Locked Room

Delora struggled awake. Her head hurt and she felt groggy. Her mouth was dry and there was an uncomfortable pressure in her bladder. Her nose itched and she moved her hand to scratch it, but her hand wouldn't move. Delora's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly against the brightness of the light. Her arms were stretched above her head, She craned her neck to look at them and saw ropes circling her wrists, binding her to the head rail.

I'm tied up? She looked down at her feet and found them bound as well, tied to the foot rail. This isn't my bed. Where ...? She cast her eyes around. The ceiling was standard, institutional white tiles holding several fluorescent light fixtures. The walls were white cinder block. In the middle of the wall on her right was a solid-looking wooden door, with a keypad.

"Help! Help"" she yelled. Her throat was sore, and her voice didn't sound like her own. "Can anyone hear me?" She waited, listening, but heard nothing.

A movement at her left side startled her. She turned her head. A man. Naked! Panicked she looked down at herself again and sighed in relief to discover she was still clothed—a plain white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. These aren't what I was wearing? Are they?

She struggled to find memories. The last thing she clearly remembered was Shannon and Jo stopping by her desk, asking her if she'd heard the latest gossip. She'd got back to the brief she'd been working on. After that things got vague—someone standing her up, a car ride. Then nothing until she woke up here.

She looked back at the man. He was pale and lean, lying on his back, his feet bound together with ropes; tall, his feet stretching far past hers on the bed. He wasn't a handsome man, neatly trimmed red hair, clean-shaven, his face plain and unremarkable. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place where she might have seen him. She could see the bones of his ribs, chest and shoulders. His arms were partially hidden under his back. Probably tied, too.

Her eyes drifted lower. His belly was flat, leading into bony hips. A thin patch of coppery hair decorated the base of his belly. Below, his penis was exposed, soft and pink. Delora stared. She knew what naked men looked like, of course, but she'd never been this close to one in the flesh.

She tore her gaze away and jostled the bare mattress they were lying on. "Hey!" she called out. "Are you okay?"

Jonathan struggled, vestiges of a very weird dream evaporating from his memory. Something about purple cannibals and being roasted on a spit. Bright light hurt his eyes; he squeezed them shut. He tried to move his hands to his face and couldn't. They were bound behind his back.

"Are you okay?" came a plaintive female voice.

Jonathan tilted his head towards the source of the voice. Through his squinting eyes he could make out a female figure stretched out beside him. Where are my glasses?

"Who are you?" he asked, his throat dry and sore, his voice hoarse.

"I'm Delora. Why are we tied up like this?"

"Tied up? I don't know." Jonathan tried to shake away the cobwebs in his mind. The last thing he remembered was Terry and Andy stopping by his desk with a question about programming a spreadsheet. It had been a simple problem and it had only taken a minute or so. He'd answered a couple of emails, and then ...

And then ...? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember going home, having dinner, going to bed. Just the sensation of waking up.

"I - I don't know," he admitted again. He tried yelling. "Hey! Can anyone hear me?"

"I already tried that," the female voice said.

Delora. "Delora? Do I know you?"

"You look a little familiar, but I don't think so."

"I'm Jonathan," he introduced himself. "I work at McCutcheon and Sons."

"The accountants? Across the hall."

"Yes. Oh, you're from the lawyers' office?"

"Uh-huh. I'm a paralegal there."

"I guess we might have seen each other in the hall. Do you have any idea where we are? Or how we got here?"

"No. Last thing I remember clearly is Shannon and Jo stopping at my desk to ask if I'd heard the latest gossip. Which is strange because they know I don't do that. I think they might have put something in my tea."

A sinking feeling twisted Jonathan's gut. "They drugged you?" Did Terry ...? Of course he did! "That might explain how I feel."

"Shannon and Jo? They talked to you?"

"No. Two jokers at my office—the boss's son and one of his cronies." Jonathan struggled against his bonds. And suddenly realized he was naked. He groaned in frustration.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm naked."

"Yes, I can see. Do you know why?"

"I have no idea." A sudden thought. "Oh no!"

"What?"

"How long have we been ... out?"

"Oh." Delora thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. Hours, I think. Maybe longer. I have to ... empty my bladder." She felt herself blushing—she wasn't used to having conversations with men about body functions.

"Yeah, me too." Jonathan tried to gather his thoughts. "I think this might be someone's idea of an April Fools joke."

"What? No! Really?"

"Yeah. This is definitely something Terry would dream up."

"Terry?"

"Boss's son. A real jerk. He likes tormenting me. If he and your ... Shannon? ... got together, do you think she'd go along with something like this?"

Delora snorted in derision. "Shannon? Definitely." She looked at Jonathan hopefully, trying to ignore his nudity. "Is there any way you can untie yourself?"

Jonathan fidgeted, testing his bonds. "You know—I just might be able to. I used to be pretty good at getting out of ropes when I was a kid." He took a deep breath and blew out. "First, I have to relax."

"Relax? Why?"

"When you tense, your muscles expand. That makes the ropes tighter. By relaxing, you can gain a little bit of space. Hopefully enough space to let me work something loose."

Jonathan rolled onto his stomach, drew his knees under him and sat up. A few more deep breaths and he managed to get his bound wrists low enough that he could slip them under his bottom, then sit and free them from under his legs.

He sighed in relief. "Good thing I'm fairly flexible," he commented to Delora. "I should be able to work the knot on my wrists using my teeth."

Sure enough, it only took him a few minutes to untie the simple knot. With his hands free it was just another minute to untie his ankles. "I think they meant for me to get these off," he commented. "Okay, now I can untie you."

As he moved towards her bound wrists, he saw Delora's eyes widen, staring at his groin. He checked the sudden impulse to cover himself with his hands. "I'm sorry about this," he apologized, gesturing to his nude body.

Having a young woman stare at his nude body was a novel experience for Jonathan. He had no illusions about his looks—he was pale and lanky, with barely enough muscle and fat to to pad the bones underneath. Women didn't give him a second glance. He'd been out on a few dates, but he found it difficult talking to women. Repeat dates just didn't happen.

Delora was a small girl with a strongly-featured face—not pretty, but certainly striking. Her dark brown hair was tied into two long braids that hung past her shoulders. She wore tight blue jeans that showed off the shapely legs underneath, and a plain white t-shirt that swelled slightly over her small, pert breasts. Her feet were bare. The skin on her feet and arms was dark tan. She looked vaguely Middle Eastern, or perhaps Spanish.

"Maybe you could loan me your t-shirt?"

"No!" she blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. "Sorry, that was rude. These aren't my clothes—not what I usually wear. And ..." She felt herself blushing. Stop it1 You're not a school girl! "I don't have anything on underneath." She quickly explained herself in case he got the wrong idea. "I mean—I was wearing a bra. At the office. I normally do, even though I don't really need to." She was babbling, nervous. Stop it! "They must have taken it off when they dressed me in these." They? Shannon and that co-worker of his? Did she let him see me naked? "Besides, it's probably too small for you," she finished.

Jonathan looked around. "I don't see anything here I can cover myself with."

Delora felt a twinge of sympathy for him. She couldn't imagine how mortified she'd feel if their positions were reversed. But giving up her clothes wasn't an option. "I'm sorry. I can't. You'll just have to stay naked." She squirmed restlessly. "Please untie me. I really need to use a bathroom."

Being helplessly bound, alone with a naked man, was a scenario from one of Delora's favorite masturbation fantasies. And she couldn't be sure if the squishy feeling in her lower parts was just from needing to pee. Jonathan was right beside her, naked. In her fantasy she would be naked, too, and he would start to touch her—first her arms and legs, then her breasts, and finally, between her legs.

Jonathan's long, delicate fingers worked at the ropes on her wrists, occasionally brushing her skin, sparking a quiver deep inside her. Her arms came free and she sat up, rubbing her wrists to restore the circulation. Another few minutes and Jonathan had freed her legs. She tried to stand and almost fell. She sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

Jonathan stood beside her to stretch and look around. They seemed to be in a small office, with their queen-sized bed taking up most of the space. An open doorway in the corner to the left drew his attention. He could see part of a white porcelain sink. He nudged Delora and pointed it out to her. "That might be a bathroom."

Delora looked. "No door?"

"Good evening Delora," crooned a sultry female voice.

Delora squealed in shock. Her head swiveled to find the source and quickly spotted the small speaker on the wall opposite the foot of the bed. "That sounds like Shannon!" Delora whispered to Jonathan.

"Hello, Jonathan," echoed a male voice.

"Terry!" growled Jonathan, glaring at the speaker. "I knew it!"

"Congratulations on getting out of the ropes," Terry's voice was annoyingly sarcastic. "But that was the easy part."

"Are you watching us?" Delora demanded.

"Of course, sweetie." Shannon's voice was saccharine. "I must say, you handled the sight of your first naked man much better than I thought you would."

"There's five cameras covering the room," chuckled Terry. "We can see everything you do. There's nowhere you can hide—not even the bathroom. You'll notice there's no door."

"Delora, I'll bet you have to pee," taunted Shannon's voice. "Real bad, I'm sure. The boys here will certainly enjoy watching you. I'll bet Jonathan would, too, if you asked him. You probably think it's kinky, letting a man see you on the toilet, but you know, it's actually kind of sexy."

"Welcome to our version of a locked room escape," Terry continued. "People pay a lot of money to participate in one of these. We're giving you this one for free."

"And in a few hours it'll be April first" giggled Shannon. "Happy April Fools,"

"I told you so," muttered Jonathan.

"Don't bother trying to break down the door or screaming for help," Terry added. "That door is stronger than it looks, and there's no one around to hear you."

Shannon's voice chimed in. "You've probably noticed the digital lock on the door. Don't try breaking it or trying to open it to short-circuit it. The only way out is to enter the combination."

"To get out you have to enter seven numbers in the proper sequence."

"The numbers are on Delora's skin, where only Jonathan can see them."

"And, of course, in order for him to see them, Delora will have to take off her clothes."

"What!?" Delora shrieked in horror. "No way am I getting naked!"

There was the sound of laughter, then Shannon's voice again. "Your choice, Delora. But we're not going to help you get out until after we hear Jonathan read out all seven numbers."

Terry's voice took over. "Here's how it's going to work. Once Jonathan reads the numbers we'll give you a challenge. If you complete the challenge to our satisfaction we'll tell you which number is first in the sequence. Then you'll get another challenge and so on, until you finally open the door. We've left all your clothes and belongings in the room on the other side of the door. You'll recognize where you are once you get out."

"Oh, and Delora," Shannon's voice purred wickedly. "The challenges we've made up for you, they're very intimate. We're pretty sure that, even though you're both in your mid-twenties, you're both still virgins. This locked room scenario just might help you fix that."

Delora gasped in shock. "You're not serious! You expect us to have sex!?"

Shannon giggled. "Why not? There's nothing stopping you. You've even got a comfy queen-sized bed. Have fun, you two."

"Omigod!" Delora whimpered.

"Yeah," echoed Jonathan. In spite of himself, his penis jumped and swelled.

Delora noticed. Her face reddened. "Don't do that!"

"It's not exactly something I can control."

Delora sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just—disturbing." She looked into his eyes helplessly. "If you're an accountant, you should be good with numbers. If you get the numbers can you figure out the combination?"

"Seven numbers means seven factorial combinations—5040. If we get the first number, it comes down to 720. A second number gives us 120; and the third—24."

Delora's eyes filled with tears. "Three challenges before we have any chance of figuring out the combination. And you heard them. Those challenges are going to be pretty bad."

Jonathan nodded. "I heard."

Delora wiped her eyes, sighing in frustration. I hate this! I have to show my naked body to Jonathan so he can find the numbers. Never mind Shannon and Terry watching on camera, and whoever else they've got there. And they had to undress me when they wrote the numbers on my skin and changed my clothes. They won't even let me use the bathroom in privacy.

She mentally shook herself. Delora, stop it!. You can't do anything about it, so stop obsessing! You'll just have to go with it. "I'm going to use the bathroom," she declared.

Delora strode to the bathroom and stopped at the open doorway, turning to scan the room for the cameras they had said were there. They were easy to find—one one the back wall pointed at her, two on the wall behind the bed, one on the wall opposite, and one above the locked door.

She pointed out the camera directed at the bathroom, "Jonathan, I need you to stand in the doorway and block the camera wile I get undressed and use the toilet." She hesitated. "I suppose you might as well watch."

Jonathan stared. "Are you sure?"

Delora shrugged and unzipped her jeans. "You're going to see me anyway."

Jonathan moved to the open doorway. The bathroom was a tiny alcove with a toilet on the right wall and a sink opposite. Delora stepped to the toilet, pushed down her jeans, and sat.

As her stream splashed noisily into the toilet bowl she glanced at Jonathan; his eyes were studiously avoiding her. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Jonathan! Look at me!" His startled eyes tracked to her; she lifted the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it off over her head. "I know you're trying to be considerate, but they've left us no options, least of all modesty."

With her permission, his curiosity won out over his embarrassment. Jonathan's eyes scanned her body as she blotted herself dry and flushed the toilet, then stepped to the sink to wash her hands. What he noticed first was her beautiful tan skin, slightly paler around her hips and breasts, but rich and smooth. Her breasts were small but perfectly shaped, with flat, dark brown nipples and areolas. Her legs were strong and shapely. Her waist was trim, flaring out onto wide hips and firm round buttocks. A neat, dark triangle of dense pubic hair decorated her pubic mound.

As she was drying her hands on the small towel beside the sink, a small box on a shelf caught Delora's eye. Condoms!? Oh, no! Her eyes went involuntarily to Jonathan's erect penis. "Do you think they're really going to make us ...?"

Jonathan followed her gaze to his tell-tale member. "Have sex?" he finished. "It's something Terry might come up with." He looked into Delora's eyes, blushing slightly. "Shannon's right about me at least. I am a virgin. But I don't want to lose my virginity just for the sake of it, It has to mean something."

Delora nodded emphatically. "Me, too. On both counts."

Jonathan thought out loud. "The challenges are all going to be intimate and embarrassing, but I'm hoping they'll hold off on actual penetrative sex until late in the game, by which time we might be able to puzzle out the combination."

"Do you really think they will? Penetrative sex?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I don't know. But if it does come to that, at least it will be with an attractive woman."

"You think I'm attractive?" Delora blurted.

Jonathan didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do. I think women from the Middle East and around the Mediterranean are the most beautiful in the world."

Delora stared at him in wonder. No one had ever associated those words with her before. Attractive. Beautiful. "Don't you usually wear glasses?" The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

"Um, yes. Why do you ask?"

"I don't think you're seeing me clearly."

Jonathan laughed. "No, I see you clearly enough."

Delora smiled. "Well, thank you. And if it does come to that, I'm glad it's with such a considerate gentleman."

She sidled around him to give him room at the toilet. "I'm not tall enough to block the camera standing in the doorway," she said. "But if I stand right beside you, they won't be able to see."

Jonathan frowned in confusion. "What's got into you?" he asked. "A few minutes ago you were barely able to look at me."

Delora laughed wryly. "It's simple. I just decided that since they're calling all the shots, I'm free of any responsibility for what happens. No guilt, no shame."

Jonathan considered her for a long moment. "Oh! That's amazing! That completely frees us."

Delora shrugged. "We'll see."

They had to wait a few minutes for his erection to subside, After he was done Delora turned her back. "Can you see the numbers?" she asked

On her shoulder blades were written two numbers, one on each—"3" and "7".

There were two more numbers on her buttock cheeks—"4" and "1", but a careful scan of her back showed nothing else.

"That's all I can see," he told her. "The remaining three numbers must be somewhere else."

"Where?" she asked. "You've seen all of me."

"Not quite," Jonathan remarked uncertainly. "They said they'd be in places only I could see." He took a breath. "I think you're going to have to let me look between your legs."

Delora squealed. "Between my legs? Omigod! Could they have picked a more intimate, embarrassing spot?" She sighed heavily. "I can just imagine Shannon's glee if she did that. I guess you'd better have a look." She lowered the lid of the toilet and bent over splaying her legs to give him room to look.

Acutely conscious of how intimate this was, Jonathan knelt between Delora's legs and peered in. The little orifice between her cheeks was puckered and dark pink. Below, full, fleshy lips, a little darker than the rest of her skin, were separated by a deep red, delicately frilled tongue. Jonathan could make out ink marks just where each outer lip joined with her thigh. "I apologize for this," he said, and carefully eased each one apart so he could see clearly.

"Two more. A zero and a five." His face red with embarrassment, he backed away. "You can stand up now."

Delora straightened and turned around, her face as red as his. "That's only six numbers."