The
Joneses
She
came through the door breezily, so happy to be home from the office. She shed
her suit and heels on the couch, as was her custom. No need to maintain the
facade here, she smiled. “In the kitchen, Darling!” her husband called. She
went to give him a kiss, and found him fixing a pair of sandwiches. “I brought
you a present.” he teased, feeding her a bite. “Food or fun first?”
“Hmmm.”
She considered. “Well, you know what they say... Life’s uncertain-“
“Fun
first!” they decided together with a laugh.
She
set off to find her surprise, but returned quickly. “Sweetheart?” she asked
gently. “Why is there a dead girl in the bedroom?”
“Oh,
Hell!” he swore with a vexed expression. “I guess she didn’t wait for you. I did
tape, though.”
She
rose up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’re so thoughtful! Shall we?”
He
told her hand and led her down the hall. The room was dominated by a large
iron-canopy bed. The overhead framework extended out a foot or two past the end
of the mattress. A slim, pretty redhead was hanging from the scaffold by a
black scarf. She was spinning ever so slowly, as if showing off the way the
cloth dug into her tender throat. She was nude, and had been quite striking in
life. “Oh, honey, she’s delicious! What a shame.”
“Come,
watch the tape.” He popped it out of the camcorder and set up the TV, then
pulled her close on the bed. She
snuggled up, running her nails through his chest hair as static gave way to a
view of the bedroom, empty. After a few seconds, his disembodied voice came
from the speakers. “Go, on, do it. I’m going to tie you up and this is your
last opportunity to use a toilet.” There was some crying and a slap, and
eventually a flush. “She was really quite malleable,” he whispered in her ear.
They
entered stage right, a tall, GQ-type and his blindfolded, stumbling victim. Her
wrists were tied behind her back, and he had a firm hand on the back of her
neck, shoving her along. He stopped her under the edge of the ironwork and
ordered her to hold still. She whined and begged. Tears seeped out from under
her blindfold, as she promised her father would pay “big money” if he’d only
let her go... He watched her with a bemused expression. She couldn’t see him
reaching for the black scarf, looping it into a slipknot at the end. He
suddenly seized her by the waist and picked her up. He swung her around in a
circle to disorient her, then set her down on a wide, stable stool. She was
unaware of her new footing, but terrified nonetheless. Her panic grew as he
flipped the cloth over her face and tightened it down. “Please don’t tie me
up... let me go, please!” she plead.
“I
said hold still, girl!” he barked. “Don’t make me hurt you.” He stood on the
bed and knotted the scarf to the frame overhead. There was no slack in the
fabric, and her voice began to squeak a bit as she tried to win her freedom. He
climbed down and took her face between his hands. “Listen very carefully. I am
not going to let you go. You are a present for my wife. She will do whatever
she wants with you. That means - I hope you are listening - that you’d better
not piss her off. She can be very cruel.”
“Beloved!”
she whispered to her mate. “You say the sweetest things!” Onscreen, the redhead
was crying freely now. The recorded man walked over to the camera,
double-checked its operation, and left the room. After a few seconds the bound
girl realized he had gone. Her initial reaction was to freeze, like a deer in
the headlights. Then she began to worm her wrists around violently, trying to
get them loose. In her frenzy, the scarf caught against the back strap of her
blindfold and pushed it up. She could see a little now. She suddenly changed
tactics, rubbing her head on the fabric to dislodge the blindfold. Finally she
shook her head and sent it flying across the room.
She
blinked at the sudden light, then cut short an involuntary shriek. The walls
were lined with pegs, each bearing its own implement of destruction. She
couldn’t recognize most of them, but she knew enough to be terrified. She saw
the video camera and started on her wrists again. Then she suddenly realized
her elevated position. She looked down at the stool, then up at the scarf, then
down at the stool again. She stood very, very still for a moment, contemplating
her short future in the hands of her captors.... . She looked straight into the
camera, screwing up all of her impotent rage. “Fuck you!” she spat. “You’re not
torturing me with that shit.“ And then she kicked the step away.
The
fabric caught her immediately, of course, simply stretching a bit. Her eyes
flew wide. She had expected a broken neck: Something quick and then blackness.
She had no idea she would hang at the end of the scarf, alive. She had no idea
it would clamp around her neck in sheer agony, cutting off her breathing. The
pain changed her mind - she wanted to live! - and she began struggling against
the noose like a fish hauled out of the water on a line. The slipknot tightened
with every jerk of her body, sinking deeper into her throat. Her face darkened
to an angry red as her eyes went wild. She fought the bonds on her wrists with
desperation, her body thrashing in midair...were they getting looser? Suddenly
her hands were free. They flew to her neck, trying to get her fingers under the
scarf, but it was too late for that. She reached above her, seizing the cloth
and pulling up. She gasped in her brief reprieve, feet waving wildly inches
above the ground. Her strength ran out rapidly, and her hands slid down to the
knot, and then to her sides. She was bucking out her last now, tongue sticking
out from between her bluing lips. At last she was still.
The
tape rolled on, recording her gently rocking body.
“Darling!”
the woman on the bed sighed. “That was lovely. You do need to be more careful
with your knots, though!” she admonished. “She could have gotten free!”
“Agreed,”
he said, kissing her. “I think it’s time for a replay!”
She
looked at him coyly. “Yes, I noticed you left room next to her. Your neck or
mine?”
He
rolled over on top of her, stroking her hair and then her face. He trailed his
thumb down to the hollow between her collarbones and applied a little pressure.
“I think it’s your turn, sweetheart.” He kissed her again, and then reached
back for the handcuffs he had hidden under his pillow. “There’ll be no escape
for you!”
She waited, handcuffed, while he tossed a rope noose over the iron frame. He helped her onto the same little stool, and placed the coil lovingly around her neck. “Tighter, love,” she begged. He smiled and tugged the knot down further, then pulled up the slack so there would be no drop. He wanted to watch her swing next to the girl for as long as possible. He gave their victim a gentle push to set her moving again. His wife blew a kiss at him from her precarious position, and he moved in to caress her. He resettled the noose and gave her a final kiss. Then she winked at him, whined “Oh, please let me go!” with a laugh, and kicked the stool away.