After Midnight

He shook his head, glanced between my legs, then turned his head away and straightened his glasses.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I told him. “I didn’t give you anything—expect maybe the quickest, hottest fuck of your life.”

“I wanted to use a condom.”

“I didn’t. And you didn’t need one.”

“I sure hope not,” he said, and stood up.

He was sticking straight out as if pointing at something across the room.

“Wanta do it again?” I asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

He glanced at me, looked away, then turned to me again and stared at my sprawled, naked body.

“How about it, big fella?”

Though he frowned as if angry at me, he was rising. “You’re a real piece of work,” he said.

“Yep.” Writhing, I rubbed my breasts and licked my lips. “How about another piece?”

His smile broke out. “Don’t you think I’d better get to the bank?”

“Don’t you want to rape me again?”

“Who raped who?”

I laughed. “You loved it. And you’d love to do it again, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t you want me to get the money?”

“Yeah. Sure. I want the money, but…”

“Then I’d better go.”

“Okay. But first you have to tie me up.”

“Tie you up?”

“Of course. I’m your prisoner.”

“That’s crazy.”

“If you call the cops on me, I want them to find me naked and tied to your bed.”

“I’m not going to call the cops.”

“This’ll be my insurance. Now, go find some ropes or something, okay?”

35

TIED

“How’s that?” he asked.

Stretched out spread-eagled on his bed, I strained at the ropes. They creaked a little, but held. “Excellent,” I said.

He stood near the end of the bed and stared down at me. He was a little out of breath. And hard. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked.

“Climb on.”

“Don’t you want the money?”

“Yeah, I want it.”

“Then you’d better let me leave, don’t you think?”

“You’d better put some clothes on first.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

I watched him go to the closet and take out a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. When he had them on, he sat at the end of the bed to put on his socks and shoes. “Any last minute instructions?” he asked.

“Small bills.”

“How small?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But that’s what the gangsters always want. Small bills.”

He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. “My gal, the crime wave.”

My gal?

He’d said it in a kidding way, but I liked it.

“Anyhow,” I said, “big stuff is hard to spend.”

“Let’s at least get most of it in hundreds and fifties,” he suggested. “Otherwise, you’ll have an awful lot of cash to lug around.”

“I guess that’ll be okay.”

He turned away and finished putting on his shoes. Then he stood up and faced me. He looked good. “Any other orders, Vito?” he asked.

“One more. You’d better gag me so I can’t cry out for help.”

“Why on earth would you want to cry out for help?”

“Because you’re holding me prisoner.”

“But I’m not holding you prisoner.”

“I know that, you know that, but the cops won’t know that, will they?”

“The cops again.”

“Just find a handkerchief or something and tie it around my mouth.”

“You might suffocate.”

“Tie it loose.”

He smirked and shook his head, then turned away and went to his dresser. I heard a drawer open. A minute later, he said, “I don’t think my handkerchiefs are big enough.”

“Well, find something.”

He left the room. I heard his quick footsteps, a drawer sliding open and shut, then more footsteps. He came back with a white dish rag.

“How’s this?” he asked.

“Perfect.”

Kneeling beside me on the mattress, he wound the towel into a thick strip. I lifted my head off the pillow and opened my mouth. He stuffed the towel in. Then he knotted it behind my neck.

“Okay?” he asked.

I said, “Uhhh,” into the rag.

Grinning, Murphy said, “I should’ve done this to you a long time ago.”

I said, “Haw haw.”

“Will you be okay like this?” he asked.

If I don’t get a stuffed-up nose.

I nodded.

“I’ll get back as fast as I can,” he said. Bending down, he kissed me on the forehead.

Then he hurried away. I heard his footsteps as he wandered around the apartment. I didn’t know what he was doing, but figured he was probably getting his keys, wallet, checkbook, that sort of thing. Then he took a leak. He flushed the toilet. He washed his hands. Finally, the front door thudded shut.

I was alone.

Tied up and gagged.

And I liked it.

The mattress felt good underneath me.

I could breathe okay through the dish towel.

The room was hot, and everything had a yellow hue because of the sunlight seeping through the curtains. A breeze was gently lifting the curtains. It smelled of flowers and mowed grass. Every so often, I felt the air sneak softly over my body.

It may sound strange, but I actually liked the feel of being pulled by the ropes. My whole body felt lean and taut.

I thought of Judy hanging by her wrists in the firelight, and how fine she’d looked.