Real Estate Games Pt. 02

"You did damn it. Now pull the key out of your pocket or I swear I'll have you arrested for rape."

"What? You're accusing me of sneaking in here and raping you?"

"No. I'm accusing you of having a sick sense of humor."

"Why would I do that?"

"I have no idea why you would continue this charade --"

"No. Why would I tie you up in the middle of the night when I could have done whatever I wanted before you went to bed?"

"Can we please have this conversation later? I'm about to burst."

"Okay. Where did you put the key?"

"I never had the key. You're the one who handcuffed me to the bed."

"I thought we were going to talk about that later."

"You don't have the key?"

"If I did, I'd use it. But since I'm not in the habit of cuffing women to bedrails, I'm also not prone to keeping sex toy keys in my pocket."

"Well do something."

"I can probably snap these bedrails without much trouble."

"And ruin the client's bed? I'd rather pee on the mattress and replace it."

"How about I go find you a pot to piss in?"

"Really? Now you're making jokes? Don't you think I'm sufficiently pissed already?"

"No. But it's only a matter of time."

He grabbed one of the cuffs and moved it around my wrist.

"Careful, my arm's attached to that thing."

"You should have thought about that before consenting to being restrained."

"If you had asked, I would have said no."

"I don't have to restrain the women I date so I never ask."

Pop. The cuff released.

"How did you do that?"

"These aren't real hand cuffs. They're sex toys. All you have to do is press in the right place and they release." He grabbed the other cuff and my arms were free.

"For a person who doesn't restrain your women, you sure know a lot about handcuffs."

"There's a difference between asking if you can cuff a woman and her asking you to do it to her. Some ladies enjoy the experience. Now go to the bathroom before it's too late."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I looked down at my ankles, which were hidden by the covers.

Instead of pulling the blanket up to my knees, he threw sheet, blanket and comforter off the bed, completely exposing my naked body. "Wow. Hands and feet. Your boyfriend certainly went all out."

"The cuffs, if you please."

The left leg released easily but he struggled with the rung around my right ankle.

"Seems to be stuck. Probably a faulty mechanism."

"Then release it at the bedframe."

Finally free, I half sprinted, half hopped to the john, with the malfunctioning cuff still dangling from my right ankle.

I plopped my naked ass on the toilet, peed a river, and considered my situation.

Two things could have happened the previous night. Either Mark snuck back into the house and gave me exactly what I wanted, or I was raped by an intruder... a woman's worst fear. If the former, it was a masterful job of seduction. An accomplishment that deserved lavish praise. But if Mark truly spent the night in his hotel room, I should have dialed 911 to report a heinous crime... and explain why I was sleeping in a client's bed without their permission... which would certainly make me forfeit my realtor's license.

By default, it had to be Mark.

I brushed my teeth with the cleanest toothbrush I could find, put my cocktail dress back on and walked down the stairs, hoping the fur lined cuff didn't scratch the hard wood floors.

"Coffee's made. Scrambled eggs are in the pan and there's two types of juice in the fridge," Mark said as I made my way to the kitchen. "Help yourself. I'm going to look for something to cut the cuff off your ankle."

He was freshly shaven, dressed in slacks and a button-down short-sleeve shirt. In other words, he wasn't wearing the clothes he wore the day before. Even his shoes were different. Not proof he wasn't the man who cuffed me to the bed. Just confirmation he was a meticulous planner who left no detail to chance. But why go to such lengths to perpetuate his lie?

I ate while he rummaged through the house. The eggs were good, really good. Scrambled with bits of cheese, ham, onions and hard to identify spices mixed in. I devoured what was in the pan, wanting more. The envelope on the table was even better. A full price offer with twenty-thousand-dollar check attached.

"Can you believe this guy doesn't own a single tool," Mark said as he reemerged from the garage. "Not even a screwdriver. I should reduce the offer fifty thou just on principle."

"Too late. You've already signed it and I'm not giving it back." I stuck the envelope in my purse. "Now what are we going to do about these handcuffs?"

"I'm sure the hospital emergency room can cut them off you."

"I am not going to take the ultimate walk of shame and go out in public wearing an evening dress and handcuffs. What other options do we have?"

"You know anybody with tools?"

"Sure. But I'm not prepared to answer the 'why do you need a hack saw' question."

"Fair enough. Why don't you show me a house with a well-stocked tool chest? Make sure the owners are gone and, if they have what we need, I'll make a generous offer."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll offer twenty thou below asking."

"Real estate is not supposed to be this complicated," I complained.

"Or this much fun. I've got to see to a few things in town. Text me when you have an address."

As he left, I realized we still hadn't solved the mystery of who hand cuffed me to the bed. A subject best delayed, but not ignored. Because I had better things to do in the near term. Like cleaning up another of his messes and finding a client with a proper set of tools.