Deborah

"But as the end nears, she feels abandoned, for no rescuer has come forth. And she is bitter as her awareness fades, as for the one time a man has done as he has been told, her demise is the result.

"But with the end of your struggles end comes your chance to escape death. The prison doctor is senile and deaf. He can't hear heart tones through his stethoscope anymore. If you don't move, he'll pronounce you dead," Daniel finishes.

He takes the end of the rope and I watch as he ties it into a noose. When he finishes, he places it around my neck and lets go of the rope. The knot falls into my cleavage.

"So how will you get me out?"

"You've put me in charge of your funeral. I ride out with you in the hearse. I open the coffin when nobody's looking and let you out, and they bury an empty box."

"And then what do we do?"

"We have to hide until things cool down. So you spend your time thinking up ways to keep me excited so I don't get bored and decide you're more trouble than you're worth."

"You'll never have that problem in real life."

He takes hold of the rope and leads me by the neck through the bedroom, stopping at the threshold. He then drops the rope, hurries into the kitchen, and emerges moments later pushing a chair on the wooden floor, positioning it beneath a hook on the ceiling. He beckons me to stand on the seat, and I mount the improvised scaffold without hesitation.

He closes the bedroom door and mounts the chair. Standing next to me, he takes the free end of the rope that is attached to my neck, swings it over the hook, and ties it to the knob on the bedroom door and jumps to the floor. If he pulls the chair out from under me, I will be left hanging by my neck.

"No need for underwear now," I announce.

I pull my panties down. The rope catches my neck as I bend over, so I wiggle my hips and bend my legs to get them all the way off. In a few seconds they are around my ankles. I step out of the opening on the left side and toss them onto the floor with a kick from my right leg. When I look up, I see him recording the scene with his cell phone.

Daniel stares at the naked woman who is in his power. I beckon him to join me on the scaffold and wrap my arms around him and bury my head in his chest when he returns to my side.

"We're done," he whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we're done acting out the scene."

"The scene's not over. I haven't fought for my life at the end of the rope. And you haven't rescued me."

"You didn't think that I was actually going to hang you, did you?"

"Well, one end of the rope is tied around the doorknob and the other end is tied around my neck, isn't it?"

"But you could die!"

"You're risking your career by hiding me. I don't have anything of value in my possession except for my body and my mind.

"Please let me do something for you in return. Your fantasy girl has been condemned to death. Someone else will end her life if you don't. She would rather die by the hand of the one who loves her."

I then stand on my tiptoes and our lips meet. Our mouths open, forming one great chamber, and our tongues dance together.

"I've ruined your lipstick," he tells me when our lips part.

"It doesn't matter," I reply.

"I want you to look, you know, hot, while we, I mean, I do this thing with you."

"Am I such a hag that I need to cover all my blemishes and wrinkles for you to desire me?"

"No, you're real nice looking. You've always turned me on. It's just that for the scene there needs to be more color in your face. Oh shit, you probably think I'm gay for talking about makeup. It's just that I, I want you to look like the girls in magazines. Yeah, that's it. That's what I'd like."

"You want me to look like a porn star?"

"No, not a slut, just like you-at your very best."

"There's something you're not telling me."

Daniel's face turns a shade of crimson.

"You want to take pictures of me while we're doing this, don't you?" I demand.

"No, I, I mean yes,"

I gaze back at Daniel as he studies my face. On his visage is written mortification, he having unintentionally provided further evidence that I am the woman of his fantasies, the one he pictures in his mind's eye as he wanks in the dark, living a bounteous life with me in his dream world, but destined never to have his love requited.

"I wanted to have a picture of you standing there naked with the noose around your neck. You're going to leave this house someday when all this craziness is over. If we're forced apart, I want to have something to remember this night with. But I won't take any pictures if you don't want me to. Just forget it. It was a bad idea."

"You're risking everything for me. Of course you can take pictures of me. And I'll fix my face if you'll get my purse for me."

He jumps down to the floor, and I watch with my hands on my hips and noose around my neck as my executioner departs to retrieve his condemned lover's purse so she can prepare her face for the climax of the scene in which she is the leading lady.

A moment later he presents me with the black leather satchel that contains almost all of my earthly trappings. He opens my purse as if he is my acolyte and I, the high priestess. I reach in and pull out a tube of lipstick and my compact. He watches adoringly as I recoat my lips with purple lipstick, again becoming the alluring siren for whom he is about to exchange his life as a law abiding citizen for that of an outlaw in an overlap of fantasy and reality.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" I muse, breaking character.

"I've dreamed about being with you ever since we were parted. You're even more beautiful in real life than in my dreams."

"Thank you, Daniel. That makes me feel good."

"I shouldn't make you do this."

"No, it's fine. If you've dreamed about me all this time, after what you're doing for me, the least I can do is make your dream come true."

He pulls my right wrist behind my back. After I willingly place my left wrist next to it to be restrained, he grabs hold of my hands, turning my wrists so that the backs are apposed to one another. I then feel two strands of clothesline encircling my wrists as I stand frozen like an action figure, offering no resistance as he pulls the ligature tight. He then separates the strands and threads them between my wrists in opposing directions, pulls them tight, and ties the ends together, securing my hands behind my back.

He then pats my rump and before retaking his place in front of me. He descends to his knees as if kneeling before a figure in prayer, but instead of paying me homage, seizes my ankles. I reflexly move my legs together and watch as he encircles my ankles with clothesline, wincing as he pulls the double strands tight before wrapping each strand separately between my legs and then tying the ends together.

Completely helpless, I imagine what it must feel like to strangle under one's own weight. He then mounts the scaffold from which my body is to drop and stands next to me. As I tremble, my soon-to-be takes me in his arms. I look down to the floor, wondering how far my feet will be from the floor once the chair has been pulled out from under me.

"You feel good," he says softly.

"Daniel, I'm not going to fall too far, am I?"

"Getting a little scared?"

I shake my head yes.

"Do you want a blindfold?"

I shake my head no.

"I'm going to take you at your word. You said that you wanted to indulge my fantasy."

"I owe it to you."

"No you don't."

"I want to be the one girl who gives herself completely to you."

"You know how dangerous this is."

"It's OK." I insist, while unable to eliminate the reluctance from my voice.

"Do you have a last request?"

"Does that mean you're going to kill me?"

"Anything can happen."

"I understand now. You want me to be scared."

He nods in the affirmative. I manage a smile. He smiles back.

"Something to drink then. I'd like a glass of wine."

He disappears into the kitchen. During the few moments he is gone, I fret that I might lose my balance and strangle to death before his return, but my feet remain firmly planted on the seat of the chair when he comes back with two glasses of Merlot and a camera dangling from a strap around his neck.

He mounts the chair and holds the goblet to my lips as he stands beside me. I take a sip. It tastes smooth, unlike the cheap stuff that I had in my house.

"Is it good?"

"It's wonderful."

"It was a gift from my uncle. He brought it back from a winery in Napa Valley. He fancies himself as a wine connoisseur."

"Let me have some more, please."

He lifts the vessel to my lips and pours more Merlot into my mouth. I savor it, letting it stay in my mouth for a few seconds instead of gulping it down to get drunk.

"I'm sorry you're so frightened."

"Isn't that part of the game? Does it turn you on?"

He shakes his head yes.

"Then I can play along," I assure him.

"You don't have to anymore. This has gone far enough. I can't believe that you were about to let me hang you."

"I work out. I think I have a strong neck. And I don't weigh too much."

"But you could die!"

"Right now, my people seem like such a goddamn nuisance to the world that they'd probably give you a medal."

"I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you."

"But don't you like seeing how terrified this is making me? Wouldn't you like to see me choking to death at the end of this rope, wondering if you'll save me?"

"I'm sorry, but I do!"

"Don't be sorry; feel instead lucky to have the chance! Now take a sip of that wine. That should strengthen your resolve."

He takes a big gulp of wine and then holds my glass to my lips and pours some more into my mouth. Growing tipsier, I lean against him, no longer concerned that the ligature around my neck will strangle me to death if I lose my balance.

He wraps his arms around his victim and I realize that there is no place on earth that I'd rather be. I strain against my bonds, but they hold secure. My lover is reveling in his fantasy, and it is my honor to be a willing participant.

"It's time."

"Time for me to hang?"

He nods yes.

"Don't cry for me if anything bad happens. It's better this way."

"Are you sure you don't want to be blindfolded?"

Changing my mind, I acquiesce.

An instant later, my sight is obscured by a black strip of cloth that he then knots behind my head. The chair shifts and the heat of my lover's body fades away as he steps down to the floor.

"Daniel, where are you?"

"I'm right here."

"Oh, god, this is so scary. Where are you? Please, touch me!"

He wraps his right hand around mine.

"Thank you. That feels good."

I start to sob uncontrollably. My limbs tremble and I strain against the ligatures around my wrists and ankles. All I am rewarded with is pain as the clothesline digs into my flesh.

"Do it now!" I shriek. "Let me hang for you!"

He lets go of my hand. For a few seconds, nothing happens. My heart pounds and I hyperventilate.

Just as I conclude he has lost his nerve, that I will not be the victim of his demented fantasy as I had wished, the chair begins to move beneath my feet.

"Oh shit!" I cry out.

The right side of the platform on which I am standing rises and I stagger. The noose catches my neck and tightens as my body slides off the chair. I make a guttural sound as I try to regain my balance, but an instant later, there is nothing beneath my feet but air.

The rope holds fast and my neck suddenly bears the entire weight of my body. The ligature around my neck has closed off my throat so that I can draw in no air. I struggle to free my hands to tear the noose off my neck, but unable to loosen the restraints my restraints, my hands remain securely fastened behind my back. I strain against the bonds on my ankles but they too hold fast, and I can do nothing but writhe and squirm as my body twists in the air.

The muscles of my neck and shoulders and back contract as they struggle to keep my head attached to my body, aching under the unnatural load they are forced to bear, making me fret I will be decapitated. But the drop of only a few inches has not been sufficient to disrupt the ligaments that hold my skeleton and body parts together, leaving me instead to strangle under my own weight to the delight of the author of the scene. As my lungs hunger for sweet air, I pray to lose consciousness so that my torment will end.

The ligature unable to overcome the vigorous contractions of my left ventricle, my skull fill to capacity with blood with no means of escape, increasing the pressure in my head, and stretching the walls of the arteries that course through my brain. The neurons in the walls of these arteries go awry, sending urgent messages to my cerebral cortex that are expressed in my consciousness as unrelenting agony. Time is running out and my death will ensue if whatever plan my executioner has concocted to save the innocent woman he bas been charged with putting to death is not put into place immediately.

I am aware of camera flashes as I twist at the end of the rope. My soon-to-be lover is creating a photographic record of the vignette in which I am starring, a role in which I hope any accolades I may garner will not be posthumous.

As my consciousness fades, I feel my torso being lifted and the soles of my feet touching cold metal. I lean back and realize that I am standing on a stepladder. My neck is no longer forced to bear an unnatural load, but as I attempt to breathe, the noose remains tight around my throat and I can still draw in no air.

I lean against the ladder, prohibited from imbibing sweet air by the cruel ligature that is still wound tightly around my throat. My legs are barely able to support me as I hunger for a just a single breath to force the stale gas out of my chest and replace it with the pure air in which I am bathed.

I feel Daniel's fingers pressing against my neck as he struggles to loosen the ligature around my throat. The rope finally gives way, and my chest heaves as I first exhale and then drew a breath of fresh air into my lungs.

"Are you OK?"

I nod in the affirmative.

"I'm sorry."

He then pulls off my blindfold. I am rewarded by the sight of Daniel's gentle face, brimming with satisfaction.

"It's OK. I said you could whatever you wanted to me."

"I'll never hurt you again."

"I'm fine. And when I told you that you could do anything you wanted with me, I meant it. And the offer's still good."

"I can't believe that I did it! I hanged you!"

"How did it feel to see your dream come alive?"

"Awesome!"

I turn my head and give him a peck on the lips. "I love you, Daniel. Thanks for letting your fantasy girl be me."

"Shit! You're still tied up. Your wrists and ankles must hurt"

"It's OK. I can stay posed this way for as long as you'd like."

He unties the knots that secure the ligatures around my wrists and ankles. The strands loosen and I extract my wrists from their grasp, placing my hands in front of me. I massage the tender flesh the cord has bitten into.

"I hope the rope doesn't leave marks."

"It doesn't matter. No one is going to be seeing me anyway. Or so I hope."

"You're safe here."

"We're no match against the power of the U.S. government. If they come for me, I don't want you to try to be a hero. I'll go peacefully, and hope that you'll be waiting for me when they let me out."

I am still standing on the second rung of the ladder with the noose hanging loosely around my neck. Daniel is at my feet, savoring the spectacle. In his eyes is the look of a man who is beholding a goddess.

"May I have another sip of wine?" I ask.

He holds the goblet to my lips by the stem and pours a little into my mouth. I wrap my hands around the bowl and invert it, filling my mouth with the smooth Merlot, and swallow it quickly to gain the effect.

"Don't you want to come down?"

I am perched on the ladder, a head higher than my lover. He takes the noose off my neck and I step down gingerly as inebriation sets in. Daniel takes me in his arms, and our lips meet. Our mouths open, and inhibitions cast away, our tongues wrestle to ensnare the other and meld two bodies into one.

Our lips locked, he pushes me backwards, pinning me against the wall of the narrow hallway in which minutes before I had almost died. I dig my fingertips into his muscular back, wishing only that he will soon enter me so we both can be satisfied.

His rigid member presses against my pubis. I squirm, rubbing my pudenda against the mass between his legs, pleasuring myself even while sandwiched against the wall.

"Daniel, are the witnesses who came to see me hang disappointed? Did they want to see me die?"

"Half of them hate you and are disappointed and the other half are glad you're still alive."

"Has my death sentence been set aside or have I only gotten a reprieve?" I whisper into his ear.

"There has been no reprieve for you. After claiming to see a witness brandish a gun, the warden commanded me to cut you down and move you to a secure location.

"Having never witnessed a hanging before, I think the warden could not stomach watching you die in such a cruel manner, fighting for your breath, strangling under your own weight. So he put an end to your suffering, in defiance of the courts and the governor. But you are still under the death warrant."

"So I may be hanged again?"

"I'm sure the court and the governor will insist."

"But what if next time the drop again doesn't break my neck? Must I strangle to death at the end of the rope?"

"The law says you must hang by the neck until you are dead but says nothing about whether death should come quickly or be agonizing."

"Will you be my executioner again?"

"Do you want me to?"

"If I must die, I insist that it be by your hand."

Our lips meet again and only reluctantly part when we need air. He rocks his pelvis, dry humping me as I am pinned against the wall. I wrap my thighs around him, drawing him even closer to me, using all my strength to keep us together.

"I may receive a command at any time to end your life."

"I am the most dangerous of living creatures. Faced with imminent death, I may use deadly force to preserve my life, even against the one I love."

We again kiss passionately; I, overcome by being alive and free, and he reveling in passion held in check for more than a decade after falling in love with a woman who had just conceived another man's child. Our lips part and we look into each other's eyes, knowing what we must do to consummate our love but fearing that by leaving one another's embrace the magic in which we are ensconced will dissipate and cause us to revert into the two brilliant people who had foolishly lost one another.

"Then you must be restrained," his eyes widen as he schemes to further use me as an object to indulge his fantasy.

He walks briskly into the bedroom with me in tow. He lets go of my hand, scoops me up in his arms, and tosses me onto the bed, on which I land supine. An instant later I am pinned helplessly beneath his body; our pelvises flush against one another, our pudenda grinding in synchrony.

He produces a rope from his pocket and wraps it around my right wrist. He ties a slipknot and I wince as the rope tightens and digs into my skin. I watch as he wraps the free end of the rope around the post at the corner of the bed and see my arm dragged across the sheets as he pulls it tight. A smile lights up his visage and I wonder what his mind's eye is seeing as he secures the rope to the post with two half hitches. He then repeats the process with my left arm.

He lifts himself off me, and as I pout, deprived of feeling my soon to be lover's body against mine, he takes my left leg and extends it toward the corner of the bed. I tug against the restraints on my wrists and try to flex my limbs, but Daniel is sitting on my legs, pinning my lower extremities to the bed. I lie before him naked, helpless to prevent him from tying a slipknot around my left ankle. He hops off the bed, pulls on the free end of the rope, tightening the ligature as he drags my leg across the sheets, and then attaches the free end to the post at the corner of the bed with two half hitches. After he repeats the process with my right leg, I am spread-eagled on the bed.