Stephen's Story Ch. 04: Trick or Treat

Stephen's Stories 4. Trick or Treat

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Stephen's stories will appear in the Romance category. Molly's stories continue the Dominance/Submission theme of the original series and will appear under BDSM.

"It's nearly Halloween," Molly observed. "Have you chosen your costume?"

"I haven't thought about that, but I jotted down a few ideas about trick-or-treating."

"Let's hear them."

Trick or Treat

Sam woke in his lounger in the dark, an empty beer bottle in his lap. He had dozed off; his book was now on the floor. The house was dark except for his reading light. He squinted at his watch: 11:39. Time for bed, but his body don't move. He stared out the windows from which a dim glow entered from a distant street light. Then he heard footsteps downstairs, the distinct sound of high heels on his hardwood floor.

As quietly as he could, Sam followed the sound toward the study. A dark figure was projecting a thin beam with a penlight, working unsteadily toward the desk. He heard the rustle of a plastic bag. Sam watched as the intruder fumbled through the papers on the desk, then picked up an envelope and examined it with her light. As he flicked the wall switch, the figure dropped the light and bag and froze.

It was a woman, of medium size, who held up both hands to shield her face from the sudden brightness. Seeing she was unarmed, Sam strode across and seized her wright wrist, pulling it behind her back. He was taller and much stronger than she.

"Please don't hurt me. I didn't mean anything," she said calmly.

With one hand holding her in place, Sam opened the bottom drawer with the other and took out a hank of rope from among the tools there. Pushing his captive into a straight chair, he wound the rope around her arms and torso, tying her to the back of the chair. It was not very tight and she could have worked herself loose in a couple of minutes if she tried, but the woman didn't resist, trying by her meekness to indicate she was not a threat.

Sam stepped back and got a look at her. She was dressed in a tight black leather jacket and leather pants. The tapping of her hells he had heard came from a pair of tall stiletto pumps. Her upper face was covered by a mask.

"Trick or treat?" she attempted with a smile.

Sam remained silent and waited for an explanation. He noted the strong smell of alcohol about her. With another piece of rope he tied her ankles for no particular reason.

"I'm sorry. It was just a prank. A scavenger hunt."

"A scavenger hunt."

"We were at a Halloween party down the street and they gave us a list of things to find."

"We?"

"Me. I mean, we all went separate ways."

He dumped the contents of the bag onto the desk. There was an apple, a deflated balloon, a pair of men's underpants, a clothespin, a can of beans, a condom, a wilting flower, and a handful of acorns.

"I am almost done. I needed to break into this house and bring back something to prove it. I was looking for a piece of junk mail or an address label or something. Really. I can show you the list. Just untie me."

He looked her over again. She had a nice figure and wavy dark hair. He assumed she was a college kid, but he couldn't judge her age behind her mask. He was convinced she was harmless, but he wasn't ready to let her off yet. "Where's the list."

She looked down at her chest and attempted to thrust it forward. "I tucked it into my costume. Go ahead."

"What's your costume."

"A ninja. Not a very good one, apparently."

He approached and paused to decide where to find the list. She indicated with her chin. "There. Under my jacket. Go ahead, unzip it a little."

He lowered the zipper just enough to slide his hand in and found himself grasping her breast. She had no blouse under the leather. The paper was tucked under the top of her bra. He pulled it out and scanned the list until the last item. "Go to 11247 Oaktree and bring back something personal."

"I assumed no one would be home, but whoever lived here would be OK with it."

"This isn't 11247. This is 11274."

"Shit. I messed up. It was hard to see in the dark."

"How did you get in?"

"I turned the handle on the screen door pretty hard. Maybe I broke it."

"What's your name?"

"Amanda."

He looked closely at her mask. "What do you look like under there?"

"Take it off and see."

He did. She was attractive. He studied her face closely and she simply looked back. He guessed she was in her late 20s, 10 years younger than himself. He indicated his appreciation with a nod and a smile. She cocked her head a little, as though waiting for him to make the next move, with the calm and patience of innocence. She made Sam feel like a poor host.

"Do you want a drink?"

"I've had quite a few, thanks. Maybe some coffee?"

"Mind if I heat up some leftover?"

"That would be great."

He returned a few moments, setting the mug on the edge of the desk while he removed the ropes. Then he placed it in her hands.

"Damn, that's hot. Oww. Shit." The heated mug had slipped from her hands, spilling the coffee into her lap. The mug lay in a puddle on the floor.

Sam stepped quickly to the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. Amanda had taken off the jacket and dabbed at her leather pants. "Well, that sucks." He set down the towels and went back for a mop.

When he returned, she was on her hands and knees, trying to soak up the coffee with the towels. Sam looked for a moment at the bare flawless skin of her back and the shapely curve of her waist.

"I'll get that." He set the bucket down and began stroking the floor with the mop.

He finished, rinsed the mop and returned. Amanda had settled herself on a sofa wrapped in a throw blanket.

"Do you want to call anyone so they don't worry."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." She accepted the phone he handed her and dialed. "It's Amanda. I'm with a friend, so don't worry. I'm I no condition to drive, so I'll pick up my keys in the morning. Thanks." She handed it back to him. "You don't have a wife upstairs, do you?"

He held up a ringless hand. Divorced two years ago."

"Good. I wouldn't want to put you in a compromising situation."

"Thoughtful."

Sam went upstairs to get her a T-shirt. When he returned, Amanda was asleep on the couch. He set the shirt on a coffee table and went to bed.

In the morning, he found her still asleep. Her shoes were on the floor and her stockinged feet stuck out from under the blanket. The shirt was untouched. He went to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. As the bacon sizzled, he looked in on her. "Hey, Amanda. Breakfast is nearly ready."

She raised a sleepy head and sat up. "Thanks. Where's the bathroom?"

She reappeared in the kitchen as he finished the eggs, clutching the jacket against her bare skin. She dropped it on the sofa, not bothering to cover up. She smiled and sat at the table waiting to be served.

Sam sat across from her. "You know, for a hungover burglar just waking up on my sofa, you are quite a beautiful criminal."

"Thank you. Just see me with an axe dripping with gore sometime."

"I'll let that settle in my imagination."

Their conversation as they ate tended to circle away from the personal until Sam asked, "And who is waiting for you at home?"

"No one. I live by myself."

"It was pretty risky of you breaking into a house, getting tied up by a madman. Perhaps I could be the last person to see you alive."

"I knew as soon as you tied me up you weren't going to hurt me. I don't think rapists are that gentle with their victims."

"Maybe I'm just a psycho who chains women in his basement."

"She looked at him. Nah. You look too nerdy for that."

"Sociopaths look like normal people and are really good at lying."

"I didn't say normal. Nerdy in a cute way. But you don't even know how to tie someone up properly. The only reason I stayed in that chair is that I wasn't sure I could make it back home without wrecking my car."

"Is that so? I haven't had a lot of practice, but I wasn't trying very hard."

They looked at one another for a while.

"Show me."

"Show you what."

"Show me you can tie me up and I can't get away." Since he was silent, she broke the tension asking if she could take a shower.

"Upstairs. There are towels in the hall closet. I think there is an old hair dryer someplace, too. Help yourself. I'll take care of the kitchen."

He heard the shower running as he cleaned up dishes from breakfast and the day before and the day before that. Looking around, he saw how messy the house was - not the way he would have liked a guest to see it. He put away books, picked up some shoes and her ruined blouse and tidied the furniture in the living room. Upstairs, he heard the hair dryer going as he made the bed and picked up his clothes. Finally, he went to the study and neatened the desk. He repacked the items from her scavenger hunt into her bag, adding a piece of junk mail with his address on it. He straightened the rug that had been pushed aside during the mopping. Dust would have to wait for another time. He moved the straight-backed chair against the wall and noticed the rope on the floor under it. He picked that up and went to the basement for some more.

There was no noise when he ascended to the upstairs. He found Amanda lying on the bed waiting for him, a bath towel modestly wrapped about her. She smiled, but didn't look at him as he entered the room and sat beside her on the bed.

"Now what?" she said.

"You're asking me?"

"You're the one in control. I'm just your prisoner here."

"Why doesn't it seem that way?"

"Maybe if you were more of a man..." she said teasingly.

At that he took her wrists and crossed them in front of her. She relaxed and closed her eyes while he bound her wrists together. Then he addressed her knees and ankles, putting several coils around each and looping the loose ends between her limbs to cinch the ties. She tested each one to see that it was secure. He had left extra length of the rope about her ankles. One end he attached to the footboard of the bed. The other he passed up between her thighs and tied around her wrists. Unless she scooted herself down toward the foot of the bed, her wrists were now fixed at her waist. She again tested the bonds. Last, he made a blindfold out of a bandanna. Then he stepped back to watch.

Amanda began to struggle in earnest, trying to slip her hand through the ropes about her wrist. Sam began to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"You don't need me. You are going to free yourself, remember?"

As she continued to call for him, Sam descended the stairs, removed his shoes and returned silently to the bedroom, where he removed his clothes. When she had stopped calling for him and struggling, he placed a finger on her lips.

She raised her head to meet his kiss and vainly tried to raise her hands. He continued to tease with kisses and pulled away the towel.

"You win. I am your prisoner."

He began to remove the ropes from her ankles and knees, interrupting himself periodically to keep her aroused. When only her wrists remained tied, he raised them over her head. Now he lay on her fully exposed body.

He showered as she dressed herself and emerged to see her once again in her leathers.

"Do you wear that outfit often?"

"Only for Halloween parties. And perhaps for special requests."

"Now where can I take you?"

"I need to pick up my keys from the party - they might be awake by now - and then home? By the way what's your name?"

"Sam."

"Well, Sam, pleased to meet you. Thanks for not calling the police."

"How can I find you again?"

"I put my number on your phone. On speed dial."

"Ooh, Professor, you're finally getting kinky. That story's clearly a male fantasy."

"Fair enough," Stephen conceded.

"Do you want a woman like Amanda? Silly question. It seems you already have one."