Madeline watched the street entertainer with growing interest. His athletic well-endowed body, dressed only in tight black shorts, had just front-flipped across the square and landed with his feet inside a small Perspex box.
She was now transfixed, her hands propped on her denim hips, as the man's strong sexy body contorted down into the steel framed container. The last move was to tuck his head down beneath his thighs until every last corner of the box was filled with male muscle.
Madeline watched as the twenty-something woman that he had chosen to assist, stepped closer. Her four-inch heeled sandals and short denim skirt now dwarfed the concertinaed man crumpled beneath her. The woman tapped the box with the toe of her sandal, before using her foot to casually flip the lid down on the compacted man.
"Oh no," Madeline mouthed, as the woman then placed one tan leather shoe on the box and wobbled precariously as the second shoe joined it. With the music still running, the woman thrust her hips in time as she soaked in the applause and increasing laughter.
"Even tighter in there now!" one voice called as the contortionist's desperate eyes looked helplessly through the Perspex lid to the spread legs above him.
Madeline couldn't help but laugh. She knew it was cruel and humiliating for the trained athlete to be trapped in his own box by the strutting above him, but it was funny. The new act was becoming increasingly sexual with her fingertips massaging her tight white strap top as her dark hair bopped back and forth.
The man was evidently stuck, totally unable to free himself from the box with the dancer on top. He had gone from being the main attraction, to being just a plinth for the thrusting woman who was now twerking overhead.
Two of the woman's friends then joined the act, with one woman slipping her underwear out from beneath her short blue dress before kneeling down in front of the box. The two friends then climbed up on top of the capsulised man for their finale before jumping down and disappearing back into the crowd.
Madeline stared, unable to believe that no one was coming to free the poor performer whose hand could only tap pitifully against the inside of the box. With the crowd now dispersing, she ran forward and dropped to a crouch in front of the small box. Her new jeans pulled tightly on her hips, taking her attention for a few seconds as she checked her crack, before she refocused on the box.
"Open the catch," the guy called from beneath his own thighs.
"Oh," Madeline exclaimed, realising that the woman in the blue dress had threaded her underwear through the hasp.
"Ugh, I don't really want to touch this," Madeline called, her hands hovering above the offending black thong.
"I can't get out," the man panted.
"Yeah, well you need a better assistant," Madeline winced as she touched the damp fabric.
"Please lift the catch," he begged.
"I'm trying," Madeline snapped, "but they're really knotted!"
"Please!"
Madeline sighed and sunk back on her haunches. "Fuck... what had the woman done to her panties?"
Madeline stood up to see a loud group of guys that had just spilled out from a bar and were now heading toward them," Quick, come with me," she called as she pushed the box with her foot and followed as it rolled away on its small wheeled trolley. She slung her bag over her shoulder and leaned down to push the trolley across the street and out of sight at the far end of a small alley.
Panting, she turned and sat down on the box, her back up against the wall to keep out of sight as the noisy crowd passed.
"You need a better audience as well," she gasped.
"Thank you," the man breathed, his fingers pushing pitifully against the inside of the transparent lid.
Madeline exhaled and straightened her white top, "You're welcome," she called.
She opened her legs and pressed her fingers against his in a strangely intimate moment despite the Perspex separating them, "I'm Maddie," she smiled.
"Jacques," he replied.
"Jack-in-the-box," she giggled, "Of course you are!"
"Jacques," he repeated in his French accent, "Please let me out?"
Madeline spread her legs wider to study the man beneath her, all the while hoping he couldn't read her arousal, "I'll try," she replied, her fingernails picking cautiously at the tightly tied female underwear, "although I'm not using my teeth!"
"You must be used to thongs," he called, having witnessed all too clearly the lingerie slide off the drunk woman's body and into his makeshift padlock. It wasn't the cleverest thing to say to the woman who now controlled his freedom.
"Hey!" Maddie called, "You've very forward for a man imprisoned inside a tiny box. You should be nice to those of us on the other side of the glass!"
Madeline closed her legs so that he couldn't see her smile. This was perfect, she would happily flirt with this man all day.
"I'm sorry. Nice ass?" he called.
Madeline breathed out in disbelief. His choice of words was terrible! If he had been anyone else, she would have locked his box once and for all with a big padlock and then tossed the keys in the river of her way home.
However, this was the sexy French guy. "Okay, thank you," she smiled.
Madeline was a wannabe actress who, like many, was stuck temping at cafes and bars to get by. She had always loved the thrill of live performance and seeing Jacques had once again sparked some wild ideas. Being part of a successful act, especially with a man as sexy as Jacques would be amazing.
She condescendingly tapped on his lid, "You need an assistant, Jacques... someone to free you from wayward pairs of panties."
