bar. A video profile came up on screen, a worried looking older man sat at a fairly un-ornate work desk, surrounded by police and many other people I didn’t know. As soon as he saw me, his worried expression turned to sheer bewilderment.

“Mr. Lee” My captor began from off camera: “ I think you can see now that we mean business. We wish to do her no harm, but unless you agree to the fifty million dollar demand you received this afternoon we will be forced to kill her.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Who is that?” Mr. Lee asked.

Another awkward pause.

“You don’t recognize your own daughter?!” My captor’s partner demanded.
“That isn’t my daughter.” He replied.

My captors were, understandably, lost for words. Finally, they looked to me. All I could do was flare my eyebrows. Grudgingly one of the men got up and gruffly pulled the duct tape off my mouth, hoping my voice would confirm my identity. After a short yelp in pain I shouted what I’d been wondering all day:

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE!?!”
“You… you aren’t Rosa Lee?” My captor asked.
“No! My name is Kate Franklin! I don’t know Rosa Lee! Or this guy! Or any of you! I was just dropping off some tax sheets at my Goddamn accountant’s office when this guy stuck a gun in my face!”

Mr. Lee on the screen looked sympathetic, but relieved. Apparently his daughter wasn’t too good at staying in touch with him.

“I’m so sorry you were dragged into this Miss.” He said.
“I appreciate your sympathy, can I go home now please?”

One of the men hit a button on his laptop and the screen went black.

“You imbecile! How could you grab the wrong girl!? What the hell is wrong with you!?” My captor’s partner yelled.
“How should I know? The client told me the target was on the elevator and that I was to grab her at the third floor. I’d never actually seen her before.”
“Great. Just great, what the hell do we do now?”
“Let me go home?” I suggested.

They both looked to me with a scowl. Without saying another word, the one who grabbed me stood up and led me out of the room again. I expected to be parked back in the storage closet from whence I came, fortunately he led me into that old unused office I’d seen on my way in. He pulled an old rolling chair from under one of the old decrepit desks, pushed it against the desk’s leg and sat me down. Once again pulling my left wrist out of the cuff, he locked my hands behind the leg of the desk. With me secured, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I yelled. “What about me? I’m of no use to you!”

He said nothing but merely changed direction and headed back to my supply cupboard holding cell. He emerged with the role of grey duct tape in his hands. He ripped off a long piece and gruffly plastered it over my lips again. He apparently was in no mood to talk.

Without any further delay he returned to the boardroom where he and his partner promptly started yelling at each other. I on the other hand, had no intention of just sitting there. I had a plan.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby lasse672000 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 2:08 am

Great story!
Whazzzz up!.

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby xtc » Wed Jun 08, 2011 2:11 am

Thanks for the "Overture". This side of the pond, the peice is doomed. Twice it is supposed to have been played in the Proms, twice it didn't happen!

I look forward to the rest of the "Tales" and am glad you got over whatever was preventing your completeing them.
Wassail!
Xrc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 6:36 pm

xtc wrote:Thanks for the "Overture". This side of the pond, the peice is doomed. Twice it is supposed to have been played in the Proms, twice it didn't happen!Xrc


Yeah no kidding, I understood them not playing it after Diana got killed but man... Oh well. It still gets played all the time over here. More than the rest of Adam's work combined I'd wager hehe.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby xtc » Thu Jun 09, 2011 1:31 am

Wasn't it funny how everything needed to srage "The Death of Klinghoffer" erm, 'disappeared'?
However, ENO are due to perform it, fully staged, early next year. I'll be there!
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Kate's Tale: The Millionairess

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Thu Jun 09, 2011 11:30 am

xtc wrote:However, ENO are due to perform it, fully staged, early next year. I'll be there!


I came by the recording of Klinghoffer earlier this year and I've listened to it a couple of times. But I must admit, I found the solo portions somewhat... Tiresome hehe. The choruses are fantastic, the exiled Jews especially. But, I'm not sure I could deal with a fully staged performance. Anyway, back to the story!




There was no telling how long they would need to argue before one of them came back to check on me. So I knew I had to start immediately and move fast. Chances were I would only get the chance to do this once.

I lifted myself off the rolling chair with my back and swept it aside, as quietly as I could, with my right foot. I crouched down and placed my back against the leg and pushed the desk. This was the dangerous part. If I pushed the desk too far it would topple with a loud crash and I would be screwed. On the other hand, if I didn’t push it far enough there would be no way I could slip my cuffed hands underneath it. I pushed, gently at first, then harder. The desk started lift. I tried to slip my hands underneath. The desk fell back to the floor. I set up and tried again. Still nothing. In fact, it took me four or five tries before I pushed the desk high enough. Then it occurred to me, I just had to slide down the tilted desk and slip my hands underneath. It worked.

Alright. Now, I dropped to the floor. Stretching my arms over my butt, slowly, gradually and somewhat painfully stretched my arms and my legs in a hellish aerobic bid to get my cuffed hands in front of me. It took a couple of painful minutes but I eventually succeeded. Thank God I took all that Pilates.

Now, more or less free I ripped the tape off my face and scurried around the office searching for the front door. Going back and down the main hallway from room to room, it became clear that the front door was right next to the boardroom. As quietly as I could, I snuck down the hallway toward the front door. My captor and his partner were still arguing in the boardroom. As I passed it was clear they were on the phone with their “client”, asking him what to do next. I had to face up to the fact that he, quite probably, would want me dead.

Slipping past the boardroom door, I walked down the darkened corridor to the front door. I turned the handle and it spun, but the door refused to open. Much to my horror I noticed that they’d installed a heavy padlock about a foot above the handle, probably to keep from me leaving the office if I got loose.

Clever bastards! Now what?!

I slipped past the boardroom again and headed back to the office. I had to find a phone. If I could call 911 the cops could trace the call and come get me. But as I tore apart the room where I’d been cuffed to the desk, it became apparent that there were no phones in the room. Several phone jacks, but not phones. I went from one room to the next but there were none to be found. Finally I reached the last office and finally, a phone. I ran for it, put the receiver on the desk and dialed 911 with my cuffed hands. That done, I held the phone to my ear. There was no sound, no dial tone, no nothing. Only then did I notice that the cord had been ripped out of the wall. Again, probably for the sole reason that I couldn’t use it if I escaped my bonds.

“Shit!” I hissed.

Now what do I do? I couldn’t escape the office and I couldn’t call the cops. My captor would be coming out to check on me any second. As I stood there, in total panic, I noticed the computer that sat on the desk was still plugged in. Could it be?

I hit the start button and the machine whirred to life. The boot up was slow and shambolic; I guess it hadn’t been used in a while. The dust that covered its every surface and came blowing out the back seemed to confirm my suspicions. After a minute or two, I got the blue Windows XP log in screen. I was able to log into windows as a guest. Hoping against hope, I started up windows explorer. Never have I been so happy to see google!

But now, what do I do with it?

I noticed that a fair amount of time had passed since I’d first been grabbed around noon. In fact it was almost midnight. I knew it was a long shot but I had to get in touch with Chris. He could call the cops and tell them everything I knew. Without knowing what else to do, I logged onto facebook.

(Liz burst out laughing when she heard this. Chris, Hugh and Kate all shot her dirty looks)

Thank God, Chris was online. I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but somehow I had to convince him I was serious.

Chris: Hey Babe! Where’ve you been I called you like six times!
Kate: Chris… Listen very carefully.

Typing proved to be a challenge with my cuffed hands, but I figured out that if I held my hands parallel to each other, pulled the keyboard right to the edge of the desk and held the locks of the cuffs over the edge I could still type somewhat normally.

Chris: What is it?
Kate: Ok, this may sound like a joke, but please believe me, I’m totally serious.
Chris: What?
Kate: I’m totally serious ok?
Chris: Katie, what is going on?
Kate: I’ve been kidnapped.
Chris: Huh?
Chris: Do you mean Liz picked you up and forced you to go shopping again?
Kate: No! Listen! When I went to my accountant’s office today I got mistaken for some corporate bigwig’s daughter and I was kidnapped by one of his rivals. They pointed a gun in my face, chloroformed me, tied me up and only figured out when they called the guy I wasn’t actually his daughter.
Chris: Kate, sweetie, you’ve got to be shitting me here.
Kate: I’M NOT!!!!! For the love of God call the cops!
Chris: Ok, ok… If you’ve been kidnapped, how are you on the computer talking to me.
Kate: I’m in an office building downtown somewhere. After they figured out I wasn’t the actual daughter, I got loose, but the door is padlocked shut and there are no phones. They forgot about this computer.
Chris: Your really serious…
Kate: Goddammit Chris! I am still handcuffed right now while I’m writing this! Call the cops!
Chris: Ok. I’m trusting you.
Kate: Ok listen, this has something to do with a guy named Lee. His daughter’s name is Rosa Lee and his company is based out of my accountant’s building, metrotower 2 downtown. I’m pretty sure his partner or his second in command or somebody like that is behind this. I saw him leaning against the wall and calling someone on his cellphone as I got on the elevator. I got grabbed on my way down. Tell the cops to look for him.

Right on cue, I heard the boardroom door open down the hall.

Kate: they’re coming back


In a vain effort to cover my tracks I reached behind the computer and pulled out all the cords I could get my hands on. Hopefully they wouldn’t think to plug it back in if they found me in a different room.

I darted out the door, down the hall and hid in another office. I could hear them frantically searching the rooms. One by one they got closer until finally my captor entered my hiding place. He immediately saw me cowering behind the desk.

“Here she is.” He called out.

I looked down in defeat. Hoping to give him the impression I was as helpless as I looked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He demanded.

I didn’t answer and looked meek. It seemed my tactic was working. He appeared to appreciate that if he were in my position he’d be doing the same thing. Without another word he took hold of my arm and dragged me out of the office. Unsurprisingly we headed straight back to the cupboard that I’d spent most of the day in.

Being somewhat disenfranchised with chairs, he threw the wooden chair I’d been sitting on out of the room and pushed me to the floor. Taking some of the white nylon rope he’d left on the ground earlier, he tied it around my feet horizontally and then cinched it vertically. He took the next piece and tied my wrists in much the same fashion above the handcuffs, which he took off as soon as the rope was secure. I wondered what he was thinking, considering rope wasn’t as secure as metal cuffs. But when he took a third piece of rope and tied my feet to my hands it became obvious. Putting someone into a hogtie with cuffs and rope is a recipe to kill nerves in the wrists. Apparently he still wanted to spare me.

Now in a tight hogtie on the ground, he recovered his role of duct tape and applied it back to my face. This time he wrapped it around my head at four or five times before he pulled it off the role.

“You should know” He said as he turned to leave. “Our client is going to decide what to do with you when he gets here. I don’t know what he’s going to say.”

He shut the door behind him and left me on the floor of the closet, amid all the paper, boxes and other things I’d knocked off the shelves earlier. The hogtie he’d put me in was mercilessly tight, my outstretched fingers could easily brush the soles of my feet. I struggled desperately for a few minutes, but it did nothing to loosen my bindings. I decided to try and sleep and rested my head on a box. All I could do was pray that Chris had called the cops and told them what I knew.

I’d never been religious, but I decided to give it a try.

“God” I thought. “I know we’ve never really talked before. But, if you’re up there, I could really use a hand. Please help me get out of this alive ok?”

Not long after I finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Some time later, how long it really was I have no idea, I heard the door opening. I decided to keep my eyes shut and act like I was sleeping. I heard three sets of footsteps. The “client” must have been with them. I could feel the weight of their collective stare as I lay there motionless.

“Well?” My captor asked him.
“We can’t kill her, at least not yet. She may be our only way out of this. Make sure the truck is ready to go though. If I have to get to Mexico I can dump her outside the city on my way.”

With that they turned around and left the room. I was relieved they weren’t planning on killing me. But I could still be stuck here for a long time. With no better options I went back to sleep.

“GET HER OUT HERE! GET HER OUT HERE!” I heard the man scream.

I woke up again amidst a tremendous uproar. The men in the office were yelling and running around, as a loud engine hung just outside the office. My captor appeared and rapidly began untying my feet. Forgetting all about the connecting rope than still hung off my wrists, he pulled me to my feet and led me out into the office. A helicopter hung in the air outside the window, shining a bright spotlight into the office.

My captor delivered me to his “client” who immediately shoved his pistol into my head.

“You are ordered to lay down your weapons and surrender your hostage!” An authoritative voice called through a bullhorn on the helicopter.

The man replied by turning his gun toward the window and firing three shots at the helicopter. I flailed over, desperately trying to cover my ears and escape the roar of the gunshots. My bound hands made it difficult. The helicopter pulled up and away from the building.

“Let’s go!” The man called.

He pulled me along as he and his two minions stormed out of the office toward the front door. My captor’s partner opened the padlock on front door and opened it. As they dragged me down the unfamiliar hallway, the elevator door opened and a full swat team emerged, guns pointed and laser sights blazing.

The pistol was pushed against my head once again.

“Drop the gun!” One of the swat guys yelled. “The building is surrounded, there’s no way out!”
“I’ve still got her don’t I?!” He yelled back.
“Drop the gun!”
“You guys get back on the elevator and go downstairs or I’ll kill her!”

The swat guys didn’t back off.

“Mr. Thompson” My captor said quietly. “They’ve got us.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m giving you guys five seconds!”

The swat guys slowly advanced.

“Five!” He cried as he pulled me in front of him.
“Four!”
“Give it up!” The swat commander yelled.
“Three!”

All of a sudden, from my right, my captor, the one who had kidnapped me in the first place jumped behind me and pushed the gun away from head. I instinctively dropped to the floor and rolled away. Deafening machine gun fire roared through the hallway. By the time I turned around, the client, the man who’d ordered my kidnapping lay on the ground, riddled with bullet holes.

My captor threw his gun to the ground and put his hands up. With a scowl his partner followed suit. The swat guys wasted no time in arresting them, while one came and helped me off the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked with a gentle voice.

I nodded, with the glint of a tear hanging off my eye. As gently as he could he pulled the ring of duct tape off my mouth, trying his best not to pull my hair. Though it was unavoidable to some extent. When the tape was finally removed I gratefully took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. My swat trooper silently untied my hands and led me to the elevator.

On the street in front of the building sat an armada of police cars with lights flashing. A few uniformed officers ran up to me with a blanket that I gratefully accepted and hung over my shoulders. They led me to a nearby ambulance. But even as the paramedic did his routine check, I stared in wonderment at the army of people who had mobilized to come and rescue me. As I sat there, I finally saw that familiar buzz cut hair that Chris insisted on having. He ran right past the paramedic and grabbed me.

“Katie!” He exclaimed. “You’re ok!”
“Yeah.” I replied quietly. “I’m fine.”

Losing any sense of propriety he leaned in and kissed me for a good minute. I finally pulled away when I noticed a bunch of cops snickering at us.

“Was this all your doing?” I asked him.
“Kinda, yeah.” He replied sheepishly. “After I called the cops and reported you missing, the dispatcher told me about how Mr. Lee had received a ransom demand for his daughter Rosa. I managed to call him and guilted him into helping me. He knew immediately who the guys was and that he owned this empty office downtown. He even managed to convince them into sending that air cav unit.”
“Air cav?”
“That helicopter.”
“Is he here?”
“Yeah, he wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, let’s go find him.”

After thanking the paramedic, Chris held my hand as we started searching for Mr. Lee, the anonymous corporate fellow who’s daughter I’d been mistaken for. As we combed through the fleet of police cruisers and other cars, I saw my captor being loaded into the back of a nearby cruiser. I led Chris over to him.

“Hey.” I said to him.

He looked over to me.

“Thank you. You kidnapped me, but you also saved my life. I’ll make sure to tell them that in court.”

He smiled as the car pulled away.

Not long after Chris and I managed to find Mr. Lee, sitting on the concrete steps of a nearby building, with his real daughter sitting next to him. He stood up and shook hands with both me and Chris.

“I’m so sorry about all this.” He said.
“Yes I’m sure you are.” I replied, somewhat sarcastically.
“I mean it. I feel somewhat responsible for what’s happened.”

I wanted to blurt out “Because you are somewhat responsible!” But I managed to bite my tongue.

“I’d like you to have this.” He said, while handing me a small piece of paper.

I looked down in disbelief at what I was holding. A cheque for five hundred grand.

“Please take it.” He said.

It probably would’ve been the more ladylike thing to have refused and given it back. But, let’s face it, I’d been chloroformed, kidnapped, tied up, brutalized and had several firearms shoved in my face that day. I was in no mood for generosity. I took the money.

“C’mon Chris. I need a drink.” I said as we walked away.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Interlude

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 10, 2011 5:48 pm

Interlude

A small round of applause rose in the car. By now the sun had dropped completely over the horizon and the train carried on through a darkened world, lit only by the pale glow of a half moon. Both Sarah and Hugh stood up to stretch as if they’d just finished watching a long movie, though Liz was in no mood to rouse herself from her makeshift bed.

“Great story babe!” Chris congratulated his girlfriend. “I even made a cameo appearance!”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that Mr. I need attention like air.” Kate replied.
“Hey!”
“She’s just screwin with ya Chris, calm down.” Liz said.
“I know, I know. I take so much abuse from you Kate!”
“And yet you can’t live without me.” She pointed out.
“No I can’t.”

It looked like they were about to embark on one of their gratuitous tonsil hockey odysseys. A small cough from an annoyed Sarah brought them back to reality.

“So whose turn is it now?” Sarah asked.
“Mine.” Hugh replied.
“Wait are you going to tell it now?” Liz asked.
“No, I thought I was going to go tomorrow morning.”
“Good, because I need to get some beauty sleep.”
“I think we all do.” Kate added.

The five spent the next half hour or thereabouts debating and working out sleeping arrangements for that night. Since they had the entire compartment to themselves, there were enough seats for four of them to lie down on cushions. Hugh being the gentleman that he was, volunteered to sleep on the floor. Chris was quite happy to let his friend be the noble martyr. Once they’d all laid down with the blankets and pillows that they’d so wisely brought with them… Or at least the ones Sarah forced them to bring, their conversation turned back to Kate’s story.

“Good night guys.” Sarah said happily. “That was a great story Kate.”
“Thanks.”
“A good damsel in distress fantasy for yourself Katiekins.” Liz remarked.
“Oh c’mon Lizzy!” Kate objected. “Admit it, you love being a damsel in distress just as much as I do!”
“No. Nope… I don’t think anybody likes being a damsel in distress as much as you Kate.”

Kate stopped to think about this.

“Ok maybe not.” She admitted.
“That’s ok, these things are all fantasy anyway.” Chris pointed out.
“Mine isn’t.” Hugh said.
“Yeah, yeah, ok yours isn’t.”
“Neither is mine.” Sarah pointed out.
“Mine isn’t either… Sorta.” Liz added.
“So you’ve figured out your story have you?” Hugh asked her.
“Yes. I feel really stupid that I didn’t think of it earlier.”
“Oh that’s ok.”
“Yeah, you’ve done way stupider things than that!” Kate remarked.
“Hey shaddup bitch!”
“Sometimes I find it very difficult to believe you guys are actually friends.” Chris said.
“Oh yeah, but we love each other.” Kate assured him.
“Totally. We just express our love through hatred.” Liz agreed.
“And shopping.”
“Yeah. And shopping.”
“I think women and their shopping habits will forever be a mystery to me.” Hugh admitted.
“You and me both bro. You and me both.” Chris agreed.
“Just for the record, I’m with you guys, I hate shopping.” Sarah added.
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m going to sleep now.” Liz demanded.

After a round of good nights, an organized oblivion fell over the compartment as they all fell into the blissful sleep of the recently graduated. It was a fairly short-lived sleep though. By the time Kate finished her story it was around one thirty. The first signs of movement in the car were around six. Hugh’s strict regiment of six thirty mornings had tuned his body to function on little sleep. As such his internal clock woke him up even earlier than usual. Though as none of his friends had yet stirred, he sat and read. About half an hour later, Sarah sat up. She was naturally an early riser. The sun was just climbing over the eastern horizon and so she beckoned Hugh to come watch the slow ascent of the beautiful burning sun. It painted a living portrait of yellow and orange in the sky. The heat of the first morning rays of the sun shook the world out of its long cold sleep as it rose. Hugh put his arm over Sarah and she rested on him as they watched the dawn together. They weren’t a couple, but they both liked to hold each other in quiet moments such as this. But as they sat, wordlessly enjoying the scene, suddenly a loud groan resounded:

“God I hate mornings!” Liz cried deliriously.

Hugh and Sarah both shot her dirty looks. They both loved her dearly, but dealing with Lizzy in the morning had never been an easy proposition.

It took Liz another half hour to fully rouse herself. By then both Kate and Chris had sat up and were beginning the process of mentally preparing themselves for the day ahead. Though it wasn’t exactly the most exciting day. A long train ride, a short stopover in Chicago and then another long train ride on to New York.

The compartment stayed pretty quiet for the first hour or so. They all read, or listened to music or did something solitary for a little while. Social skills are usually the last brain function to wake up in the morning. Around eight, everyone having gone to the bathroom to change and wash up, Kate suggested they go to the dining car to grab some breakfast. No one disagreed. The morning meal was pleasant. One of the tremendous advantages of taking the train as opposed to flying was the food. Even though the train was slower and cost more. Oh well. It was fun!

Most of the Squire gang had pancakes for breakfast along with several glasses of orange juice that a kind waitress discretely poured champagne into at Kate’s request. Kate was pretty pleased with herself.

With breakfast eaten they headed back to their compartment, or their domain as Chris had taken to calling it. Their bellies full and several bottles of water for the rest of the morning in hand, they happily sat down at their respective places in the compartment, Sarah and Hugh each taking a table, Liz lying down on the left row of seats, Kate and Chris sitting next to each other on the other side.

“Ok bro. You’re up.” Chris said.
“Yeah I guess I am.” Hugh replied.
“So this one is true you said.” Sarah asked.
“Yes it is.”
“And why are we only hearing about this now?!” Kate demanded.
“Let the poor man talk!” Liz shot back.
“Thank you Lizzy.” Hugh said. “Now you all remember the folks I play with in my jazz quartet?”
“Yeah.” Chris replied.
“Does Monica still sing with you guys?” Liz asked.
“Who’s that?” Kate asked.
“She sang with me in that musical a few months ago.”
“Oh yeah the one with the really long name.” Sarah remembered.
“Yeah, I was looking at the ceiling and then I saw the sky. That one.”
“You did a great job in that by the way.” Kate added.
“Yeah, yeah, now let Hugh tell his damn story!” Liz yelled.

Hugh smiled. Liz didn’t like to admit it, but she was very protective of him.

Taking a deep breath, the pianist told his tail.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Hugh's Tale: Jazz and Java

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 10, 2011 5:50 pm

Hugh’s Tale: Jazz and Java

Blues Brothers 2000 was possibly one of the lamest sequels in movie history. But Dan Aykroyd did pronounce one profound truth about the nature of music and the performing of music in that movie. “No pharmaceutical product could ever equal the rush you get when the band hits that groove, the people are dancing and shouting and swaying and the house is rockin. The music man, you know you miss the music.” Such was my attitude after my gig three weeks ago. We played a club called “The Basement” downtown. It’s a fairly big club by jazz standards. We must have played for three or four hours. When we started there were around a hundred people in attendance. By the time we finished, the crowd had doubled or tripled in size. I really don’t know how many there were by the end but... You get the idea.

It was around eleven thirty when we packed it up. My hands were so sweaty they were slipping around the keys and I was starting to fumble the really fast passages. We finished off the set with Oscar Petersen’s “Hymn to Freedom” which we planned on playing strait through without much soloing. Of course we ended up improvising on it for another ten or fifteen minutes. Finally, when we called it a night the usual crowd of congratulating hand shakers came and went. I was fortunate in that the Basement has its own Bösendorfer baby grand. So I just had to cover it up.

I went over to the bar and sat down, as Sam the bartender poured me a coke. After gigs at the basement they always give us free drinks. So I sat and waited as the rest of my quartet went outside to smoke.

Sam slid me a very tall glass of that black, sugary goodness. I was pretty tired by this point, so for a moment I didn’t do anything but look down at my drink and watch the bubbles of carbon grow and explode on its effervescent surface. The truth of the matter is that I’ve given the coca-cola company a lot more of my money than I’d like to admit. But ah, I digress.

Oh, in case any of you are curious I was wearing black slacks, my black dress shoes, a simple maroon dress shirt and my black leather jacket.

In a few large swigs I downed the whole glass of coke and got up. Sam offered me another but I declined. I put on my jacket and headed to the back of the club to grab my backpack. I always leave my stuff in the series of rooms that the basement club owned upstairs. It was much safer than leaving it on stage and having to spend the whole show looking over your shoulder. Besides, I loved walking through the club late at night when there’s no one in it. The light smell of smoke from cigarettes that weren’t supposed to be lit, filled the air and the light wisps of that same smoke still swirled around the working stage lights.

I ventured past the stage and down the cramped hallway of black painted stone behind it. A single blue bulb from a lamp that hung off the ceiling lit that hallway and I walked through it carefully and turned right onto the stairs. The stairs were simply painted with white walls and had an old bluish, grey carpet. The upper floor was much the same. I walked down the corridor and turned into the third room on the right where I always leave my stuff.

It took me a second to notice, I was looking down to the floor and the black backpack that I’d left on it. But when I looked up…

On the far left side of the room was an old wooden structural pole that ran from floor to ceiling, behind that was an old green couch. But much to my shock, a girl’s hands were pulled in front of her and handcuffed around the pole. As soon as I came to my senses I ran towards her.

“Are you ok?” I asked worriedly.

She just chuckled awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” She said. “Cliff left me here.”

I stopped.

“Cliff… You mean my bass player Cliff?”
“Yeah, we’re friends. Of sorts.” She said with a chuckle.
“What do you mean?”
“Well we’ve met a few times when I’ve been here and at a couple of parties. I slept with him once.”
“So how… why did... he” I stammered.
“Oh, well, Cliff has got a bit of kink to him you see. But surprisingly enough we found these up here in a drawer. According to Sam a cop left these here a few years ago and never came to pick them up again. So we were just sort of playing around and he put them on me and hasn’t come back yet.”

I chuckled.

“Ok I see.”
“Anyway, I’m going to guess that you’re Hugh. The piano player.”
“Uhhh yeah, that’s me.”
“Wait a minute, didn’t we meet downstairs during your break?”
“Yeah when we stopped, I was having a drink. I knew you looked familiar!”

Indeed we had met, and as I thought about it, I’d seen her at a few of our gigs before. She always caught my eye but I’d never said anything to her. She had beautiful long brunette hair that went midway down her back. She was Latino in descent I believe. Her skin was that dark white shade, reminiscent of Café au lait. On this particular evening she was wearing a simple pair of tight, faded jeans, a black t-shirt and a red hoodie overtop of it. Which in their own strange way, really complimented the steel gray of the handcuffs she wore.

“Now that we’ve establish that you’re Hugh the pianist…” She started
“Yes…” I replied.
“Cliff has told me about you. I hear you’re very much an old fashioned kind of guy.”
“Uhhh, sure I guess.”
“Oh c’mon. No need to be modest my good fellow.”
“Sorry… Look I have to ask…”
“What?”
“What’s your name?”

She burst out laughing. She seemed to know a lot more about me than I knew about her and it kind of freaked me out. But it was somewhat intriguing at the same time.

“Kristen. Kristen Santos.” She said. “Nice to meet you.”

She extended her cuffed hands and I shook them. She acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Like everyone met their new friends handcuffed to a pole. As we talked I became more and more at ease. A few minutes passed and I sat down on the gritty old sofa, our conversation became so pleasant that I almost forgot her hands were chained together.

“So, here’s something I’ve been wondering.” I told her.
“Shoot.” She replied.
“You’re Mexican in origin?”
“Colombian actually.”
“You’ve got a very Spanish last name and a very English first name.”

She laughed.

“Yeah, not many people comment on that but yeah I know its weird. My parents managed to relocate here just before I was born. So I and any other kids they had wouldn’t have to grow up in Colombia.”
“Did they have any more?”
“No. I’m an only child.”
“Oh ok. Now…” I stopped. “I may be treading into a minefield here.”
“That’s ok! I’m Colombian, I’m an expert on minefields!”

I laughed. Wow she was good at making me feel at ease.

“So we’ve been talking for about fifteen, twenty minutes now. Cliff is still nowhere to be seen and you have made absolutely no motion for me to find him or find the keys to take those handcuffs off.”

She smirked.

“You weren’t too opposed to him putting them on your wrists in the first place were you?” I asked.
“Nope.” She said candidly. “I suppose you’ve learned a lot more about me in these fifteen minutes than most of my friends know after years.”
“Yeah I guess I have. Though I feel obligated to ask, do you want me to take them off?”
“Sure, sure. But before you do, I’m going to guess, considering what you saw when you came in and how comfortably you’ve dealt with these handcuffs up to now, you’re not too unfamiliar with this whole bondage thing yourself. Am I right?”

I wanted to deny it and keep my poker face up. But it didn’t work, I smiled as soon as she said it.

“No.” I admitted finally. “I have these friends, these crazy friends.”

(Those crazy friends who were listening all smiled gratefully when he said that.)

“So you and those crazy friends have played with this have you?” She asked.
“Yeah. It’s not something I tell people most of the time, especially not people I just met but there you are.”
“Well, considering what a strange meeting its been, lets just consider this an exception to the rule shall we?”
“Sure.”

I got up.

“Do you know where the keys are?” I asked.
“No. I think they might be over there somewhere, but I’m not sure.” She replied.
“Ok well…”

I walked over to her, or more specifically her hair.

“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Do you have bobby pins in your hair?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“I can pick the lock with a bobby pin.”
“Oh ok.”

True to her word there were three bobby pins in her hair and I carefully pulled one out. I used my fingernails and took the plastic coating off the end of the strait prong of the clip and pulled it straight so it was one long piece. Next I took the straight, plastic-less end and stuck it into the keyhole below her right wrist. I bent the pin down so it was parallel to the cuff and gave me a right angle on the end. Next I pulled the bent portion out half way and bent the clip the other way. With the angle that gave me, I could push it down and release the ratchet of the cuff, freeing her right hand.

“Where’d you learn how to do this? You don’t seem like a jail breaker to me.” She asked as I worked.
“It’s amazing the stuff you can learn on Youtube.” I replied.

She just nodded as the cuff came off. It was obvious that she was impressed.

“Thanks.” She said.
“No problem.” I replied.
“I’m sure this must be making your old world sensibilities happy right now.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The handsome pianist… knight… rescuing the poor damsel.”
“From her tower in the basement night club.”
“Yeah something like that.”
“I don’t know, somehow I don’t see the Brothers Grimm writing this into a story.”

By now she was on the other side of the room, rifling through the various bags and things.

“Here it is!” She said.
“What?”
“The key.”

She walked up and presented the small metal shape to me. Then walked past me back towards the corner of the room from whence she came, taking the other cuff off her wrist while she walked. I followed her and leaned against the pole. She seemed to be packing up her stuff to leave.

“Do you see that shape on the wall next to the door?” She asked me.
“What?”
“From here it looks like there’s a shape drawn on the wall.”

I turned to look at it. I saw nothing of the kind. One of my instincts set off some kind of alarm bell, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I should’ve though. Within a few seconds of turning around I felt the steel cuff snake around my right wrist. Before I had the chance to react my left wrist followed suit and I found myself cuffed to the pole like she’d been.

“Hey!” I yelled indignantly. “What?”

She giggled as she walked around to face me again.

“It seems only fair! We talked for a while when I was chained to the pole, it seems only fair that you spend some time cuffed to the pole as well!”
“Kristen! It’s late I want to go home.”
“You’d rather go home than spend time with me?”
“Well… I… No, of course not but….”

She laughed.

“It’s ok Hughie, you don’t have to answer that, it’s an unwinnable question. It’s like when your girlfriend asks you if the dress makes her look fat, you know? No winning.”
“Yeah, fair enough but still… Where are you going?”

She had turned away from me and was leaving the room.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the closet in the hallway. I’m not about to leave you here to rot. Actually… come to think of it, I’m going to make another stop.”

She disappeared down the corridor and I heard her footsteps ringing as she clambered down the stairs. She wasn’t particularly graceful this girl. A minute or two passed before I heard her footsteps returning. She headed straight back to the aforementioned closet. When she finally came back in, she had a long coil of brown hemp rope in her hands.

“This should let me be a little more thorough.” She said.
“Why did you just go downstairs?” I asked, a little worried.
“To talk to Sam. The place is cleaned up and he’s gone home. I’m here all the time so I know the alarm code. I can set it off on my way out.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Haha, you’re so worried about propriety aren’t you? It’s adorable. I told him we’re having sex.”

My eyes widened like saucers.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of forcing such a thing on you. But… That does mean I could keep you all night if I wanted to.”
“Why would you though?”
“Why? Because I think you’re cute. I have my own Hugh. I think everybody should have a Hugh.”

I didn’t know if I should be flattered, or offended, or shocked or what… But Kristen didn’t really wait for me to decide. Given that my hands were tied behind me, I was in an even more compromising position than she had been, giving me fewer options as far as resisting her. Not that I really wanted to. Not all of me anyway. The more logical side of my mind was telling me that I needed to go home and go to bed. But the, shall we say, more adventurous side of me wanted to see where this situation was going. I wanted to find out who this strange girl was. Socially she was eccentric and brazen, but she had this entrancing power over me. Maybe she was a siren? I don’t know.

Without saying another word she took her coil of hemp rope and measured out a piece that was about six feet long. A Swiss army knife appeared and she sawed the piece free.

“You might want to sit down.” She suggested.

She was kind enough to take my arm as I lowered myself to the floor. Though that was the only mercy she showed me. Once I was on the ground she wasted no time and moved strait down to my ankles. I watched her tying method carefully, it might give me a clue as to how experienced she was. So when she pulled both ends of the rope together, rapped them around my ankles and pulled them through the bend where the two halves met, I knew she was a pro. I was screwed. She wrapped the two ends horizontally twice and then vertically once. After knotting it off, she set to work cutting a second six foot length which she applied to my knees.

“I am in so over my head.” I said.

She laughed.

“Well look at this way… The best way to learn to swim is jumping strait into the deep end isn’t it?”
“I guess, but…”
“Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?”
“Uhhhh”
“Awwwww, poor Hughie, are you confused?”

I knew she was making fun of me, but I didn’t know what else to say. She already knew this… She already knew everything about me it seemed. Or at least she acted like she did.

“I don’t know how much rope I have left here.” She said, almost off handedly. “Bah, I’ll just use all of it!”

True to her word she took the remainder of her bundle of rope and wrapped it around my waist, pining my torso to the pole. It was a complete redundancy, she knew this and I knew this. But she did it anyway. I suppose to the average bondage practitioner, fashion usually wins over function. But then again it made my predicament just a little more restricting. Which I guess is the whole point. I was all hers now. All hers, and I had barely known her for half an hour. What was I doing? What was she doing?
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby xtc » Sat Jun 11, 2011 1:54 am

Still intriguing. What a good job it’s going to be a long journey.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Sun Jun 12, 2011 4:55 pm

“There!” She said, brushing her hands together. “You’re not going anywhere!”
“No I guess I’m not.” I replied quietly.

She reached over and brushed the side of my head with her fingers, she had a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“How you doin sweetie?” She asked.

What? She had just tied me to a pole and now she’s asking me if I’m ok? What is with this chick? Really?

“I’m uhhhh, ok… I’m…” I stammered again. I never stammer!
“Let me ask you something Hugh.”
“Ok.”
“When it comes to this whole bondage thing, you’re not usually on this end are you?”
“This end?”
“You usually do the tying, as opposed to being tied. Right?”
“Yes. Though it’s not like I do this a whole lot.”
“Ok, ok, fair enough. And it’s always with these crazy friends of yours?”
“Yeah.”

She just stared at me for another minute, I felt like she was somehow reading my mind through my eyes. Analyzing my thoughts like a psychologist reading a transcript. As the seconds passed by it seemed more and more like she understood everything about me and I was still completely in the dark about her.

“How many girlfriends have you had?” She asked finally.

I was a little shocked at her audacity. Is that something you ask somebody you’ve just met?

“Well… None. To be completely honest.” I said finally.

She just nodded sympathetically.

“I see. That’s really too bad.”
“Why?”
“Well, how does that old song go? Everybody needs somebody.”
“Yeah. Solomon Burke.”
“Well there you go.”
“Yeah I guess. It’s ok, I can deal with it.”

She paused again.

“Let me take another wild stab in the dark here.”
“Alright. Though you seem to be pretty good at these.”
“Oh thank you. Now, when I think back to when I’ve seen you in around this club, which hasn’t been that much, granted… You seem to give off an aura of trustworthiness am I right?”
“Well… People have said that about me yes. I’m not going to cast judgment on that myself.”
“No I’m sure your natural humility won’t let you. Anyway, people trust you. Given that you seem to be wise well beyond your years. So you end up giving people advice a lot don’t you?”
“Yeah.” I groaned.
“Mostly pertaining to relationships.”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve lived in the shadow of these friends of yours in this regard. Which I’m guessing is why you’re such a keen performer when it comes to music. Cause music is YOUR domain where you are in no one’s shadow.”

I was shocked. Well, flabbergasted would be a better word. How did she know all this? She was hitting the nail on the head with each wild stab. Not only had she tied me up and made me physically vulnerable, I was becoming more and more emotionally vulnerable by the second. And I really didn’t like it… Or did I?

“You’re good.” I said quietly. “What’s it to you?”

She smiled.

“I’m enjoying this actually.”
“Why?”
“When you first came in the room and started talking to me, you were nothing but confidence. A little surprised to see a tied up girl perhaps. But you were happy, you were sure of yourself… As soon as I showed any personal interest in you beyond, shall we say, “friendly” interest… You’re a fish out of water.”
“Beyond friendly interest? I think I was little more shocked by you clapping those handcuffs on me. I really didn’t see that coming.”
“No you didn’t. But here’s the thing, considering you don’t really know me and I didn’t handcuff you in the context of a game… my handcuffing you and thereby making you stay and talk to me implies a lot of interest. I mean, that’s what bondage is all about really.”
“Well… yeah I guess but…”
“And then when I told you what I told Sam we were doing up here well… That was that!”

Another silence followed that. She was waiting for my reaction at this point, but I was almost completely at a loss for words. Since she seemed to know everything about me already, what could I tell her that she didn’t already know?

“You’re right on all counts.” I admitted. “Who are you!?!”
“Kristen Santos!” She replied, giving me a toothy smile.
“Yeah, but… Why are you so interested in me?”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“No! Look, you’re not after me sexually (Just saying that made me uncomfortable) I can tell. No one would approach someone they were really interested in like this. I’m not used to having my brain picked about this stuff, so what are you playing at?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
“I wanted to see what Cliff meant.”
“Cliff? My bassist Cliff? What about him?”
“I was here at your last gig in this club and spent some time talking to him. He started telling me about you and how he noticed you staring at me. He told me to flirt with you, that you needed it.”

I just sighed. Cliff was always giving me a hard time about my lack of a dating life and now apparently was trying to set me up. Great, just great.

“That makes sense.”
“I think he must have come up here and heard us talking, which is why never came up to let me go. He knew you’d do it. Maybe that’s why he left the key in the room, I don’t know.”
“Yeah I was wondering why he hadn’t come up to release you. He’s not the kind of guy who would leave you here overnight just for kicks.”
“No he’d do something else with me for kicks.”
“Yeah… Exactly.”
“So, now that you see what he meant…”
“What? You don’t expect me to untie you do ya?”
“I thought you might.”
“Oh no! I still want to have more fun with you.”
“What kind of fun?”

An evil grin crossed her face.

“Well, any kind of fun I want. It’s not like you can do anything to stop me.”

She held her hands up behind her head and started twisting herself seductively. Or at least that’s what she tried to do; in truth she just looked ridiculous.

“Isn’t there another song like this? Oh man of virtue, let me corrupt you. Something like that.”
“Is that really what you plan to do?” I said, laughing.
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Most guys would be begging for it to be my plan at this point.”
“Well, I’m not most guys am I?”
“No you certainly are not.”

Suddenly it occurred to me.

“Which is why you’re so interested in me.”
“What?”
“I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“You.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“You my friend, are a compulsive psychologist. You are one of those people who psycho analyses everyone they meet. Either because you have nothing better to do, or you are just too smart for your own good. I suspect it’s the latter.”
“And…”
“Now, considering that it is always more interesting to meet and psycho analyze people of the opposite gender… Unless you’re gay but you’re obviously not. Now considering that the vast majority of guys are impulse driven Neanderthals…”
“Whoa! A little self-deprecating are we?”
“Are you kidding, my gender infuriates me half the time.”
“And yet you are one. Oh well, continue.”
“Considering most guys lack complexity, you get bored. Let’s face it, Cliff for all his virtues isn’t hard to understand. Or to predict. Then he tells you about this weird friend that he has, who, lives his life a different way… You just had to come and add me to your list of psycho profiles. Because I think you doubted that I was actually on the level. And you wanted to see if you could make me break down by probing my lack of a dating life.”

The smirk on her face was wider than it had ever been. After a moment she slowly started clapping.

“Very good.” She admitted. “You figured me out.”
“That’s good. Will you untie me now?”
“No.”
“Oh well, it was worth a try.”
“Yeah I suppose it was. Well, shall we call a truce with the mind games?”
“Yes. Let’s. What time is it?”
“It’s around one. Oh and by the way, I didn’t actually tell Sam that we were having sex. I just wanted to see the look on your face.”
“Oh… That’s good.”
“Nope. Your spotless reputation remains spotless.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Though I will say, purely on a physical level I would be happy to have sex with you. But you’re a save yourself for marriage kind of guy and I respect that. Would you like a drink?”
“Really?” I was really gratified to hear that. I didn’t feel awkward when she put it that way. “Well thanks. That’s nice to hear. And what kind of drink?”
“I was thinking Tequila.”
“Uhm…”
“Not your thing?”
“I’ve honestly never had tequila.”
“Do you drink at all?”
“Yeah. But always in a controlled manner.”
“Well then, now seems as good a time as any to give it a try. Ok. I’ll go grab some from the bar.”
“Will Sam be ok with that?”
“Oh yeah, he’s my cousin, he lets me take whatever I want.”
“Ok cool.”

With that the beautiful, smart and not so mysterious Kristen got up and left. I was far more contended now that I’d held my own in mental chess and to some extent was able to lie back and relax. But man, I wished I could escape from this and tie her up again. Not that I wasn’t enjoying being her prisoner, or at least I was enjoying it now. But I had a bit of a vendetta since she’d manage to cuff me by surprise. I wanted to get her back! Then I remembered: The bobby pin! I’d dropped it on the ground when I’d let her go.

Desperately I started searching the ground around me for it as best as I could. Though there was nothing to be seen. I must be sitting on it. It occurred to me that I could slide myself around the pole like a gun mounted on a turret. As best as I could with my bound legs I pushed myself left and away from the spot where I’d been sitting. Low and behold there it was, right where I’d dropped it. I tried to reach it, but I had to spin myself until I was almost sitting opposite the door before I could pick it up. Suddenly I heard Kristen coming back up the stairs. As quickly as I could I spun myself around, concealing the bobby pin in my closed hand.

She had a large bottle of dark stained glass and two shot glasses in her hands. Without saying anything she sat down on the ground in front of me and poured two glasses of the strange golden liquid.

“Ok, you ready?” She asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” I replied.
“I should ask, can you hold your liquor?”
“Well enough I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just give it to me.”
“Yes sir!”

She rested one of the shot glasses against my lips, then all at once tipped it up and threw it back. I shudder to think of the face that I made. That stuff was rancid! Wasting no time she picked up her glass and threw back her own portion of the liquid hell to which I’d just been subjected.

“That stuff is vile.” I said.
“Oh c’mon it’s not that bad! I was just about to pour another.”
“If we’re going to drink do I really have to do shots of that stuff? Really?”
“Ok fine, what do you drink?”
“Well, if you don’t mind grabbing it of course…”
“No, no it’s ok.”
“I’ll have some of the Johnnie Walker Black.”
“Ahhhh, I see. A man of refined tastes as well as refined sensibilities I see.”
“Sort of refined. If I was truly a connoisseur it’d have to be Johnnie Walker Blue, but I’m pretty sure Sam wouldn’t want to part with any of that stuff. It’s not cheap.”
“Ok, I’ll be right back. Shall I grab you a scotch glass?”
“Yes please.”

She turned to leave again. I pulled out the bobby pin, ready to start working on my escape. Suddenly she turned around.

“Oh my God! How could I be so forgetful!” She exclaimed.
“What? What have you forgotten?” I asked.

She dove for her satchel, which she’d left by the couch and started rummaging through it.

“This should work.” She said as she pulled a black bandanna of some sort. “How could I forget the gag?! I mean come on! It’s the icing on the bondage cake!”
“But… but… You’re just going to have to take it off as soon as you come back so I can drink!”
“So?”

She didn’t suffer any more of my arguments and pulled the cloth tightly between my teeth. Hastily she tied it off with a double knot behind my head as tightly as she could. I couldn’t really figure out why she felt it necessary to put the gag on me when she was just going to be coming back in less than two minutes. Oh well, hopefully I’d be able to remove it before she got back.

As soon as her back was turned I pulled the bobby pin out of my closed fist and started fumbling for the lock. It took me a few minutes, not only did I have to find the lock without looking at it, then I had to make sure I was putting the lock in ratchet side and then open it. Sweat started to bead down my forehead as I worked, I felt every precious second tick away. Finally, the ratchet gave way and I lifted my hand free. Wasting no time I worked feverishly to undo the knot holding waist to the pole. That untied I was able to quickly loosen it. Next I freed my knees and I was working on my ankles when my luck ran out and Kristen returned. When she saw me untying myself she stopped dead in her tracks. Though she did have the decency to put the scotch and the glass down.

“Hugh… Are you…” She stammered.

“Oh yes” I thought, it’s your turn to stammer now!

“Yes.” I said. “It’s payback time!”

Kristen didn’t need to be told twice. She immediately turned tail and ran as fast as she could down the stairs. I hadn’t planned on this turning into a game of cat and mouse, but oh well. Nothing worth having is ever easy to get. I frantically untied my ankles and got to my feet. I ran over to her satchel and retrieved the key, releasing my other wrist from the cuffs and put both in my pocket. Then I took off after her, tearing down the hallway and descending the stairs in the darkened jazz club. Only the blue the light in the small hallway behind the stage and one more light above the bar were left on, casting the whole floor in eerie shadows. She could be hiding everywhere. This might be difficult.

“Come out come out wherever you are.” I said.
“No!” She yelled back.

I turned to follow her voice.

“You can’t hide forever!”
“Yes I can!”
“I will find you Miss Santos.”

I was sure that her voice was coming from behind the bar. A rather obvious piece of cover, but apparently she didn’t want to venture too far into the suffocating darkness that engulfed most of the club. As quickly and as quietly as I could I moved toward the bar. All at once I clambered on top of it and looked down. There she was! At least for a second, before she darted off. I slid off the bar and pursued her. Even though she wasn’t particularly graceful, she was sure quick. Just before she reached the stage she took a hard right and disappeared into the darkness. I turned to chase her, but I lost sight. Though I wasn’t sure how I’d even subdue her if I did catch her. Fortunately a solution came to mind.

I took the handcuffs back out of my pocket and attacked the right cuff to my left wrist and left the other dangling. I advanced slowly, fumbling my way between tables so as to not knock over the delicately balanced chairs Sam had so carefully stacked. Fortunately for me, Kristen wasn’t so careful. As soon as I heard the knock of a chair falling, I knew exactly where she was. In the darkness I was her figure take off towards the door. I ran around the tables and intercepted her where she emerged from the maze. Before she had the chance to turn around and escape I managed to grab hold of her left arm. Amidst screaming and cursing, I held onto her right arm with my left and used my right to put her left wrist into the other cuff.

“There! Haha! You’re stuck now!” I cried in triumph.
“Awwwwwwww!” She lamented in defeat.
“Now let’s go back upstairs shall we?”

I started walking back towards the stairs but Kristen insisted on making it difficult. She tried digging her heels in the floor which didn’t work, she tried running the other way which didn’t work, she tried screaming at me which didn’t work… There was really no way out for her, she just didn’t want to admit it. It helped when I reached back and took hold of her wrist with my hand. It made it easier for me to drag her towards the stairs. After a few steps she finally gave up her resistance and we walked hand in bound hand up the stairs.

“Now!” I said once we got back to the room. “I’m going to stand between you and the door and take the cuffs off. Don’t try anything or you’ll regret it.”
“Haha, Hugh, don’t try to threaten me. You have no credibility.”
“I do know a few tricks.”
“Like what?”
“Well for example…”

My left hand dove for her ribs, which I started to tickle ferociously. She turned to jello in an instant, nearly dropping to the floor amidst her frantic giggles.

“Ok! Ok!” She said. “I get it!”
“I hoped that would get through to you.”

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the key. She offered no resistance as I unlocked my own wrist and then hers. I wasted no time in pulling both of her arms behind her back and cuffing them up. She offered absolutely no resistance. I knew she liked it. She knew I knew she liked it. There was no point. I took hold of her shoulder and led her over to the couch. I sat her down and retrieved a piece of the brown hemp rope that lay scattered on the floor nearby. I knelt down and bound her ankles the way Chris taught me, anchored to one ankle then tied around horizontally and vertically. For no real reason I took the long rope and decided to wrap it around her chest. I wrapped it around her chest just below her breasts, albeit being careful not to touch them. She noticed this and gave me a smirk. I was able to wrap it around her chest and her arms four or five times before I had to knot it off.

As I reached around her, tying that rope around her chest I found myself closer to her than I’d been at any point that night. Boy did she look pretty, I mean… That hypnotic effect that I’d felt when I’d seen her in the club, or when I’d first seen her handcuffed to the pole hadn’t gone away. Once I was finished tying I couldn’t help but just standing back and staring.

“It’s ok.” She said quietly.
“What’s ok?” I asked.
“You want to kiss me. I can tell.”

I didn’t say anything in reply, though once again she was right. She always was.

“It’s alright. I get the no sex until marriage thing. I do. But whoever said kissing wasn’t ok?”

I think, under normal circumstances I still wouldn’t have let myself kiss her. But with everything that I had experienced with her in the last hour or so… and she was right in that I wasn’t violating any of my principles in doing so. So yes, I listened to my adventurous instincts, leaned in and kissed her. I have no idea how long it was before I pulled away but, God, that was a beautiful moment.

Kristen smiled.

“You’re not a bad kisser you know.” She said.
“Really? That was my first.” I admitted.
“No way! Really?!”
“Yeah.”

For the first time I was almost ashamed of my lack of romance.

“Well, I’m honored to be your first.”

I smiled at her. She smiled at me. I suddenly had the feeling that even if I never saw her again, I was glad that this night happened. Even so, I knew at this point I was obligated to pick up the bandana she’d used on me and gag her with it. That’s the way it always happens in the movies, you kiss them, then you gag them right after. Right? She wasn’t too pleased by this, but I think she saw it coming as much as I did.

By this point it must have been around two in the morning. I knew I needed to call it a night. I couldn’t stay lost in this fantasyland forever. But that didn’t stop me from sitting down on the couch next to her though. I didn’t say anything, it didn’t seem there was anything left to say. My affectionate prisoner took the opportunity to lay down on my lap and shut her eyes. It seemed we both just wanted to enjoy the moment. It got even better when I retrieved that bottle of black label and poured myself a glass. Kristen seemed a bit peeved that I was drinking and she wasn’t, but I just ignored her at that point.

I left her bound and gagged for another fifteen minutes.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to call it a night.” I announced.
“Mmmmmmph” She replied.
“Oh right sorry.” I said as I pulled the gag out.
“Yeah, me too.”

I undid the knot holding the rope around her torso and it slid off without much trouble. Then I unlocked the handcuffs and she massaged her wrists while I finished untying her ankles. I gathered up my backpack and the bottle of scotch while she picked up her satchel. We walked downstairs together and headed for the door. But before we reached it, I turned around and walked back to the piano then took the cover off the keyboard and sat down. For no real reason I decided to play the first sixteen or so bars of Hymn to Freedom again. I don’t know why. I wasn’t really free of anything, but it just seemed like a shame to end such an awesome night without a little more music and that opening theme of Hymn to Freedom is just so beautiful.

Soon, the piano was re-covered and Kristen and I put the liquor back behind the bar and walked up the stairs to the front door together. She set off the alarm and we were out of there. We parted ways a few blocks down the street where we took separate turns. She made me give her my cell number and she gave me hers. I gave her a long tight hug and she walked away.

I turned and started home and even though it was two thirty in the morning I walked with a bit of a spring in my step.



More to come. Please leave a comment!
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby Kyle » Mon Jun 13, 2011 6:49 pm

This is easily shaping up to be one of the best fictional stories I've ever read. I like the approach you're taking here, it's pretty unique and gives the story a realistic feel.

Interlude

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Tue Jun 14, 2011 8:25 pm

Thanks for the kind words Kyle!


Interlude

“So that’s it?!?” Chris demanded.
“Is that it what?” Hugh asked.
“You didn’t call her back, you didn’t ask her out, you didn’t kiss her again? You didn’t tie her up again?! Anything?”
“Nope.”
“Why not bro? She handed herself to you on a silver platter.”
“That’s just the point.”
“What?” Kate asked.
“You remember that she slept with Cliff right?”
“So?!” Chris yelled.
“I talked to him about it the next day. And yes he had heard us talking and left. But he told me that Kristen is… well… a bit of a slut. I mean, nothing against her, I had a great time with her, I’m happy to be friends with her but… Having a relationship with her would be a really bad idea.”
“Oh c’mon buddy! Would you stop thinking with your upstairs brain for just a second!?” Chris demanded.
“Oh leave him alone!” Sarah finally yelled. “That was an adorable story Hugh.”
“Yes, a little late in coming, but that was great. Well told.” Kate added.
“Now!” Liz began. “If you do decide to date this chick, maybe to redeem her or something, I’m going to have to meet her first!”
“We all will.” Sarah said.
“All three of you?” Hugh asked, looking to his female friends. “Wouldn’t that be a little inhumane?”
“Maybe, but… All is fair in love and war.” Liz declared.

Hugh laughed. Liz was VERY protective wasn’t she? He didn’t mind though. It made him feel appreciated.

“So, Lizzy is next.” Chris said.
“Yes, but not until tonight when we get on our next train.” Sarah added.
“Wait, will we have our own compartment on the next train?” Liz asked, getting a slight smile at the thought of escaping her story telling duty.
“Yes.” Kate said confidently. “I know that for a fact.”
“Damn.” Liz breathed.
“Speaking of which…” Kate added “It’s ten to two. We’ll be in Chicago pretty soon. We should pack up.”

So the Squire gang packed up all the various blankets, pillows, laptops, books and whatever else they had pulled out of their bags in preparation for arriving in Chicago. Kate made sure to have the envelope with their next set of tickets in her hand as the train reached the station. As before, the guys were kind enough to offload their female companions’ bags from the train when it finally stopped. They found themselves in downtown Chicago at three o’clock on the nose. They needed to be back at the station at nine, leaving them six hours to kill.

Much to their male companions’ dismay, Kate and Liz were dead set on spending some time shopping while they waited. Sarah wasn’t particularly fond of the idea, but she was willing. So they headed to a nearby mall and had lunch together at the Cheesecake Factory. The boys were assigned to stay with the bags for the first two hours, which they dutifully did. The girls wandered from store to store, window-shopping for anything that caught their eyes. Chris and Hugh passed the hours by playing Risk on Hugh’s laptop and looking at the map of the mall, deciding what they wanted to do.

When the girls finally returned from their retail odyssey the boys charged off for their two-hour grace period and headed strait for the indoor shooting range in the basement. Liz insisted on going with them, leaving Kate and Sarah to watch the bags. While none of them had enough money to shoot for a long time, all three forked over enough to fire fifty rounds of bird shot out of a twelve gauge, and twenty five rounds each out of the .44 Magnum. They could practically hear Sarah and Kate’s contemptuous groaning over the gunfire.

Upon their return the gang decided to go for a walk through the old city, which was weird considering they were all pulling rolling bags but… They dealt with it. Though the part of the walk they all enjoyed best was stopping at a gelato stand in the middle of a stone plaza. They decided to skip dinner since they had lunch late and Cheesecake Factory portions are gigantic, but the boys bought a couple of bags of chips to snack on while they walked back to the station.

Back at the station around nine, Kate talked to the clerk at the near empty front desk and they were processed and on the platform within ten minutes. Their next train, looking very similar to the previous one, was waiting for them. They climbed aboard, loaded their bags and found their way to their new compartment. It was very similar to the old one except that the seats ran all the way along either wall and the two tables were set in between the seats with the chairs facing the doors. Once again the gang loaded their stuff into the overhead racks and sat down. The train began to roll east not long after.

“Alright Lizzy.” Sarah said excitedly. “Your turn.”
“Yeah I guess it is.” She admitted.
“Oh c’mon Lizzy, you looked pretty excited about your story this morning.” Hugh argued.

By now Kate was sitting on the regular cushioned seats with her feet up on the adjacent table. Sarah had grabbed her pillow and blanket and was lying on her set of seats and Lizzy sat opposite of her. Chris and Hugh sat across from each other at the other table. Chris had decided now was a good time to pull out the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label that his uncle had given him as a graduation gift (When his parents weren’t looking of course). Given that Chris loved scotch as much as Hugh, they both poured themselves glasses with glee.

“Alright.” Liz began.” I’m going to tell you this story the way it was told to me, plus all the details that I’ve picked up since I first heard it. Apparently its true, but I have no way of confirming it.”
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Lizzy's Tale: Tied on the Tracks

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Tue Jun 14, 2011 8:26 pm

Lizzy’s Tale: Tied on the Tracks

The year was 1870. The American Civil War had been over for five years and many of the more restless and unemployed soldiers had migrated west to find new jobs and new lives. This boom in westward pioneering has since come to be known as the classic era of the American Wild West. It was the era of the cowboy, the bandit, the steam train and the colt revolver.

As scores of people flocked to the untamed west, some western cities became hubs of activity from which immigrants would disperse into the surrounding countryside to farm or herd cattle. One of the biggest and most important of these frontier towns was Carson City Nevada. It was a city of scoundrels in those days. Bank robberies were common and the local hookers were never out of work. However, the many saloons that littered the city turned out to be perfect performing venues for the starlit singer, poised to become a fixture in American culture. One of these singers went by the name of Clara Miller. She was a tough, earthy character that had won herself a reputation for enthralling stage performances. Since her husband had been killed in 1864 during Sherman’s march, she’d left her hometown in Indiana and immigrated to the new state of Nevada. In the six years since her husband’s death she’d never been caught without a revolver on her person, even when she stood on stages barely dressed.

She’d arrived in Carson City at 26 years old with a single horse, a small trunk of clothes and seventy dollars. In the years since she arrived, she’d bought herself an apartment in town and was a regular performer in almost every saloon in town. To say the least, she’d done well for herself.

It was an ordinary night in June of that year. She was clad in a simple black dress, ready to go out and sing. The building smelt of whiskey, sawdust and sweat. As soon as she stepped past the cheap red curtain the packed house roared in applause and cat calls. Clara started working her magic on the crowd, staying in perfect sync with her friend Chuck on the piano. She moved back and forth around the stage as she sang, swinging her body over the edge so the men sitting nearby could feel her rushing hair and smell her perfume.

Since she had performed this same revue more times than she could count, on this particular night she was flying on autopilot. Indeed, her attention was almost entirely fixed on the group of strange men who sat at a single table near the door of the saloon. She knew almost every face in building that night, but those four she had never seen. It wasn’t unusual for travelers to stop for the night on their way west to California, but for whatever reason Clara found these ones particularly strange. What was stranger than anything else was how eerily familiar one of their faces were. He was a rather non-descript man who sat on the left side of the table behind an empty whiskey bottle. He wore a black jacket and black hat. Clara had seen that face somewhere and she was determined to figure out who it was.

After she’d been singing for around an hour, she and Chuck took their usual fifteen minute intermission. She used the opportunity to drink some water, adjust her dress and put on more perfume.

“Chuck.” She asked.
“Yep?” He replied.
“Did you see those four strangers sitting at the back table?”
“Uh huh.”
“The one sitting on the left, do you recognize him?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen his face before, but I can’t remember where.”
“The abbot might know.”

The abbot that Chuck referred to wasn’t really an abbot. His name was Roger Abbot and he owned the saloon. He was a straight shooting man who rarely drank any of the liquor he sold. But he had a gift for foresight. He’d sensed Clara’s potential as soon as they met and he offered her an exclusive performing deal. It turned out to be a boom for both of their businesses.

“Yeah he might.” Clara agreed. “I’ll ask him after we’re done.”
“Are you going to screw him?”

Chuck was a man who spoke in simple terms.

“I don’t think so.” Clara replied casually. She was used to Chuck’s manner.

Clara kept one eye on the mysterious stranger through the second half of her show. Even as the rest of the men in the saloon hooted and hollered and shook their arms about, he stayed calm and collected. A smile had crossed his face, but his eyes still burned with a strange intensity that followed Clara with hawk like precision. As the hour went by, Clara finally gained some idea of whom he was. As she thought about it, she became more and more convinced she was right. She intended to prove it later.

When the show ended, she performed her usual encore and disappeared into her dressing room. She sat in front of her mirror and waited for the Abbot to appear. After a few minutes he entered with her usual bottle of whiskey and two glasses, one glass for her, and one, possibly, for a lucky patron who she’d sometimes invite to her dressing room.

“Fabulous show Clara.” He said as he came in.
“Thanks darling.” She replied.
“They seemed to have more energy than they usually do tonight.”
“Yeah, I’d agree with that. Well except for that one fella in the back.”
“Which one?”
“Didn’t you see him? The stranger who was sitting at the back table, closest to the door. He was the only man in the room, save you and Chuck who weren’t hollering all evening.”
“So you noticed him did you?”
“Do you know who he is?”

The abbot nodded.

“That’s Jesse James isn’t it?” Clara suggested. “I realized about half way through the second half that I recognized his face from all the wanted posters.”
“Yes. That’s him. I gave him and his boys a free round, I hear he has a hair trigger temper. I don’t want any trouble.”
“No, I get that. Would you do me a favor?”
“You don’t want me to invite him back here do ya?”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The abbot sighed. Clara was always getting him into trouble. Though her natural charm had gotten him out of trouble just as many times.

“Alright Clara, but only because I can’t not give you whatever you ask for.” He relented.
“You’re the best Abbot!” Clara said affectionately.
“No. You are. That’s why you’re here.”

Setting the tray down, the abbot turned around and left the room. Clara turned back to her mirror. She decided to re-apply the makeup that she’d taken off. After all, if she was about to meet a famous outlaw, she might as well look presentable. A touch of lipstick, some powder, a bit more perfume and she was dolled. If she played her cards right she could beguile a famous outlaw. That’s got to be prestigious for a showgirl. Isn’t it?

She patiently waited as the pendulum swung. She needed to look calm and collected when he entered, not pacing or anxious. So she could do nothing but wait as the minutes passed by. Finally she heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hallway. The heavy booted plodding of the abbot and a lighter tread, the quiet footsteps of a hunter given away only by the obnoxious ringing of his spurs.

The door opened. The mysterious figure with the black jacket and hat entered the room. After shooting Clara a look of concern the Abbot shut the door behind him, leaving her alone with the outlaw.

“Mistah James.” She said.
“Miss Miller.” He replied, tipping his hat to her. “So you know who I am do ya?”
“Hate to tell you this Jesse, but you’re hard to miss.”
“I’ve been told that a great many times.”

Clara motioned to the other chair and Jesse sat down.

“Jesse, would you be a dear and pour us a couple whiskeys? I’m breaking in a new bottle.”

A low browed smirk crossed the outlaw’s face and he turned to pour the whiskey. Clara was sizing him up with every word and every gesture; he seemed to realize it too. He seemed to have a strange, low-key rhythm when he moved and when he spoke. A certain groove that nothing could break.

Whiskey poured, he handed her a full glass.

“I hear.” He said. “It’s one of the town’s greatest honors to be invited back to the dressing room of the infamous Clara Miller.”
“Yes I’ve heard that too.”
“So why should I be afforded such a… privilege?”
“Well, how often does a girl get the chance to meet a bank robbin outlaw? Especially the stature of one such as yourself Mr. James.”
“Please, call me Jesse.”
“Jesse.”
“Most men wouldn’t consider meeting me a honor Miss Miller.”
“Clara.”
“Clara… Most, including most businessmen, would consider it a curse.”
“Ah, but I’m no man Jesse. And I’ve heard stories told about you. You got the pick of the litter when it comes to girls like me. I want to know how I, stack up.”
“This is the part where I tell you that you’re the most sublime creature I’ve ever seen isn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”

James’ smirk grew into a smile and he chuckled. Clara raised her glass to his and they banged them together. Clara threw down the entire glass in one gulp, James, upon seeing this, did the same.

“So.” Clara began. “Considerin that I haven’t heard anything about bank robberies or nothing in the past few days, I’m gonna guess that that whatever you’re in Carson City to do, you’re going to do tomorrow.”
“My boys might kill me if I told you. But I’d say the answer is pretty obvious.”
“You’re going to knock over the town mint aren’t ya?”

James rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.” He said glumly.

Clara noticed that his hand dropped toward his sidearm. She was right on the money.

“Don’t worry Jesse. I have no intention of going to tell the sheriff.” She assured him.
“That’s good. I’d hate to have to damage such a work of beauty.”
“Of course you would, you’re no monster.”
“Some would say I am.”
“Well I ain’t them.”
“So… Clara… how do you know about the mint? Most gals wouldn’t concern themselves with targets for a man like me.”
“I keep my ear to the ground. It pays to know things.”
“Pays huh? And thus the point emerges.”

His hand dropped toward his pistol again.

“Come now James, do you really take me as the type of woman who would try to blackmail you?”
“No, I guess not.”
“What I am suggesting is… This job of yours that you’re pulling off tomorrow. It will be exceptionally lucrative will it not?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Perhaps this job of yours needs a feminine touch.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I happen to know for a fact that the head guard keeps the master key ring on his person at all times.”
“How do you know that?”
“He’s a regular at my shows. I see him once a week at least. You cut me in at say… ten percent… I’ll get you those keys with no shootout.”

James said nothing at first. He sat back, eyeing her suspiciously. Clara just smiled, she knew he wanted to take her up on the offer.

“You’ve got a good setup here Clara. Your own place, your own show, this whole town loves you. Why would you want to help someone like me?”
“I get bored. Simple as that.”
“What’s to stop me from just taking the money and running without giving you your cut?”
“Because Mr. James, I know that you may be an outlaw, but I also know you’re a man of honor.”

He thought about it for another minute, Clara looked on confidently.

“Alright.” He said. “Ten percent, for the keys.”

She extended her hand and he shook it.

“I guess that concludes my business here.” James said.
“I guess it does. Hold still.”

Clara rose from her chair and kissed his lips, then on his left cheek several times.

“What’s that for?” He asked.
“If I don’t leave some of my lipstick on you Abbot will get suspicious.”
“Alright then.”

He rose, tipped his hat to her and turned to leave.

“Nine tomorrow morning. I need the keys by nine.” He said.
“You’ll have them at nine exactly. It won’t take him long to realize they’re missing.”
“We’ll be in the covered coach around the corner.”
“See you tomorrow, Jesse.”
“Ma’am.”

With that Jesse James turned and left. Clara turned back to her mirror and started taking her makeup off again. What was she doing? She didn’t even know. Life being so good for her all she really wanted was a little adventure. What would her husband have said though? The thought of Bill gave her pause. But she pushed him from her mind she always did. After downing another glass of whiskey, she left the room. After saying good night to Chuck and the Abbot, she headed to her apartment down the street. She didn’t sleep well.

The next morning was as hot and dry as the days that preceded it. Sometimes Clara swore that the whole damn globe was warming up. She was washed, dressed and out on the town by eight. She made her usual rounds, stopping at the bank, the post office and the general store to buy food. With her bag in her hand she headed down the street towards the newly established mint in the centre of town. By now it was around ten to nine. As soon as the building was in sight she started walking slower and slightly off kilter. As she approached the mint she looked down the corner where Jesse and his boys were supposed to be. Like dependable couriers, there they were. His boys were loading barrels onto the wagon, as cover from their actual purpose she guessed.

Clara head strait for the front door of the building. The two guards, both armed with repeating rifles knew exactly who she was and both nodded joyously at her approach. No one seemed to really care why she was at the mint, they were just happy she was there. Inside, she could the sounds of the machines whirring away and had an urge to go watch them. But she couldn’t. She turned right and headed strait for the office of the master at arms.

“Charlie.” She said upon entering.

The blue clad soldier rose from his desk in surprise. It wasn’t the first time that Clara had stopped to visit him, but it didn’t happen often.

“Miss Mill… Clara! How lovely to see you!” He said, stammering like an excited schoolboy.
“I was just passing by, thought I’d say hello.”
“I’m very glad you did.”

She leaned against the wall and started breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes. Just a bit under the weather. How’s the money printin business?”
“Oh its fine, but really you look terrible do you want to sit down?”
“Maybe I shou…”

Before she finished her word Clara fell to the floorboards with a spectacular thud. The ever loyal and conscientious Charlie ran to her immediately.

“Clara? Clara? Are you alright? Get some water in here now!”

He patted and rubbed her face, continually asking her if she was alright. Before she opened her eyes, she subtly snaked her left hand up to his pocket and slid the keys right out. Then lowered them back to the floor and cautiously slid them into her satchel. Charlie had no idea. Then she opened her eyes.

“Oh dear.” She said.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes. I must’ve fainted.”
“Yes you did.”
“Oh alright, I do that sometimes.”

Clara sat herself up against the wall, by now the other two guards who were supposed to watching the door had come into the room and both offered her their canteens. She took one of them gratefully and took a large swig.

“I really must eat more before I leave the house.” She said. “Silly me.”
“I have a few cookies that a friend gave me for my birthday.” Charlie said. “Would you like one? Would that help?”
“It might. But I wouldn’t dream of eating your birthday present.”
“I insist!”

Charlie ran to his desk and pulled on the small hard confectionary. He handed it to the supposedly ailing Clara without a second thought.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you for this?” She asked innocently.
“I’m sure.”

She took it and ate it, being sure to smile gratefully with each bite. After taking another minute to recover she stood up.

“I need to go home and lie down.” She said.
“Can I walk you?” Charlie asked.
“Oh no that’s quite alright dear. You can’t up and leave your post like that can you?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Thank you anyway. You’re so sweet.”

She gave him a peck on the cheek and left the mint. As soon as she was outside she wandered leisurely toward the wagon. Hardly looking to the side she walked right past James and his gang, throwing the keys to him as she passed.

“Be at your dressing room.” He said.

She nodded in reply and continued walking. As she moved away she could hear the wagon rolling toward the back of the building and James and his men approaching the front door. After a quiet commotion there was no more noise, and Clara assumed the guards had been subdued without a fight. She wasted no time in heading for the saloon and her dressing room, though she made sure to say hello to anyone she knew, which annoyingly was just about everybody.

She entered the saloon through the front door and said hello to the Abbot who was wiping down tables. It wasn’t unusual for her to practice singing in her dressing room, so he didn’t ask any questions. In her room she pulled out her stack of music books in the corner and opened several on her desk. In case the Abbot came in too early. Clara was lucky in that she’d learned to read music before she came out west. The same couldn’t be said for most of her competition. It was one of the reasons she was so successful.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. She was starting worry, the James gang was known for being quick. Being in and out and out of town within half an hour. Suddenly, she heard frantic footsteps coming down the hallway. James burst through the door, pistol in hand.

“That master at arms of yours is cleverer than you give him credit for.” He said.
“How so?” Clara asked.
“You managed to fool him into thinking we somehow grabbed his keys before we came in. But he got out and he managed to hit one of my boys.”
“Is he on his way here?”

She heard Charlie’s voice yelling as he came down the street.

“I’d take that as a yes.”
“Well give me my money and get out of here before he arrives will ya? Loitering like this won’t do you any good.”

They could both easily hear that Charlie entered the saloon and came running down the hall.

“Where’s Abbot?” Clara demanded.
“Upstairs I think. He didn’t see me.” James replied callously.

Charlie was opening doors. He would be in the room any second.

“Shit.” James breathed.

Without another word he turned around and took hold Clara’s arm. He pulled her off the chair and swung her around in front of him in one strong movement. He put the barrel of the gun strait to her head.

“What the hell are you doing Jesse!?” She yelled.
“You’re going to get me out of this!”

Charlie burst through the door.

“Let her go James!” He yelled vindictively.

At this point Clara didn’t need to act frightened, she already was. James was out of her control and she had no idea what he was going to do. Charlie’s rifle pointed straight at Jesse’s head, but he refused to flinch. He pressed the gun into her temple instead.

“You can’t shoot through her, partner.” He said.
“You ain’t gettin past me with her James! Give up and make it easier on yourself.”
“That’s a union coat ain’t it?”
“What?”
“Your aim is good, you carry yourself like a soldier. You were a blue coat weren’t ya?”
“Yeah. I marched into Richmond with Grant.”

Suddenly one of James’ gang appeared behind him, with a chair in hand.

“I hate yankees.” James breathed venomously.
“CHARLIE BEHIND YOU!” Clara yelled.

It was in vain, the chair came crashing down and knocked the noble Charlie to the floor. Clara rushed forward to help him but he was already out cold and a small trickle of blood streamed to the floor from the back of his head.

“James you bastard!” Clara yelled.
“Maybe so.” He said while taking hold of her. “But you’re still going to get me out of this.”

He took hold of Clara’s arm again and dragged her down the hallway, amidst kicking and screaming. His crony took hold of Clara’s other arm and together they dragged her out of the saloon.

Clara fought and struggled as hard as she could, desperately reaching for her pistol which she kept in a leg holster under her skirt. By the time she finally managed to reach it, James had already seen it and knocked it right out of her hand.

“The whole town is in a bloody uproar!” The crony exclaimed.
“She’ll come in handy.” James replied.

Making sure to brandish his pistol so any passerby knew that he was serious, James and his friend dragged Clara up the street and made a left. There was the wagon. Gunshots rang out from down the street as more soldiers approached. James and his crony wasted no time in throwing Clara into the back of the wagon. James climbed in after her while his gang man jumped to the front and got the horses going. The toughened James gang horses took off like bolts of lightning.

“Get your hands off me!” Clara screamed.

James thrust her to the floor amidst the mess of barrels, supplies and boxes of printed money.

“Stop squirming!” He commanded.

Clara did no such thing, but it didn’t make much of a difference either way. As she laid face down he pushed her to the floor with one strong hand while he frantically searched for the rope with the other. After finding it, he set it down on the ground and pulled Clara’s hands behind her back. He took one end and tied it into a quick but effective slipknot and put both of her wrists through the small lasso. He tightened it and wrapped the excess around her wrists several times, then cinched it off vertically. Clara protested frantically, but he took no notice. Once her hands were secure he found a second a rope and bound her feet in much the same way.

As she continued to frantically vocalize her protests, James hopped to the front of the wagon with his crony and they drove the wagon to the edge of town. Looking out the back, Clara could see the town was in an uproar. Soldiers from the garrison were running here there and everywhere, while regular people stood outside their buildings, trying to find out what was going on. Every now and again a misplaced gunshot would ring out as a soldier or well-meaning bystander shot at someone who they thought was James. It was a scene of total anarchy.

James took the reins and steered the wagon back towards town, skimming along the perimeter. Finally they found the other two members of the gang who were hiding along the back wall of a building. They clambered into the wagon and James took off again, this time heading east into the mountains. By now the search for James in the city had come up with nothing and was starting to spread out into the surrounding area. Clara’s heart sank when she saw a group of horse-mounted cavalry leaving the city and galloping south, along what they thought was James’ escape route. Little did they know that he and his gang, along with their bound captive were disappearing into the mountains.

None of the four took much notice of her during the escape. They were too pre-occupied with the road ahead. James pushed the horses as hard as he could as the well-groomed dirt road turned into a precarious mountain trail. The path got steeper and steeper as they went, but they didn’t slow down.

“Shit!” One of them exclaimed.

Clara lifted her head to see. Like heros in the nick of time a small column of blue clad soldiers were marching down the road ahead, blocking the bandit’s path forward. They were definitely new recruits coming to reinforce the garrison with no idea of what had happened. But there was no way that a speeding wagon carrying Jesse James, several thousand dollars in cash and a bound starlit would get past them.

James stopped the wagon. He couldn’t go forward and he couldn’t go back. In a brazen display of either courage or sheer recklessness, he turned his horses to the side and went right off the trail into the mountains.

“I’m dead.” Clara told herself.

The mountains to the east of Carson City are not a hospitable place. While for the first few miles they roll gently, beyond that the deceptively peaceful scene of reddish dust and small desert plants can give way to steep rocky cliffs without warning. Everywhere are holes, rocks, snakes and any number of things that make it a perilous place for anyone, much less five people on a wagon. Despite this, James made a break over the mountains. The horses seemed to be as brazenly unaware of the danger as he and ran onwards despite the many obstacles in their path. Clara was thrown up and down and from one side of the wagon to the other. Many times she was the only thing that kept barrels from falling over. She desperately wanted to use her hands to protect herself from the frightening cascade of bouncing and rocking objects around her, but her bonds prevented her from doing so. In the end all she could was close her eyes and hope for the best.

Amazingly, the wagon didn’t plunge over any cliffs or flip over. James drove in erratic directions for the next hour until finally he came to a grove of trees and stopped the wagon. Finding himself at a high vantage point he and his boys stepped out of the wagon and surveyed the scene below. Through the haze of the hot summer day they could make out soldiers in the small town below. They were spreading out in all directions; it seemed the whole town had mobilized in the wake of the robbery.

“They’re gonna be combing these mountains pretty soon.” James said. “I’m sure they’ve already blocked the west road out of here. But, if we keep our heads down, they’ll have to give up by nightfall.”
“Why?” One of his gang asked.
“You ever tried crossing these mountains at night with no moon? It’s suicide.”
“We’ll wait till tomorrow morning, we’ll break out at first light. Right under their noses.”
“You got a plan Jesse?”
“I got a plan. Now… Let’s check on our cargo shall we?”

James climbed up the back of the wagon and looked down on the bound Clara. She said nothing and stared straight back at him.

“I apologize if that ride was uncomfortable for ya Clara.” He said.
“It’s Miss Miller.” She hissed.
“My apologies.”

Jesse climbed into the back and sat on one of the barrels, he seemed to be considering what he wanted to do with her. There were several options, he could just tie her to a tree and leave her while they make their escape. They could take her with them as insurance or… Another idea struck him.

“Hopefully we should be able to part company tomorrow mornin Miss Miller.” He announced.
“You won’t be alive that long.” She declared.
“What makes you say that?”
“By now Charlie will be awake, he’ll have the whole town out lookin for me. They aren’t gonna stop until they find you and shoot you dead.”

James smiled and pulled out his revolver. Once again leveling it towards her forehead.

“So you think it might discourage em’ if I just shot you right here?” He asked.

Clara did her best to look strong, but in truth she was shaking in fear.

“They might give up their search in mourning if they were to find your dead body don’t you think?” He suggested.

Clara dug down into her last well defiance and spat right in his face. James chuckled and put the pistol away.

“I meant what I said, it would be a shame to damage such a work of beauty… Besides, I know the whole town is going to be out lookin for ya Clara. As a matter of fact, I’m counting on it.”

James stood and started reaching for something in his pocket.

“Counting on it, what the hell are you talking abommmmmmph”

James took two pieces of white cloth out of his jacket and shoved one between her teeth as she spoke. The next he tied around her head to hold the gag in place. Clara mmmmmphed indignantly, but James took no notice and left.

Clara was shocked, angry and terrified all at the same time. That barbarian not only cheated her, threatened her, kidnapped her and tied her up… But he had the audacity to put a gag in her mouth?! “What have I gotten myself into?” she wondered. She knew she couldn’t really blame anyone else for her situation, if she had just sung her show and drank her whiskey by herself none of this would’ve happened. She played with fire and she got burned. But not only did she get burned, poor Charlie had a chair smashed over his head. And he was probably still organizing the whole damn garrison into search parties to look for her. He’s so sweet, how could she do that to him? When this was all over, she’d make it up to him somehow. But she had to escape first.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Lizzy's Tale: Tied on the Tracks

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 17, 2011 8:57 am

Escape? How the hell does one do that when they’re bound hand and foot? She pondered this. The obvious answer was find something sharp. Clara pulled herself off the floor and started searching the wagon. She searched for a knife, a shaving razor, a piece of broken glass… Anything. The wagon was such a mess of boxes, barrels and other things that any search might take hours. Then again, she had the time. Clara started using her bound hands to pull herself along the floor. One by one she started searching through the various stacks of boxes or anything else. It was a long and laborious process, as she was constantly under threat of discovery by James or one of his gang.

“Hey Frank!” She heard James yell.

Of course, she didn’t realize it at the time but the one who’d smashed that chair over poor Charlie’s head had been Jesse’s brother Frank. The other core member of the notorious James gang. How could she have not known that? Recalling that she boasted to James about how she kept her ear to the ground and how it paid to know things… That was a pretty important fact to have missed out on.

“Never mind that.” She told herself. “Keep searching.”

Her search of the wagon dragged on for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was hours, she didn’t know. James and his boys rarely looked in the wagon and when they did, took very little notice of her. They were too busy scouting out the area and working out their escape plan for the next day. As such Clara had very little interruption in her endeavor to escape. In the end though, it amounted to nothing. She went from one corner of the wagon to the other, but there was nothing sharp to be found. Failing that she resorted to simple wild struggling. But James’ practiced knots were too tight and too well tied for her to break. He’d obviously had to bind many a person in his day, which made sense since he was a notorious bank robber.

Temporarily defeated, Clara lay down on the floor of the wagon. By now she was aching and dripping with sweat. It seemed she could do nothing but try and sleep the hours away. Maybe they would take her out of the wagon after dark and she could try again. In the meantime she lay there, helpless. Clara certainly wasn’t the type of person to take a defeat lying down, but for the first time in a long time she didn’t see any way out of this situation. In fact it was the first time since Bill died…

No! She couldn’t think about him. But she couldn’t help it. Her mind was drawn back to Charlie outside her dressing room and James spitting his hatred for all Yankees. Dammit! She was a yankee! Her husband was a yankee, how could she have possibly have trusted this guy for a second! For all she knew James could have killed him! Wait, now, that’s ridiculous. James and his rebel unit operated in Missouri. Sherman’s march went through Georgia.

“Calm down” she told herself. The war is over. Bill isn’t coming back and that’s the end of it.

The turmoil in her mind slowly subsided over the next couple of hours and she finally fell into a light fitful sleep. It was restful or even pleasant, but at least it helped pass the hours she had to spend, bound and helpless. At times she did wonder if James had any intention of raping her, but she still couldn’t conceive of it. As much of a bastard as he was, he had a certain code that he didn’t break. Part of his southern sensibility was an old world code of conduct. It was a very strange feeling, but somehow Clara was afraid for her life but not for her body.

The tension in the air finally subsided as night fell. As James had said, traversing these mountains on a moonless night was suicide in a wagon and with James being a confederate guerilla, any attempt by the garrison to locate them and they’d be walking into an ambush. Thus they were safe, at least until morning. The sky had turned to the dark blue of twilight when James finally came back to speak to her. He climbed in the back of the wagon and sat down on a barrel. Clara slowly turned over to face him.

“Now.” He said. “Frank has gone off to hunt us some meat. We’re going to make a fire and cook it as soon as he gets back, so if you promise to behave yourself you can eat with us.”

Clara just nodded.

“Do you want me to take the gag out?”

She nodded again, meekly.

“I have to have your word that you’re not going to scream. No one would be able to hear you in these hills anyway. All you’d do is annoy me and my boys and that would not be to your advantage… Alright?”

Clara nodded for a third time and James made good on his word. He reached down and untied the white cloth allowing Clara to spit it out.

“Thank you.” She said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” He replied, standing up. “I’ll come back and get you when the meats’ cooked.

Clara pondered the idea of screaming for help, but James was right there was no point. All he would do was shove the gag right back in her mouth and leave her there with no food. She’d barely eaten that day and was famished. She concluded it was in her best interests to do what he said. So she sat there quietly and waited for Frank to return. Fortunately for everyone it didn’t take him long to find his kill and soon the pleasant glow of a small campfire filled the air. The meat had just been put on the fire when James returned. True to his word he came back to the wagon and untied Clara’s ankles. He gently took her by the arm and helped her to her feet and out of the wagon.

The gang were sitting on their jackets around the campfire, quietly laughing about something. James led Clara to a tree and helped her sit down against it. She didn’t say anything and neither did he, he sat down next to his brothers and joined in their conversation. Though it seemed he was always keeping an eye on her.

Clara shifted uncomfortably, she was sitting on a rock. She lifted herself of the ground and slid the rock from underneath her with her bound hands. For no reason she looked down at it. Then it occurred to her, that was flat rock with a long edge. Could she use that?

Discretely she grabbed the rock again and started sawing. She had to be careful only to saw with her fingers, in case the rest of her body moved and James saw it. It might take hours, but she had the time. As the men talked and cooked their meat, she silently sawed away and the rope binding her wrists. It didn’t seem like she was making any progress, but with a stoic determination she just kept sawing. When the meat was finally taken off the fire, the boys divided it up onto four cheap tin plates, with some extra heaped on Jesse’s. He moved over to her and sat down.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you do this yourself Miss Miller.” He said.

Clara groaned, she had no desire to be fed by anyone, but in this case she couldn’t avoid it. Picking up chunks of meat with his hands he fed them to her one by one. It felt degrading but she was still glad to have eaten something. When the meat had finally disappeared, James took his plate and returned to his spot. Clara continued sawing, being sure to stop whenever one of the gang looked at her.

The twilight that’d greeted her when she first stepped out of the wagon had long since given way to the dark night sky. A few hours had gone by. By now the boys were lying down around the dying campfire, it looked like they were about to call it a night. A few minutes earlier Frank had passed around a bottle of Red Eye, which his brother offered to Clara. She’d taken an impressive swig. It seemed her drinking habits had earned her just a bit respect with the James gang. But now her time was running out, fairly soon she knew Jesse would put her back in the wagon for the night. She worked furiously until finally… The rope gave way. She dropped the rock and started pulling the bindings around her hands loose. Her hands were free. Now was the time to make a break for it, it was now or never. She took a second to get her bearings. She had to go west to get to town, so that would be her best bet. She looked up and oriented herself with the north star, a trick that Bill had taught her.

“Alright.” She said to herself.

To the shock and bewilderment of James and his gang, the freed Clara jumped from her spot by the tree and took off into the trees. They were up and chasing her within seconds, but she didn’t turn around. They yelled and screamed, threatening to shoot her down, but none of them drew their weapons. She darted to the left and headed for a small ravine. She followed the shallow crevice for a couple of minutes, she knew the James gang were hot on her heels but she had no idea where they were.

Suddenly she saw Frank sliding down the side of the ravine to her left. She ran as fast as she could strait down the ravine, hoping against hope to see blue coated soldiers. All of a sudden, James appeared on her right and jumped into the crevice right in front of her. He extended the butt of his Winchester rifle in front of Clara as she ran. She didn’t have time to stop and ran right into it. The blow knocked her to the ground. It was all over, she barely had time to clutch her face in pain before Jesse and Frank had taken her arms and were dragging her back to camp.

Neither of them said anything as they dragged her, they simply looked ahead stone faced. Clara was terrified of the consequences of her escape, but neither of the men were giving her any clues as to what it might be. They retraced her steps down the crevice and back to the small grove of trees where the other two guys waited. They yelled taunts at the defeated Clara as she was dragged past them. But she took no notice.

Jesse and Frank dragged her back to the wagon and threw in. She vainly tried to scamper away but Frank had yanked on the back of shirt within a second. A pair of hands took hold of her arms and pulled them gruffly behind her back. Soon the rope was snaking around her hands again. Jesse tied it in the same way he had earlier, using a slipknot lasso around both hands, looping it horizontally several more times and cinching it vertically. As soon as her hands were bound he moved down to her feet and re-tied them the same way. Next, he pulled her feet off the ground. She knew what was coming next. He took a third rope and joined her hands and feet together and pulled it mercilessly tight. Finally, he picked up the still damp piece of cloth from the floor of the wagon and shoved it right back into her mouth. Despite the fact it had been sitting there, gathering dust for hours. A few seconds later the other piece of cloth had been tied around her mouth. Frank jumped out of the wagon.

“You’ve been a lot more trouble than you’re worth. Clara.” He growled, sounding truly angry for the first time since Clara had met him. “I’ll be happy when we get rid of you tomorrow.”

He gruffly pushed Clara on to her side and jumped out of the wagon leaving her alone once again.

For the first time that day a tear fell off the corner of her eye. Now more than ever she feared for her life. She’d used up any mercy that James still had in him and she knew at this point if he needed to kill her to escape, he’d do it. By the sounds of it that might be exactly what he was planning to do.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Lizzy's Tale: Tied on the Tracks

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Sun Jun 19, 2011 9:44 am

She shifted back and forth in a vain effort to make herself more comfortable, but it did little good. She was stuck here for the night and it wasn’t going to be comfortable. If she lay on any one side for too long one of her hands would go completely numb. At first she was switching from her front to her sides almost continually. Eventually she just gave up on keeping circulation and lay down her side. It was even harder to fall asleep now than it had been in the afternoon. At times as she lay awake she would try to struggle and pick at the knots binding her, but it didn’t do any good. She was in complete submission.

As time passed, Clara found herself being menaced by a strange looking object standing in the corner of the wagon, it cast an eerie shadow over her… It looked almost human. It seemed to be wearing a jacket…

The night passed excruciatingly slowly. By the time the sun started to climb over the horizon it felt like she’d been lying there for months in a perpetual darkness. Dawn had just broken when the James gang roused themselves. They new their opponents would be out and scouring the mountain soon and they had to move.

As the sun rose she looked back at the strange figure that had haunted her all night. It looked like a scarecrow, some kind of dummy that was wearing a worn jacket similar to Jesse and his brother. She had no idea what it was doing there, or even when it was made.

Clara tried to eavesdrop on as much of the gang’s conversation as she could. She picked up the words schedule, dummy, nearby, hill, escape. These only served to confuse her, schedule for what? Where were they going? None of the gang even bothered to check on her as they got up. Though they didn’t really need to. They knew as well as she did that Clara wasn’t going anywhere8 they didn’t want her to.

Before long camp was struck and all four men climbed back into the wagon. Once the horses were hitched up, Frank took the reins and bolted. The wagon partially retraced Clara’s steps from her escape attempt the previous night, the ravine she’d followed was just wide enough at the base to admit the wagon and Frank followed it down the hill. Looking out the back, the bound and gagged Clara could see several groups of blue clad men climbing the hills, all of them going in the wrong direction.

Soon the wagon came upon a creek and Frank followed it to the base of the foot hills. They appeared north east of Carson City. Jesse then directed Frank to drive straight out across the open plain toward Lake Tahoe, right through the open desert. They kept looking to their left at the town, looking for something though Clara couldn’t see what. After spending a few minutes in plain sight, the wagon made a complete U turn and started heading north west back toward the mountains. What the hell were they doing?!

The drove north for a few more minutes until they were next to the hillside and the wagon made an abrupt halt.

“Ok! Let’s go!” Jesse yelled to his boys. They all sprung from the wagon. Frank and Jesse climbed into the wagon and took hold of their bound captive. They didn’t bother to release her hogtie, instead they simply picked her up and carried her out to the dust outside. Clara was terrified at what she saw, suddenly their plan made sense. Railroad tracks. In those days the railroad ran north from Carson City before turning east along the shade of the foothills as it ran into the Tahoe forests. The schedule. They were referring to the train that was due to leave the station at any minute.

One of the gangsters quickly started gathering would and small plants for a fire, another pulled the dummy out of the wagon and was setting it up on the ground, the James brothers busied themselves tying Clara to the tracks. They finally undid the hogtie, allowing Clara to finally lower her feet to the ground. Her relief was short lived though. Jesse untied Clara’s hands, then he and his brother dragged her across the ground onto the tracks, amidst her gagged protests. Jesse took the rope used on her hands while Frank took the hogtying rope and they pulled her hands apart. They spread her arms out spread eagle and each tied several loops around her wrists and then pulled the rope and knotted it off a few feet down the track, well out of range of her fingers.

Even as they tied she could see the smoke from the running train rising from the station at the edge of town. It may have been moving already.

By the time Jesse and Frank had finished tying her down the other two had finished their respective jobs. A small but very smoky fire had been started, sending a plume of smoke into the air. Next to the fire the dummy had been setup and dressed with a jacket, pants and a hat. To add the finishing touch, Jesse turned into towards Clara and put a pistol in its hand, a pistol that pointed strait at her.

“Alright, let’s go. The whole garrison will be here soon.” Frank demanded.

Jesse looked down to his diversion.

“Being invited back to the dressing room of the infamous Clara Miller is a town honor isn’t it?” He gloated. “It was nice knowing you, maybe you should be more careful who you invite back there from now on.”

With that he hopped in his wagon and took off, racing east towards the foothills where they’d been hiding. But wait, Clara had overheard him saying something about hiding in the hill nearby. Suddenly the endgame of his plan became obvious. The whole garrison will have seen the smoke and the outline of the dummy and the bound starlit by now. They’ll all converge on this spot. Whether they saved her or not, they’d realize the rouse and head east to chase him. He would then leisurely follow them as they tried to follow him east. It was brilliant. And by all accounts it would still work.

Clara struggled desperately, but she was more tightly secured now than she had ever been. She couldn’t lift either of her arms more than an inch or two. Frank had left her feet bound together but had taken some of the vertically cinched rope and re-tied it around the track.

She strained her head to try and look back towards town, in the upside down world she saw, several blue dots and a large cloud of dust approached her. Within a few minutes she heard the tell tale bugle of the cavalry. The whole town was coming out to rescue her.

She looked to her right, the train was out of the station and picking up speed outside of town. It would take miles for that train to come to a complete stop at its current speed, there was no way the engineer could see her in time.

She struggled desperately but the ropes showed no mercy. She might as well have been nailed onto the track. She couldn’t move and the train was getting closer and closer. She yelled as loud as she could but the gag in her mouth prevented her from making much sound. The cavalry were getting closer and closer, but they weren’t moving fast enough to beat the train.

“This is it.” Clara thought to herself.

No! She was going to live! Somehow!

She could see the cavalry galloping as hard as they could to reach her. After another minute she heard rifle shots echoing out. She couldn’t see where they were landing, though one went right through the dummy’s coat.

God! They might hit her! She squealed and mmmmphed to try and get them to stop, but there was no point. They couldn’t possibly hear her from this distance, much less with them shooting their rifles, much less with a gag in her mouth. The train blew its whistle. It had turned towards her, the engineer would see her and slam on the break any moment. But it would be too late.

Clara considered saying her prayers.

A few more shots rang out they landed on the ground near her. With a mighty crash, a bullet landed on the rail right near her and zinged off. Some bloody idiot had nearly hit her in the head. Her right hand zoomed to her face to shield herself from the bullet which was already long gone. It took her a minute to realize, the bullet had severed the rope.

That was either a really well placed shot, or a really badly placed shot. She didn’t know.

The train blew its whistle again.

Clara frantically turned over and struggled with the rope around her left hand. She could feel the vibration of the incoming train down the tracks, the roar of its engine was getting louder and louder. Her left hand came free. She sat up and frantically started ripping away her foot bindings. The engineer of the train finally saw her and slammed on his emergency breaks. The out of control train came careening down the tracks towards her. By now the roar was almost deafening. Finally she pulled her feet of the tracks and launched herself onto the ground, just as the train came screaming past.

She lay face down on the ground, breathing heavily as the remainder of the train rolled past her. Slowly she stood, her arms and legs aching from her many hours of bondage. As the train finally came to halt, she remembered that James and his men were hiding nearby in those hills. Filled with rage, Clara bowed to another dark impulse and ran toward the dummy. She picked the pistol in its hand and opened the chamber. It had the full six rounds in it. Before she stopped to contemplate what she was doing, she charged toward the nearby hill lusting for blood.

By the time the cavalry reached the train and spot where the fire had been made, Clara was gone. She struggled her way up the hill until she reached the crest. Looking down into the clearing beyond she saw exactly what she was looking for. The wagon. And only one black coated man standing near it.

Clara charged down the hill as fast as she could and took cover in the brush nearby. James hadn’t seen her. She watched for a moment as he stepped out of the wagon and paced back and forth, waiting impatiently for his boys to come back from their scouting places. When his back was turned, Clara crawled forward out of her hiding place. Silently she walked up behind him, raised the pistol and cocked it. Jesse heard the telltale sound and spun.

“Hi Jesse.” She said. “Surprised to see me?”

He said nothing. Yes, he was surprised.

“Drop your gun on the ground.”

James complied, pulling his pistol out of its holster and dropping it on the dusty earth.

“I’d be doing the whole damn world a favor if I were to end you right here.” She declared.

James looked back at her, for the first she could see fear in his piercing blue eyes.

“You gonna kill me?” He asked.
“Turn around.” She commanded.

With his hands raised over his head, he turned away from Clara and started to walk. It seemed he expected the killing bullet to hit him at any second.

“You didn’t kill me when you had the chance.” Clara said. “Hell it probably would’ve been smarter for you to have ended me… But you didn’t.”

He stopped.

“So I’ll extend you the same courtesy.” She decided.

With determination, forethought and extreme prejudice she aimed her gun away from his head and pulled the trigger, sending a colt .45 caliber slug directly into his ass.

Jesse James cried out in pain and surprise, he dropped to the ground a writhing whimpering mass. Clara Miller was not the violent type, she didn’t enjoy seeing people in pain most of the time. But in this case, she felt a spec of pride that she’d escaped the clutches of the most famous bandit in the west and then gone and put a bullet where the sun don’t shine.

“Oh come on now Jesse.” She said. “You were hit twice during the war weren’t ya? This should be nothing in comparison.”

Clara leisurely walked over to the wagon and climbed in the back. She took a box of the printed money that she helped steal from the mint and leafed through it. There must have been five thousand dollars in that box.

“Normally…” She began “I would just take my ten percent. But I’m going to take a bit more in compensation for my treatment.”

Taking the box in hand she walked over to the wounded James and picked up his pistol.

“This too. As a souvenir.”

She leaned down to his face, almost until her nose was brushing his.

“That bottom of yours is going to ache for the rest of your life Jesse. Every time you feel that pain, I want you to think of me. And that should remind you that you never, ever, mess with a woman.”

She stood up again, gun in hand.

“Goodbye bastard!” She yelled, giving him a swift pistol whip to the back of the head.

He continued to groan and shiver in pain as she turned to leave. She leisurely walked back up the side of the mountain and hid the box in some bushes. She’d come back for it later. By the time she reached the crest of the hill, James had dragged himself onto his wagon and taken off. She had a feeling that this was the last visit he’d pay to Carson City.

The wearied Clara came down the hill to the jubilation of the blue-coated soldiers who had gathered there. When questioned about where she had been, she simply answered that she’d foolishly taken the pistol and chased him into the mountains. She fired off a few shots before he’d escaped to the east. Most of the cavalry left to pursue him right away. But Clara knew they wouldn’t catch him at this point.

She was given a horse to ride and escorted back into town by the soldiers. When she got back, the first thing she did was pay a visit to the ailing Charlie at the garrison. He was so happy to see her that he wept with joy. Clara wiped the tears from his eyes and spent the next several days nursing him back to health.

Clara went back out to the mountain and retrieved the money a couple of weeks later. She deposited it in the bank a week at a time with her regular paycheck. No one ever noticed her newfound wealth. Within a week or two she was back singing her regular shows at the Abbot’s saloon. Chuck was the only one who ever suspected that Clara might not have been completely innocent in that robbery. But aside from Clara herself, he never told anyone.

As it turned out, Clara realized she had a soft spot for the loyal, sincere Charlie. They got to know each other very well. A few years later, after he came back from fighting at Little Bighorn under general Custer, the two got married. Although Clara insisted that she keep her surname of Miller. A year later Clara had her first and only child by Charlie, a girl who was her mother’s spitting image, they named her Jessie. Believe it or not it was Charlie’s suggestion. Clara made a point of never telling him that she was involved in the robbery.

As the years went by and Clara grew old, she called her now eighteen-year-old daughter into her room one night and told her the story of how she got her name. Clara made her daughter swear that she wouldn’t tell anyone until after she died. Jessie kept her word; she also went by her mother’s last name for the rest of her life.

Clara Miller died in 1913, survived by Jessie, Charlie and the Abbot. When the memorial was over and everyone had gone home, Jessie took a stick and wrote in the sand what she really wanted to write on her mother’s grave:

Tom Ford was the man who shot Jesse James.
Clara Miller was the woman who shot him the ass.



More to come. Feedback would be greatly appreciated! =)
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Interlude

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:11 am

Hey guys. Due to the lack of interest in this story, I've gotten tired of posting this thing in the smallish chunks that used so far. So, well, screw it! I'm just going to post the rest of it. Many thanks to those of you who have been reading. Hope somebody enjoyed it! hehe




Interlude

“Is that really true? Really?” Kate demanded.
“As I said, that’s how it was told to me.” Liz replied.
“With a few embellishments of your own I’d wager.” Hugh added.
“Well… yeah.” Liz admitted. “We know for a fact that Jesse James DID rob the Carson City mint while Clara was living in the city. We know they did meet. As far as the rest, well, I don’t think we’ll ever really know how much is fact and how much is family legend. I really hope its true though. I mean come on! Think about it! An ancestor of mine shot Jesse James in the ass!”
“That is pretty cool.” Chris insisted. “Give poor Lizzy a break, it was a great story.”
“Awesome Liz.” Sarah agreed.

Kate yawned.

“What time is it?” She asked.
“About two thirty.” Hugh answered.
“Yeah. No wonder I’m so tired.”
“Me too.” Liz agreed.
“Time to call it a night.” Chris declared.

This time they had more seats to use amongst themselves so Hugh didn’t have to sleep on the floor again. He and Chris took a moment to put the bottle of Blue Label and their glasses away. During Liz’s story they’d showed a fair amount of restraint and only drank two glasses each. They wanted to have some for New York as well as the trip back.

Before long after everybody’s pillow and blankets had been pulled out, they said their goodnights and dove to lalaland. Everyone except Kate slept better than they had the previous night. Even Hugh slept later than he’d planned. By the time he pried his eyes open the sun had already risen. He started reading as he usually did. One by one the teenagers roused themselves. Well… All except Liz. But no one except Kate dared wake her up and certainly not before eight o’clock. As they’d done the previous morning they all minded their own business for the first hour or so. Once everyone was up and awake they went for breakfast. All five were excited, they were arriving in New York that evening.

Back in their compartment Liz and Hugh sat down at one of the tables together, Kate and Chris cuddled as usual and Sarah sat opposite of them.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn.” Sarah said.
“Yep, I guess it is.” Chris replied.
“I don’t know… What if you guys don’t like it?”
“We will! I promise.” Hugh assured her.
“Yeah, but all that family history stuff was so cool I mean…”
“Sarah!” Kate said firmly. “I’m sure your tale is every bit as cool as Liz’s. It’s actually true for God’s sake!”
“Mine was true!” Liz insisted. “Sorta.”
“Ok, ok. You all remember me mentioning my friends Rachel and Jake right?”
“Yeah the ones you met at that concert.” Kate said.
“Those ones. Well, I never knew it, but they’ve delved into this whole bondage thing on a couple of occasions. And when I was talking to Rachel a couple of months ago, she had an idea she wanted to propose:”
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Sarah's Tale: A Birthday to Remember

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:13 am

Sarah’s Tale: A Birthday to Remember

Do you guys remember when we were trying to figure out a date we could all go to Lizzy’s last musical together? The one with the really long name? You all wanted to go on Saturday but I made you go on Friday because I had plans? Ringing any bells? Well, this story starts that Saturday. I got a call from my old friend Rachel and she asked if I wanted to get a drink with her. As time went by we decided to go on the night a friend of hers was performing. His name was Jake, I knew him from High School and we’ve always been on friendly terms. I certainly didn’t know him as well as Rachel, but I was still happy to see his show.

So, there we were. We’d collectively finished most of a pitcher of Sleemans by the time the show finished. Jake was the singer/keyboardist for a… Crap I don’t remember… maybe… progressive metal… band, I can’t remember it was called… Combat… Or something like that. Anyway, Rachel and I happily listened as he and his band mates put on their show. It was a good time, the pub was packed and it seemed everybody was head banging or tapping their feet or something. The whole room was united by the good time we were having.

After a couple of hours Jake and his band finished their set and were liberally applauded by everyone in the bar. While his band mates went strait to the bar to get some shots, Jake headed strait over to our table to join us.

“That was a pretty kickass show!” Rachel greeted him.
“Thanks.” He replied, giving her a hug,
“Yeah, that was awesome.” I said as he hugged me in turn.

We spent a few minutes chatting about the cramped performance space and the spilled beer on the floor that almost sent him flying a couple of times. After a couple of minutes he ran off to the bar and returned with a pint of Guinness and sat down with us. He and Rachel started gabbing away about something or other. Since I didn’t know Jake as well and since he and Rachel were really close I did far more listening than talking that night. Which was fine by me. I added what I could when I could. He was polite enough to notice that I was being quiet and ask me about what was going on in my life. Then Rachel grabbed his attention again and I would be silent for the next twenty minutes.

This went on for a couple of hours until the bar closed and the three of us headed for the bus stop. As we walked I happened to mention something about Kate’s birthday party a few weeks before and this gave Rachel a thought.

“Speaking of which, Jake you have a birthday coming up don’t you?” Rachel inquired.
“Uhm, yeah, in a couple of weeks.” He replied.
“What are your plans?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Why not?”
“Cause I really don’t care all that much. I’ll probably end up just going out for drinks with some friends. I’ll probably go out with my family at some point too.”
“What about us?” Rachel asked.
“What just the two of you?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know. What do you guys want to do?” He asked.
“Well it’s your birthday! You tell us!” I insisted.
“I don’t care! I really don’t care.”

Rachel looked down and muttered “We should make you care.”

“Whatever Rachel, it’s ok. We’ll kidnap him and take him somewhere.” I said offhandedly.

Jake smiled at both of us and kept walking. I was happy to follow him, though I noticed a strange look come over Rachel’s face. Apparently I had given her an idea, though she didn’t say anything initially. Before long we got to Jake’s bus stop and he went on his merry way. Not long after Rachel and I parted company. I didn’t expect to hear from either of them for a couple of weeks at least. Since Jake was older and had already graduated, I didn’t see any of him for the next couple of weeks. Rachel on the hand, we all go to school with. So I see her all the time. Strangely enough, about three days after we’d gone out I got a very abrupt phone call from Rachel around midnight.

“Hello?” I asked, tiredly.
“Hey!” She replied.
“Hey Rachel… What’s going on, it’s past midnight.”
“Yeah I know.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, I have an idea. That I want to run past you.”
“Ok.”
“Ok… Uhhh…. You’ve told me about uhm, what you and the rest of the gang do sometimes.”
“What are you talking about? We do all kinds of stuff together.”
“Oh c’mon! You know what I mean!”
“No. I really don’t.”
“You tie each other up!”
“Oh yeah… We do that. Sorry, I forget that’s weird sometimes.”
“Well, it isn’t. Not as weird as most people think. Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that I’ve dabbled in the same thing.”
“Really?”
“Well, before you told me about what you do with your other friends, I was talking to Jake on facebook one night and due to a rather offhanded joke I made admitted he owned a pair of handcuffs.”
“Uh huh.”
“Then I found out that Troy (Her ex) had a bit of kink to him and so he started tying me up.”
“Then you broke it off.”
“Later, yeah.”
“Ok…. What does this have to do with Jake?”
“You remember what a wreck I was for the first couple of weeks after right?”
“Yeah, I was worried.”
“Well, I did something kind of dumb. Jake invited me over to his place to talk it over and I decided that since Troy had always tied me up, I decided to attack Jake and tie him to his bowflex.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah. It turned out to be a really good night. I did however end up kissing him.”
“Oh… So where are you going with that?”
“Nowhere, at least I don’t think so. But it IS his birthday coming up.”
“Ok.”
“So, when you suggested that we should kidnap him…”
“You took me literally.”
“Yes.”
“Oh boy…”

We didn’t talk for much longer after that, it ended with me agreeing to help her in her plot. I don’t really know why, I guess I thought it would be fun. And it was, it really was. Before we hung up we decided to go for a walk in a fairly secluded park after school the next day to draw up a plan of action. It was the beginning of May, Jake’s birthday was in a week. We knew that his classes were finished and that he was working full time. Rachel claimed that she knew a way to call his boss and ask him to give Jake a day or two off. We had a four-day weekend the week after his birthday, so we decided that would be the best time to strike. It also coincided nicely with my parents’ trip to Las Vegas and Rachel’s parents letting her use their family’s cabin in the mountains.

After a few hours, we had a game plan… and a fairly sneaky game plan at that. We would call him and tell him to meet us that afternoon. We would tell him to keep the next day booked off to deal with the hangover and we would secretly call his boss to give him the day after as well. With that block of time we would kidnap him and do what we wanted with him.

Easy… Right?

During the ensuing week we found ourselves with a laundry list of things to do. First Rachel called him to tell him what night we were going to go out and tell him to book off the next day. That done, she got ahold of his boss’s number and I called him. Jake’s boss was very gracious about our plan and agreed to give him an extra day off without telling him about it. After that we called his parents to inform them that some of his friends were going to surprise him with a short trip for his birthday. We lied as far as the list went, naming a bunch of his other friends who weren’t actually coming with us. They had no objections. Next, Rachel called him three days later and asked to borrow his handcuffs. She told me later that she’d claimed they were for a movie her little brother was making. Amazingly, he bought it. Later that evening, I called to remind him not to make any other plans for the next day. While that may sound overbearing, we decided that if we acted secretively about what we were planning to do but reminded him we were going to do it over and over again, the curiosity would be unbearable.

The truth of the matter is when we started I wasn’t sure how much I really wanted to be involved with Rachel’s plan. Really I was doing it for her. But as the week went on, I started to feel more and more excited about the upcoming weekend. I suppose I was feeling echoes of a Mission Impossible kidnapper fantasy. Besides, who’s to say that I wouldn’t decide to turn on Rachel and have a bit of fun of my own?

Finally, Thursday arrived. We were off school 2:30. Jake was meeting us two hours later at a local starbucks. At least that’s what he thought. In truth we were meeting him in the park a short distance away. In the middle of the park was a secluded parking lot, where nobody ever bothered parking. It was the perfect place to stage our little abduction. The intervening two hours evaporated very quickly. Rachel provided the majority of the supplies, but I was able to throw in a few pieces of rope and a roll of duct tape from my Dad’s workshop. With those gathered and ready we collected the rest of what we’d need. His own handcuffs, a couple of heavy duty zip ties, a roll of duct tape and several blankets.

By the time all of these were ready to go, it was time to head out to the parking lot. Jake had a knack for punctuality and we needed to be there when he arrived. At about 4:25, when he should’ve been within sight of the Starbucks, Rachel called him and directed him into the park. The trap was set. Within a couple more minutes he saw my car and headed towards it. Rachel started telling me about some random thing that happened at school a few days before. To give us an alibi I guess. He approached the car and hopped into the back seat.

“Happy birthday!” We collectively greeted him.
“Thanks.” He replied.
“How was last night?” Rachel asked.
“It was good, we had a lot of fun. They made me try a flaming Lamborghini.”
“Nice.”
“So what’s the plan?”

Rachel and I looked at each other, giving each other the slightest of nods.

“What are you up to?” He asked us quizzically.

Rachel opened her door and climbed out of the front.

“Well, you see…” I began. “We have a bit of a surprise. In fact it’s been in the works for a couple weeks now.”

Rachel opened the door and slid onto the seat beside him. I promptly locked all the doors. He looked over to her, backing up slowly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out his handcuffs, letting them hang seductively off the end of her forefinger.

“We said we’d kidnap you on your birthday.”

He was dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused and a whole lot of other unpleasant adjectives all at the same time.

“I guess I didn’t take you literally enough.” He stammered.
“No? Well… If you wouldn’t mind, put your hands behind your back please.” I dictated.

He hesitated.

“What are you waiting for?” I demanded.
“Well, what… are you going to do with me?” He asked.
“You’re just going to have to find out.”

He still didn’t move. Rachel decided to step in.

“Look, Jake, you once told me that this sort of thing was all about control and that bondage was really about taking that control away from someone and giving it to someone else, and that’s the whole point. You also like to be the one who has that power taken away. We’re offering you the chance to experience that on a level you never before have. We all know that you want me to put these on you. So how much longer are we going to pretend that I’m not?”

She was pretty persuasive.

“Ok. Fine. You win.” He admitted.
“Good.” I said.
“Now give me your hands.” Rachel ordered.

He did as he was told and turned around, putting his hands behind his back. I felt the familiar sensation of cold steel closing around his wrists and locking his arms behind him.

“Alright, now. Pull up some floor, we’re not going very far but if anyone see’s you like this we’ll probably have the cops called on us.” Rachel explained.

He lay down horizontally and eased himself over the edge onto the floor. I then passed back blankets that Rachel had been sitting on and started piling them on top of him, while Rachel pulled a zip tie out of her pocket and pulled it tight around his ankles. After a minute he was bound hand and foot beneath a pile of blankets. But was that enough for Rachel? Of course not! I passed back the role of duct tape that I’d put in the glove compartment and she smoothed a couple of pieces over his lips.

With our prisoner subdued, Rachel hopped back into the front seat and I took off. We agreed that we weren’t going to talk on the drive back, we still wanted to scare him a bit. Chances were at that moment he was pretty nervous about what we were going to do to him and what he came up with would probably be ten times worse than what we were actually planning to do. Though I was pretty nervous on the drive back myself. What if somebody saw him? What if we got pulled over, we’d have to explain to a cop why we had a bound and gagged guy in the back seat covered with blankets. As such, I drove very cautiously.

About five or ten minutes later we pulled into my driveway and into the garage.

“Oh crap, I forgot scissors.” Rachel exclaimed quietly.
“Ok let’s grab them. He’s not going anywhere.” I replied.

We jumped out of the car and ran to the kitchen to retrieve them. Before long we returned to the car to retrieve Jake. As Rachel cut the zip tie around his ankles and we helped him to his feet, it occurred to me that as long as I’d known him, I’d never heard Jake this quiet. I suppose the only way to shut some people up is to slather duct tape all over their faces.

Jake didn’t make any noise and didn’t offer any resistance as we walked him through the garage and into the house. He caught a glimpse of my kitchen before we directed him into the basement. From there we took a right turn and into my Dad’s workshop. Daddy’s workshop is a somewhat barren room with a cold concrete floor, workbenches lining two of the walls and an unfinished roof with visible cross beams and insulation. Now, the original plan was to tie him to the structural pole in the middle of the room. But a certain glint in Rachel’s eye told me she had other plans.

Once we’d reached the middle of the room, Rachel pushed our prisoner forward a ways and motioned me back. She whispered her revised plan for tying him and we went for it. Rachel ran to retrieve the pile of rope that we’d left next to the door while I retrieved my Dad’s old wooden chair. I dragged it over to where Jake stood, limply waiting for us to restrain him further. I sat him down on the chair as Rachel returned with the keys.

She unlocked his hands and put the cuffs in her pocket. While she began tying his hands in front of him, I dropped to the floor and tied his ankles together. I re-called Hugh’s quiet voice as he taught me how to tie hands or ankles together. Bringing the two ends of the rope together, running them around the ankles separately and then… What was that word?... Cinching, them vertically. I made sure to leave a bit of slack on the end which I tied to the horizontal cross member of the chair, pulling his ankles off the ground.

Meanwhile, Rachel had tied his hands together with about half of the longest rope we had. When she had finished, she’d left another five or so feet of slack. She took this slack and threw it over one of the wooden beams that lined the unfinished ceiling. Taking the slack that hung behind him, Rachel pulled the slack until his arms were lifted straight up into the air, pulling it just tight enough that he wasn’t lifted off the chair. She tied it off on the bottom cross member of the chair, right next to my knot that held his ankles.

I took two more ropes in hand and tied the first around his thighs and the bottom of the chair and the other around his waist to the chair back. I stood back and surveyed our work as Rachel double-checked all the knots.

“Do you really think those two pieces of tape are going to hold?” I asked.

Rachel looked up.

“With his big mouth? Probably not.” She replied.

Jake rolled his eyes; Rachel was very good at giving him a hard time about his talking habits. I retrieved the role of duct tape from the floor where we’d left it and handed it to her. With a strange, childish glee, she took the tape and wrapped it around his head several times.

“And, just for good measure.” She added, while ripping of a piece and sticking it over his eyes.
“Have fun with that Jakey.” I said.
“Didn’t I tell you he looks adorable all tied up like that?”
“He sure does!”

Rachel and I turned and left the room, leaving him to struggle and stew in his own thoughts for a while.

“We should empty his pockets.” I suggested.
“Yeah.” She agreed.

Rachel walked up to him and emptied his pockets, wallet, cellphone, keys and Ipod. And with that we walked upstairs.

It was strange, but as I took one last look at him on my way out the door I suddenly started to wonder why we enjoy doing this. Seeing the poor guy sitting there, trussed up like a turkey, it made me think that to most people, being restrained in such a way would not at all be a pleasant experience. Since in every bondage game I’d been involved with up till that point I’d been the one being bound, I knew first hand how cool and how much fun it could be. I knew that if Jake truly didn’t want to be in that situation, he had ample opportunity to escape or even to let us know to stop.

Actually, that’s an interesting point. When it comes to a guy as confident and mentally and physically strong as Jake, he’d been very cooperative as we took him down. While we were gathering up the rope we just let him stand there with his hands bound. But he made no attempt to run away or work the gag off. It was almost as if he’d sunk into the role of captive a little too easily.

When got upstairs to the kitchen and sat down, I decided to ask Rachel about it.

“Hey Rachel?” I asked.
“Who the hell is Sufjan Stevens?” She replied.
“Who?”
“This guy on Jake’s Ipod.”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh well.”
“Ok Rachel… Is it just me, or does it strike you as a little weird just how cooperative Jake has been with us thus far?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for example when we were gathering up the ropes down in your Dad’s shop we left him in the middle of the room just with his hands tied. But he didn’t try to run, or try to work the tape off or anything. I mean, two pieces of tape over the lips is a pretty flimsy gag. He could’ve easily gotten through it if he tried.”
“He’s kind sunk into the prisoner role, yeah.”
“Isn’t that weird though?”
“No. I don’t think so. Part of it is this whole thing was such a surprise. We didn’t ask his permission to tie him up. He has no idea what we plan to do with him, how long we’re going to leave him like that or anything. He’s accepted that he has no control.”
“Isn’t that weird though?”
“Nope, not really. The mind does a strange thing in situations like this. Well… let’s put it this way: In the early seventies a guy named Philip Zimbardo set up an experiment at Stanford University. A group of students volunteered to simulate a prison for two weeks. They were assigned to be either prisoners or guards at random and almost immediately the students began to sink into their roles. The prisoners became withdrawn and depressed and the guards became domineering and abusive. The experiment got so out of control that it had to be cancelled after six days. Five of the twelve prisoners became so upset they had to be removed from the experiment, one almost having a psychotic breakdown. Four of the twelve guards became so abusive Zimbardo would later diagnose them with “genuine sadistic tendencies”. The Stanford Prison experiment as its called now, has since become somewhat legendary in the psychology world and is still taught in many universities. “
“Whoa. Is that true?”
“Yeah. Now, I don’t think anybody is pretending that what we’re doing right now is anywhere near as vivid as the guys at Stanford. Jake knows he’s being held by his friends and he trusts us. He knows we would never do anything to hurt him. But even so, in his own small way his mind is starting to play the part of the helpless captive and we’re the evil captors. Power exchange is no trifling thing.”
“Yeah I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way before. God when did this get so complicated!?!”

She laughed and we moved on. We decided to leave him down there for another hour or so. We passed the time enjoyably, talking, giggling, gossiping… you know, the normal stuff. We decided to order a couple of Pizzas and have them delivered to the house. It was interesting when we got up to answer the door for the Pizza guy. The innocent delivery guy was a few years older than us and didn’t speak a lot of English it seemed. But he was pretty flirty nonetheless. It made me wonder how his opinion of us would change if he knew that we had a guy tied up and gagged in the basement.

Once the Pizza arrived we decided it was time to go release him and let him eat with us. Hopefully that would help him lighten up and be a less, victimy. If that’s even a word. The two of us marched downstairs and there he was, exactly as we’d left him. When he heard us enter the room he started moving his suspended arm and grunting from behind the tape. Rachel walked right up to him and pulled the tape from his eyes. His pupils were dilated from being in the dark for that long and it took him a second to readjust to the light.

By that point I had already untied the knots holding his feet off the ground and his hands up in the air. Once he could lower his arms he dropped them to his knees with glee. Apparently that had started to hurt. Once I’d finished untying his feet, legs and waist Rachel helped him stand up and untied his hands. Once that was done she retrieved the cuffs from her pocket and locked his hands behind him.

“Bring the ropes.” She told me quietly.

I did as I was told and all three of us walked upstairs together. His eyes lit up when he saw those two glorious pizza boxes. But Rachel steered him away from those boxes and towards the kitchen table.

“Ok, hang on for a sec.” She said after sitting him on one of the chairs.

She motioned for me to toss her a rope, which she used to hastily tie his ankles together. Next she unlocked the cuff from his left wrist and attached it to the right side of the chair, allowing him use of his left hand but not his right. I must say, that was pretty clever on her part.

As I grabbed three plates and glasses, she took the pair of scissors and cut the loop of duct tape that gagged our prisoner. Carefully she pulled the tape off, trying not to rip out too much of his hair.

“Gah!” He exclaimed.
“Don’t talk too much or it’s going right back on.” Rachel threatened.
“Fine, just let me breathe for a minute!”

I patted his shoulder as I walked past him.

“You’re such a trooper.” I remarked.
“Thanks.” He replied. “Not like I have much choice in the matter.”
“No, you really don’t.” Rachel reminded him.
“So how long are you planning to uh, keep me like this?”
“What as our prisoner?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to wait and see.”
“Awwww. You’ve kept me tied up for the last couple of hours, it just seems like common courtesy to oblige with answers.”
“Yeah well… We’re bitches.”

I slid the three plates onto the table and put the boxes out. Jake forgot his misgivings and dove into the food, helping himself to two pieces of each pizza. Rachel and I had two pieces each. It was only when we started eating that I realized how hungry I was, it seemed the other two felt the same way. Not much was said as we ate. We were all too busy devouring hungrily. At least by our standards. It’s amazing how much Jake managed to consume with only one hand. God! Men can be such Neanderthals!

Anyway, uhm… Right. So, when we’d finished eating I brought Jake a bottle a bottle of coke that had been sitting unopened in my fridge. Rachel and I contented ourselves with ice tea. When our drinks were finished and the pizzas a smoldering ruin, I quickly cleaned up the kitchen while Rachel detatched the left cuff from the chair and put it back on Jake’s wrist.

“I feel like watching a movie.” She announced.
“Ok.” I replied.

Once I had finished putting the plates and pizza boxes away we brought Jake to the living room, ropes in hand.

“Oh! There’s a neat trick I have to show you!” Rachel exclaimed. “Hogtie him.”

I took a rope and applied it to his ankles, much as I had earlier in the day while Rachel bound his hands together with rope above the handcuffs. When that was tight she took them off and put them in her pocket. I handed her another rope and she looped it across his ankles and wrists and pulled them tightly together, putting him into a strict hogtie. Rachel laid him down on his side and slid him like a piece of furniture across the carpeted floor to the couch. She sat down on the couch and put her feet on him.

“Oh c’mon! Not again!” He yelled.
“Ok I think that’s enough out of you!” She retorted.

Unsurprisngly she reached for the duct tape.

“Oh you’ve got to be kiddmmmmmmpph!” He said, before being promptly silenced.

Rachel ripped several pieces off the role and stuck them over his pouting lips one by one until the bottom half of his face was completely covered. In the meantime I was turning on the TV and deciding on a movie to watch. I decided to be reasonable and pick a movie that we could ALL potentially enjoy, I was fairly certain Rachel would put on the most hard core chick flick she could find just to piss him off. Eventually I decided on Troy.

Troy is a very hollywoodized account of Homer’s Iliad. While the movie itself was nothing to write home about, Rachel and I contented ourselves by staring at Brad Pitt in a toga, leather armor or at some points nothing at all. All three of us got a laugh when Rose Byrne was tied to a structural pole in Brad Pitt’s tent. I remarked:

“I’d kill to switch places with her right now.”

Jake looked up to me with a quizzical “Hmmmph?”

“Come on? Tied up in a tent with a naked Brad Pitt? Hell yeah!”

Rachel laughed and nodded in agreement. The movie went on, Orlando Bloom made a fool of himself as usual, a lot of people wound up dead, Helen Kruger stood there looking hot, Eric Bana died looking tough, the Trojan horse appeared, the city was burned down and… that’s all really.

As hard to believe as it might have been, by this point it was around eleven in the evening and Rachel and I decided to call it a night. We informed Jake of this, who looked slightly disappointed. Though it was obvious he expected us to untie him and let him go home. But we had no intention of doing anything of the kind.

“Ok Jake.” Rachel started. “Sarah and I want to go to bed and you should get some rest yourself, we have a long day tomorrow.”
“Hmmmmph?” He asked.
“Yes, you’re spending the night here. Get used to it.” I told him.

We released him from his hogtie and released his ankles. Then we walked him upstairs. For the first time since that afternoon we untied him completely and let him use the washroom. As soon as he came out though, we were ready with our ropes.

We took him into the modestly decorated guest room and put him down on the plain white sheeted queen sized bed. We each tied one rope one of the two legs at the head of the bed, where his head rested. Taking those ends we each bound one of his wrists. He knew we couldn’t tie it tightly, given that he would be spending the night this way. But we tied it tightly enough that his arms didn’t have enough slack to help each other, but did have enough slack to move around. When his hands were immobilized we repeated the process on his feet.

“All tucked in now are we?” I asked him.
“Mmmph!” He replied.
“Oh right!”

I’d almost forgotten, I took a corner of the tape in my hand and pulled it off his face in one motion.

“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”

I sat down on the bed next him and brushed his bangs out of his face with my hand.

“Now, in all seriousness…” I began. “If something goes wrong or you need anything, I’m right across the hallway. You can call out and wake me up. That’s ok.”
“I probably won’t need to.” He said.
“Even so, you know you can. Ok?”
“Ok. Thanks Sarah.”

For no real reason I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He seemed to like this. Rachel came up bid him her own goodnight and kissed his forehead as well. Apparently she thought it was a good idea. And with that we turned off the lights and left the room.

“Ok, where am I?” She asked.
“Take my parents room. They’ll never know.” I replied.

Rachel had come prepared to stay the night, as she’d done a great many times. We quietly went about our business and soon parted ways for the night. She holed up in my parents room and was sawing logs within a few minutes. I walked around the house, shut off all the lights and set the alarm and pretty soon, I too was out cold.

I don’t think any of us slept particularly well that night. Every now and again I would wake up to hear Jake shuffling awkwardly or quietly groaning in the spare room across the hall. A couple of times I got up and quietly checked on him. Though both times he’d gone back to sleep by the time I got there. I was about ready to get up by seven. Somehow I knew neither Jake nor Rachel would be ready to get up by that point, so I headed down to the kitchen and started making breakfast. But by the time eight rolled around, I knew it was time to waken the troops.

Rachel was unreceptive. I had to tap her a few times before I got any kind of response. And when I did it was just a long sullen groan, to be honest it sounded a lot like a gagged groan.

Once I was satisfied she was awake I headed back downstairs and waited for her to join me.

“Good morning!” I said excitedly with a fake smile.
“Screw you.” Was her response.

We had a couple of glasses of orange juice before to give Rachel some more time to wake up before we headed upstairs to tend to our prisoner. Unlike Rachel he wasn’t at all hard to rouse. His eyes were shut when we entered the room but within a few seconds he opened them.

“It’s morning. Thank God.” He said quietly.
“Didn’t sleep well huh?” I asked.
“No.”

Rachel and I quickly untied him and ushered him to the washroom. He took a few minutes to freshen himself up, wash his hair and stretch. When he finally emerged, Rachel greeted him with the handcuffs that she slapped on his wrists in front of him. She decided to leave it at that. By this point we’d established that he wasn’t going to run away.

The three of us headed down to the kitchen together. It turned out to be a lot easier to have Jake more or less free as we ate. Being the nice guy that he is, he tried to help us make the breakfast, though the handcuffs prevented him from being of any real use. We insisted that he sit down, after much convincing, he agreed. We had a simple breakfast of orange juice, fried eggs on buttered toast. But sometimes those breakfasts are the best, the really simple ones. As we ate Jake asked:

“So, what are the plans for today? You told me to book today off so I assume you wanted the whole day to play with.”
“Jake, how many times do we have to explain this to you.” Rachel insisted. “We’re not telling, you’ll just have to find out.”
“Awww come on! You’re going to keep me in the dark all day?!”
“Yep. More than you know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll find out!”

Somewhat frustrated, Jake went back to his egg. Breakfast was finished before long and Rachel and I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. We knew we’d have to leave soon, we had a lot of driving ahead of us.
After breakfast we took Jake to the living room and sat him down the couch. Rachel switched the cuffs from in front to behind his back while I tied his feet together. We turned on the TV and gave him the remote while we went off to get ready to leave. Rachel and scurried about the house, getting everything cleaned up and ready. I had to go around the house and check every window, while Rachel put all the rope, her bag and the small travel bag I’d packed for myself the previous night, into the car. The rope went in the trunk, the bags went in the back seat. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of preparations we were ready to go. We headed to the living room to retrieve our prisoner.

“Ok, you two have been running around the house madly for the last few minutes? What are you up to?” He demanded.
“You’ll see.” Rachel said. “Or wait, you won’t.”

No sooner had she said that, than she took a piece of black cloth out of her pocket and wrapped it around his eyes, blindfolding him tightly. She motioned for me to untie his ankles, which I did as quickly as I could. When I was finished Rachel took the key from her pocket and re-locked Jake’s hands in front of him again. This time though, she made sure to engage the double lock so they couldn’t tighten themselves.

“Are those too tight?” She asked him.
“No. Why?” He replied.
“Good.”

Taking him by the shoulder, we led him out of the living room and back to the garage, there the lid of my trunk was wide open. I sat him on the edge of the trunk as Rachel grabbed the zip ties that she’d laid out. One went around his ankles and another went around his knees. Then we lowered him into the trunk.

“Are you guys serious?” He asked us.
“Yep.” I replied.
“You’ll be perfectly safe.” Rachel assured him.
“I know, but… just… drive carefully ok?”
“We will.”

We pushed him back into the trunk of the car and shut the lid. Now I REALLY felt like a kidnapper. Rachel smirked and hopped into the driver’s seat. It was my car, but she knew where she was going, so I consented to let her drive. I headed back into the house, set the alarm and we were off.

We knew that Jake wouldn’t expect to be driving long, he probably thought we were going to Rachel’s house or somewhere else in the city. Little did he know, we were going a lot further than that. He didn’t know we’d be driving for about four hours. Where we were headed was Rachel’s family cabin in Snowmass Village. Snowmass Village was a resort town many miles North-West of Aspen. It would take us about four hours to get there.

The drive up was very pleasant. It was beautiful sunny day, the roads were clear, we stopped for slurpees at Mac’s before we left Denver, it was great. We frivolously switched from CD to CD as we drove. In fact I’d say we were having such a great time it made me feel a little guilty that poor old Jake was bound in the trunk. Though whenever I brought up the subject, Rachel just assured me that he was enjoying himself.

“Do you remember that episode of CSI that we watched, the one with Lady Heather?” She asked me.
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember when she said that the submissive is the one who is really in control of the situation?”
“No, not really, but I believe you.”
“Well, part of what makes being tied up so nice is that whoever tied you up must take complete responsibility for your well being.”
“Yeah… That much is obvious.”
“We may be dictating where we go and what we do, but our lives for the last day or so have revolved around Jake. Moving him around, making sure he’s ok, feeding him etc. etc. Now we’re driving him way into the mountains. He knows that we’re doing this all for him. And I imagine that’s got to feel pretty damn good.”
“That’s true.”

With my guilt assuaged we carried on. Rachel’s slightly worrying lead foot managed to shave the four-hour traveling time down to three and a half. We pulled into the beautiful Snowmass Village at about three in the afternoon. Mainly because of the name I’d half expected the place to blanketed with snow, but of course it wasn’t. It was lush and green, conditions much more ripe for mountain biking or hunting than for skiing. Rachel confidently guided the car into the village and made a left onto a road filled with cabins.

“Why’d your folks buy this place?” I asked.
“They wanted to get a cabin we could use to go skiing and stuff. But it’s cheaper over here than in Aspen.”
“Oh ok.”

Rachel pulled my car into the cabin’s garage. It was time to retrieve our prisoner. Leaving the car we walked back to the trunk and Rachel popped it with the remote. There he was, just the way we’d left him. Well mostly, the blindfold had long since fallen down around his neck.

“Where are we?” He asked.
“That’s for us to know and you to guess.” Rachel replied as she pulled the blindfold around his eyes again. “Wait here, I’m going to get some scissors.”

She darted off into the cabin and returned a minute later, scissors in hand. We cut the zip ties around his ankles and knees, gathered our ropes and led him into the cabin. While Jake couldn’t see I thing, I was a bit disoriented as well, given that I’d never been to this place before. It was a very handsomely decorated place; simple white carpets and white tile complimented a light brown shade of polished wood that made up most of the walls.

Rachel motioned me to the left, up the stairs. The living room had a high ceiling that spanned both floors, but the second floor extended over the kitchen and garage. On the upper floor were three bedroom and a bathroom. Rachel led us into the first bedroom on the right. It was fairly nondescript. A simple room with a closet wardrobe a single bed with a metal head and footboard.

We ushered him to the bed and sat him down on it. Once again took the cuff keys and removed them from his wrists. I helped her pull his hands behind his back and held them in place as she bound them with rope.

“Here, I’ll take them.” I told her.

I took the cuffs and put them in my pocket, Rachel didn’t suspect a thing. I took a second piece of rope and handed it to her and she bound his ankles. Even though he wasn’t gagged, Jake didn’t say anything. He still seemed completely disoriented. Which makes sense given that he had no idea where the hell he was. He sat in silence as Rachel tied his bound feet to the middle of the footboard.

“I’m a little tried of duct tape.” She announced.

She marched out of the room and across the hall to, what I think, was her room and returned with a scarf and an ankle sock.

“Open wide!” She commanded.

Jake didn’t, but it didn’t matter. She shoved the ankle sock into his mouth and tied the scarf around his mouth twice to hold it in place. He grunted out of surprise and frustration but didn’t resist. Rachel turned to leave, but I decided to grant the poor guy one small mercy and take off the blindfold. The blinds on the window were shut anyway, he still had no clue where he was.

“We’ll be back in a little while.“ I assured him.

Rachel and I re-convened in the kitchen. She was filling the electric kettle with water.

“Poor guy.” I said.
“Why’d you say that?”
“He has no idea where he is.”
“So?”
“Well, that’s got to be a little jarring don’t you think?”
“Oh well, he deserves it.”
“Why is that?”

She just shook her head and turned back to her kettle. I lazily strolled into the kitchen behind her. If you ask me now, I can’t really tell you why I did what I did next. But hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I discreetly pulled the cuffs out of my pocket, the still hung open. As Rachel’s kettle came to a boil, I jumped behind her and seized her right arm. As she was still in shock and snapped the left cuff around her right wrist and locked the other end onto the refrigerator door.

“What the hell!?!” She exclaimed.

Without saying anything I reached into her right waist pocket and grabbed the extra handcuff key. She stared at it as it left her pocket in my grasp.

“What? You didn’t think I knew there were two keys?” I asked her.
“I… I… uhhhh.” She stammered.
“Uh huh. Well, with you having been so hard on poor Jake in the last day, I figured it was time I gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

She just glared. In fact, she glared so intensely that for a second I swore my head was going to implode.

“I’ll be right back.” I told her.

I headed back to the car and retrieved the role of duct tape and the single rope that we left in the car. When I got back to the kitchen Rachel was pulling and struggling against the handcuff desperately, but she was getting nowhere.

“Come on now! You’re making so much noise.” I told her patronizingly.

Rope in hand I approached her, carefully. She fought furiously, but in the end one arm just can’t beat two. I managed to take her flailing left arm with both of my hands and drag behind her back. Pulling on her arm I managed to drag her whole body around until her wrists were brought together. I brought back the memory of when Hugh taught me to tie and I set to work. Bring the two ends together, wrap it around the wrists, cinch it vertically, pull the loose ends through the bend, tie it off. Just like that, Rachel, my friend, was subdued. Next, I took the role of duct tape in hand.

“Oh no.” Rachel objected. “No way! No way! No wmmmmmmmph!”

I ripped off a piece and stuck it over her flapping lips. Five or six more pieces followed, until the bottom half of her face was grey. I felt a certain sense of vindication when I did this actually. For all the grief she had given Jake about talking too much over the last day, she had done far more talking than him. For that she deserved to be duct taped!

I took one of the cuff keys out of my pocket and unlocked the cuff from her wrist, freeing her from the refrigerator to which she was held. First I slid the role of duct tape up my arm, and then I put the handcuffs back in my pocket and emptied hers. Wallet, keys, cell phone.

“Ok, move.” I ordered.

Sullenly, Rachel marched forward. She didn’t look at me as I led her out of the kitchen and upstairs. She seemed surprised when I turned her right and led her into the bedroom where Jake was residing. Though she wasn’t nearly as surprised as he was. His eyes widened like saucers when he saw her, as trussed up as he was.

“Hey Jake, I thought you could use some company.” I told him.

Rachel glared at me, but Jake chuckled from behind his gag. I sat Rachel down and took the one remaining unused rope to her ankles. Pretty soon they were bound and she wasn’t going anywhere. I walked over the bed where Jake sat in amusement. I untied the rope holding his ankles to the footboard and he removed them gratefully.

“Would you mind sliding down to the floor Jake?” I asked him nicely.

It seems he was receptive to courtesy and slid his bound body off the bed and onto the carpet.

“Now would you mind getting back to back with Rachel here?” I asked.

Once again, he was all too happy to oblige me. Rachel on the other hand seemed to be horrified with the idea and tried to squirm away. But I simply pulled her back with my left hand. When Jake had slid himself into place, I took the duct tape off my arm. Starting with Rachel’s right wrist, I bound all four arms together with the tape, wrapping it around them several times. Then I took the one remaining piece of rope and pulled the ends together. I decided to take it and thread it through their bound arms on either side before pulling it tight, that way they couldn’t slip it off by wiggling. Next I took the slack and tied it vertically between their backs, cinching the tie before I tied it off with a square knot.

“There! Now you two can have some quality time together!” I said happily.

Once again, Jake smiled and once again Rachel glared at me. But I didn’t care. I left the room with a smile on my face and I went downstairs. I laid down on the couch and clicked on the TV. I wanted to leave them to struggle or do whatever for a while before I went up to check on them. So I turned on the TV and watched an episode of Mythbusters. When Mythbusters was over I snuck back up the stairs as quietly as I could and opened the door just a crack. They were still bound securely, back to back, lying on their side. Jake had dosed off it seemed, whereas Rachel was still sitting there, fuming. Note to self: If Rachel feels like she’s in control, she flips when that control is taken away. As she herself said, power exchange is no trifling thing.

I slipped back downstairs to the kitchen and started on dinner. There wasn’t too much to be had, but enough dried pasta to be filling and enough flower, cheese and garlic to make a passable white sauce and enough vegetables in the crisper to make something resembling a salad. Once I’d been at it for another forty minutes or so and dinner looked like it was starting to be ready, I snuck back upstairs to check on my prisoners. Pushing the door open, I saw something I didn’t expect.

Apparently the infinitely stubborn Rachel had managed to loosen the knot binding Jake’s hands. He’d managed to release his hands from the rope and the duct tape, as well as the rope that held he and Rachel together. But much to her chagrin, he hadn’t untied her. I’m guessing he didn’t even take off the tape at first. I only caught a snippet of their conversation.

“Look, what happened back in February…” Rachel started.
“No. I get it. You’d just broken up with Troy, you were a mess. I know.” He replied.
“Still, I need to take responsibility for my own actions, I know.”
“I keep telling you, there’s nothing wrong with your actions! Look, what you and Sarah have done over the last day, this has been the coolest birthday present I’ve ever had. Especially from Sarah, who isn’t getting anything out of this! I love being tied up. I crave for it the same way most guys crave sex. It’s weird, I know I’m messed up but that’s the way it is.”
“You’re not messed up.”
“Well yes I am. But that’s beside the point. Look, I’m really grateful for what you’ve done. I don’t feel like you’re leading me on, or anything like that. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that’s exactly how YOU’RE feeling about this.”
“Well… I don’t know. I keep telling myself that you’re the re-bound from Troy, but I can’t get you out of my mind.”

I decided that, as much as I wanted to, I shouldn’t eavesdrop any further. Somehow I knew from the beginning that Rachel had a hidden agenda and that she was really doing this to win him over. Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell me about the second key, she was going to turn on me so she’d be free to talk things over with Jake without fear of interruption. I don’t know. Oh well, I simply tended to my cooking until dinner was ready and the table was set. Then I headed back upstairs. I opened the door a crack. To no one’s surprise, they were making out. Rachel was still bound and helpless and it seemed she didn’t want it any other way.

“Sorry to interrupt guys.” I said.

They both looked over to me in shock, apparently they forgot I was there.

“Dinner is ready.”
“Oh cool! You made food, thanks Sarah.” Jake said.
“Would you mind untying her, come downstairs when you’re ready.”

I turned and left the room again. Jake had her untied and they came downstairs within a minute or two and we sat down to eat together. I must admit, I was feeling a little grumpy. Another friend of mine had a newfound relationship and there I was out in the cold, making them dinner in the next room. As we ate and talked, Jake picked up on this. After dinner, Rachel went upstairs to wash her face as I was doing the dishes.

“Sarah.” He called over to me.

I looked up, he was sitting on the couch, beckoning me towards him. I walked over to the couch and sat down. He reached out his arms and motioned me to come closer. I found myself in a tight hug.

“I just wanted to say how grateful I am for what you’ve done over the last couple of weeks.” He said.
“For what?” I asked.
“Kidnapping me for my birthday.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“Look, I know the looks you were giving Rachel and I while we were having dinner. I’ve seen them before. You’re jealous that she now has a relationship and you don’t.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“No. I’ve just given enough people that look on my accord enough times to be able to recognize it.”
“Ahhhh, I see.”
“Rachel is grateful for all your help too. She really is. She’s just kind of a mono-maniac this one and she’s focused on me and this screwed up situation.”

I smiled. I knew he was right. Rachel was my friend and always will be.

“Anyway, thank you so much.” He concluded.”You’re a great friend. And when you do find yourself a guy, he’ll be one lucky, lucky bastard.”

Before long Rachel came back downstairs. We decided there would be no further bondage antics that night. Jake was pretty sore from being tied up for well over a day and Rachel was sore because she’s a wuss. Albeit a loveable wuss. We watched TV together for the rest of the night and headed back to Denver the next morning. But much to my annoyance, Jake and Rachel decided that since I hadn’t been tied up yet, I would have to ride in the trunk on the way home. Jerks!
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Interlude

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:14 am

Interlude

Kate leapt to her feet and ran to hug her blonde friend.

“It’s ok sweetie. We’ll find you somebody, I promise!” She told her.

Liz stared straight at Hugh and motioned toward Sarah. Hugh just gave her a blank stare. Liz grunted and rolled her eyes in frustration. Hugh was remarkably thick for being such a smart guy. Chris saw this and laughed. He’d been trying to get Hugh and Sarah together even longer than Liz had.

“So that all really happened?” Chris asked.
“Yeah.” Sarah replied.
“Those two are kind of an odd couple.” Liz remarked. “When I saw they were dating on Facebook I was pretty surprised.”
“Little did you know how involved our own Sarah was.” Hugh pointed out.
“Little did I know.”
“Yeah they are a pretty odd couple. I have no idea how that’s going to work out.” Sarah agreed.
“Well, who cares.” Kate said.
“I do!” Sarah insisted.
“Ok ok, fine.”

Kate got up and returned to her seat next to Chris.

“What time is it?” She asked.
“About noon. Why?” Hugh replied.
“Well, we still have one more story to get through.”
“But we have the rest of the afternoon for it. We arrive at six don’t we?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well there you go. Sorry, I can’t listen to another story right now.” Liz declared. “No offence Sarah, I enjoyed yours, but my brain needs to clear out.”
“Yeah this coming from you who talked longer than any of us!” Kate shot back.
“Maybe, but not everybody has gone yet.” She pointed out.
“This is true.” Chris agreed. “I may go on longer.”
“Well go on about what?” Kate demanded.
“You’ll see.” He replied with a smirk.
“Dammit you’re as bad as Sarah and Rachel!”
“No he’s not.” Sarah insisted. “No where near.”

After a little more argument it was decided they’d take a couple hours before Chris started talking. Chris and Hugh busied themselves with eating one of the bags of chips they’d bought the previous evening and finishing their game of Risk. While their female friends initially treated this with some disdain, the way girls often do when their guy friends play Risk, all three stopped to watch the action unfold at one point or another. Chris and Hugh were usually very good about not competing with one another. Hugh had his musical pursuits and Chris had his athletic ones and their marks were about the same. But when it came to Risk… Things got pretty heated. And annoyingly for Chris, who was prone to reckless attacks, Hugh’s patient and cautious approach often won the day. Today was no exception. Chris held all of Europe and most of northern Asia and parts of eastern North America, Hugh held Africa, South America and most of North America. Chris did all he could to push into Hugh’s holdings and repel the attack he was sure was coming from Africa. Much to his surprise the forces Hugh had massed in North America suddenly poured out of Alaska and into Siberia, annihilating most of his holdings in northern Asia. From there it was a massacre.

As Chris and Hugh waged their war, the women in their lives contented themselves painting their nails and giving each other massages. Well, except for Lizzy, who sat and socialized with Sarah and Kate, but made sure to check back at the front lines every now and again to see who was winning the war. She knew Hugh would prevail.

Once the war was over, Chris and Hugh decided to go to the dining car to get some lunch. The girls decided not to go with them. The returned a few minutes later, baring burgers and fries. They sat down with the girls and they all chatted enjoyably. In fact, so enjoyably that three o’clock arrived in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

“Hey guys.” Sarah asked.
“What?” Liz demanded.
“It’s three o’clock. If we want to hear Chris’s story he should probably start now.”
“Should he?”
“Yeah I probably should. That way we’ll still have time to gather up our stuff and be ready to go when we get into New York.” Chris reasoned.
“Ok, ok” Kate relented.

As usual, Kate sat next to Chris on one of the seats. Liz lay down across from them, though this time Sarah decided to join her, lying down the opposite way to their heads were nearly touching. Hugh sat at one of the tables with his feet up.

“Alright guys. Now, I don’t have a lot of stories to tell that you folks weren’t all involved in. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell one that Kate here has heard before. In fact, she’s in it.”

Kate looked to him in shock.

“You’re not actually going to tell them this one are you?!” She demanded.
“Yep.” He replied candidly.
“What Kate?!” Liz demanded. “You don’t trust us?”
“Yeah! We tell each other everything. Those were your words!” Hugh added.
“Ok, ok fine.” She relented, her arms crossed with a pouty expression.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Chris's Tale: Once Upon a Zip Tie

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:15 am

Chris’s Tale: Once upon a zip tie…

Ok guys, now before I go any further I want to point out that this happened before we all started hanging out together and just after Kate and I started dating. Which is probably the only reason why you haven’t heard it yet. Well not all of it… But I’m sure you’ve wondered how Kate and I got into this, which led to you all getting into this. Well this is how:

I can’t remember when it was exactly, but it was a few years ago and in the middle of winter. The ground was covered with about a foot of snow and small crisp flakes were still meandering to the ground from the grey sky above. It reminded me a lot of that song “Let it snow”. I’ve always hated that song. It’s annoying and every Christmas you hear it played in the mall and on the radio, over and over again. But on this particular day, it was just me and Katie at her place. Her parents weren’t coming back until late and her brother was off with his girlfriend. It was just the two of us and the new snow gave me a good excuse to not leave.

As I recall we were sitting watching TV by the fireplace. There were a couple of half drunk mugs of some kind of ridiculously exotic tea on the coffee table nearby. But of course, as is so often the case on Saturday’s there was nothing on. Well mostly not, Robot Wars was still on the air at that point. But I couldn’t watch that, or even suggest watching that in front of Kate. She didn’t really know what a geek I am at that point. Oh well, she does now.

Anyway, I still wasn’t too familiar with the Franklin house yet. I was very familiar with Kate’s room but the rest of the house was still something of a mystery. So when Kate got up to go to the washroom, I decided to spend the couple of lonely minutes I found myself with to explore the main floor of the house. It wasn’t especially weird, a well-decorated kitchen with nice granite countertops that led into the blue-carpeted family room. The front hall was painted yellow with dark stained hardwood floor, to the left of the front door was her Dad’s study, lined with a long desk and bookshelves. The living room, white carpets and simply furnished with a couple of couches and an ottoman and that led me back to the kitchen.

My little exploration finished, I headed back to the TV room, Kate would be back soon. But… what was in that chest of drawers? There was a large oaken chest of drawers against the wall next to the window. It seemed somewhat out of place in this room. An odds and ends drawer maybe? I knew I shouldn’t but I decided to take a look inside. And I was right, it was an odds and ends drawer. There were any number of random objects inside, flashlights, staplers, elastics, old school medals, a rubber ball… All sorts of things. I was about to close the drawer when I noticed of familiar looking black objects, bundled together in a corner. I pulled one of them out.

It was a large, black zip tie.

I stared at it. As strange as it sounds I’d never actually taken a close look at one of these things before. I’d seen them holding signs onto telephone poles or holding electrical cords into bundles, but I’d never given them any thought.

A few days before I’d been at home watching TV, some kind of procedural cop show. But at one point, one of the female lead characters was kidnapped and held at gunpoint by the murderer they were chasing. As the murderer menaced her with his gun, it cut to a commercial. When it came back, she was standing in the middle of some decrepit room with a zip tie binding her hands behind her back. I remembered just how struck I was by this. As the seen progressed I was transfixed by the predicament she was in, I really didn’t care about the story any more, I just cared about her bound hands. I was so disappointed when she was rescued and the zip tie was cut. Why couldn’t they just leave her like that for me to ogle? It only occurred to me then: “Man… Kate would look great tied up like that.”

Now that I held a zip tie in my hand, all I could think about was slipping Kate’s wrists into it. But I couldn’t do that, could I?

I didn’t have time deliberate further, I heard Kate returning from the washroom. I slid the drawer closed, slipped the zip tie into my pocket and sat down on the carpet in front of the TV. Yes, there was a perfectly good couch there, but Kate and I often sit on the carpet rather than the couch. I don’t know why, we’ve always just… Done that. Anyway, wordlessly she sat down next to me and I continued scanning the channels, searching for anything we could watch.

“Why don’t we put on a movie?” She suggested.
“Sure.” I replied.
“What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care.”
“Action, Comedy… something else…”
“I really don’t care.”

Kate headed over to her DVD drawer and started scanning. Eventually she picked “The Mummy” with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. This was a good choice for that particular evening, it’s comic action movie that never stoops to taking itself seriously. As the movie kicked into gear, I put my arm and around Kate and we watched in silence. Though in truth I wasn’t watching the movie. My thoughts were still too tumultuous. I inordinately wanted to take the zip tie out of my pocket and tighten it around those beautiful wrists of hers. But that was weird wasn’t it? Who wants to be tied up? But then again, if people didn’t enjoy watching it, why would they put it on TV all the time. Maybe I should do it… But… Maybe I shouldn’t. What would she say?!

I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I had an instinct that Kate might enjoy it. Should I ask her? But wouldn’t she say no? She’d probably think I would rob her or something.

Oh c’mon that’s ridiculous. She knows exactly who I am, knows where I live, where I got to school, I see her practically everyday, what would be the point in me stealing from her. She’d know that I was tying her up just because I wanted to. But wasn’t that weird?

But for some reason that same instinct that told me Kate might enjoy it, convinced me to give it a try

“Hey sweetie.” I said. “Move forward a bit.”

She didn’t say anything, but slid forward a bit. As I’d done a few times before I slid behind her and started giving her a shoulder massage. I’m not that great at giving massages, I have an athlete’s touch. Rough. But she still enjoyed them and to some extent, knowing that someone likes you enough to give you a massage without you asking for it is comforting in and of itself. As usual her head slumped around from side to side and she purred affectionately.

Oh! By the way, I should mention, if my memory serves me correctly she was waiting a pair of jeans and a white blouse.

Anyway, she sat enjoying the touch of my hands of my hands and lazily watching the movie as I nervously anticipated my next move. Taking one of my hands from her shoulders I pulled the zip tie out of my pocket and laid it on the floor.

“Here, move your arms behind you, that’ll make it easier.” I told her.

She did as she was told and put both of her hands on the carpet behind her and I kept on massaging. In fact the position of her arms made it harder for me to massage them, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“Sweetie, I want to try something here.” I told her.
“Ok.” She replied casually. “What?”
“Hang on a sec.”

I took hold of her arms and gently pulled them a little closer together. She didn’t suspect anything. Then, I picked up the zip tie, slipped the thin end into the ratcheted end and tightened it around her wrists. Now, for better or worse, I was committed.

“What the hell?!” She exclaimed, turning around to face me.

I just smiled.

“What the hell are you doing?”
“I uhhh, tied your hands up.”
“Yeah I know that genius. Why?”
“I… don’t’ know…”

She stared at me quizzically.

“Honestly…” I started. “I was watching TV the other day…”

I repeated what I said to you guys a minute ago.

“And since I looked in the drawer and picked this thing up, all I could think about was how cute good you’d look tied up.”

I knew using the flattery technique would win me brownie points. And it seemed to be working. A long smile crossed her face.

“So you’re just kinky, is that it?” She asked, seeming to tease me.
“I guess so, I’m not really sure.” I replied.
“So.” She said, standing up. “Do I look as good as I thought you would?”

I stood up with her.

“Well, you look good however you come Katie.”

I couldn’t not say that come on! Laugh all you want Lizzy!

“Oh yes, yes. But do I look as good as you thought I would tied up?”
“Well, turn around, let me see your hands.”

She turned around, giving me a good look at her hands. Then just for fun she started turning around and twirling around, trying to look like a model. My eyes followed her, look at every curve on her beautiful body, but especially on that beautiful black zip tie that held her hands together.

“Yeah. I was right. You look just like those damsels in distress you see on TV. Save all the dirt.” I told her.
“You think I look as good as people on TV? You’re so sweet.” She replied.
“You want me to take it off now?”

I assumed she was about to say yes.

“No. I’m enjoying this actually.” She said.

I was dumbfounded. My instinct had been correct. She was enjoying this just as much as I was. So cool! And it was about to get even better.

“Maybe you should finish the job?” She suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Well you’ve tied my hands, maybe you should tie my feet or my knees too… So I can’t escape.”
“Alright.”

Without hesitation I darted back to that wonderful chest of drawers and the bundle of zip ties that lay in the corner of the middle drawer. I decided to pull out two more. I closed the drawer and walked over to Kate, who waited for me. I led her back to the couch and sat her down on it. I picked up her feet from the carpeted floor and lay them on the couch. I took the next zip tie and secured it around her ankles tightly. He knees followed soon after.

“You going anywhere?” I asked her.

She tried shuffling around and pulling against the loops of plastic that held her arms and legs together.

“I don’t think so.” She said.

I sat down on the couch and pulled her bound feet over my lap. We continued watching the movie, though I looked over to Kate almost constantly. She looked so adorable tied up like that. And the longer she stayed that way, the more I could tell she was enjoying it. As the cheesy action movie came to its even cheesier climax, Rachel Weisz is chained down on a slab, meant to be a human sacrifice. It seemed that from one bound woman to another, Kate felt some kinship with the beautiful Hollywood starlit. And I was her Brendan Fraser. God, life is good sometimes!

When the movie ended I stood up and pulled the DVD out of the player.

“How you doing there?” I asked.
“I’m totally helpless.” She replied. “You could do anything to me and there’s not a thing I can do about it. Am I nuts for enjoying this?”
“Yep. I think you are. But at least we’re both nuts.”
“That’s good.”
“Now, there’s something else I want to try.”

I reached down to her feet and pulled off the white socks she was wearing. She looked extremely nervous, she knew exactly what I was up to. Oh well. I took her feet in the crook of my right arm and went to town with my fingertips. At first she tried not to laugh, she gritted her teeth and her face turned bright red. But within a minute her fortitude broke and she was reduced laughing wriggling mass. She twisted and squirmed, try anything to escape my menacing fingers. But she could do nothing. As she herself said, I could do anything to her and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Well, besides beg for me to stop that is.

And beg she did! I had only been going for about two or three minutes when she started laughing hard enough to be beyond coherent speech. Two more minutes and tears were rolling down her red face. I must admit I was enjoying inflcting this agony on her, but I knew I couldn’t subject her to much more. Finally, after what felt like five minutes, I stopped. It took another minute for her breathing to slow down, tears were still drying on her face.

“You bastard.” She breathed.
“But you love me.” I replied

She didn’t agree, but she didn’t deny it either. That was good enough for me.

“I assume you want to be untied now.” I said.
“Oh hell no.” She replied. “But maybe you could re-tie me with rope or something. These zip ties are starting to hurt.”
“Oh ok. Do you have any rope?”
“In the garage I think.”

I stood up and headed straight for the garage. On the bench before the Audi parked next to the door, a spool of white nylon rope hung on the wall. Not knowing how much I was going to need, I took the whole thing and returned to my bound girlfriend.

“Ok, now you can cut me loose.” She said.
“No way.” I replied.
“What?”
“I’ve never tied anyone up in my life, I need to look this up.”

I marched to her laptop which was sitting on the kitchen table and started up firefox. After being sure to set it to private browsing, I opened up google.

“This has got to be the weirdest search anyone has ever done.” I remarked. She laughed.

Not knowing what else to put, I simply searched “How to tie someone up”. I was amazed by how many hits I got. There were all kinds of links to all kinds of sites: theotherpaper, wikihow, wiki.answers, ask.com… The list went on and on. I started by opening up the first link. I was a little taken aback. Ok, I was really taken aback. The link was all about sex and tying someone up for sex. I hadn’t actually considered that what I was doing was sexual in origin. And I didn’t want to think of it that way. But at the same time, it was undeniable.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked me.
“Nothing.” I lied.

I read on in strange fascination as the author of the page complained that sex had become “obsessively egalitarian”. What did that even mean?

You have to remember, this was a few years ago and I still had a lot of growing up to do at that point. I was no stranger to sex. I still hadn’t done it at that point, but I knew what it was and all that stuff. But when I’d started dating Kate, I really started dating her because that’s just… what we were supposed to do. Boys and girls, or boys and boys or whatever… Were supposed to start dating each other in high school. So I did. I hadn’t really thought of what I was doing as sexual but… Was it?

I shook my head and moved on. I would think about these ambiguities later, in the meantime I had to figure out how to tie someone up, whatever the reason. After searching through ask.com, I found a simple five-step guide. I read it over several times then decided to give it a try.

I took a pair of scissors from the kitchen counter and myself four six foot (or thereabouts) lengths of the white rope. Next I brought the rope over to Kate, who had been waiting patiently on the couch nearby. She seemed grateful as I cut the zip tie around her wrists. Then I tried to emulate the technique I’d read about online. It took me a few tries, but eventually I got it mostly right. I took the two ends of the rope separately and wrapped them through the opposite end, or lark’s head as the site called it. I wrapped it around a few more times then wrapped the two ends separately, vertically between her wrists… “cinching” the tie. These words were all foreign to me at this point.

“Ok, try pulling on that.” I asked her.

She pulled and struggled, but it didn’t budge.

“That’s pretty good, I don’t think I can get out of that.” She said.

Encouraged, I cut the zip ties around her knees and ankles respectively and replaced them with rope, tied in the same way. It worked well, so well that it seemed even more secure than the zip ties.

“What do you think, do you like that as well?” I asked her.
“Yeah this is more comfortable.” She replied. “Plus… I mean… Now I feel even more damsel in distress like. This is great!”
“You know what would make it even better?”
“What?”

I stood up and charged straight back to the garage where I got the spool of rope. I knew exactly what I was looking for and it didn’t take me long to find it. I returned to Kate in the TV room.

“Oh boy…” She said quietly with resignation.

I pulled a piece of duct tape off the role I was holding, pulled it taught and smoothed it over her beautiful lips. She gave me a bit of a dirty look, but I could tell it was pretty playful.

“Oh c’mon!” I insisted. “What TV damsel is complete without duct tape over her mouth?”

Kate nodded, but it seemed she had no intention of staying silenced for long. As soon as the tape was on I saw her jaw and her lips working to remove it. Much to my amazement after a minute of pulling and tugging, the tape peeled off her lower jaw and off her top jaw followed soon after.

“No way!” I yelled. “A strip of duct tape always works in the movies… You must have a very strong jaw. Which would make sense, given how much it flaps!”
“Hey! Shut up!”
“You shut up! You talk so much you can rip tape right off!”
“Ok, ok. Yeah, I talk a lot. But that wasn’t at all difficult, I think one strip just isn’t going to stay on.”

I stopped to think about it.

“Ok. Sometimes you see a piece of cloth or something like that shoved into the mouth behind the tape.” I said.
“Yeah.” She agreed.
“Do you have some ankle socks or something?”
“Yeah, in the top shelf of my dresser.”

I ran up the stairs to her room and grabbed a pair of her ankle socks, which were tiny. Then again she had tiny feet. As I ran back down stairs, it occurred to me that this might not be completely safe. But at the time I was too enraptured to let it stop me. This strange fantasy that I’d been indulging in was coming true right before me eyes. More to the point my beautiful girlfriend was right there with me, enjoying it as much as I was. Could things get any better?

I knelt down next to the couch where my girlfriend helplessly lay.

“Ok.” I started. “This should work better.”

Without waiting to hear her objections I shoved one of the ankle socks into her mouth and ripped off another piece of tape. I took less care when I shoved this one over her lips, mainly because several more strips were to follow it. I don’t know how many I ended up using, but it must have been six or seven. The bottom half of her face was completely covered with the sticky grey stuff by the time I was finished. She tried to speaking, to test the gag, but she barely produced any sound. The sock plus the mass of tape was working.

“Finally! Some peace and quiet!” I exclaimed.

That comment incurred the first genuine dirty look the day. But that was ok, it was worth it. I stood up and headed into the kitchen and reached into the freezer. I don’t know why but I decided I wanted some ice cream and as luck would have it, there was a tub of chocolate in the freezer. I grabbed a spoon and ate it straight out of the tub. This might sound strange given that the weather was freezing and snow was falling outside. But, I like ice cream. Then it occurred to me, Kate loved it even more. I headed back to the couch to tease her a bit.

“You want some?” I offered.

She nodded forcefully.

I dug out a spoonful and shoved it toward her gagged lips. She started pulling and twisting her jaw like she’d done before. But unlike last time, she wasn’t able to pull it off.

“Come on!” I taunted. “Don’t you want it?”

She nodded again, but couldn’t release her lips to eat it.

“Ok fine.”

I ate the spoonful myself, much to her chagrin. I had to stand over her and help myself to a bit more before I put the ice cream away and ended her torment. I walked back towards her and just stared at her for a minute. She looked beautiful; we’ve established that. And she was my prisoner; cool. But, now that she was my prisoner, what do I do with her? I wasn’t a TV villain, I had no axe to grind, no ransom to collect, no score to settle. The little fantasy that I’d been living suddenly came crashing down to the reality.

I recalled what I’d read when I looked online. It seemed if most people, who… did whatever it was we were doing, would tie their significant other up and then.. well.. have sex with them. Could I do that? Would I do that? Was I ready for that? The thought made me nervous.

By now Kate was looking at me confused, probably wondering what the hell I was staring at. As soon as our eyes met though, she seemed to read my mind. She seemed to start pondering how far we were going to go. And of course, right on cue… The damn doorbell rang.

Both of our heads turned for the door like gophers popping out of their holes. She looked to me worriedly.

“I’ll get rid of them.” I said.

I walked to the door and nervously turned the handle, hoping to God that it wasn’t her brother or one of her friends paying a surprise visit. If anyone saw her like this… It couldn’t possibly end well. I opened the door to see a light haired middle aged woman in a business suit.

“Hello.” I said.
“Hi, sorry to bother you, I live down the street and my car got stuck. Would you mind trying to give a push?”
“Oh! Sure. No problem.”

Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so relieved in my life. I put on my boots and left without locking the door and pushed the woman’s car out of the snow bank she’d driven into. She thanked me and I returned to the house. When I think back on it, I probably should have been worried about leaving Kate tied up and gagged in the TV room with the front door unlocked and opened a crack. Of course, it didn’t occur to me at the time and I don’t think it occurred to her either.

I came back inside, ditched my shoes and returned to the couch.

“It was your neighbor, I had to push her car.” I said.

She nodded, but started mmmmphing determinedly. Somehow by the tone and frequency of her muffled vocalizations I knew she was serious and I wasted no time in removing the sticky mass of duct tape from her face. When her mouth was free she spat out the rolled up sock and it fell to the carpet with a wet thud.

“What were you staring when you were on my computer?” She asked.
“I uhhh… what… what do you mean?” I stammered.
“When you were on my computer, looking up how to tie me up, you stopped and were just staring at the computer. I know how you look when you’re just reading. You were shocked.”
“Yeah.”
“What were you reading?”
“Well I… Look…”

I was terrified. How the hell do I approach this?

“When I looked up how to, tie you…” I started, sweating bullets. “Basically everything I found was talking about bondage. (A word I wasn’t really comfortable with at that point) It was all pretty sexual.”
“Oh… I see.”
“Well, the question is, you tie somebody up, then what do you do with them? Obviously you… you… do…”
“Them.” She finished my sentence.
“Yeah.”

For a moment we sat in the most awkward protracted silence that I’ve ever experienced. We both waited for each other to make the first suggestion, but neither of us were really brave enough. Finally she said:

“Well, I guess we were going to have to deal with this at one point.” She said.
“Yeah.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.”

Another silence followed. Even though she was tied up, it seemed to me that Kate was still in control of the situation. More in control of her own thoughts anyway.

“Look.” She said. “Do you want to?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple as that. Do you want to?”

Did I? Part of me did and part of me didn’t. I was only fifteen. In school and on the news I’d heard time and again about how kids were having sex and younger and younger ages, and part of me didn’t want to become part of that statistic. On the other hand… I’m a guy. Us guys are all pretty similar in this regard. What to do? What to do? The beautiful girl who I loved was offering herself to me. But could I accept? Finally I decided.

“Katie.” I said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“You know I love you. As far as I’m concerned you’re the most beautiful thing on earth.”

Silence.

“But I’m not ready.” I concluded.
“Ok.” She replied.

I’m not sure why, but I decided to do the honorable thing and wait. I just wasn’t ready. Call me puritanical if you like, but I decided to wait. And in the long run I’m glad I did.

“We can revisit this in a few years.” She said. “By then, I’m pretty sure you’ll feel differently.”
“Ok. It’s a date.” I replied happily.

We smiled at each other.

“You probably couldn’t get it up anyway.” She remarked.

We both burst out laughing. I love this girl so much, trust her to de-fuse this overly serious and nerve racking moment with a wise crack. Trust her. And I loved her for it, I loved her for it then and I love her for it now. I told her as much.

“Katie I love you. You know that right?” I said.
“Yeah Chris. I know.” She replied.

I leaned towards her and we had our first kiss. The sun was just breaking through the grey low hanging clouds, sending beams of light reflecting off the flakes of snow that fell to the ground, lighting up the world with tiny beams of light that seemed to dance in the air. It was unplanned and unpracticed, but passionate and unwavering. For a moment it seemed like the planets were lined up and the world was in perfect order. It felt like the snow would never stop falling but the world would always be warm. Like all the problems and issues that we concern ourselves with everyday were just gone and would never come back… But… Like all beautiful moments, it had to end.

When I pulled back, we just stared at each other. I had the intuition that I had just lived a pretty pivotal life experience. I think she felt the same way.

“That was great.” She said quietly.
“Yeah.” I replied. “Now!”

Without warning I took the duct tape off the floor, ripped off a piece and stuck it over her lips. She was taken aback. I guess she expected me to untie her at that point, but I had no intention of doing anything of the kind. I slapped several pieces of tape on her and stood up. Without saying anything and without fair warning my aggressive fingers launched a savage tickling assault on her ribs. She started thrashing and fumbling even more wildly than before. The surprise of my attack doomed any semblance of stoicism that she might have been able to conjure if she’d had foreknowledge. And so she wiggled and she grunted and she tried to kick me with her bound feet, but nothing worked. I could not be stopped!

Given the ferocity of this assault, I did keep it up as long. After a couple of minutes I finally couldn’t resist her pleading eyes and stopped. She panted for a minute before returning to her senses. At that point I couldn’t resist and started tickling her again. But only for a few seconds! I swear!

Once I’d had my fill of torturing her, I decided to extend a small mercy and brought her a couple of towels. One dry and one soaked in cool water. I decided it would be worth my time to cool her down and make her look presentable again. Cause once I did, I irked her considerably when I walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed her mother’s digital camera. I guess she wasn’t too happy when I started snapping pictures. I took a couple of shots of her as a whole, a couple of shots of her gagged face, a few of her bound hands and knees and ankles. Essentially I shot myself a complete photographic record of my tying job.

“These are for research!” I insisted. “So I can find new ties.”

She nodded sarcastically. It’s amazing how well she still communicates when she can’t speak. Just saying.

“Maybe I should start a scrapbook?”

Once I’d taken all the pictures I wanted I sat down and plugged the camera into her laptop. After uploading the pictures onto her laptop I e-mailed them all to myself. Once I’d seen that the e-mail went through, I then of course deleted them from the camera. Who knows what horror might be unleashed if Mrs. Franklin saw those. The thought still makes me shudder.

I walked back over to Kate and she started making those serious mmmmphs again. Dutifully and I pulled the tape off her face again.

“What?” I asked.
“I’m starting to get kind of sore.” She replied.
“Time for me to untie you?”
“Well… How about just my legs, so I can stretch them out. You can leave my hands tied for a little longer if you’d like.”
“Alright.”
“Haha. They say love is the tie that binds. I guess that’s true now.”
“Oh God, come on Katie! That phrase was cliché enough when it wasn’t a pun!”

We both laughed and she gave me a playful wink as I set about untying her. Once her ankles and knees were free, I helped her stand up and she started walking around to stretch them out. I expected her to request her hands released soon after, but soon after we found ourselves back on the couch watching TV again with me cradling her in my arms, hands still tied. We watched the latter half hour of an episode of House. I didn’t tell her this at the time, but I spent the whole episode hoping against hope that Jennifer Morrison or Lisa Edelstein would somehow get tied up during the episode. Of course my hopes were dashed. With the exception of a few unspectacular medical restraints, I don’t think any good bondage scenes have come out of that show.

By the time it was over evening was closing in and it was time for me to head home. Kate looked pretty disappointed when I told her this, but my parents kept a pretty tight leash on me in those days and I didn’t want to piss them off. Finally I took the rope from her wrists and she was fully mobile once again. I noticed the red welts left by the rope, I hadn’t thought of those.

“You might want to be wearing long sleeves when your parents get home.” I said.

She walked me to the door and I put my boots and jacket on. Sullenly she opened the door and started to speak. But actions speak louder than words I decided and kissed her before she could utter one syllable. After another blissful moment, I turned and left the house, venturing into the snow covered street.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Outro

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:16 am

Outro

“You are such a romantic brother.” Hugh proclaimed, shaking his head in approval.
“That’s putting it mildly.” Liz grumbled.

By now Kate was holding Chris’s hand and looking at him affectionately. His story had been as much of a memory jogger for her as it was for him. She obviously looked back on that day fondly.

“I gotta say.” Sarah started. “I’m amazed how frank you were about the whole sex thing.”
“I’m more amazed that Kate didn’t rip your head off!” Liz offered.

Kate nodded with a sense of agreement, though her hand didn’t leave Chris’s.

“Well.” He said. “I trust you guys. I would have no problem telling each of you on your own, so why not when we’re all together.”
“That makes sense.” Hugh agreed.
“Well…” Kate said. “Unless I’m mistaken we’re almost in New York! Let’s get ready to go!”

Everybody excitedly heeded Kate’s wish and started cleaning up. All the various odds and ends, laptops, books, pillows, whatever, that they had pulled out during the second leg of the trip were put back into the rolling bags or satchels from whence they came. Within another half an hour, they were all glued to their windows as the Big Apple finally came into view in all of its glittering splendor. They’d all been enjoying the trip so much that New York had been somewhat put out of their minds over the last couple of days. But now the sheer excitement they’d felt when they had first boarded the train back in Colorado returned. They were graduated and off to have an adventure together.

After traversing the city limits for around twenty minutes the train finally pulled into stop at platform 23 at Grand Central Station. As always the guys hauled their girl friends’ bags off the train and laid them out on the ground. Amidst the large crowd of people they ventured off into the city that never sleeps.

As they walked out of the station and into the city Sarah remarked:

“You know, I think I might actually miss always having a story to look forward to.”

Hugh put his arm around her and said:

“Well… There’s always the trip home.”



Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby Kyle » Tue Jun 28, 2011 7:48 pm

Great format, great writing, and great story overall. I'm split on Hugh's or Chris's being my favorite but all were pretty good.

Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Postby dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jul 01, 2011 11:07 pm

Thank you sir. Personally, Hugh's was my favorite. I wrote the bulk of it in one night, it flowed the most easily and naturally out of all of them. And the character of Hugh has quite a bit of me in it. Though all of them do, to some extent. Anyway, thanks for your interest.
There's a permanent tension in music isn't there? On one hand you have three chords, you know, four four and three chords. Then there's the people like me, who say "Well, why don't we add a fourth chord and put it in five four?" - Bill Bruford