## Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Post by 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. Itâ€™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 friendsâ€™ bags onto the train. Those werenâ€™t light bags.
â€œOk compartment C is at the back.â€ 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.
â€œOk! This is ours. Thank God.â€ 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.
â€œWeâ€™re going. Weâ€™re actually going.â€ The blonde girl remarked.
â€œKind of hard to believe isnâ€™t it?â€ One of the guys agreed.
It seemed like a million years since theyâ€™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 couldnâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 groupsâ€™ 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. Sheâ€™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 didnâ€™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 wasnâ€™t as well built as his best friend Chris. Unlike Chris he wasnâ€™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 wouldnâ€™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 didnâ€™t suffer fools and considered most guys just thatâ€¦ 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 Chrisâ€™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:
â€œSo how long is this going take again?â€ Liz asked.
Kate stopped to think.
â€œAround two days.â€ She said.
â€œWhat the hell are we going to do with ourselves?â€ Chris asked.
Liz giggled.
â€œOh grow up Lizzy!â€ Hugh yelled.
â€œWell normally we can talk for hours.â€ Sarah suggested. â€œWhy should this be any different?â€
â€œYeah butâ€¦ two days?â€ Hugh asked.
â€œWeâ€™ll pass the time somehow.â€
Right on cue there was an awkward silence that lasted for a good two minutes.
â€œThis is going downhill already.â€ Liz snapped.
â€œOk, ok chill out.â€ Kate said.
â€œItâ€™s too bad people can still come and go through the compartment.â€ Chris said.
â€œWhy?â€
â€œI brought along a few zip ties.â€
They all chuckled.
â€œYeah we wouldnâ€™t want to get caught doing that, we might get thrown off the train.â€ Sarah said.
â€œYeah probably.â€ Hugh agreed.
â€œEven so, if we donâ€™t want to spend this whole trip ignoring each other on our laptops, we should come up with some way to pass the time.â€ Kate insisted.
â€œWhat do you suggest?â€ Liz inquired.
A thought then leapt into Chrisâ€™s mind.
â€œOk well how about this.â€ He began. â€œIf I canâ€™t USE my zip ties on any of you, but weâ€™re still boredâ€¦ Why donâ€™t we pass the time the way old folks did.â€
â€œWhat the hell do you mean?â€ Liz demanded.
â€œWe tell stories.â€
â€œWhat?... Andâ€¦ What the hell does that have to do with zip ties?â€
â€œWe tell stories of when weâ€™ve been tied up.â€
His four friends stopped to think about it.
â€œThat could be fun actually.â€ Sarah agreed.
â€œDo they have to be true?â€ Hugh asked.
â€œNo, I guess not.â€ Chris decided.
â€œBut they could be true?â€
â€œYes.â€
â€œActually thatâ€™d be perfect, I have a story Iâ€™ve been meaning to tell you guys.â€
â€œMe too!â€ Sarah agreed.
â€œI donâ€™t!â€ Liz objected.
â€œNeither do I.â€ Kate pointed out. â€œMake it up! We all like talking out of our asses, well except for Hugh.â€
â€œBut I donâ€™t have to!â€ He agreed.
â€œLetâ€™s do it!â€ Sarah said.
â€œI agree.â€ Hugh said.
â€œAlright fine!â€ Liz admitted. â€œIâ€™ll need some time to come up with something though.â€
â€œActually thatâ€™s a good question, what order do we tell them in?â€ Kate asked.
â€œUhhh.. wellâ€¦ Letâ€™s draw numbers.â€ 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.
â€œOk, everybody take one.â€ He said.
Liz reached in first.
â€œThree.â€ She said.
Hugh reached in next.
â€œTwo.â€
Kate took her turn.
â€œDamn, Iâ€™m going first.â€
Sarah reached in.
â€œIâ€™m fourth.â€
Chris was happy; heâ€™d hoped to go last.
â€œSo do we tell all these at once or spread them out?â€ Kate asked.
â€œLetâ€™s spread them out so they last the whole trip.â€ Sarah said.
â€œYeah, one tonight, one tomorrow morning, one after we transfer in Chicago and a couple more the next day.â€ Chris decided.
â€œOk perfect.â€ Hugh agreed.
â€œIâ€™m going to need some time to figure mine out though.â€ Kate said.
â€œThatâ€™s ok, why donâ€™t we go to the dining car and eat and you can figure it out.â€ 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.
â€œAlright sweetie!â€ Chris said excitedly. â€œTime for you to tell your tale.â€
â€œOk. Well, this story isnâ€™t true. In fact it isnâ€™t even plausible. But I think youâ€™ll like itâ€¦â€
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

### Kateâ€™s Tale: The Millionairess

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 1:24 am

Kateâ€™s Tale: The Millionairess
It started out as a fairly bland morning; Iâ€™d gotten out of bed, had breakfast, showered and gone out to run errands. I didnâ€™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.
Iâ€™d stopped at the school, the drycleaners, the grocery store and I was finally running my last errand and heading to my familyâ€™s accountantâ€™s office which was on the twelfth floor of a high rise building, next to the mall.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
â€œWhat were you wearing?â€ Chris asked.
â€œOh uhhhh, a dark blue blouse, a black skirt, stockings and black pumps.â€ Kate replied.
â€œOk cool. Continue.â€
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I entered the marble lobby of the building and walked to the front desk where there was a directory. Since Iâ€™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 didnâ€™t say anything to me, so I didnâ€™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 didnâ€™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 â€œsharesâ€ 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 Iâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
Iâ€™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 couldnâ€™t pinpoint why. Once we were between the first and second floors, he pressed the stop button.
â€œWhy did you stop it?â€ 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 mustâ€™ve widened like saucers and I was hyperventilating like I never have.
â€œListen to me very carefullyâ€¦â€ He said in a low, deadpan voice. â€œI do not want to hurt you, but I am prepared to if you donâ€™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 wonâ€™t make it more than three steps. Is that clear?â€
I nodded in panic.
â€œSay it.â€ He said.
â€œYeahâ€¦ yeah, itâ€™s clear.â€ 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 didnâ€™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 couldnâ€™t see and walked towards me.
â€œGo ahead.â€ 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 didnâ€™t let go. A few seconds and I couldnâ€™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 donâ€™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 didnâ€™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 hadnâ€™t wrapped it around my head, but no matter how hard I tried to work it off, it stuck to my face. Maybe theyâ€™d stuck it on with glue, Iâ€™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, booksâ€¦ 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.
â€œWould you mind keeping it down?â€ He sneered.
All I could give in return was a defiant mmmmmmmph.
â€œLook, as I said on the elevator, I do not want to hurt you. Youâ€™re not going to do yourself any good mindlessly opposing us like this.â€
An interesting word choice he made there, I thought, â€œMindlesslyâ€. 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.
â€œEverything will be alright. Iâ€™ll be back for you in a couple of hours Miss Lee.â€
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 somethingâ€¦ unseemlyâ€¦ 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 wasâ€¦ Wellâ€¦ 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 theyâ€™re doing. If I was going to make some kind of escape, this certainly wasnâ€™t an opportunity to do it. Soâ€¦ 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.
â€œAlright Miss Lee. I need to take you into another room. Iâ€™m going to untie you. If you make things difficult for me, I wonâ€™t give you any of the food or water Iâ€™ve set out. Do you understand?â€
I nodded, though I started mmmmphing concertedly, trying to get the gag off. He didnâ€™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 eveningâ€¦ 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.
â€œYou got him up yet?â€ My captor asked sternly.
â€œI can call whenever youâ€™re ready.â€ He replied.
â€œGood. Do it.â€
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 didnâ€™t know. As soon as he saw me, his worried expression turned to sheer bewilderment.
â€œMr. Leeâ€ My captor began from off camera: â€œ 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.â€
There was an awkward pause.
â€œWho is that?â€ Mr. Lee asked.
Another awkward pause.
â€œYou donâ€™t recognize your own daughter?!â€ My captorâ€™s partner demanded.
â€œThat isnâ€™t my daughter.â€ 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 Iâ€™d been wondering all day:
â€œWHO THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE!?!â€
â€œYouâ€¦ you arenâ€™t Rosa Lee?â€ My captor asked.
â€œNo! My name is Kate Franklin! I donâ€™t know Rosa Lee! Or this guy! Or any of you! I was just dropping off some tax sheets at my Goddamn accountantâ€™s office when this guy stuck a gun in my face!â€
Mr. Lee on the screen looked sympathetic, but relieved. Apparently his daughter wasnâ€™t too good at staying in touch with him.
â€œIâ€™m so sorry you were dragged into this Miss.â€ He said.
â€œI appreciate your sympathy, can I go home now please?â€
One of the men hit a button on his laptop and the screen went black.
â€œYou imbecile! How could you grab the wrong girl!? What the hell is wrong with you!?â€ My captorâ€™s partner yelled.
â€œHow should I know? The client told me the target was on the elevator and that I was to grab her at the third floor. Iâ€™d never actually seen her before.â€
â€œGreat. Just great, what the hell do we do now?â€
â€œLet me go home?â€ 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 Iâ€™d seen on my way in. He pulled an old rolling chair from under one of the old decrepit desks, pushed it against the deskâ€™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.
â€œWait!â€ I yelled. â€œWhat about me? Iâ€™m of no use to you!â€
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)

Post by lasse672000 » Wed Jun 08, 2011 2:08 am

Great story!
Whazzzz up!.

### Re: Tied on the Tracks (The Canterbury Tugs)

Post by 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)

Post by 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)

Post by 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

Post by 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 didnâ€™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 â€œclientâ€, 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 theyâ€™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 Iâ€™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 couldnâ€™t use it if I escaped my bonds.
â€œShit!â€ I hissed.
Now what do I do? I couldnâ€™t escape the office and I couldnâ€™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 hadnâ€™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 Iâ€™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 wouldnâ€™t believe me, but somehow I had to convince him I was serious.
Chris: Hey Babe! Whereâ€™ve you been I called you like six times!
Kate: Chrisâ€¦ 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, Iâ€™m totally serious.
Chris: What?
Kate: Iâ€™m totally serious ok?
Chris: Katie, what is going on?
Kate: Iâ€™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 accountantâ€™s office today I got mistaken for some corporate bigwigâ€™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 wasnâ€™t actually his daughter.
Chris: Kate, sweetie, youâ€™ve got to be shitting me here.
Kate: Iâ€™M NOT!!!!! For the love of God call the cops!
Chris: Ok, okâ€¦ If youâ€™ve been kidnapped, how are you on the computer talking to me.
Kate: Iâ€™m in an office building downtown somewhere. After they figured out I wasnâ€™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 seriousâ€¦
Kate: Goddammit Chris! I am still handcuffed right now while Iâ€™m writing this! Call the cops!
Chris: Ok. Iâ€™m trusting you.
Kate: Ok listen, this has something to do with a guy named Lee. His daughterâ€™s name is Rosa Lee and his company is based out of my accountantâ€™s building, metrotower 2 downtown. Iâ€™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: theyâ€™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 wouldnâ€™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.
â€œHere she is.â€ He called out.
I looked down in defeat. Hoping to give him the impression I was as helpless as I looked.
â€œWhat do you think youâ€™re doing?â€ He demanded.
I didnâ€™t answer and looked meek. It seemed my tactic was working. He appeared to appreciate that if he were in my position heâ€™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 Iâ€™d spent most of the day in.
Being somewhat disenfranchised with chairs, he threw the wooden chair Iâ€™d been sitting on out of the room and pushed me to the floor. Taking some of the white nylon rope heâ€™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 wasnâ€™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.
â€œYou should knowâ€ He said as he turned to leave. â€œOur client is going to decide what to do with you when he gets here. I donâ€™t know what heâ€™s going to say.â€
He shut the door behind him and left me on the floor of the closet, amid all the paper, boxes and other things Iâ€™d knocked off the shelves earlier. The hogtie heâ€™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.
Iâ€™d never been religious, but I decided to give it a try.
â€œGodâ€ I thought. â€œI know weâ€™ve never really talked before. But, if youâ€™re up there, I could really use a hand. Please help me get out of this alive ok?â€
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 â€œclientâ€ must have been with them. I could feel the weight of their collective stare as I lay there motionless.
â€œWell?â€ My captor asked him.
â€œWe canâ€™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.â€
With that they turned around and left the room. I was relieved they werenâ€™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.
â€œGET HER OUT HERE! GET HER OUT HERE!â€ 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 â€œclientâ€ who immediately shoved his pistol into my head.
â€œYou are ordered to lay down your weapons and surrender your hostage!â€ 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.
â€œLetâ€™s go!â€ The man called.
He pulled me along as he and his two minions stormed out of the office toward the front door. My captorâ€™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.
â€œDrop the gun!â€ One of the swat guys yelled. â€œThe building is surrounded, thereâ€™s no way out!â€
â€œIâ€™ve still got her donâ€™t I?!â€ He yelled back.
â€œDrop the gun!â€
â€œYou guys get back on the elevator and go downstairs or Iâ€™ll kill her!â€
The swat guys didnâ€™t back off.
â€œMr. Thompsonâ€ My captor said quietly. â€œTheyâ€™ve got us.â€
â€œWhat the hell are you talking about? Iâ€™m giving you guys five seconds!â€
The swat guys slowly advanced.
â€œFive!â€ He cried as he pulled me in front of him.
â€œFour!â€
â€œGive it up!â€ The swat commander yelled.
â€œThree!â€
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 whoâ€™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.
â€œAre you alright?â€ 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.
â€œKatie!â€ He exclaimed. â€œYouâ€™re ok!â€
â€œYeah.â€ I replied quietly. â€œIâ€™m fine.â€
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.
â€œWas this all your doing?â€ I asked him.
â€œKinda, yeah.â€ He replied sheepishly. â€œAfter 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.â€
â€œAir cav?â€
â€œThat helicopter.â€
â€œIs he here?â€
â€œYeah, he wanted to talk to you.â€
â€œWell, letâ€™s go find him.â€
After thanking the paramedic, Chris held my hand as we started searching for Mr. Lee, the anonymous corporate fellow whoâ€™s daughter Iâ€™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.
â€œHey.â€ I said to him.
He looked over to me.
â€œThank you. You kidnapped me, but you also saved my life. Iâ€™ll make sure to tell them that in court.â€
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.
â€œIâ€™m so sorry about all this.â€ He said.
â€œYes Iâ€™m sure you are.â€ I replied, somewhat sarcastically.
â€œI mean it. I feel somewhat responsible for whatâ€™s happened.â€
I wanted to blurt out â€œBecause you are somewhat responsible!â€ But I managed to bite my tongue.
â€œIâ€™d like you to have this.â€ 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.
â€œPlease take it.â€ He said.
It probably wouldâ€™ve been the more ladylike thing to have refused and given it back. But, letâ€™s face it, Iâ€™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.
â€œCâ€™mon Chris. I need a drink.â€ 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

Post by 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 theyâ€™d just finished watching a long movie, though Liz was in no mood to rouse herself from her makeshift bed.
â€œGreat story babe!â€ Chris congratulated his girlfriend. â€œI even made a cameo appearance!â€
â€œYeah, I thought youâ€™d like that Mr. I need attention like air.â€ Kate replied.
â€œHey!â€
â€œSheâ€™s just screwin with ya Chris, calm down.â€ Liz said.
â€œI know, I know. I take so much abuse from you Kate!â€
â€œAnd yet you canâ€™t live without me.â€ She pointed out.
â€œNo I canâ€™t.â€
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.
â€œSo whose turn is it now?â€ Sarah asked.
â€œMine.â€ Hugh replied.
â€œWait are you going to tell it now?â€ Liz asked.
â€œNo, I thought I was going to go tomorrow morning.â€
â€œGood, because I need to get some beauty sleep.â€
â€œI think we all do.â€ 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 theyâ€™d all laid down with the blankets and pillows that theyâ€™d so wisely brought with themâ€¦ Or at least the ones Sarah forced them to bring, their conversation turned back to Kateâ€™s story.
â€œGood night guys.â€ Sarah said happily. â€œThat was a great story Kate.â€
â€œThanks.â€
â€œA good damsel in distress fantasy for yourself Katiekins.â€ Liz remarked.
â€œOh câ€™mon Lizzy!â€ Kate objected. â€œAdmit it, you love being a damsel in distress just as much as I do!â€
â€œNo. Nopeâ€¦ I donâ€™t think anybody likes being a damsel in distress as much as you Kate.â€
Kate stopped to think about this.
â€œOk maybe not.â€ She admitted.
â€œThatâ€™s ok, these things are all fantasy anyway.â€ Chris pointed out.
â€œMine isnâ€™t.â€ Hugh said.
â€œYeah, yeah, ok yours isnâ€™t.â€
â€œNeither is mine.â€ Sarah pointed out.
â€œMine isnâ€™t eitherâ€¦ Sorta.â€ Liz added.
â€œSo youâ€™ve figured out your story have you?â€ Hugh asked her.
â€œYes. I feel really stupid that I didnâ€™t think of it earlier.â€
â€œOh thatâ€™s ok.â€
â€œYeah, youâ€™ve done way stupider things than that!â€ Kate remarked.
â€œHey shaddup bitch!â€
â€œSometimes I find it very difficult to believe you guys are actually friends.â€ Chris said.
â€œOh yeah, but we love each other.â€ Kate assured him.
â€œTotally. We just express our love through hatred.â€ Liz agreed.
â€œAnd shopping.â€
â€œYeah. And shopping.â€
â€œI think women and their shopping habits will forever be a mystery to me.â€ Hugh admitted.
â€œYou and me both bro. You and me both.â€ Chris agreed.
â€œJust for the record, Iâ€™m with you guys, I hate shopping.â€ Sarah added.
â€œYeah. Anyway, Iâ€™m going to sleep now.â€ 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. Hughâ€™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 werenâ€™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:
â€œGod I hate mornings!â€ 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 wasnâ€™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 Kateâ€™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.
â€œOk bro. Youâ€™re up.â€ Chris said.
â€œYeah I guess I am.â€ Hugh replied.
â€œSo this one is true you said.â€ Sarah asked.
â€œYes it is.â€
â€œAnd why are we only hearing about this now?!â€ Kate demanded.
â€œLet the poor man talk!â€ Liz shot back.
â€œThank you Lizzy.â€ Hugh said. â€œNow you all remember the folks I play with in my jazz quartet?â€
â€œYeah.â€ Chris replied.
â€œDoes Monica still sing with you guys?â€ Liz asked.
â€œWhoâ€™s that?â€ Kate asked.
â€œShe sang with me in that musical a few months ago.â€
â€œOh yeah the one with the really long name.â€ Sarah remembered.
â€œYeah, I was looking at the ceiling and then I saw the sky. That one.â€
â€œYou did a great job in that by the way.â€ Kate added.
â€œYeah, yeah, now let Hugh tell his damn story!â€ Liz yelled.
Hugh smiled. Liz didnâ€™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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 10, 2011 5:50 pm

Hughâ€™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. â€œNo 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.â€ Such was my attitude after my gig three weeks ago. We played a club called â€œThe Basementâ€ downtown. Itâ€™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 donâ€™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 Petersenâ€™s â€œHymn to Freedomâ€ 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 BÃ¶sendorfer 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 didnâ€™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 Iâ€™ve given the coca-cola company a lot more of my money than Iâ€™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 thereâ€™s no one in it. The light smell of smoke from cigarettes that werenâ€™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 Iâ€™d left on it. But when I looked upâ€¦
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 girlâ€™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.
â€œAre you ok?â€ I asked worriedly.
She just chuckled awkwardly.
â€œYeah, yeah Iâ€™m fine.â€ She said. â€œCliff left me here.â€
I stopped.
â€œCliffâ€¦ You mean my bass player Cliff?â€
â€œYeah, weâ€™re friends. Of sorts.â€ She said with a chuckle.
â€œWhat do you mean?â€
â€œWell weâ€™ve met a few times when Iâ€™ve been here and at a couple of parties. I slept with him once.â€
â€œSo howâ€¦ why did... heâ€ I stammered.
â€œOh, 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 hasnâ€™t come back yet.â€
I chuckled.
â€œOk I see.â€
â€œAnyway, Iâ€™m going to guess that youâ€™re Hugh. The piano player.â€
â€œUhhh yeah, thatâ€™s me.â€
â€œWait a minute, didnâ€™t we meet downstairs during your break?â€
â€œYeah when we stopped, I was having a drink. I knew you looked familiar!â€
Indeed we had met, and as I thought about it, Iâ€™d seen her at a few of our gigs before. She always caught my eye but Iâ€™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 CafÃ© 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.
â€œNow that weâ€™ve establish that youâ€™re Hugh the pianistâ€¦â€ She started
â€œYesâ€¦â€ I replied.
â€œCliff has told me about you. I hear youâ€™re very much an old fashioned kind of guy.â€
â€œUhhh, sure I guess.â€
â€œOh câ€™mon. No need to be modest my good fellow.â€
â€œSorryâ€¦ Look I have to askâ€¦â€
â€œWhat?â€
â€œWhatâ€™s your name?â€
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.
â€œKristen. Kristen Santos.â€ She said. â€œNice to meet you.â€
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.
â€œSo, hereâ€™s something Iâ€™ve been wondering.â€ I told her.
â€œShoot.â€ She replied.
â€œYouâ€™re Mexican in origin?â€
â€œColombian actually.â€
â€œYouâ€™ve got a very Spanish last name and a very English first name.â€
She laughed.
â€œYeah, 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 wouldnâ€™t have to grow up in Colombia.â€
â€œDid they have any more?â€
â€œNo. Iâ€™m an only child.â€
â€œOh ok. Nowâ€¦â€ I stopped. â€œI may be treading into a minefield here.â€
â€œThatâ€™s ok! Iâ€™m Colombian, Iâ€™m an expert on minefields!â€
I laughed. Wow she was good at making me feel at ease.
â€œSo weâ€™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.â€
She smirked.
â€œYou werenâ€™t too opposed to him putting them on your wrists in the first place were you?â€ I asked.
â€œNope.â€ She said candidly. â€œI suppose youâ€™ve learned a lot more about me in these fifteen minutes than most of my friends know after years.â€
â€œYeah I guess I have. Though I feel obligated to ask, do you want me to take them off?â€
â€œSure, sure. But before you do, Iâ€™m going to guess, considering what you saw when you came in and how comfortably youâ€™ve dealt with these handcuffs up to now, youâ€™re not too unfamiliar with this whole bondage thing yourself. Am I right?â€
I wanted to deny it and keep my poker face up. But it didnâ€™t work, I smiled as soon as she said it.
â€œNo.â€ I admitted finally. â€œI have these friends, these crazy friends.â€
(Those crazy friends who were listening all smiled gratefully when he said that.)
â€œSo you and those crazy friends have played with this have you?â€ She asked.
â€œYeah. Itâ€™s not something I tell people most of the time, especially not people I just met but there you are.â€
â€œWell, considering what a strange meeting its been, lets just consider this an exception to the rule shall we?â€
â€œSure.â€
I got up.
â€œDo you know where the keys are?â€ I asked.
â€œNo. I think they might be over there somewhere, but Iâ€™m not sure.â€ She replied.
â€œOk wellâ€¦â€
I walked over to her, or more specifically her hair.
â€œWhat are you doing?â€ She asked.
â€œDo you have bobby pins in your hair?â€ I asked.
â€œYeah.â€
â€œI can pick the lock with a bobby pin.â€
â€œOh ok.â€
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.
â€œWhereâ€™d you learn how to do this? You donâ€™t seem like a jail breaker to me.â€ She asked as I worked.
â€œItâ€™s amazing the stuff you can learn on Youtube.â€ I replied.
She just nodded as the cuff came off. It was obvious that she was impressed.
â€œThanks.â€ She said.
â€œNo problem.â€ I replied.
â€œIâ€™m sure this must be making your old world sensibilities happy right now.â€
â€œWhat makes you say that?â€
â€œThe handsome pianistâ€¦ knightâ€¦ rescuing the poor damsel.â€
â€œFrom her tower in the basement night club.â€
â€œYeah something like that.â€
â€œI donâ€™t know, somehow I donâ€™t see the Brothers Grimm writing this into a story.â€
By now she was on the other side of the room, rifling through the various bags and things.
â€œHere it is!â€ She said.
â€œWhat?â€
â€œThe key.â€
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.
â€œDo you see that shape on the wall next to the door?â€ She asked me.
â€œWhat?â€
â€œFrom here it looks like thereâ€™s a shape drawn on the wall.â€
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 didnâ€™t pay attention to it. I shouldâ€™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 sheâ€™d been.
â€œHey!â€ I yelled indignantly. â€œWhat?â€
She giggled as she walked around to face me again.
â€œIt 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!â€
â€œKristen! Itâ€™s late I want to go home.â€
â€œYouâ€™d rather go home than spend time with me?â€
â€œWellâ€¦ Iâ€¦ No, of course not butâ€¦.â€
She laughed.
â€œItâ€™s ok Hughie, you donâ€™t have to answer that, itâ€™s an unwinnable question. Itâ€™s like when your girlfriend asks you if the dress makes her look fat, you know? No winning.â€
â€œYeah, fair enough but stillâ€¦ Where are you going?â€
She had turned away from me and was leaving the room.
â€œDonâ€™t worry, Iâ€™m just going to the closet in the hallway. Iâ€™m not about to leave you here to rot. Actuallyâ€¦ come to think of it, Iâ€™m going to make another stop.â€
She disappeared down the corridor and I heard her footsteps ringing as she clambered down the stairs. She wasnâ€™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.
â€œThis should let me be a little more thorough.â€ She said.
â€œWhy did you just go downstairs?â€ I asked, a little worried.
â€œTo talk to Sam. The place is cleaned up and heâ€™s gone home. Iâ€™m here all the time so I know the alarm code. I can set it off on my way out.â€
â€œWhat did you tell him?â€
â€œHaha, youâ€™re so worried about propriety arenâ€™t you? Itâ€™s adorable. I told him weâ€™re having sex.â€
My eyes widened like saucers.
â€œDonâ€™t worry, I have no intention of forcing such a thing on you. Butâ€¦ That does mean I could keep you all night if I wanted to.â€
â€œWhy would you though?â€
â€œWhy? Because I think youâ€™re cute. I have my own Hugh. I think everybody should have a Hugh.â€
I didnâ€™t know if I should be flattered, or offended, or shocked or whatâ€¦ But Kristen didnâ€™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 donâ€™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.
â€œYou might want to sit down.â€ 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.
â€œI am in so over my head.â€ I said.
She laughed.
â€œWell look at this wayâ€¦ The best way to learn to swim is jumping strait into the deep end isnâ€™t it?â€
â€œI guess, butâ€¦â€
â€œBuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut?â€
â€œUhhhhâ€
â€œAwwwww, poor Hughie, are you confused?â€
I knew she was making fun of me, but I didnâ€™t know what else to say. She already knew thisâ€¦ She already knew everything about me it seemed. Or at least she acted like she did.
â€œI donâ€™t know how much rope I have left here.â€ She said, almost off handedly. â€œBah, Iâ€™ll just use all of it!â€
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)

Post by xtc » Sat Jun 11, 2011 1:54 am

Still intriguing. What a good job itâ€™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)

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Sun Jun 12, 2011 4:55 pm

â€œThere!â€ She said, brushing her hands together. â€œYouâ€™re not going anywhere!â€
â€œNo I guess Iâ€™m not.â€ 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.
â€œHow you doin sweetie?â€ She asked.
What? She had just tied me to a pole and now sheâ€™s asking me if Iâ€™m ok? What is with this chick? Really?
â€œIâ€™m uhhhh, okâ€¦ Iâ€™mâ€¦â€ I stammered again. I never stammer!
â€œLet me ask you something Hugh.â€
â€œOk.â€
â€œWhen it comes to this whole bondage thing, youâ€™re not usually on this end are you?â€
â€œThis end?â€
â€œYou usually do the tying, as opposed to being tied. Right?â€
â€œYes. Though itâ€™s not like I do this a whole lot.â€
â€œOk, ok, fair enough. And itâ€™s always with these crazy friends of yours?â€
â€œYeah.â€
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.
â€œHow many girlfriends have you had?â€ She asked finally.
I was a little shocked at her audacity. Is that something you ask somebody youâ€™ve just met?
â€œWellâ€¦ None. To be completely honest.â€ I said finally.
She just nodded sympathetically.
â€œI see. Thatâ€™s really too bad.â€
â€œWhy?â€
â€œWell, how does that old song go? Everybody needs somebody.â€
â€œYeah. Solomon Burke.â€
â€œWell there you go.â€
â€œYeah I guess. Itâ€™s ok, I can deal with it.â€
She paused again.
â€œLet me take another wild stab in the dark here.â€
â€œAlright. Though you seem to be pretty good at these.â€
â€œOh thank you. Now, when I think back to when Iâ€™ve seen you in around this club, which hasnâ€™t been that much, grantedâ€¦ You seem to give off an aura of trustworthiness am I right?â€
â€œWellâ€¦ People have said that about me yes. Iâ€™m not going to cast judgment on that myself.â€
â€œNo Iâ€™m sure your natural humility wonâ€™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 donâ€™t you?â€
â€œYeah.â€ I groaned.
â€œMostly pertaining to relationships.â€
â€œYes.â€
â€œSo youâ€™ve lived in the shadow of these friends of yours in this regard. Which Iâ€™m guessing is why youâ€™re such a keen performer when it comes to music. Cause music is YOUR domain where you are in no oneâ€™s shadow.â€
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 didnâ€™t like itâ€¦ Or did I?
â€œYouâ€™re good.â€ I said quietly. â€œWhatâ€™s it to you?â€
She smiled.
â€œIâ€™m enjoying this actually.â€
â€œWhy?â€
â€œWhen 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 yourselfâ€¦ As soon as I showed any personal interest in you beyond, shall we say, â€œfriendlyâ€ interestâ€¦ Youâ€™re a fish out of water.â€
â€œBeyond friendly interest? I think I was little more shocked by you clapping those handcuffs on me. I really didnâ€™t see that coming.â€
â€œNo you didnâ€™t. But hereâ€™s the thing, considering you donâ€™t really know me and I didnâ€™t handcuff you in the context of a gameâ€¦ my handcuffing you and thereby making you stay and talk to me implies a lot of interest. I mean, thatâ€™s what bondage is all about really.â€
â€œWellâ€¦ yeah I guess butâ€¦â€
â€œAnd then when I told you what I told Sam we were doing up here wellâ€¦ That was that!â€
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 didnâ€™t already know?
â€œYouâ€™re right on all counts.â€ I admitted. â€œWho are you!?!â€
â€œKristen Santos!â€ She replied, giving me a toothy smile.
â€œYeah, butâ€¦ Why are you so interested in me?â€
â€œShouldnâ€™t I be?â€
â€œNo! Look, youâ€™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. Iâ€™m not used to having my brain picked about this stuff, so what are you playing at?â€
â€œHonestly?â€
â€œYes! Thank you!â€
â€œI wanted to see what Cliff meant.â€
â€œCliff? My bassist Cliff? What about him?â€
â€œI 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.â€
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.
â€œThat makes sense.â€
â€œI think he must have come up here and heard us talking, which is why never came up to let me go. He knew youâ€™d do it. Maybe thatâ€™s why he left the key in the room, I donâ€™t know.â€
â€œYeah I was wondering why he hadnâ€™t come up to release you. Heâ€™s not the kind of guy who would leave you here overnight just for kicks.â€
â€œNo heâ€™d do something else with me for kicks.â€
â€œYeahâ€¦ Exactly.â€
â€œSo, now that you see what he meantâ€¦â€
â€œWhat? You donâ€™t expect me to untie you do ya?â€
â€œI thought you might.â€
â€œOh no! I still want to have more fun with you.â€
â€œWhat kind of fun?â€
An evil grin crossed her face.
â€œWell, any kind of fun I want. Itâ€™s not like you can do anything to stop me.â€
She held her hands up behind her head and started twisting herself seductively. Or at least thatâ€™s what she tried to do; in truth she just looked ridiculous.
â€œIsnâ€™t there another song like this? Oh man of virtue, let me corrupt you. Something like that.â€
â€œIs that really what you plan to do?â€ I said, laughing.
â€œMaybe it is, maybe it isnâ€™t. Most guys would be begging for it to be my plan at this point.â€
â€œWell, Iâ€™m not most guys am I?â€
â€œNo you certainly are not.â€
Suddenly it occurred to me.
â€œWhich is why youâ€™re so interested in me.â€
â€œWhat?â€
â€œI figured it out.â€
â€œFigured what out?â€
â€œYou.â€
â€œReally? Howâ€™s that?â€
â€œYou 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 itâ€™s the latter.â€
â€œAndâ€¦â€
â€œNow, considering that it is always more interesting to meet and psycho analyze people of the opposite genderâ€¦ Unless youâ€™re gay but youâ€™re obviously not. Now considering that the vast majority of guys are impulse driven Neanderthalsâ€¦â€
â€œWhoa! A little self-deprecating are we?â€
â€œAre you kidding, my gender infuriates me half the time.â€
â€œAnd yet you are one. Oh well, continue.â€
â€œConsidering most guys lack complexity, you get bored. Letâ€™s face it, Cliff for all his virtues isnâ€™t hard to understand. Or to predict. Then he tells you about this weird friend that he has, who, lives his life a different wayâ€¦ 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.â€
The smirk on her face was wider than it had ever been. After a moment she slowly started clapping.
â€œVery good.â€ She admitted. â€œYou figured me out.â€
â€œThatâ€™s good. Will you untie me now?â€
â€œNo.â€
â€œOh well, it was worth a try.â€
â€œYeah I suppose it was. Well, shall we call a truce with the mind games?â€
â€œYes. Letâ€™s. What time is it?â€
â€œItâ€™s around one. Oh and by the way, I didnâ€™t actually tell Sam that we were having sex. I just wanted to see the look on your face.â€
â€œOhâ€¦ Thatâ€™s good.â€
â€œNope. Your spotless reputation remains spotless.â€
â€œThank you.â€
â€œYouâ€™re welcome. Though I will say, purely on a physical level I would be happy to have sex with you. But youâ€™re a save yourself for marriage kind of guy and I respect that. Would you like a drink?â€
â€œReally?â€ I was really gratified to hear that. I didnâ€™t feel awkward when she put it that way. â€œWell thanks. Thatâ€™s nice to hear. And what kind of drink?â€
â€œI was thinking Tequila.â€
â€œUhmâ€¦â€
â€œNot your thing?â€
â€œIâ€™ve honestly never had tequila.â€
â€œDo you drink at all?â€
â€œYeah. But always in a controlled manner.â€
â€œWell then, now seems as good a time as any to give it a try. Ok. Iâ€™ll go grab some from the bar.â€
â€œWill Sam be ok with that?â€
â€œOh yeah, heâ€™s my cousin, he lets me take whatever I want.â€
â€œOk cool.â€
With that the beautiful, smart and not so mysterious Kristen got up and left. I was far more contended now that Iâ€™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 wasnâ€™t enjoying being her prisoner, or at least I was enjoying it now. But I had a bit of a vendetta since sheâ€™d manage to cuff me by surprise. I wanted to get her back! Then I remembered: The bobby pin! Iâ€™d dropped it on the ground when Iâ€™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 Iâ€™d been sitting. Low and behold there it was, right where Iâ€™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.
â€œOk, you ready?â€ She asked.
â€œAs Iâ€™ll ever be.â€ I replied.
â€œI should ask, can you hold your liquor?â€
â€œWell enough I guess.â€
â€œWhat does that mean?â€
â€œJust give it to me.â€
â€œYes sir!â€
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 Iâ€™d just been subjected.
â€œThat stuff is vile.â€ I said.
â€œOh câ€™mon itâ€™s not that bad! I was just about to pour another.â€
â€œIf weâ€™re going to drink do I really have to do shots of that stuff? Really?â€
â€œOk fine, what do you drink?â€
â€œWell, if you donâ€™t mind grabbing it of courseâ€¦â€
â€œNo, no itâ€™s ok.â€
â€œIâ€™ll have some of the Johnnie Walker Black.â€
â€œAhhhh, I see. A man of refined tastes as well as refined sensibilities I see.â€
â€œSort of refined. If I was truly a connoisseur itâ€™d have to be Johnnie Walker Blue, but Iâ€™m pretty sure Sam wouldnâ€™t want to part with any of that stuff. Itâ€™s not cheap.â€
â€œOk, Iâ€™ll be right back. Shall I grab you a scotch glass?â€
â€œYes please.â€
She turned to leave again. I pulled out the bobby pin, ready to start working on my escape. Suddenly she turned around.
â€œOh my God! How could I be so forgetful!â€ She exclaimed.
â€œWhat? What have you forgotten?â€ I asked.
She dove for her satchel, which sheâ€™d left by the couch and started rummaging through it.
â€œThis should work.â€ She said as she pulled a black bandanna of some sort. â€œHow could I forget the gag?! I mean come on! Itâ€™s the icing on the bondage cake!â€
â€œButâ€¦ butâ€¦ Youâ€™re just going to have to take it off as soon as you come back so I can drink!â€
â€œSo?â€
She didnâ€™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 couldnâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
â€œHughâ€¦ Are youâ€¦â€ She stammered.
â€œOh yesâ€ I thought, itâ€™s your turn to stammer now!
â€œYes.â€ I said. â€œItâ€™s payback time!â€
Kristen didnâ€™t need to be told twice. She immediately turned tail and ran as fast as she could down the stairs. I hadnâ€™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.
â€œCome out come out wherever you are.â€ I said.
â€œNo!â€ She yelled back.
I turned to follow her voice.
â€œYou canâ€™t hide forever!â€
â€œYes I can!â€
â€œI will find you Miss Santos.â€
I was sure that her voice was coming from behind the bar. A rather obvious piece of cover, but apparently she didnâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 wasnâ€™t sure how Iâ€™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 wasnâ€™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.
â€œThere! Haha! Youâ€™re stuck now!â€ I cried in triumph.
â€œAwwwwwwww!â€ She lamented in defeat.
â€œNow letâ€™s go back upstairs shall we?â€
I started walking back towards the stairs but Kristen insisted on making it difficult. She tried digging her heels in the floor which didnâ€™t work, she tried running the other way which didnâ€™t work, she tried screaming at me which didnâ€™t workâ€¦ There was really no way out for her, she just didnâ€™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.
â€œNow!â€ I said once we got back to the room. â€œIâ€™m going to stand between you and the door and take the cuffs off. Donâ€™t try anything or youâ€™ll regret it.â€
â€œHaha, Hugh, donâ€™t try to threaten me. You have no credibility.â€
â€œI do know a few tricks.â€
â€œLike what?â€
â€œWell for exampleâ€¦â€
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.
â€œOk! Ok!â€ She said. â€œI get it!â€
â€œI hoped that would get through to you.â€
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 Iâ€™d been at any point that night. Boy did she look pretty, I meanâ€¦ That hypnotic effect that Iâ€™d felt when Iâ€™d seen her in the club, or when Iâ€™d first seen her handcuffed to the pole hadnâ€™t gone away. Once I was finished tying I couldnâ€™t help but just standing back and staring.
â€œItâ€™s ok.â€ She said quietly.
â€œWhatâ€™s ok?â€ I asked.
â€œYou want to kiss me. I can tell.â€
I didnâ€™t say anything in reply, though once again she was right. She always was.
â€œItâ€™s alright. I get the no sex until marriage thing. I do. But whoever said kissing wasnâ€™t ok?â€
I think, under normal circumstances I still wouldnâ€™t have let myself kiss her. But with everything that I had experienced with her in the last hour or soâ€¦ and she was right in that I wasnâ€™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.
â€œYouâ€™re not a bad kisser you know.â€ She said.
â€œReally? That was my first.â€ I admitted.
â€œNo way! Really?!â€
â€œYeah.â€
For the first time I was almost ashamed of my lack of romance.
â€œWell, Iâ€™m honored to be your first.â€
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 sheâ€™d used on me and gag her with it. Thatâ€™s the way it always happens in the movies, you kiss them, then you gag them right after. Right? She wasnâ€™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 couldnâ€™t stay lost in this fantasyland forever. But that didnâ€™t stop me from sitting down on the couch next to her though. I didnâ€™t say anything, it didnâ€™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 wasnâ€™t, but I just ignored her at that point.
I left her bound and gagged for another fifteen minutes.
â€œWell, I think itâ€™s time for me to call it a night.â€ I announced.
â€œMmmmmmphâ€ She replied.
â€œOh right sorry.â€ I said as I pulled the gag out.
â€œYeah, me too.â€
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 donâ€™t know why. I wasnâ€™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)

Post by 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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Tue Jun 14, 2011 8:25 pm

Thanks for the kind words Kyle!
Interlude
â€œSo thatâ€™s it?!?â€ Chris demanded.
â€œIs that it what?â€ Hugh asked.
â€œYou didnâ€™t call her back, you didnâ€™t ask her out, you didnâ€™t kiss her again? You didnâ€™t tie her up again?! Anything?â€
â€œNope.â€
â€œWhy not bro? She handed herself to you on a silver platter.â€
â€œThatâ€™s just the point.â€
â€œWhat?â€ Kate asked.
â€œYou remember that she slept with Cliff right?â€
â€œSo?!â€ Chris yelled.
â€œI talked to him about it the next day. And yes he had heard us talking and left. But he told me that Kristen isâ€¦ wellâ€¦ a bit of a slut. I mean, nothing against her, I had a great time with her, Iâ€™m happy to be friends with her butâ€¦ Having a relationship with her would be a really bad idea.â€
â€œOh câ€™mon buddy! Would you stop thinking with your upstairs brain for just a second!?â€ Chris demanded.
â€œOh leave him alone!â€ Sarah finally yelled. â€œThat was an adorable story Hugh.â€
â€œYes, a little late in coming, but that was great. Well told.â€ Kate added.
â€œNow!â€ Liz began. â€œIf you do decide to date this chick, maybe to redeem her or something, Iâ€™m going to have to meet her first!â€
â€œWe all will.â€ Sarah said.
â€œAll three of you?â€ Hugh asked, looking to his female friends. â€œWouldnâ€™t that be a little inhumane?â€
â€œMaybe, butâ€¦ All is fair in love and war.â€ Liz declared.
Hugh laughed. Liz was VERY protective wasnâ€™t she? He didnâ€™t mind though. It made him feel appreciated.
â€œSo, Lizzy is next.â€ Chris said.
â€œYes, but not until tonight when we get on our next train.â€ Sarah added.
â€œWait, will we have our own compartment on the next train?â€ Liz asked, getting a slight smile at the thought of escaping her story telling duty.
â€œYes.â€ Kate said confidently. â€œI know that for a fact.â€
â€œDamn.â€ Liz breathed.
â€œSpeaking of whichâ€¦â€ Kate added â€œItâ€™s ten to two. Weâ€™ll be in Chicago pretty soon. We should pack up.â€
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 companionsâ€™ bags from the train when it finally stopped. They found themselves in downtown Chicago at three oâ€™clock on the nose. They needed to be back at the station at nine, leaving them six hours to kill.
Much to their male companionsâ€™ dismay, Kate and Liz were dead set on spending some time shopping while they waited. Sarah wasnâ€™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 Hughâ€™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 Kateâ€™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 butâ€¦ 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.
â€œAlright Lizzy.â€ Sarah said excitedly. â€œYour turn.â€
â€œYeah I guess it is.â€ She admitted.
â€œOh câ€™mon Lizzy, you looked pretty excited about your story this morning.â€ 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 werenâ€™t looking of course). Given that Chris loved scotch as much as Hugh, they both poured themselves glasses with glee.
â€œAlright.â€ Liz began.â€ Iâ€™m going to tell you this story the way it was told to me, plus all the details that Iâ€™ve picked up since I first heard it. Apparently its true, but I have no way of confirming it.â€
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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Tue Jun 14, 2011 8:26 pm

Lizzyâ€™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 Shermanâ€™s march, sheâ€™d left her hometown in Indiana and immigrated to the new state of Nevada. In the six years since her husbandâ€™s death sheâ€™d never been caught without a revolver on her person, even when she stood on stages barely dressed.
Sheâ€™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, sheâ€™d bought herself an apartment in town and was a regular performer in almost every saloon in town. To say the least, sheâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 sheâ€™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.
â€œChuck.â€ She asked.
â€œYep?â€ He replied.
â€œDid you see those four strangers sitting at the back table?â€
â€œUh huh.â€
â€œThe one sitting on the left, do you recognize him?â€
â€œNope.â€
â€œIâ€™m sure Iâ€™ve seen his face before, but I canâ€™t remember where.â€
â€œThe abbot might know.â€
The abbot that Chuck referred to wasnâ€™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. Heâ€™d sensed Claraâ€™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.
â€œYeah he might.â€ Clara agreed. â€œIâ€™ll ask him after weâ€™re done.â€
â€œAre you going to screw him?â€
Chuck was a man who spoke in simple terms.
â€œI donâ€™t think so.â€ Clara replied casually. She was used to Chuckâ€™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 sheâ€™d sometimes invite to her dressing room.
â€œFabulous show Clara.â€ He said as he came in.
â€œThanks darling.â€ She replied.
â€œThey seemed to have more energy than they usually do tonight.â€
â€œYeah, Iâ€™d agree with that. Well except for that one fella in the back.â€
â€œWhich one?â€
â€œDidnâ€™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 werenâ€™t hollering all evening.â€
â€œSo you noticed him did you?â€
â€œDo you know who he is?â€
The abbot nodded.
â€œThatâ€™s Jesse James isnâ€™t it?â€ Clara suggested. â€œI realized about half way through the second half that I recognized his face from all the wanted posters.â€
â€œYes. Thatâ€™s him. I gave him and his boys a free round, I hear he has a hair trigger temper. I donâ€™t want any trouble.â€
â€œNo, I get that. Would you do me a favor?â€
â€œYou donâ€™t want me to invite him back here do ya?â€
â€œThatâ€™s exactly what I want you to do.â€
The abbot sighed. Clara was always getting him into trouble. Though her natural charm had gotten him out of trouble just as many times.
â€œAlright Clara, but only because I canâ€™t not give you whatever you ask for.â€ He relented.
â€œYouâ€™re the best Abbot!â€ Clara said affectionately.
â€œNo. You are. Thatâ€™s why youâ€™re here.â€
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 sheâ€™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. Thatâ€™s got to be prestigious for a showgirl. Isnâ€™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.
â€œMistah James.â€ She said.
â€œMiss Miller.â€ He replied, tipping his hat to her. â€œSo you know who I am do ya?â€
â€œHate to tell you this Jesse, but youâ€™re hard to miss.â€
â€œIâ€™ve been told that a great many times.â€
Clara motioned to the other chair and Jesse sat down.
â€œJesse, would you be a dear and pour us a couple whiskeys? Iâ€™m breaking in a new bottle.â€
A low browed smirk crossed the outlawâ€™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.
â€œI hear.â€ He said. â€œItâ€™s one of the townâ€™s greatest honors to be invited back to the dressing room of the infamous Clara Miller.â€
â€œYes Iâ€™ve heard that too.â€
â€œSo why should I be afforded such aâ€¦ privilege?â€
â€œWell, how often does a girl get the chance to meet a bank robbin outlaw? Especially the stature of one such as yourself Mr. James.â€
â€œPlease, call me Jesse.â€
â€œJesse.â€
â€œMost men wouldnâ€™t consider meeting me a honor Miss Miller.â€
â€œClara.â€
â€œClaraâ€¦ Most, including most businessmen, would consider it a curse.â€
â€œAh, but Iâ€™m no man Jesse. And Iâ€™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.â€
â€œThis is the part where I tell you that youâ€™re the most sublime creature Iâ€™ve ever seen isnâ€™t it?â€
â€œWouldnâ€™t hurt.â€
Jamesâ€™ 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.
â€œSo.â€ Clara began. â€œConsiderin that I havenâ€™t heard anything about bank robberies or nothing in the past few days, Iâ€™m gonna guess that that whatever youâ€™re in Carson City to do, youâ€™re going to do tomorrow.â€
â€œMy boys might kill me if I told you. But Iâ€™d say the answer is pretty obvious.â€
â€œYouâ€™re going to knock over the town mint arenâ€™t ya?â€
James rolled his eyes.
â€œYeah.â€ He said glumly.
Clara noticed that his hand dropped toward his sidearm. She was right on the money.
â€œDonâ€™t worry Jesse. I have no intention of going to tell the sheriff.â€ She assured him.
â€œThatâ€™s good. Iâ€™d hate to have to damage such a work of beauty.â€
â€œOf course you would, youâ€™re no monster.â€
â€œSome would say I am.â€
â€œWell I ainâ€™t them.â€
â€œSoâ€¦ Claraâ€¦ how do you know about the mint? Most gals wouldnâ€™t concern themselves with targets for a man like me.â€
â€œI keep my ear to the ground. It pays to know things.â€
â€œPays huh? And thus the point emerges.â€
His hand dropped toward his pistol again.
â€œCome now James, do you really take me as the type of woman who would try to blackmail you?â€
â€œNo, I guess not.â€
â€œWhat I am suggesting isâ€¦ This job of yours that youâ€™re pulling off tomorrow. It will be exceptionally lucrative will it not?â€
â€œThatâ€™s the idea.â€
â€œPerhaps this job of yours needs a feminine touch.â€
â€œWhat are you suggesting?â€
â€œI happen to know for a fact that the head guard keeps the master key ring on his person at all times.â€
â€œHow do you know that?â€
â€œHeâ€™s a regular at my shows. I see him once a week at least. You cut me in at sayâ€¦ ten percentâ€¦ Iâ€™ll get you those keys with no shootout.â€
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.
â€œYouâ€™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?â€
â€œI get bored. Simple as that.â€
â€œWhatâ€™s to stop me from just taking the money and running without giving you your cut?â€
â€œBecause Mr. James, I know that you may be an outlaw, but I also know youâ€™re a man of honor.â€
He thought about it for another minute, Clara looked on confidently.
â€œAlright.â€ He said. â€œTen percent, for the keys.â€
She extended her hand and he shook it.
â€œI guess that concludes my business here.â€ James said.
â€œI guess it does. Hold still.â€
Clara rose from her chair and kissed his lips, then on his left cheek several times.
â€œWhatâ€™s that for?â€ He asked.
â€œIf I donâ€™t leave some of my lipstick on you Abbot will get suspicious.â€
â€œAlright then.â€
He rose, tipped his hat to her and turned to leave.
â€œNine tomorrow morning. I need the keys by nine.â€ He said.
â€œYouâ€™ll have them at nine exactly. It wonâ€™t take him long to realize theyâ€™re missing.â€
â€œWeâ€™ll be in the covered coach around the corner.â€
â€œSee you tomorrow, Jesse.â€
â€œMaâ€™am.â€
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 didnâ€™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 didnâ€™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 couldnâ€™t. She turned right and headed strait for the office of the master at arms.
â€œCharlie.â€ She said upon entering.
The blue clad soldier rose from his desk in surprise. It wasnâ€™t the first time that Clara had stopped to visit him, but it didnâ€™t happen often.
â€œMiss Millâ€¦ Clara! How lovely to see you!â€ He said, stammering like an excited schoolboy.
â€œI was just passing by, thought Iâ€™d say hello.â€
â€œIâ€™m very glad you did.â€
She leaned against the wall and started breathing heavily.
â€œAre you alright?â€
â€œYes, yes. Just a bit under the weather. Howâ€™s the money printin business?â€
â€œOh its fine, but really you look terrible do you want to sit down?â€
â€œMaybe I shouâ€¦â€
Before she finished her word Clara fell to the floorboards with a spectacular thud. The ever loyal and conscientious Charlie ran to her immediately.
â€œClara? Clara? Are you alright? Get some water in here now!â€
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.
â€œOh dear.â€ She said.
â€œAre you alright?â€
â€œYes, yes. I mustâ€™ve fainted.â€
â€œYes you did.â€
â€œOh alright, I do that sometimes.â€
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.
â€œI really must eat more before I leave the house.â€ She said. â€œSilly me.â€
â€œI have a few cookies that a friend gave me for my birthday.â€ Charlie said. â€œWould you like one? Would that help?â€
â€œIt might. But I wouldnâ€™t dream of eating your birthday present.â€
â€œI insist!â€
Charlie ran to his desk and pulled on the small hard confectionary. He handed it to the supposedly ailing Clara without a second thought.
â€œAre you sure I canâ€™t pay you for this?â€ She asked innocently.
â€œIâ€™m sure.â€
She took it and ate it, being sure to smile gratefully with each bite. After taking another minute to recover she stood up.
â€œI need to go home and lie down.â€ She said.
â€œCan I walk you?â€ Charlie asked.
â€œOh no thatâ€™s quite alright dear. You canâ€™t up and leave your post like that can you?â€
â€œNo, I canâ€™t.â€
â€œThank you anyway. Youâ€™re so sweet.â€
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.
â€œBe at your dressing room.â€ 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 wasnâ€™t unusual for her to practice singing in her dressing room, so he didnâ€™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 sheâ€™d learned to read music before she came out west. The same couldnâ€™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.
â€œThat master at arms of yours is cleverer than you give him credit for.â€ He said.
â€œHow so?â€ Clara asked.
â€œYou 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.â€
â€œIs he on his way here?â€
She heard Charlieâ€™s voice yelling as he came down the street.
â€œIâ€™d take that as a yes.â€
â€œWell give me my money and get out of here before he arrives will ya? Loitering like this wonâ€™t do you any good.â€
They could both easily hear that Charlie entered the saloon and came running down the hall.
â€œWhereâ€™s Abbot?â€ Clara demanded.
â€œUpstairs I think. He didnâ€™t see me.â€ James replied callously.
Charlie was opening doors. He would be in the room any second.
â€œShit.â€ James breathed.
Without another word he turned around and took hold Claraâ€™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.
â€œWhat the hell are you doing Jesse!?â€ She yelled.
â€œYouâ€™re going to get me out of this!â€
Charlie burst through the door.
â€œLet her go James!â€ He yelled vindictively.
At this point Clara didnâ€™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. Charlieâ€™s rifle pointed straight at Jesseâ€™s head, but he refused to flinch. He pressed the gun into her temple instead.
â€œYou canâ€™t shoot through her, partner.â€ He said.
â€œYou ainâ€™t gettin past me with her James! Give up and make it easier on yourself.â€
â€œThatâ€™s a union coat ainâ€™t it?â€
â€œWhat?â€
â€œYour aim is good, you carry yourself like a soldier. You were a blue coat werenâ€™t ya?â€
â€œYeah. I marched into Richmond with Grant.â€
Suddenly one of Jamesâ€™ gang appeared behind him, with a chair in hand.
â€œI hate yankees.â€ James breathed venomously.
â€œCHARLIE BEHIND YOU!â€ 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.
â€œJames you bastard!â€ Clara yelled.
â€œMaybe so.â€ He said while taking hold of her. â€œBut youâ€™re still going to get me out of this.â€
He took hold of Claraâ€™s arm again and dragged her down the hallway, amidst kicking and screaming. His crony took hold of Claraâ€™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.
â€œThe whole town is in a bloody uproar!â€ The crony exclaimed.
â€œSheâ€™ll come in handy.â€ 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.
â€œGet your hands off me!â€ Clara screamed.
James thrust her to the floor amidst the mess of barrels, supplies and boxes of printed money.
â€œStop squirming!â€ He commanded.
Clara did no such thing, but it didnâ€™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 Claraâ€™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. Claraâ€™s heart sank when she saw a group of horse-mounted cavalry leaving the city and galloping south, along what they thought was Jamesâ€™ 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 didnâ€™t slow down.
â€œShit!â€ 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 banditâ€™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 couldnâ€™t go forward and he couldnâ€™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.
â€œIâ€™m dead.â€ 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 didnâ€™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.
â€œTheyâ€™re gonna be combing these mountains pretty soon.â€ James said. â€œIâ€™m sure theyâ€™ve already blocked the west road out of here. But, if we keep our heads down, theyâ€™ll have to give up by nightfall.â€
â€œWhy?â€ One of his gang asked.
â€œYou ever tried crossing these mountains at night with no moon? Itâ€™s suicide.â€
â€œWeâ€™ll wait till tomorrow morning, weâ€™ll break out at first light. Right under their noses.â€
â€œYou got a plan Jesse?â€
â€œI got a plan. Nowâ€¦ Letâ€™s check on our cargo shall we?â€
James climbed up the back of the wagon and looked down on the bound Clara. She said nothing and stared straight back at him.
â€œI apologize if that ride was uncomfortable for ya Clara.â€ He said.
â€œItâ€™s Miss Miller.â€ She hissed.
â€œMy apologies.â€
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 orâ€¦ Another idea struck him.
â€œHopefully we should be able to part company tomorrow mornin Miss Miller.â€ He announced.
â€œYou wonâ€™t be alive that long.â€ She declared.
â€œWhat makes you say that?â€
â€œBy now Charlie will be awake, heâ€™ll have the whole town out lookin for me. They arenâ€™t gonna stop until they find you and shoot you dead.â€
James smiled and pulled out his revolver. Once again leveling it towards her forehead.
â€œSo you think it might discourage emâ€™ if I just shot you right here?â€ He asked.
Clara did her best to look strong, but in truth she was shaking in fear.
â€œThey might give up their search in mourning if they were to find your dead body donâ€™t you think?â€ He suggested.
Clara dug down into her last well defiance and spat right in his face. James chuckled and put the pistol away.
â€œI meant what I said, it would be a shame to damage such a work of beautyâ€¦ Besides, I know the whole town is going to be out lookin for ya Clara. As a matter of fact, Iâ€™m counting on it.â€
James stood and started reaching for something in his pocket.
â€œCounting on it, what the hell are you talking abommmmmmphâ€
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 upâ€¦ But he had the audacity to put a gag in her mouth?! â€œWhat have I gotten myself into?â€ she wondered. She knew she couldnâ€™t really blame anyone else for her situation, if she had just sung her show and drank her whiskey by herself none of this wouldâ€™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. Heâ€™s so sweet, how could she do that to him? When this was all over, sheâ€™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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 17, 2011 8:57 am

Escape? How the hell does one do that when theyâ€™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 glassâ€¦ 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.
â€œHey Frank!â€ She heard James yell.
Of course, she didnâ€™t realize it at the time but the one whoâ€™d smashed that chair over poor Charlieâ€™s head had been Jesseâ€™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 thingsâ€¦ That was a pretty important fact to have missed out on.
â€œNever mind that.â€ She told herself. â€œKeep searching.â€
Her search of the wagon dragged on for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was hours, she didnâ€™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 Jamesâ€™ practiced knots were too tight and too well tied for her to break. Heâ€™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 wasnâ€™t the type of person to take a defeat lying down, but for the first time in a long time she didnâ€™t see any way out of this situation. In fact it was the first time since Bill diedâ€¦
No! She couldnâ€™t think about him. But she couldnâ€™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, thatâ€™s ridiculous. James and his rebel unit operated in Missouri. Shermanâ€™s march went through Georgia.
â€œCalm downâ€ she told herself. The war is over. Bill isnâ€™t coming back and thatâ€™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 couldnâ€™t conceive of it. As much of a bastard as he was, he had a certain code that he didnâ€™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 theyâ€™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.
â€œNow.â€ He said. â€œFrank has gone off to hunt us some meat. Weâ€™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.â€
Clara just nodded.
â€œDo you want me to take the gag out?â€
She nodded again, meekly.
â€œI have to have your word that youâ€™re not going to scream. No one would be able to hear you in these hills anyway. All youâ€™d do is annoy me and my boys and that would not be to your advantageâ€¦ Alright?â€
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.
â€œThank you.â€ She said quietly.
â€œYouâ€™re welcome.â€ He replied, standing up. â€œIâ€™ll come back and get you when the meatsâ€™ 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. Sheâ€™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 didnâ€™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 Claraâ€™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 didnâ€™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 didnâ€™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 Jesseâ€™s. He moved over to her and sat down.
â€œIâ€™m sorry I canâ€™t let you do this yourself Miss Miller.â€ He said.
Clara groaned, she had no desire to be fed by anyone, but in this case she couldnâ€™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 thatâ€™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. Sheâ€™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 finallyâ€¦ 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.
â€œAlright.â€ 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 didnâ€™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 didnâ€™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.
â€œYouâ€™ve been a lot more trouble than youâ€™re worth. Clara.â€ He growled, sounding truly angry for the first time since Clara had met him. â€œIâ€™ll be happy when we get rid of you tomorrow.â€
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. Sheâ€™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, heâ€™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

Post by 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 wasnâ€™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 didnâ€™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 herâ€¦ It looked almost human. It seemed to be wearing a jacketâ€¦
The night passed excruciatingly slowly. By the time the sun started to climb over the horizon it felt like sheâ€™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 gangâ€™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 didnâ€™t really need to. They knew as well as she did that Clara wasnâ€™t going anywhere8 they didnâ€™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 Claraâ€™s steps from her escape attempt the previous night, the ravine sheâ€™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 couldnâ€™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.
â€œOk! Letâ€™s go!â€ 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 didnâ€™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 Claraâ€™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.
â€œAlright, letâ€™s go. The whole garrison will be here soon.â€ Frank demanded.
Jesse looked down to his diversion.
â€œBeing invited back to the dressing room of the infamous Clara Miller is a town honor isnâ€™t it?â€ He gloated. â€œIt was nice knowing you, maybe you should be more careful who you invite back there from now on.â€
With that he hopped in his wagon and took off, racing east towards the foothills where theyâ€™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. Theyâ€™ll all converge on this spot. Whether they saved her or not, theyâ€™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 couldnâ€™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 couldnâ€™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 werenâ€™t moving fast enough to beat the train.
â€œThis is it.â€ 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 couldnâ€™t see where they were landing, though one went right through the dummyâ€™s coat.
God! They might hit her! She squealed and mmmmphed to try and get them to stop, but there was no point. They couldnâ€™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 didnâ€™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 hadnâ€™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.
â€œHi Jesse.â€ She said. â€œSurprised to see me?â€
He said nothing. Yes, he was surprised.
â€œDrop your gun on the ground.â€
James complied, pulling his pistol out of its holster and dropping it on the dusty earth.
â€œIâ€™d be doing the whole damn world a favor if I were to end you right here.â€ She declared.
James looked back at her, for the first she could see fear in his piercing blue eyes.
â€œYou gonna kill me?â€ He asked.
â€œTurn around.â€ 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.
â€œYou didnâ€™t kill me when you had the chance.â€ Clara said. â€œHell it probably wouldâ€™ve been smarter for you to have ended meâ€¦ But you didnâ€™t.â€
He stopped.
â€œSo Iâ€™ll extend you the same courtesy.â€ 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 didnâ€™t enjoy seeing people in pain most of the time. But in this case, she felt a spec of pride that sheâ€™d escaped the clutches of the most famous bandit in the west and then gone and put a bullet where the sun donâ€™t shine.
â€œOh come on now Jesse.â€ She said. â€œYou were hit twice during the war werenâ€™t ya? This should be nothing in comparison.â€
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.
â€œNormallyâ€¦â€ She began â€œI would just take my ten percent. But Iâ€™m going to take a bit more in compensation for my treatment.â€
Taking the box in hand she walked over to the wounded James and picked up his pistol.
â€œThis too. As a souvenir.â€
She leaned down to his face, almost until her nose was brushing his.
â€œThat 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.â€
She stood up again, gun in hand.
â€œGoodbye bastard!â€ 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. Sheâ€™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 heâ€™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 sheâ€™d foolishly taken the pistol and chased him into the mountains. She fired off a few shots before heâ€™d escaped to the east. Most of the cavalry left to pursue him right away. But Clara knew they wouldnâ€™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 Abbotâ€™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 motherâ€™s spitting image, they named her Jessie. Believe it or not it was Charlieâ€™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 wouldnâ€™t tell anyone until after she died. Jessie kept her word; she also went by her motherâ€™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 motherâ€™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

Post by 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
â€œIs that really true? Really?â€ Kate demanded.
â€œAs I said, thatâ€™s how it was told to me.â€ Liz replied.
â€œWith a few embellishments of your own Iâ€™d wager.â€ Hugh added.
â€œWellâ€¦ yeah.â€ Liz admitted. â€œWe 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 donâ€™t think weâ€™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!â€
â€œThat is pretty cool.â€ Chris insisted. â€œGive poor Lizzy a break, it was a great story.â€
â€œAwesome Liz.â€ Sarah agreed.
Kate yawned.
â€œWhat time is it?â€ She asked.
â€œAbout two thirty.â€ Hugh answered.
â€œYeah. No wonder Iâ€™m so tired.â€
â€œMe too.â€ Liz agreed.
â€œTime to call it a night.â€ Chris declared.
This time they had more seats to use amongst themselves so Hugh didnâ€™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 Lizâ€™s story theyâ€™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 everybodyâ€™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 heâ€™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. Wellâ€¦ All except Liz. But no one except Kate dared wake her up and certainly not before eight oâ€™clock. As theyâ€™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.
â€œWell, I guess itâ€™s my turn.â€ Sarah said.
â€œYep, I guess it is.â€ Chris replied.
â€œI donâ€™t knowâ€¦ What if you guys donâ€™t like it?â€
â€œWe will! I promise.â€ Hugh assured her.
â€œYeah, but all that family history stuff was so cool I meanâ€¦â€
â€œSarah!â€ Kate said firmly. â€œIâ€™m sure your tale is every bit as cool as Lizâ€™s. Itâ€™s actually true for Godâ€™s sake!â€
â€œMine was true!â€ Liz insisted. â€œSorta.â€
â€œOk, ok. You all remember me mentioning my friends Rachel and Jake right?â€
â€œYeah the ones you met at that concert.â€ Kate said.
â€œThose ones. Well, I never knew it, but theyâ€™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:â€
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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:13 am

Sarahâ€™s Tale: A Birthday to Remember
Do you guys remember when we were trying to figure out a date we could all go to Lizzyâ€™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 weâ€™ve always been on friendly terms. I certainly didnâ€™t know him as well as Rachel, but I was still happy to see his show.
So, there we were. Weâ€™d collectively finished most of a pitcher of Sleemans by the time the show finished. Jake was the singer/keyboardist for aâ€¦ Crap I donâ€™t rememberâ€¦ maybeâ€¦ progressive metalâ€¦ band, I canâ€™t remember it was calledâ€¦ Combatâ€¦ 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.
â€œThat was a pretty kickass show!â€ Rachel greeted him.
â€œThanks.â€ He replied, giving her a hug,
â€œYeah, that was awesome.â€ 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 didnâ€™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 Kateâ€™s birthday party a few weeks before and this gave Rachel a thought.
â€œSpeaking of which, Jake you have a birthday coming up donâ€™t you?â€ Rachel inquired.
â€œUhm, yeah, in a couple of weeks.â€ He replied.
â€œWhat are your plans?â€ I asked.
â€œI donâ€™t know, I havenâ€™t really thought about it.â€
â€œWhy not?â€
â€œCause I really donâ€™t care all that much. Iâ€™ll probably end up just going out for drinks with some friends. Iâ€™ll probably go out with my family at some point too.â€
â€œWhat about us?â€ Rachel asked.
â€œWhat just the two of you?â€
She nodded.
â€œI donâ€™t know. What do you guys want to do?â€ He asked.
â€œWell itâ€™s your birthday! You tell us!â€ I insisted.
â€œI donâ€™t care! I really donâ€™t care.â€
Rachel looked down and muttered â€œWe should make you care.â€
â€œWhatever Rachel, itâ€™s ok. Weâ€™ll kidnap him and take him somewhere.â€ 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 Rachelâ€™s face. Apparently I had given her an idea, though she didnâ€™t say anything initially. Before long we got to Jakeâ€™s bus stop and he went on his merry way. Not long after Rachel and I parted company. I didnâ€™t expect to hear from either of them for a couple of weeks at least. Since Jake was older and had already graduated, I didnâ€™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 weâ€™d gone out I got a very abrupt phone call from Rachel around midnight.
â€œHello?â€ I asked, tiredly.
â€œHey!â€ She replied.
â€œHey Rachelâ€¦ Whatâ€™s going on, itâ€™s past midnight.â€
â€œYeah I know.â€
â€œWhatâ€™s up?â€
â€œWell, I have an idea. That I want to run past you.â€
â€œOk.â€
â€œOkâ€¦ Uhhhâ€¦. Youâ€™ve told me about uhm, what you and the rest of the gang do sometimes.â€
â€œWhat are you talking about? We do all kinds of stuff together.â€
â€œOh câ€™mon! You know what I mean!â€
â€œNo. I really donâ€™t.â€
â€œYou tie each other up!â€
â€œOh yeahâ€¦ We do that. Sorry, I forget thatâ€™s weird sometimes.â€
â€œWell, it isnâ€™t. Not as weird as most people think. Anyway, I donâ€™t think Iâ€™ve ever mentioned that Iâ€™ve dabbled in the same thing.â€
â€œReally?â€
â€œWell, 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.â€
â€œUh huh.â€
â€œThen I found out that Troy (Her ex) had a bit of kink to him and so he started tying me up.â€
â€œThen you broke it off.â€
â€œLater, yeah.â€
â€œOkâ€¦. What does this have to do with Jake?â€
â€œYou remember what a wreck I was for the first couple of weeks after right?â€
â€œYeah, I was worried.â€
â€œWell, 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.â€
â€œReally?!â€
â€œYeah. It turned out to be a really good night. I did however end up kissing him.â€
â€œOhâ€¦ So where are you going with that?â€
â€œNowhere, at least I donâ€™t think so. But it IS his birthday coming up.â€
â€œOk.â€
â€œSo, when you suggested that we should kidnap himâ€¦â€
â€œYou took me literally.â€
â€œYes.â€
â€œOh boyâ€¦â€
We didnâ€™t talk for much longer after that, it ended with me agreeing to help her in her plot. I donâ€™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, Jakeâ€™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 parentsâ€™ trip to Las Vegas and Rachelâ€™s parents letting her use their familyâ€™s cabin in the mountains.
After a few hours, we had a game planâ€¦ 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.
Easyâ€¦ 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 bossâ€™s number and I called him. Jakeâ€™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 werenâ€™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 sheâ€™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 wasnâ€™t sure how much I really wanted to be involved with Rachelâ€™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, whoâ€™s to say that I wouldnâ€™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 thatâ€™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 Dadâ€™s workshop. With those gathered and ready we collected the rest of what weâ€™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 shouldâ€™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.
â€œHappy birthday!â€ We collectively greeted him.
â€œThanks.â€ He replied.
â€œHow was last night?â€ Rachel asked.
â€œIt was good, we had a lot of fun. They made me try a flaming Lamborghini.â€
â€œNice.â€
â€œSo whatâ€™s the plan?â€
Rachel and I looked at each other, giving each other the slightest of nods.
â€œWhat are you up to?â€ He asked us quizzically.
Rachel opened her door and climbed out of the front.
â€œWell, you seeâ€¦â€ I began. â€œWe have a bit of a surprise. In fact itâ€™s been in the works for a couple weeks now.â€
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.
â€œWe said weâ€™d kidnap you on your birthday.â€
He was dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused and a whole lot of other unpleasant adjectives all at the same time.
â€œI guess I didnâ€™t take you literally enough.â€ He stammered.
â€œNo? Wellâ€¦ If you wouldnâ€™t mind, put your hands behind your back please.â€ I dictated.
He hesitated.
â€œWhat are you waiting for?â€ I demanded.
â€œWell, whatâ€¦ are you going to do with me?â€ He asked.
â€œYouâ€™re just going to have to find out.â€
He still didnâ€™t move. Rachel decided to step in.
â€œLook, 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 thatâ€™s the whole point. You also like to be the one who has that power taken away. Weâ€™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 Iâ€™m not?â€
She was pretty persuasive.
â€œOk. Fine. You win.â€ He admitted.
â€œGood.â€ I said.
â€œNow give me your hands.â€ 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.
â€œAlright, now. Pull up some floor, weâ€™re not going very far but if anyone seeâ€™s you like this weâ€™ll probably have the cops called on us.â€ 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 Iâ€™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 werenâ€™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, weâ€™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.
â€œOh crap, I forgot scissors.â€ Rachel exclaimed quietly.
â€œOk letâ€™s grab them. Heâ€™s not going anywhere.â€ 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 Iâ€™d known him, Iâ€™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 didnâ€™t make any noise and didnâ€™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 Dadâ€™s workshop. Daddyâ€™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 Rachelâ€™s eye told me she had other plans.
Once weâ€™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 weâ€™d left next to the door while I retrieved my Dadâ€™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 Hughâ€™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 thenâ€¦ 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, sheâ€™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 wasnâ€™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.
â€œDo you really think those two pieces of tape are going to hold?â€ I asked.
Rachel looked up.
â€œWith his big mouth? Probably not.â€ 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 weâ€™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.
â€œAnd, just for good measure.â€ She added, while ripping of a piece and sticking it over his eyes.
â€œHave fun with that Jakey.â€ I said.
â€œDidnâ€™t I tell you he looks adorable all tied up like that?â€
â€œHe sure does!â€
Rachel and I turned and left the room, leaving him to struggle and stew in his own thoughts for a while.
â€œWe should empty his pockets.â€ I suggested.
â€œYeah.â€ 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 Iâ€™d been involved with up till that point Iâ€™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 didnâ€™t want to be in that situation, he had ample opportunity to escape or even to let us know to stop.
Actually, thatâ€™s an interesting point. When it comes to a guy as confident and mentally and physically strong as Jake, heâ€™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 heâ€™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.
â€œHey Rachel?â€ I asked.
â€œWho the hell is Sufjan Stevens?â€ She replied.
â€œWho?â€
â€œThis guy on Jakeâ€™s Ipod.â€
â€œI have no idea.â€
â€œOh well.â€
â€œOk Rachelâ€¦ Is it just me, or does it strike you as a little weird just how cooperative Jake has been with us thus far?â€
â€œWhat do you mean?â€
â€œWell, for example when we were gathering up the ropes down in your Dadâ€™s shop we left him in the middle of the room just with his hands tied. But he didnâ€™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 couldâ€™ve easily gotten through it if he tried.â€
â€œHeâ€™s kind sunk into the prisoner role, yeah.â€
â€œIsnâ€™t that weird though?â€
â€œNo. I donâ€™t think so. Part of it is this whole thing was such a surprise. We didnâ€™t ask his permission to tie him up. He has no idea what we plan to do with him, how long weâ€™re going to leave him like that or anything. Heâ€™s accepted that he has no control.â€
â€œIsnâ€™t that weird though?â€
â€œNope, not really. The mind does a strange thing in situations like this. Wellâ€¦ letâ€™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 â€œgenuine sadistic tendenciesâ€. The Stanford Prison experiment as its called now, has since become somewhat legendary in the psychology world and is still taught in many universities. â€œ
â€œWhoa. Is that true?â€
â€œYeah. Now, I donâ€™t think anybody is pretending that what weâ€™re doing right now is anywhere near as vivid as the guys at Stanford. Jake knows heâ€™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 weâ€™re the evil captors. Power exchange is no trifling thing.â€
â€œYeah I guess youâ€™re right. I never thought of it that way before. God when did this get so complicated!?!â€
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, gossipingâ€¦ 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 didnâ€™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 thatâ€™s even a word. The two of us marched downstairs and there he was, exactly as weâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
â€œBring the ropes.â€ 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.
â€œOk, hang on for a sec.â€ 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.
â€œGah!â€ He exclaimed.
â€œDonâ€™t talk too much or itâ€™s going right back on.â€ Rachel threatened.
â€œFine, just let me breathe for a minute!â€
I patted his shoulder as I walked past him.
â€œYouâ€™re such a trooper.â€ I remarked.
â€œThanks.â€ He replied. â€œNot like I have much choice in the matter.â€
â€œNo, you really donâ€™t.â€ Rachel reminded him.
â€œSo how long are you planning to uh, keep me like this?â€
â€œWhat as our prisoner?â€ I asked.
â€œYeah.â€
â€œWell, youâ€™re just going to have to wait and see.â€
â€œAwwww. Youâ€™ve kept me tied up for the last couple of hours, it just seems like common courtesy to oblige with answers.â€
â€œYeah wellâ€¦ Weâ€™re bitches.â€
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. Itâ€™s amazing how much Jake managed to consume with only one hand. God! Men can be such Neanderthals!
Anyway, uhmâ€¦ Right. So, when weâ€™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 Jakeâ€™s wrist.
â€œI feel like watching a movie.â€ She announced.
â€œOk.â€ I replied.
Once I had finished putting the plates and pizza boxes away we brought Jake to the living room, ropes in hand.
â€œOh! Thereâ€™s a neat trick I have to show you!â€ Rachel exclaimed. â€œHogtie him.â€
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.
â€œOh câ€™mon! Not again!â€ He yelled.
â€œOk I think thatâ€™s enough out of you!â€ She retorted.
Unsurprisngly she reached for the duct tape.
â€œOh youâ€™ve got to be kiddmmmmmmpph!â€ 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 Homerâ€™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 Pittâ€™s tent. I remarked:
â€œIâ€™d kill to switch places with her right now.â€
Jake looked up to me with a quizzical â€œHmmmph?â€
â€œCome on? Tied up in a tent with a naked Brad Pitt? Hell yeah!â€
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 andâ€¦ thatâ€™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.
â€œOk Jake.â€ Rachel started. â€œSarah and I want to go to bed and you should get some rest yourself, we have a long day tomorrow.â€
â€œHmmmmph?â€ He asked.
â€œYes, youâ€™re spending the night here. Get used to it.â€ 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 couldnâ€™t tie it tightly, given that he would be spending the night this way. But we tied it tightly enough that his arms didnâ€™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.
â€œAll tucked in now are we?â€ I asked him.
â€œMmmph!â€ He replied.
â€œOh right!â€
Iâ€™d almost forgotten, I took a corner of the tape in my hand and pulled it off his face in one motion.
â€œOuch.â€
â€œSorry.â€
I sat down on the bed next him and brushed his bangs out of his face with my hand.
â€œNow, in all seriousnessâ€¦â€ I began. â€œIf something goes wrong or you need anything, Iâ€™m right across the hallway. You can call out and wake me up. Thatâ€™s ok.â€
â€œI probably wonâ€™t need to.â€ He said.
â€œEven so, you know you can. Ok?â€
â€œOk. Thanks Sarah.â€
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.
â€œOk, where am I?â€ She asked.
â€œTake my parents room. Theyâ€™ll never know.â€ I replied.
Rachel had come prepared to stay the night, as sheâ€™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 donâ€™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 heâ€™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.
â€œGood morning!â€ I said excitedly with a fake smile.
â€œScrew you.â€ 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 wasnâ€™t at all hard to rouse. His eyes were shut when we entered the room but within a few seconds he opened them.
â€œItâ€™s morning. Thank God.â€ He said quietly.
â€œDidnâ€™t sleep well huh?â€ I asked.
â€œNo.â€
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 weâ€™d established that he wasnâ€™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:
â€œSo, what are the plans for today? You told me to book today off so I assume you wanted the whole day to play with.â€
â€œJake, how many times do we have to explain this to you.â€ Rachel insisted. â€œWeâ€™re not telling, youâ€™ll just have to find out.â€
â€œAwww come on! Youâ€™re going to keep me in the dark all day?!â€
â€œYep. More than you know.â€
â€œWhatâ€™s that supposed to mean?â€
â€œYouâ€™ll find out!â€
Somewhat frustrated, Jake went back to his egg. Breakfast was finished before long and Rachel and I cleaned up the breakfast dishes. We knew weâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
â€œOk, you two have been running around the house madly for the last few minutes? What are you up to?â€ He demanded.
â€œYouâ€™ll see.â€ Rachel said. â€œOr wait, you wonâ€™t.â€
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 Jakeâ€™s hands in front of him again. This time though, she made sure to engage the double lock so they couldnâ€™t tighten themselves.
â€œAre those too tight?â€ She asked him.
â€œNo. Why?â€ He replied.
â€œGood.â€
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 sheâ€™d laid out. One went around his ankles and another went around his knees. Then we lowered him into the trunk.
â€œAre you guys serious?â€ He asked us.
â€œYep.â€ I replied.
â€œYouâ€™ll be perfectly safe.â€ Rachel assured him.
â€œI know, butâ€¦ justâ€¦ drive carefully ok?â€
â€œWe will.â€
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 driverâ€™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 wouldnâ€™t expect to be driving long, he probably thought we were going to Rachelâ€™s house or somewhere else in the city. Little did he know, we were going a lot further than that. He didnâ€™t know weâ€™d be driving for about four hours. Where we were headed was Rachelâ€™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 Macâ€™s before we left Denver, it was great. We frivolously switched from CD to CD as we drove. In fact Iâ€™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.
â€œDo you remember that episode of CSI that we watched, the one with Lady Heather?â€ She asked me.
â€œYeah.â€
â€œDo you remember when she said that the submissive is the one who is really in control of the situation?â€
â€œNo, not really, but I believe you.â€
â€œWell, part of what makes being tied up so nice is that whoever tied you up must take complete responsibility for your well being.â€
â€œYeahâ€¦ That much is obvious.â€
â€œWe 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 heâ€™s ok, feeding him etc. etc. Now weâ€™re driving him way into the mountains. He knows that weâ€™re doing this all for him. And I imagine thatâ€™s got to feel pretty damn good.â€
â€œThatâ€™s true.â€
With my guilt assuaged we carried on. Rachelâ€™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 Iâ€™d half expected the place to blanketed with snow, but of course it wasnâ€™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.
â€œWhyâ€™d your folks buy this place?â€ I asked.
â€œThey wanted to get a cabin we could use to go skiing and stuff. But itâ€™s cheaper over here than in Aspen.â€
â€œOh ok.â€
Rachel pulled my car into the cabinâ€™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 weâ€™d left him. Well mostly, the blindfold had long since fallen down around his neck.
â€œWhere are we?â€ He asked.
â€œThatâ€™s for us to know and you to guess.â€ Rachel replied as she pulled the blindfold around his eyes again. â€œWait here, Iâ€™m going to get some scissors.â€
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 couldnâ€™t see I thing, I was a bit disoriented as well, given that Iâ€™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.
â€œHere, Iâ€™ll take them.â€ I told her.
I took the cuffs and put them in my pocket, Rachel didnâ€™t suspect a thing. I took a second piece of rope and handed it to her and she bound his ankles. Even though he wasnâ€™t gagged, Jake didnâ€™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.
â€œIâ€™m a little tried of duct tape.â€ 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.
â€œOpen wide!â€ She commanded.
Jake didnâ€™t, but it didnâ€™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 didnâ€™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.
â€œWeâ€™ll be back in a little while.â€œ I assured him.
Rachel and I re-convened in the kitchen. She was filling the electric kettle with water.
â€œPoor guy.â€ I said.
â€œWhyâ€™d you say that?â€
â€œHe has no idea where he is.â€
â€œSo?â€
â€œWell, thatâ€™s got to be a little jarring donâ€™t you think?â€
â€œOh well, he deserves it.â€
â€œWhy is that?â€
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 canâ€™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 Rachelâ€™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.
â€œWhat the hell!?!â€ 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.
â€œWhat? You didnâ€™t think I knew there were two keys?â€ I asked her.
â€œIâ€¦ Iâ€¦ uhhhh.â€ She stammered.
â€œUh 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.â€
She just glared. In fact, she glared so intensely that for a second I swore my head was going to implode.
â€œIâ€™ll be right back.â€ 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.
â€œCome on now! Youâ€™re making so much noise.â€ I told her patronizingly.
Rope in hand I approached her, carefully. She fought furiously, but in the end one arm just canâ€™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.
â€œOh no.â€ Rachel objected. â€œNo way! No way! No wmmmmmmmph!â€
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.
â€œOk, move.â€ I ordered.
Sullenly, Rachel marched forward. She didnâ€™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 wasnâ€™t nearly as surprised as he was. His eyes widened like saucers when he saw her, as trussed up as he was.
â€œHey Jake, I thought you could use some company.â€ 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 wasnâ€™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.
â€œWould you mind sliding down to the floor Jake?â€ I asked him nicely.
It seems he was receptive to courtesy and slid his bound body off the bed and onto the carpet.
â€œNow would you mind getting back to back with Rachel here?â€ 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 Rachelâ€™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 couldnâ€™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.
â€œThere! Now you two can have some quality time together!â€ I said happily.
Once again, Jake smiled and once again Rachel glared at me. But I didnâ€™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 sheâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 Iâ€™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 didnâ€™t expect.
Apparently the infinitely stubborn Rachel had managed to loosen the knot binding Jakeâ€™s hands. Heâ€™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 hadnâ€™t untied her. Iâ€™m guessing he didnâ€™t even take off the tape at first. I only caught a snippet of their conversation.
â€œLook, what happened back in Februaryâ€¦â€ Rachel started.
â€œNo. I get it. Youâ€™d just broken up with Troy, you were a mess. I know.â€ He replied.
â€œStill, I need to take responsibility for my own actions, I know.â€
â€œI keep telling you, thereâ€™s nothing wrong with your actions! Look, what you and Sarah have done over the last day, this has been the coolest birthday present Iâ€™ve ever had. Especially from Sarah, who isnâ€™t getting anything out of this! I love being tied up. I crave for it the same way most guys crave sex. Itâ€™s weird, I know Iâ€™m messed up but thatâ€™s the way it is.â€
â€œYouâ€™re not messed up.â€
â€œWell yes I am. But thatâ€™s beside the point. Look, Iâ€™m really grateful for what youâ€™ve done. I donâ€™t feel like youâ€™re leading me on, or anything like that. In fact, Iâ€™d be willing to bet thatâ€™s exactly how YOUâ€™RE feeling about this.â€
â€œWellâ€¦ I donâ€™t know. I keep telling myself that youâ€™re the re-bound from Troy, but I canâ€™t get you out of my mind.â€
I decided that, as much as I wanted to, I shouldnâ€™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 thatâ€™s why she didnâ€™t tell me about the second key, she was going to turn on me so sheâ€™d be free to talk things over with Jake without fear of interruption. I donâ€™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 oneâ€™s surprise, they were making out. Rachel was still bound and helpless and it seemed she didnâ€™t want it any other way.
â€œSorry to interrupt guys.â€ I said.
They both looked over to me in shock, apparently they forgot I was there.
â€œDinner is ready.â€
â€œOh cool! You made food, thanks Sarah.â€ Jake said.
â€œWould you mind untying her, come downstairs when youâ€™re ready.â€
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.
â€œSarah.â€ 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.
â€œI just wanted to say how grateful I am for what youâ€™ve done over the last couple of weeks.â€ He said.
â€œFor what?â€ I asked.
â€œKidnapping me for my birthday.â€
â€œOh, youâ€™re welcome.â€
â€œLook, I know the looks you were giving Rachel and I while we were having dinner. Iâ€™ve seen them before. Youâ€™re jealous that she now has a relationship and you donâ€™t.â€
â€œWas I that obvious?â€
â€œNo. Iâ€™ve just given enough people that look on my accord enough times to be able to recognize it.â€
â€œAhhhh, I see.â€
â€œRachel is grateful for all your help too. She really is. Sheâ€™s just kind of a mono-maniac this one and sheâ€™s focused on me and this screwed up situation.â€
I smiled. I knew he was right. Rachel was my friend and always will be.
â€œAnyway, thank you so much.â€ He concluded.â€Youâ€™re a great friend. And when you do find yourself a guy, heâ€™ll be one lucky, lucky bastard.â€
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 sheâ€™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 hadnâ€™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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:14 am

Interlude
Kate leapt to her feet and ran to hug her blonde friend.
â€œItâ€™s ok sweetie. Weâ€™ll find you somebody, I promise!â€ 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. Heâ€™d been trying to get Hugh and Sarah together even longer than Liz had.
â€œSo that all really happened?â€ Chris asked.
â€œYeah.â€ Sarah replied.
â€œThose two are kind of an odd couple.â€ Liz remarked. â€œWhen I saw they were dating on Facebook I was pretty surprised.â€
â€œLittle did you know how involved our own Sarah was.â€ Hugh pointed out.
â€œLittle did I know.â€
â€œYeah they are a pretty odd couple. I have no idea how thatâ€™s going to work out.â€ Sarah agreed.
â€œWell, who cares.â€ Kate said.
â€œI do!â€ Sarah insisted.
â€œOk ok, fine.â€
Kate got up and returned to her seat next to Chris.
â€œWhat time is it?â€ She asked.
â€œAbout noon. Why?â€ Hugh replied.
â€œWell, we still have one more story to get through.â€
â€œBut we have the rest of the afternoon for it. We arrive at six donâ€™t we?â€ Sarah asked.
â€œYeah.â€
â€œWell there you go. Sorry, I canâ€™t listen to another story right now.â€ Liz declared. â€œNo offence Sarah, I enjoyed yours, but my brain needs to clear out.â€
â€œYeah this coming from you who talked longer than any of us!â€ Kate shot back.
â€œMaybe, but not everybody has gone yet.â€ She pointed out.
â€œThis is true.â€ Chris agreed. â€œI may go on longer.â€
â€œWell go on about what?â€ Kate demanded.
â€œYouâ€™ll see.â€ He replied with a smirk.
â€œDammit youâ€™re as bad as Sarah and Rachel!â€
â€œNo heâ€™s not.â€ Sarah insisted. â€œNo where near.â€
After a little more argument it was decided theyâ€™d take a couple hours before Chris started talking. Chris and Hugh busied themselves with eating one of the bags of chips theyâ€™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 Riskâ€¦ Things got pretty heated. And annoyingly for Chris, who was prone to reckless attacks, Hughâ€™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 Hughâ€™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 oâ€™clock arrived in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
â€œHey guys.â€ Sarah asked.
â€œWhat?â€ Liz demanded.
â€œItâ€™s three oâ€™clock. If we want to hear Chrisâ€™s story he should probably start now.â€
â€œShould he?â€
â€œYeah I probably should. That way weâ€™ll still have time to gather up our stuff and be ready to go when we get into New York.â€ Chris reasoned.
â€œOk, okâ€ 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.
â€œAlright guys. Now, I donâ€™t have a lot of stories to tell that you folks werenâ€™t all involved in. So Iâ€™m afraid Iâ€™m going to have to tell one that Kate here has heard before. In fact, sheâ€™s in it.â€
Kate looked to him in shock.
â€œYouâ€™re not actually going to tell them this one are you?!â€ She demanded.
â€œYep.â€ He replied candidly.
â€œWhat Kate?!â€ Liz demanded. â€œYou donâ€™t trust us?â€
â€œYeah! We tell each other everything. Those were your words!â€ Hugh added.
â€œOk, ok fine.â€ 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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:15 am

Chrisâ€™s Tale: Once upon a zip tieâ€¦
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 havenâ€™t heard it yet. Well not all of itâ€¦ But Iâ€™m sure youâ€™ve wondered how Kate and I got into this, which led to you all getting into this. Well this is how:
I canâ€™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 â€œLet it snowâ€. Iâ€™ve always hated that song. Itâ€™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 werenâ€™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 Saturdayâ€™s there was nothing on. Well mostly not, Robot Wars was still on the air at that point. But I couldnâ€™t watch that, or even suggest watching that in front of Kate. She didnâ€™t really know what a geek I am at that point. Oh well, she does now.
Anyway, I still wasnâ€™t too familiar with the Franklin house yet. I was very familiar with Kateâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 Dadâ€™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. Butâ€¦ 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 shouldnâ€™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 ballâ€¦ 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 Iâ€™d never actually taken a close look at one of these things before. Iâ€™d seen them holding signs onto telephone poles or holding electrical cords into bundles, but Iâ€™d never given them any thought.
A few days before Iâ€™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 didnâ€™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 couldnâ€™t they just leave her like that for me to ogle? It only occurred to me then: â€œManâ€¦ Kate would look great tied up like that.â€
Now that I held a zip tie in my hand, all I could think about was slipping Kateâ€™s wrists into it. But I couldnâ€™t do that, could I?
I didnâ€™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 donâ€™t know why, weâ€™ve always justâ€¦ Done that. Anyway, wordlessly she sat down next to me and I continued scanning the channels, searching for anything we could watch.
â€œWhy donâ€™t we put on a movie?â€ She suggested.
â€œSure.â€ I replied.
â€œWhat do you want to watch?â€
â€œI donâ€™t care.â€
â€œAction, Comedyâ€¦ something elseâ€¦â€
â€œI really donâ€™t care.â€
Kate headed over to her DVD drawer and started scanning. Eventually she picked â€œThe Mummyâ€ with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. This was a good choice for that particular evening, itâ€™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 wasnâ€™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 wasnâ€™t it? Who wants to be tied up? But then again, if people didnâ€™t enjoy watching it, why would they put it on TV all the time. Maybe I should do itâ€¦ Butâ€¦ Maybe I shouldnâ€™t. What would she say?!
I donâ€™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 wouldnâ€™t she say no? Sheâ€™d probably think I would rob her or something.
Oh câ€™mon thatâ€™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. Sheâ€™d know that I was tying her up just because I wanted to. But wasnâ€™t that weird?
But for some reason that same instinct that told me Kate might enjoy it, convinced me to give it a try
â€œHey sweetie.â€ I said. â€œMove forward a bit.â€
She didnâ€™t say anything, but slid forward a bit. As Iâ€™d done a few times before I slid behind her and started giving her a shoulder massage. Iâ€™m not that great at giving massages, I have an athleteâ€™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.
â€œHere, move your arms behind you, thatâ€™ll make it easier.â€ 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 didnâ€™t want to tell her that. I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
â€œSweetie, I want to try something here.â€ I told her.
â€œOk.â€ She replied casually. â€œWhat?â€
â€œHang on a sec.â€
I took hold of her arms and gently pulled them a little closer together. She didnâ€™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.
â€œWhat the hell?!â€ She exclaimed, turning around to face me.
I just smiled.
â€œWhat the hell are you doing?â€
â€œI uhhh, tied your hands up.â€
â€œYeah I know that genius. Why?â€
â€œIâ€¦ donâ€™tâ€™ knowâ€¦â€
She stared at me quizzically.
â€œHonestlyâ€¦â€ I started. â€œI was watching TV the other dayâ€¦â€
I repeated what I said to you guys a minute ago.
â€œAnd since I looked in the drawer and picked this thing up, all I could think about was how cute good youâ€™d look tied up.â€
I knew using the flattery technique would win me brownie points. And it seemed to be working. A long smile crossed her face.
â€œSo youâ€™re just kinky, is that it?â€ She asked, seeming to tease me.
â€œI guess so, Iâ€™m not really sure.â€ I replied.
â€œSo.â€ She said, standing up. â€œDo I look as good as I thought you would?â€
I stood up with her.
â€œWell, you look good however you come Katie.â€
I couldnâ€™t not say that come on! Laugh all you want Lizzy!
â€œOh yes, yes. But do I look as good as you thought I would tied up?â€
â€œWell, turn around, let me see your hands.â€
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.
â€œYeah. I was right. You look just like those damsels in distress you see on TV. Save all the dirt.â€ I told her.
â€œYou think I look as good as people on TV? Youâ€™re so sweet.â€ She replied.
â€œYou want me to take it off now?â€
I assumed she was about to say yes.
â€œNo. Iâ€™m enjoying this actually.â€ 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.
â€œMaybe you should finish the job?â€ She suggested.
â€œWhat do you mean?â€
â€œWell youâ€™ve tied my hands, maybe you should tie my feet or my knees tooâ€¦ So I canâ€™t escape.â€
â€œAlright.â€
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.
â€œYou going anywhere?â€ I asked her.
She tried shuffling around and pulling against the loops of plastic that held her arms and legs together.
â€œI donâ€™t think so.â€ 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.
â€œHow you doing there?â€ I asked.
â€œIâ€™m totally helpless.â€ She replied. â€œYou could do anything to me and thereâ€™s not a thing I can do about it. Am I nuts for enjoying this?â€
â€œYep. I think you are. But at least weâ€™re both nuts.â€
â€œThatâ€™s good.â€
â€œNow, thereâ€™s something else I want to try.â€
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 wasnâ€™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 couldnâ€™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.
â€œYou bastard.â€ She breathed.
â€œBut you love me.â€ I replied
She didnâ€™t agree, but she didnâ€™t deny it either. That was good enough for me.
â€œI assume you want to be untied now.â€ I said.
â€œOh hell no.â€ She replied. â€œBut maybe you could re-tie me with rope or something. These zip ties are starting to hurt.â€
â€œOh ok. Do you have any rope?â€
â€œIn the garage I think.â€
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.
â€œOk, now you can cut me loose.â€ She said.
â€œNo way.â€ I replied.
â€œWhat?â€
â€œIâ€™ve never tied anyone up in my life, I need to look this up.â€
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.
â€œThis has got to be the weirdest search anyone has ever done.â€ I remarked. She laughed.
Not knowing what else to put, I simply searched â€œHow to tie someone upâ€. 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.comâ€¦ 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 hadnâ€™t actually considered that what I was doing was sexual in origin. And I didnâ€™t want to think of it that way. But at the same time, it was undeniable.
â€œWhatâ€™s wrong?â€ Kate asked me.
â€œNothing.â€ I lied.
I read on in strange fascination as the author of the page complained that sex had become â€œobsessively egalitarianâ€. 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 hadnâ€™t done it at that point, but I knew what it was and all that stuff. But when Iâ€™d started dating Kate, I really started dating her because thatâ€™s justâ€¦ what we were supposed to do. Boys and girls, or boys and boys or whateverâ€¦ Were supposed to start dating each other in high school. So I did. I hadnâ€™t really thought of what I was doing as sexual butâ€¦ 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 Iâ€™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 larkâ€™s head as the site called it. I wrapped it around a few more times then wrapped the two ends separately, vertically between her wristsâ€¦ â€œcinchingâ€ the tie. These words were all foreign to me at this point.
â€œOk, try pulling on that.â€ I asked her.
She pulled and struggled, but it didnâ€™t budge.
â€œThatâ€™s pretty good, I donâ€™t think I can get out of that.â€ 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.
â€œWhat do you think, do you like that as well?â€ I asked her.
â€œYeah this is more comfortable.â€ She replied. â€œPlusâ€¦ I meanâ€¦ Now I feel even more damsel in distress like. This is great!â€
â€œYou know what would make it even better?â€
â€œWhat?â€
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 didnâ€™t take me long to find it. I returned to Kate in the TV room.
â€œOh boyâ€¦â€ 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.
â€œOh câ€™mon!â€ I insisted. â€œWhat TV damsel is complete without duct tape over her mouth?â€
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.
â€œNo way!â€ I yelled. â€œA strip of duct tape always works in the moviesâ€¦ You must have a very strong jaw. Which would make sense, given how much it flaps!â€
â€œHey! Shut up!â€
â€œYou shut up! You talk so much you can rip tape right off!â€
â€œOk, ok. Yeah, I talk a lot. But that wasnâ€™t at all difficult, I think one strip just isnâ€™t going to stay on.â€
I stopped to think about it.
â€œOk. Sometimes you see a piece of cloth or something like that shoved into the mouth behind the tape.â€ I said.
â€œYeah.â€ She agreed.
â€œDo you have some ankle socks or something?â€
â€œYeah, in the top shelf of my dresser.â€
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 Iâ€™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.
â€œOk.â€ I started. â€œThis should work better.â€
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 donâ€™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.
â€œFinally! Some peace and quiet!â€ 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 donâ€™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.
â€œYou want some?â€ 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 sheâ€™d done before. But unlike last time, she wasnâ€™t able to pull it off.
â€œCome on!â€ I taunted. â€œDonâ€™t you want it?â€
She nodded again, but couldnâ€™t release her lips to eat it.
â€œOk fine.â€
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; weâ€™ve established that. And she was my prisoner; cool. But, now that she was my prisoner, what do I do with her? I wasnâ€™t a TV villain, I had no axe to grind, no ransom to collect, no score to settle. The little fantasy that Iâ€™d been living suddenly came crashing down to the reality.
I recalled what Iâ€™d read when I looked online. It seemed if most people, whoâ€¦ 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 cueâ€¦ The damn doorbell rang.
Both of our heads turned for the door like gophers popping out of their holes. She looked to me worriedly.
â€œIâ€™ll get rid of them.â€ I said.
I walked to the door and nervously turned the handle, hoping to God that it wasnâ€™t her brother or one of her friends paying a surprise visit. If anyone saw her like thisâ€¦ It couldnâ€™t possibly end well. I opened the door to see a light haired middle aged woman in a business suit.
â€œHello.â€ I said.
â€œHi, sorry to bother you, I live down the street and my car got stuck. Would you mind trying to give a push?â€
â€œOh! Sure. No problem.â€
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Iâ€™m not sure Iâ€™ve ever been so relieved in my life. I put on my boots and left without locking the door and pushed the womanâ€™s car out of the snow bank sheâ€™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 didnâ€™t occur to me at the time and I donâ€™t think it occurred to her either.
I came back inside, ditched my shoes and returned to the couch.
â€œIt was your neighbor, I had to push her car.â€ 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.
â€œWhat were you staring when you were on my computer?â€ She asked.
â€œI uhhhâ€¦ whatâ€¦ what do you mean?â€ I stammered.
â€œWhen 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 youâ€™re just reading. You were shocked.â€
â€œYeah.â€
â€œWhat were you reading?â€
â€œWell Iâ€¦ Lookâ€¦â€
I was terrified. How the hell do I approach this?
â€œWhen I looked up how to, tie youâ€¦â€ I started, sweating bullets. â€œBasically everything I found was talking about bondage. (A word I wasnâ€™t really comfortable with at that point) It was all pretty sexual.â€
â€œOhâ€¦ I see.â€
â€œWell, the question is, you tie somebody up, then what do you do with them? Obviously youâ€¦ youâ€¦ doâ€¦â€
â€œThem.â€ She finished my sentence.
â€œYeah.â€
For a moment we sat in the most awkward protracted silence that Iâ€™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:
â€œWell, I guess we were going to have to deal with this at one point.â€ She said.
â€œYeah.â€
â€œSo, where do we go from here?â€
â€œI donâ€™t know.â€
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.
â€œLook.â€ She said. â€œDo you want to?â€
â€œWhat?â€
â€œItâ€™s a simple as that. Do you want to?â€
Did I? Part of me did and part of me didnâ€™t. I was only fifteen. In school and on the news Iâ€™d heard time and again about how kids were having sex and younger and younger ages, and part of me didnâ€™t want to become part of that statistic. On the other handâ€¦ Iâ€™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.
â€œKatie.â€ I said quietly.
â€œYeah?â€
â€œYou know I love you. As far as Iâ€™m concerned youâ€™re the most beautiful thing on earth.â€
Silence.
â€œBut Iâ€™m not ready.â€ I concluded.
â€œOk.â€ She replied.
Iâ€™m not sure why, but I decided to do the honorable thing and wait. I just wasnâ€™t ready. Call me puritanical if you like, but I decided to wait. And in the long run Iâ€™m glad I did.
â€œWe can revisit this in a few years.â€ She said. â€œBy then, Iâ€™m pretty sure youâ€™ll feel differently.â€
â€œOk. Itâ€™s a date.â€ I replied happily.
We smiled at each other.
â€œYou probably couldnâ€™t get it up anyway.â€ 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.
â€œKatie I love you. You know that right?â€ I said.
â€œYeah Chris. I know.â€ 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 backâ€¦ Butâ€¦ 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.
â€œThat was great.â€ She said quietly.
â€œYeah.â€ I replied. â€œNow!â€
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 sheâ€™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 couldnâ€™t resist her pleading eyes and stopped. She panted for a minute before returning to her senses. At that point I couldnâ€™t resist and started tickling her again. But only for a few seconds! I swear!
Once Iâ€™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 motherâ€™s digital camera. I guess she wasnâ€™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.
â€œThese are for research!â€ I insisted. â€œSo I can find new ties.â€
She nodded sarcastically. Itâ€™s amazing how well she still communicates when she canâ€™t speak. Just saying.
â€œMaybe I should start a scrapbook?â€
Once Iâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
â€œWhat?â€ I asked.
â€œIâ€™m starting to get kind of sore.â€ She replied.
â€œTime for me to untie you?â€
â€œWellâ€¦ How about just my legs, so I can stretch them out. You can leave my hands tied for a little longer if youâ€™d like.â€
â€œAlright.â€
â€œHaha. They say love is the tie that binds. I guess thatâ€™s true now.â€
â€œOh God, come on Katie! That phrase was clichÃ© enough when it wasnâ€™t a pun!â€
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 didnâ€™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 donâ€™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 didnâ€™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 hadnâ€™t thought of those.
â€œYou might want to be wearing long sleeves when your parents get home.â€ 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

Post by dreadnaught3200 » Fri Jun 24, 2011 12:16 am

Outro
â€œYou are such a romantic brother.â€ Hugh proclaimed, shaking his head in approval.
â€œThatâ€™s putting it mildly.â€ Liz grumbled.
By now Kate was holding Chrisâ€™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.
â€œI gotta say.â€ Sarah started. â€œIâ€™m amazed how frank you were about the whole sex thing.â€
â€œIâ€™m more amazed that Kate didnâ€™t rip your head off!â€ Liz offered.
Kate nodded with a sense of agreement, though her hand didnâ€™t leave Chrisâ€™s.
â€œWell.â€ He said. â€œI trust you guys. I would have no problem telling each of you on your own, so why not when weâ€™re all together.â€
â€œThat makes sense.â€ Hugh agreed.
â€œWellâ€¦â€ Kate said. â€œUnless Iâ€™m mistaken weâ€™re almost in New York! Letâ€™s get ready to go!â€
Everybody excitedly heeded Kateâ€™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. Theyâ€™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 theyâ€™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 friendsâ€™ 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:
â€œYou know, I think I might actually miss always having a story to look forward to.â€
Hugh put his arm around her and said:
â€œWellâ€¦ Thereâ€™s always the trip home.â€
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)

Post by 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)

Post by 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