On the following Monday I drove Janey to school. Normal attendance at the school had been suspended for almost a week after the attack because of the hoopla and the police and FBI investigation, so she hadn't missed that many classes. Janey had wanted to ride the bus as usual, but Sally was insistent and won this one. It was on my way to my office, and I had several other errands to do that couldn't wait much longer. Everyone knew Sally and Janey from the news, but no one knew me, as I had stayed in the background and out of the cameras. A habit from my old job, I guess. As a result, I could pretty much go into town unnoticed.
It was a pretty quiet ride for the most part, which was unusual. Not that Janey was a chatterbox, but we had always been able to talk to each other. It was obvious she was worried about her reception at school, among other things weighing heavily on her mind. Janey had her cheerleading outfit and pom-poms stuffed in a bag on the floor by her feet. She had decided, on her own, to resign from the squad. Sally and I both thought it was a mistake to make this decision so soon, but Sally had been unable to talk her out of it. I thought I would give it a shot.
"Gee. I'm sure going to miss that cheerleading outfit," I said somewhat sadly.
She looked at me with a puzzled look, her curiosity piqued, but already suspecting that that extraneous comment was an attempt to get her to change her mind about resigning from the squad. Her guard was up.
"Huh?" she asked.
I repeated myself. "I'm going to miss that cheerleading outfit."
No response from the far side of the car. I thought I had better elaborate. Hell, I had started out by saying the first thing that came to mind. I went with it but had no idea where I was headed, to be honest. I can't lie to save a penny, but I can prevaricate with the best of them.
"Well, you see, your Mom and I play this game sometimes when you're not home. We didn't think you'd mind. It was her idea actually. See, she pretends to be a cheerleader and I'm this hot-shit jock. We go to the High School and sneak under the bleachers. Yada yada yada," I ended, letting her draw her own conclusions as to what happened.
This was almost too close to the truth of what happened to her, but it was too late to stop by the time I realized where I was going with it.
"She is so hot and God, sooooo sexy in that tight sweater, that short white skirt and those tiny red panties. Yup, we sure had some really hot times under those bleachers, and in the locker rooms, both the boy's and the girl's. And in the showers - you get the picture. Oh, yeah, once we did it at center court in the gym and almost got caught by the principal. It was great! I tell you, I'm really going to really miss that uniform. Oh, shit, then there was the time in the mud on the 50-yard line. We thought we'd never get that sweater clean again. Bet you couldn't even tell, could you?" I finished.
"You did it center court?" she squealed. "In my outfit? Ewww! Gross!" She pulled her hands off the bag like it was full of dirty underwear.
We rode in silence for a while.
"You really think Mom looks sexy in my outfit?" Janey asked me.
I figured she was thinking about how much alike they looked. If Mom was sexy then she was sexy, too, right?
I didn't say anything in response. I just made an obscene gesture with my mouth, beating the tip of my tongue rapidly up and down between my slightly parted lips like I did on Sally's clit whenever I could. She got the picture, vividly.
"Ooooo, Larry. That's gross. You two are sick," she groaned in typical teen fashion.
I laughed, and she stared out the window on her side, ignoring me the rest of the way to the High School. She made me drop her off a block before the school. I dropped her off where she requested, but I watched her safely into the school. Only then did I go to change my clothes before going in to work. It had been an unexpectedly long time since I had had a chance to get a change of clothes. About halfway to my apartment I noticed the bag on the floor, her cheerleading stuff still inside. I did a 'happy, happy, joy, joy' dance in the car seat the rest of the way to my apartment.
I was still grinning like an idiot when I got to my office. There, I gave my boss the option of an extended leave or my resignation, his choice. He surprised me and countered with a home-office package. I hesitated, thinking it would be more work, less pay and that I would still be coming into the office five times a week. When he doubled my salary and my vacation, effective immediately, and made all contact through FAX, phone or e-mail, I agreed. Geeze, twist my arm, why don't you? It was nice to be appreciated, though. I cleared out my desk, set up contact schedules with my secretary, who was now promoted to my personal assistant, and left.
Sally had convinced me I should move in with the two of them full time and made room in her closets for my stuff. So my next stop was the manager at my complex. He made noises about not getting a 90-day notice, forfeiture of all deposits, and broken leases.
I simply turned his telephone around, punched on the speakerphone and dialed the local cable company. When he heard the receptionist answer, 'Hello. This is Cable Com. How may I help you?' he paled and disconnected the call faster that I had thought his fat fingers could move.
I walked out of his office a homeless person, free of all legal obligations. I had had to promise him I wouldn't call the cable company again. For that, he would tear up my contract. I fully intended to keep my promise to him, as I didn't need to call them again. I had already placed a call to them from my apartment before I went into his office. I figured they would be arriving in less than 3 minutes, probably with the police. I hoped they would get there before he had time to rip out all the illegal wiring and the illegal descrambler boxes he had installed. That motherfucker had set up his own little cable company, using a pirated signal, and had charged every single tenant the normal hook-up fees and monthly service, including pay-per-view and premium channels. Being caught red-handed like I hoped he was going to be would mean fines and maybe even some jail time for the fat bastard.
The cavalry arrived just as I was pulling out of the parking lot. Payback is a bitch, isn't it?
Sally survived Janey's first day back at school. It had helped a lot when I handed her the bag with her cheerleading stuff still inside. She looked up at me with a question in her eyes. I simply kissed her smooth forehead.
"Uh, you probably don't want to know exactly what I said to her, but we should probably make sure to get it cleaned real well if you were to ever put it on and sneak into the High School gym with me some night. Have you ever thought about role-playing as a cheerleader and me as big hot stud? You might want to give it some thought, uh, just in case. Or you might try to remember the time we rolled around in the mud in the middle of the football field..."
"But we never did that!" she interrupted.
"I know that, and you know that, but Janey doesn't know that. But, well, she might have somehow gotten the impression that we had done something like that and really enjoyed using the uniform. So I figured we might as well, no?" I gave her my best evil grin. "How about right now little girl?" I leered at her.
Her laughter was musical, the first I had heard from her in a long, long time. It felt good to hold her in my arms and see her smiling face looking up into mine. It made me feel like I could conquer the world. I told her about the rest of my day as we unloaded boxes from my car. It all fit in a tiny corner of the garage. Not much to show for 34 years of living.
Sally was pleased it had worked out for me to work out of the house. She suddenly found she needed me to be there for her at odd times, kind of like a stabilizer. She took me through the house, offering me my pick of rooms to use for my office.
Remembering back to last week and still curious, I suggested the cellar. She hesitated. Instantly sensing something secret about to be dug up, I played innocent and persisted, saying how ideal it would be, how I would be there whenever she needed, but out of sight at the same time. I wouldn't bother her with the phone calls or the faxes or my music. I suggested maybe just a part of the cellar could be converted into an office. Babbling enthusiastically at this great idea of mine, I grabbed her hand and started towards the cellar door.
She didn't stop me, but she did lag behind. I sort of had to drag her along, actually. I got to the door and with a flourish and a bow said, "Ladies first, madam."
She went down the stairs like a condemned woman. This just got 'curiouser and curiouser, ' as the saying goes.
The harsh light from the single overhead bare bulb revealed nothing out of the ordinary: laundry area, heating and cooling systems, water heater, and storage area. There was nothing down here that should have taken up so much of her time the last five days. She would disappear down here for hours at a time, coming back up without a word of explanation and noticeably subdued.
I looked around the barren space again for something I had missed. Ah-ha! A door! A locked door was discretely hidden behind a storage shelf.
Even so, that's almost nothing out of the ordinary. I charged on.
"Not much room down here. It's kind of dingy, too. Hey, what's in here?" I asked innocently.
I went over and tried the door. As I suspected, it was locked.
"Hey! It seems to be stuck. Could you give me a little help here, Dearest?" I charaded.
I gave her my most innocent, endearing look.
She dug her hand in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out an impressive electronic key card. Hell, we didn't have security like this at my office, and they handled bundles of cash! I accepted it with a raised eyebrow. Sally just blushed and looked at her feet.
I slid the key through the card reader and pulled on the door handle. The surprisingly heavy door opened silently to reveal - nothing but total blackness. I reached in to find the light switch on the wall and found - nothing. I looked at the walls next the entrance for the switch. Nothing. I turned to look at Sally.
Silently she moved to my right and slid the card through a second reader slot in the doorframe. The lights in the mysterious room came on.
I pulled her into my arms before I went in to see what was in this special, and very secure, room. She was turned so that her back was to my chest. I could feel the tension in her. I put my arms around her, under her arms and held my hands together in front of her belt buckle. I stepped back, away from the doorway, pulling her with me.
"I can wait for whatever this is until you're ready," I said softly.
She let the offer echo against the concrete walls of the utility area for a while, then brought her hands up from her sides and held onto mine. Her grip was tight, like she was afraid of my reaction to what I would see. I'll give her credit, though. In spite of her fears, she stepped forward, pulling me along with her. Together we stepped into the room, into her secret place.
I gazed around the room, turning us in a complete circle before speaking.
"I don't think I need this much security for my office, Sally. The guest room at the end of the hallway will be just fine," trying to head the conversation that was beginning off on a tangent before it could start.
I walked out of the room, taking her with me. We almost made it up to the top of the stairs before she jammed on the brakes.
"No!" She took a deep breath. "Damn you, you bastard!" She was so mad she hissed when she said that. "Did you know what was in there?"
"Nope. Not a clue. Honestly, not a clue. If I had known, I wouldn't have pushed you just now," I admitted
She sighed. "I know. It's just that this is so personal. It's my Achilles' heel, and I feel like I'm handing it to you gift-wrapped. I've never felt so naked, so vulnerable in my entire life. Do you know what that's like?" she asked me.
"I can imagine, Sally. Again, I can wait until you're ready to let me in there with you. I'm probably more scared of what that stuff is than you are. You, at least, know what those things are and how to use them. I only recognized a couple of those things," I admitted unashamedly.
She tilted her head back and gave me a funny look. My admission of ignorance was almost bewildering to her. Seeing that I wasn't going to push her to go back in, or maybe it was my sincere ignorance that helped her make up her mind. Regardless, she took me back down the stairs and into the room, this time with a sure step.
When she had told me earlier of her previous boyfriend, Sally had said she had become addicted to bondage. She hadn't been kidding; she had been really addicted. For a rich person, addictions are dangerous things. For the next two hours she led me around the cavernous room, showing me her various collections of gear. Some of it I could figure out. Others had helpful illustrations of how to operate, use or wear the whatchamacallits that hung there on display. Many, no, most of the things down there were things I had never seen or even dreamed of. And they were almost all custom-made; putting this collection of gear together had been very expensive.
She stayed in my arms throughout the tour, guiding me around from one collection to another. She was quiet, just letting me absorb as much as I could take.
I had done fine, reaction-wise, until the third set of items she took me to. The illustrations for this collection used photos of actual models. The model in the vivid color photo was unmistakably Sally. My gasp was very audible in the quiet dungeon.
I couldn't help it. I went both ways. My hands protectively moved up and gently cupped around her breasts and my cock, with its own mind, tried to punch a hole in my slacks. I couldn't take my eyes off the photo of her, bound and gagged, the red leather of taut straps encircling her body, highlighting her blonde hair. The position she was forced into was awkward. It looked painful, the straps obviously tight. I could see the beads of sweat on her chin, the high stiff collar forcing it awkwardly upwards.
There was more, much more. When we were done, I had seen at least five recognizable photos of Sally, each with her in the strictest bondage imaginable. As we left, we locked the door. When it was secured, she handed me the key, pressing it into my hand. This time, we made it all the way back to the kitchen. She poured us some coffee and we sat down at the table, each lost in our own thoughts.
It was quiet for a long time around the table, the coffee beginning to cool.
"I'm going to need some time to work up to your level. I don't know if I..." I started.
Her sob stopped me in mid sentence. The tension flowed out of her as her relief at not being rejected flooded over her. She flew across the table into my arms, spilling the forgotten coffee over the table and onto the floor.
I only said one more thing to her about it.
"Get rid of the stuff that makes you uncomfortable or brings back any bad memories. Keep the things you want, of course, but you and I will build our own collection, together. Also, take down the pictures. You are truly beautiful in them, and in some of them I can begin to see what you like about this. I don't want to share you or this with anyone else right now. I want this to grow between us, at our own speed. This will be our joy, our passion. OK?"
Sometimes you get lucky and say the right thing.
She never explained why she had set the room back up after all those years. I never asked. I handed her back the key and motioned for her to take them. She spent several days sorting through the items, and later several large trucks came and went, picking up and delivering huge crates.
I went back down to the cellar after she returned the key to me. The room was nearly empty, or seemed so, as there was still a considerable amount of stuff in it, some of it new. That surprised me. I studied it all carefully, making mental notes of consistent themes. The photos were still down there, the entire collection this time. They were not displayed, but locked in a new safe. The key was on the top. Inside the safe were literally hundreds of photos. She had sorted them chronologically, and they showed her in all sorts of progressively lurid situations, first singly, then with one, later with multiple partners. She was always bound in some manner, but towards the end only minimally. It was too restrictive for the others. Her bondage was just a teaser, to whet her appetite, to keep her hungry.
It was not hard to pick out Gary in the pictures, especially in the last series. He was the bastard with his hands on an 11 year old girl's chest, pinning her back against his groin, forcing her to watch her mother being sexually humiliated by four men and two women. He was the fifth man she had mentioned earlier.
I memorized his face. I would never forget it.
Over the next week, I carefully went though the photos, automatically cataloging the people in them in my mind as I had been trained to do so many years before. I forced myself to look at each one. Those people had touched my love in intimate ways. It was somehow personal, even though we hadn't met at the time. When I was finished reviewing them, I locked them away along with the negatives. I kept the early ones of Sally by herself in a separate file. The ones when she was happiest.
I also kept out one other single photo. I took it back with me to my office. It was a simple blowup of just the face of a very brave little blonde girl. Crying. Scared.