Unanticipated
This is Beth's second encounter with William.
Another Friday workday done and home at last. Beth had been stepping lightly all week; last Friday night the break in had gone from fearsome to fearful to fulfilling. The marks on her wrists had faded away but she had not allowed her pussy to forget the rocker's motion or his finger. She dampened as she took the stairs to her second floor apartment. She knew it was stupid to be infatuated with a mystery thief; he would never return. But it made for great fantasies and kept her ex out of mind.
She came in her door and stopped. The room was wrong; she dropped her keys to the floor. The sofa had been moved. It was facing the window, back to the door. The rocker was in the corner by the window. She moved carefully into her apartment, grabbing the Cub's commemorative bat from beside the door. She inspected the apartment one room at a time; the kitchen was empty; her bedroom as well. The bathroom was empty, a note tacked to the mirror.
"Beautiful,
If you want me to visit you, open the far left blinds after seven and leave on the light above the stove. Since you liked the ties, I left something and some instructions on your sofa.
-W."
Her breath escaped in a sudden bust; she went from happy and moist to on fire and soaked in a moment. She dropped her slacks and panties, shamelessly frigging her clit with the cloth grip on the bat until she could barely stand. She leaned against the bathroom wall, grabbing her vibrator, and then slid down to the tile. After the first two orgasms she slowed her pace, easing the vibrator into her pussy and using fingers instead of the rough grip. She pulled the toy out after another shaking climax, and then stood up. She stepped out of her slacks, moving into the living room in her blouse and bra. Her nipples ached in their confinement. "What the hell," she said out loud to no one. Off came the blouse and bra; she threw the lock on the door, looked at the time, and walked to the blinds. One hand toyed with her pussy as she opened the far left hand set. She went to the stove in the kitchen alcove, turned on the light. It was nearly six-thirty.
The sofa beckoned to her; moving around the front she saw the envelope propped against the back. Then her eyes took in the attachments. Two chains ran from padded cuffs under the front edge of the couch. Another pair of cuffs lay on the floor just under the back edge, towards the door. She knelt in front of the sofa, so wet she could feel the moisture running down the inside of her thigh. She ripped into the envelope, pulling out a sheet of paper.