It was an unusually warm spring day in Pittsburgh, temperature in the mid seventies and a touch of humidity. Richie was sitting out on the locking dock in the rear of the apartment building where he lived and worked. He was tired and sweaty, his blue Dickie's work clothes felt like they were glued to him.
He wiped his face again with a grimy paint stained towel he had draped around his neck. Then he raised the can of beer in his right hand to his lips and chugged the last of his liquid lunch. With the second course of his lunch finished he crushed the thin metal container in his hands, and rocked the chair he was sitting on back on legs so he could shoot the wadded metal like a basketball. He watched the shots trajectory as it spun through the air to bank off the wall behind the big green dumpster and clatter in. Pumping his fist into the air, he mimicked the sounds of a roaring crowd.
"Well better get finished," He mumbled to himself.
He stood up and stretched his six foot frame, and then wearily he headed back into the old apartment building. He hoped to complete his "To do list" before the Super found more work for him to do, thank God it was Friday.
Richie felt like kicking himself in the ass, for taking the job his Uncle Joe pitched to him just nine months ago, he could still hear his uncle's graveled voice.
"Look here kid, I got a friend he's got place in the city not to far from the University. Now I'm telling ya, its four stories tall and old, but he just needs someone to help keep the place up. You know what I mean. Nothing big, yin's keeps it clean, slap a little paint maybe, a little this or that. Nothing you can't handle. He's paying a grand a month, plus room and board. It's a great deal kid, so what da ya say, huh?"
Sure it sounded great, an apartment of his own. Within walking distance to class, a paying job; low paying; but still a job. His senior year sounded like it was going to be a good one. After two years community college, and lousy part time jobs, this was his reward for all the effort he put in with heavy course loads his first three years.
His scheduled of two classes a day; three days a week would a breeze, even with the job; in theory. Then reality opened his eyes, the "apartment" was a musty hovel in the basement. Pay day's he needed to call America's Most Wanted to find his boss for his paycheck. Then there was the "Super" Zora Zuckerman, know as ZiZi for short, which she was. The zaftig redhead was a profane ball buster in her forties and a two time divorcee, who earned her job the old fashion way; daddy owned the building. ZiZi liked everything her way, right now and Richie learned quickly to never tell her he would do anything tomorrow.
ZiZi's favorite quote was, "Tomorrow is a day that never gets here."
Richie's job became available when ZiZi's third husband took off to parts unknown with one of the tenants. She was the last person Richie needed, or wanted while trudging back up to the third floor. He sure wished the ancient elevator wasn't still out of order, but that was another thing on her "Bitch List".
The faint scent of the perfume she bathed in lingered in the stairway, until he arrived on the third floor. The perfume was overpowered by the odor of paint and turpentine. Richie hated the smell so much he pulled from his pocket a paper dust mask to cover his mouth and nose. In a couple hours the trim work on the floorboards and doors would be done he hoped.
As he walked to the far end of the hallway he noticed apartment 3B's door was ajar several inches. It wasn't that usual in the building since it lacked central air, and folks left the doors and windows open hoping a breeze would blow through their apartment. Poking his head inside the door he called out to find out if the tenant was home.
He hoped she was in, because Yumiko O'Hara was a twenty year old navy brat from Virginia. Richie was slightly smitten with the exotic art student with a southern drawl and almond eyes.
Receiving no reply, Richie entered to make sure everything was alright. The finding the living room empty, he headed to the bedroom. The door was closed so he pressed his ear to the door. He sure didn't want to walk in on her if she as was sleeping or was indisposed. He sure hoped she wasn't with someone. Maybe she stepped out briefly to visit or run to the store he thought, but as he started to leave he heard a squeak behind the door. Testing the knob he found it unlocked and went in.
With the curtains drawn, the room was very dark and he smelled of incense burning. He fumbled for a moment before he found the switch to turn on the lights. What he saw in the light froze him in the doorway.
"Holy shiiit!" He exclaimed while he gathered himself.
Wide eyed Richie and Yumi stared at one another. She stared at a man in work clothes who suddenly burst into her room with his face covered by a surgical mask.
He gawked at the petite girl wearing in a school uniform. Her white blouse was unbuttoned, but tied in a knot her waist. A pleated blue tartan skirt was bunched up around her hips exposing a naked bottom since her plain white panties were pushed down to the tops of the white knee socks on her stocking feet. She was bound by the wrists with a red silk belt or sash to a black metal computer stand. Her feet were bound together with white rope threaded through a length of one inch PVC pipe someone fashioned into a homemade spreader bar. A white scarf gagged her mouth.
"Oh my god, are you okay Yumi?" Rich blurted as he rushed over to pull her gag off.
"Richie... you almost gave me a heart attack. You need to get out of here and quickly." she drawled.
"What and leave you here like this...are you crazy?" Richie asked.
"Please go...nooow." she whined.
"No, damn it what's going on?" Richie asked again.
The tone of his voice had changed as a twinge of green eyed monster crept up on him as he wondered who was enjoying this obvious kinky encounter. Before he could get a reply to his question, he heard a voice coming from the living room and it was getting closer.
"Yumiii...we can use this stuff. Sorry I took so long sweetie but it's such a long walk down to the basement. Gawd damn Richie, that boy better call the elevator guy...Whatthefuck! Oh my god...who are you...what are you doing here?" ZiZi screamed staring at Richie.
Richie sudden wished the floor would open up and swallow him, so he wouldn't have to explain himself to ZiZi who was now standing in front of him, clad in an embroidered red silk robe and fire engine red pumps, with four inch heels.
"Well...you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna tell me who you are? She insisted.
"It's me Richie; you can't tell it's me ZiZi?" He said lowering his face mask.
"Of course I knew it was you. And I should have known you wouldn't be quick enough to catch on and join us, me and Yumi...for a little bit of role playing," ZiZi huffed.
The full bodied redhead stomped her foot on the floor angrily and the hair piled on top her head slumped to one side, and her belt less robe opened to reveal the lacey red teddy she wore beneath. Richie also noticed an unopened package of white rope in her hand.
"Oh go back to your chores, momma's boy," ZiZi ordered.
Then a sudden flash of anger came over Richie. ZiZi's mentioning his mother in another harsh reproach; and in front of Yumi made the months of resentment stored up burst like an overloaded levy.
His hand shot out a snatched the rope from ZiZi's hand, and in one continuous fluid motion, he spanked the package across ZiZi's ample hip as his arm retracted.
"Hey, stop that Richie." ZiZi cried rubbing the area where the blow landed.
"Okay, you want to play. I'll show you how to I play," Richie muttered to nobody in particular.
