As if on cue, Jennifer watched from the shadows of the forest as the giant fortress began to cloak itself in darkness. Once a day the world lost its color and transformed itself into black and white, at least until the sun completely set and only blackness prevailed. Here in the shadow of Fort Knox, that magical moment lingered, the sky becoming a cold gray, the giant granite mass of the fort becoming as black as Lucifer's pocket. As it did, Jennifer felt a tinge of excitement, a mixture of sexual thrill and fear that spurned her into action.
It was almost ironic, she thought as adrenaline forced her to dart across the fort's outer lawn, past rows of picnic tables and barbecue pits to the staircase that lead down into the moat, that a fort that was designed to be impenetrable, could be so easily accessed by a single woman a hundred and seventy five years later. There had been a wait of course. Jennifer had watched the Park Ranger's make a final patrol of the grounds a half hour before, then lock the visitor's center and then leave for the night. Now Jennifer had the fort to herself, and paused at the bottom of the moat to unshoulder the backpack she had been carrying and retrieve a flashlight.
Even during the day the fort's tight granite and brick passageway's had a cold, ominous feel to them. At night, the eerie presence was only magnified, and it both excited and scared Jennifer in a strange mixture of emotions. Stabbing the darkness with her flashlight, she found her way into a cannon battery. Setting the flashlight down onto an old cannon carriage, she opened up her backpack, and began to strip.
Like the fort itself, which had been transformed from a modern day park by day, to its former garrison at night, Jennifer was quick to pull off the clothing that gave her the look of a tourist. White canvas sneakers, matching white slouch socks and her pink and white sundress were quickly removed and shoved into her backpack. Her white bra and panties came next, though she felt completely vulnerable for the short while she was nude.
Seating herself on the cold wrought iron cannon carriage made her bottom cold, but she held out as she began to thread a pair of black silk stockings over her legs, pointing her toes keenly and taking her time as to not spoil the expensive and fragile leggings. To further protect them, Jennifer then slid her feet into a pair of high heels fearing the rough texture of the brick paving blocks that served as a floor would shred the material under her feet. Only then did she stand and begin to put on her vintage corset.
It was a tight fitting number, her husband purposely purchasing it a size to small so that she would have to squeeze her already small frame into the restrictive material. Teetering on her high heels, it was all she could do to pull the satin material up her legs, over her hips and then tuck her breasts into position into the formed holders that would cuddle them for the next few hours.
In contrast, her petticoat was much easier to put on. It was much less restrictive, but still required some balancing skills as Jennifer fought to maintain her steadiness on the uneven floor. When she was through however, she liked how she looked in the vintage dress. Like that of the fort, she looked as if she had stepped back in time, to a simpler age where woman dressed solely for the benefit of men, and true to form, had to surrender to their beck and call. Jennifer smiled at the latter thought, for somewhere in the forts labyrinth of alleyways, batteries and musket ports, her husband lay in wait.
Jennifer was impressed when her husband first presented the notion of spending the night inside the fort, and grew even more aroused with the purchase of the vintage dress and the previous surveys inside the fort. It was an elaborate plan after all, comprised of trespassing, bondage and role playing. Now dressed for the part, she left her backpack behind and began to walk cautiously through the fort, not knowing where or when her husband would emerge.
Jennifer's heart was beating fast as she made her way up through battery B and into the main part of the fort. Several times going up the long stairwell she fought the urge she pull the high heels off her feet. The brick pavers and irregular granite steps made walking in them treacherous and slow. The echo of her footfalls also reverberated in the long, isolated and dark passageways. She was sure her husband was not far at hand, perhaps tracking her by the sound of her stiletto heels on granite and brick, and if he was within ten feet at all, also the sound of her beating heart.
She was also damp about her sex. Never in her life had she been so aroused. From the moment she had stepped out of her car, she had been moist with lust. Now that feeling grew with the intensity that this fort provided. In the past their foray into role playing had been mild, consisting of vintage dress up and light bondage. This spectacle involved an entire fort, acres of cold granite and brick, and twelve hours in which to enjoy it.
"You bastard," Jennifer mumbled into the darkness. She had hoped her husband would have presented himself early to her so that she would not have to be alone for quite so long, but it quickly became apparent however that he had every intention of making her walk every foot of the vast fort. Already she had skirted the parameter of the courtyard, walked through the main cannon battery and had treaded up through the dirt floors of the enlisted men's quarters; all without seeing signs of her husband.
Sitting down on a block of granite inside the North wall of three block alley, Jennifer stooped down to tighten the tiny buckle around her ankle. She was thankful she had enough experience in high heels to know that she needed those tiny straps around her ankles to keep her from walking out of her shoes. As she finished loosening both of them so she could use her hands to rub her aching feet, she felt a gentle breeze blow through the portal and also through the thin fabric of her silk stockings. She continued to rub the bottom of her silk-covered arches with vigor. Thinking desperately as she did so, she tried to reason where her husband would meet her.
Battery A and B were not likely because they were outside the fort and would lack the ambiance they both were after. The food storage chambers and officers quarters were non-descript, while the courtyard and upper mizzen lacked anything but grass and view across the river. As her mind fought to remember the entire layout of the fort, she began to smile. Knowing her husband's devious mind, the brig remained the most likely place for a rendezvous. Picking herself up off the granite blocks, she slipped her feet back into her high heels and encircled her shoes tiny strap about her ankles and cinched them up tight with the buckle. As she did, a hint of moonlight came through the musket portal and glinted off her stainless steel buckle.
With renewed energy, Jennifer's echoing footfalls landed one upon the other down the long alleyway. She watched her footing carefully down two step alley and emerged at the entrance to Battery A. There was a small walk outside from the main entrance of the fort to the stairwell, and Jennifer enjoyed the view of Bucksport lit up nicely across the river, her high heels scuffing gravel as she fought back the urge to run. She was outside after all, and cars were crossing over the Verona Island bridge even as Maine was about to switch over to another day. Still she was confident she was masked by the darkness; her black outfit only adding to her camouflage.
The brig was only a short walk away and down over a set of steep stairs and tucked inside the confines of a granite and brick structure completely buried and isolated from the rest of the fort. Just outside lay the hot shot furnace, a brick oven used to heat cannonballs to a red hot temperature so they could be lobbed at wooden ships with ferocious impact.
Jennifer skirted past this oven, her stiletto heels sinking deeply into the soft mowed lawn before reaching the granite, brick and earthen structure that was solely designed to detain. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped through an opened wooden door, so thick it was a wonder it had ever swung upon its hinges.
An eerie sound awaited her as her footfalls echoed, then echoed again and again into the tight passageways that were meant to inflict fear and foreboding into anyone who entered. Jennifer could scarcely breathe as her petticoat swept the bricked floor, her bottom ruffles turning a light brown from the dust. Ignoring this fact, she began to search out her husband in the tight confines, convinced he would be here.
Instead she found nothing but empty cells, until she came to the last one. Inside she found a bright neon green sticky note that had caught the bam of her flashlight. Stepping closer she read her husband's unmistakable small handwriting.
Jennifer my dear,
