Videogirl
Written: July 13, 2003
Videogirl (note, one word - love pissing off Microsoft Word's spellchecker!) is one of my favorite stories. It's light, it's fun, it has tight bondage and a pretty, young subbie. What more could you ask for?
The idea of seeing what are obviously rope marks on the wrists of someone in public, in a vanilla setting, is one that was stirred in me when exactly that happened. I was driving around the Venice Beach area of California, along PCH or something (it's been a while and, honestly, the image that followed pretty much blocked out any other detail associated with this memory). I was in my totally non-Cal 1986 Mercury Capri, which was only a few years old then so it wasn't the beater that it would eventually become - but it definitely wasn't a Jag or Porsche or anything with a rag-top. It wasn't Cal. It's a beautiful spring morning, Saturday (is there any other day of the week that holds so much promise and so much potential?) - one of those sun-crisp Southern California days that is perfect. I'm sitting at a stop light when I notice a sleek white convertible pull up alongside me. I'm not a car guy so I couldn't tell you what it was. In the passenger's seat, not eight feet from me (I was in the right lane) is this incredibly beautiful California beach babe, wearing only a pair of dark sunglasses, platinum blonde hair, an orange bikini - and rope marks on her wrists. Upon further review, it was ascertained that there were also rope marks above her elbows. I could have been imagining this, and if it had only been a quick flash of her arm and wishful thinking on my part I would say that would have been a definite possibility. But she had her right arm draped down the outer side of the door panel and those sexy imprints on her copper skin were wonderfully illuminated by the gorgeous California sun. Definitely rope marks. I suppose I was gawking because she turned her head towards me, black sunglasses and a big smile and then gave me a little wave. Then the light turned green and the sleek white convertible was gone. I tried to keep up but, this is California, remember, and I was out-gunned. Was she a bondage model returning from a shoot? Was she a sexy submissive who was just released from her ropes? Who knows.
Getting back to Videogirl, I threw in a witty (I think) reference to the theme of the story in the last few paragraphs. If you haven't read or heard of James Thurber's The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty you are really missing a wonderful piece of short story writing. Don't despair - just click the link below to read another wonderful piece of short story writing...
Toran