The decrepit elevator gasped and wheezed to make its climb up to the fourth floor. Its frame rattled like old bones in a tin can. Finally it squeaked to a jerky stop. Kelly bit her lower lip for the worrisome pause before the thick doors with the ripped vinyl quilting decided to open. She leapt over the threshold onto the solid flooring of the hallway that led grimly down to apartment number 41, the overpriced dump on the lower East Side she called home.
The keys in her hand chattered noisily to coax the three cranky locks to release their hold on the door. Every night she faced the same argument with the stubborn door that would eventually heave to with a disgruntled groan. Once inside, she would hastily relock them and secure the chain guard. Every night she would step into darkness for the chintzy landlord sealing up all the ceiling fixtures where bright and happy lights should click on with the flick of a switch to welcome the weary tenant with reassuring iridescence. Instead, Kelly entered a dismal arena where she fought off the fear of things hiding in shadows.
This night, instead of rushing to turn on her one and only lamp with a heavy cut-glass base and no shade -- a fifty-cent special from the thrift shop -- she actually made it all the way into the bathroom before succumbing to her hunger for light. Her small hand reached up to jiggle the faulty toggle on the wall. The flickering fluorescence lit up Kelly's young gaunt face in the warped and cracked mirror. Then the bulb petered out. "Damn," she muttered in the dark. She unbuttoned her blouse and rubbed the tightness from her throat when a deep voice resonated from behind.
"You said eight o'clock. It's half past nine. I don't like to be kept waiting."
The mirror revealed the dark outline of man standing at the door. With the fleet reactions of a white-tailed doe caught in the cross-hairs, she swung around hard, braced herself against the sink, and kicked a black leather hoof into his firm abdomen. He went reeling backwards. She bounded past him and ran for the door. Her fingers tripped over each other to unfasten the locks. Just as she pulled the door open, it slammed shut with the force of the man at her back. She shrieked in glass-shattering high C.
The intruder at her back grappled to pin down her flailing arms. Kelly managed to twist her willowy frame around and hurl a right hook that glanced off his chin. "Hey!" he carped. "That's gonna leave a mark." The momentum of the swing lost her her balance. She fell to the hardwood floor with a slap. Before she could right herself, he was on her. "You should have told me you wanted to play rough. I would've put on protective gear." He pulled her up and pushed her to the bed where he forced her to lie face-down. Kelly cleared all the air from her lungs with another piercing scream.
"A screamer, huh? Good thing this is New York where no one pays the least attention. Now, hold still. The tie-up job you requested is gonna take time and concentration, and your fighting me doesn't help. Geeze, and I thought this was going to be an easy gig." He fastened her wrists together with a plastic zip tie. He lashed her feet together with a second tie.
Kelly's tears soaked the bed cover. He ears picked up rummaging sounds. She craned her head but couldn't catch him in her limited field of vision. "Please, take anything you want just don't..."
The sound of an approaching siren made him look up. Kelly played on his apprehension. "You can get out before they come. I'll tell them you didn't hurt m--" Before she could finish he flipped her onto her back then he clicked on the lamp. Shock surged in Kelly's sea-green eyes to see her attacker. It was a lean man dressed up as an insectile-looking superhero -- or villain.
He breathed hard under his black mask with the airbrush yellow streaks and silver eyes. "Don't what?"
"Don't rape me, please," she cried. Her hopes of rescue faded out with the passing sirens.
A light chuckle jiggled his balaclava-style mask. "God, you're good, but rape isn't part of our contract."
"What contract?" she cried.
"Uh-uh, don't play coy, Ms. Roy. This is your scene. You know perfectly well what contract."
"How do you know my name?" she stammered.
He bent down toward the floor and rose back up with a thick roll of duct tape in one hand and a bunched up white cloth in the other. "Now, what kind of gag would you prefer? You didn't specify so I brought two options." When she didn't answer promptly, he decided, "I think the cloth would match the rope better and probably be more comfortable. Although, I don't know why I should be so thoughtful after the pugilistic welcome you gave me. I don't mind a little tussle. In fact, I sort of half expected some resistance as part of the scene, but you really didn't have to hit me so hard, you know."
Kelly fought the thick cloth being laced through her teeth. "This is a special creation," he explained as he tied the ends at the back of her head. "I take a rolled terrycloth hand towel and wrap it in white silk. That way, you get the muffling quality without the rough texture." He reached back down into the black gym bag that he had brought along for the job. He pulled up a bundle of white nylon cord and began winding it methodically around her ankles and up her legs. "You tell me if I make this too tight, although I think you'll find my roping technique comfortably snug."
Kelly squealed and jerked her legs.
"Please, Ms. Roy, if you want this scene played according to your specifications, stop messing it up, okay?" He held her legs firmly and worked the rope quickly around her knees, thighs, hips, and waist. "I hate doing sloppy work," he grumbled. "But since you're being so unruly, I guess this'll have to do. What, are you on the rag or something?"
She squealed loudly.
"Sorry, that was impertinent and insensitive of me, but you have really put me on edge with your belligerent attitude," he chastised as he bound her up. "That really kills the buzz for me, you know." In a matter of minutes, he had her in coils from heel to shoulder. He pulled the knot taught above her sternum. "I was so looking forward to a fun scene with you too."
She squirmed like a worm in a chrysalis. Tear-filled panic rose in her eyes.
"Your fussing is making me lose my concentration. Now, I can't remember what your contract stipulates." He sighed and reached into his bag. In his hands he held several sheets of printed paper. He ran a black-and-yellow gloved finger across the text. "The party of the first part agrees to... yada-yada-yada," he murmured. "Ah, here it is." He read silently then set the page down on the nightstand. Propping himself on his well-toned arms, he hovered over her and purred, "Ready for those caterpillar nibbles you requested?" He peeled back her blouse to the extremes of her clavicle. Kelly swung her legs hard into his side.
"Ow!" The caterpillar man yelped. He grabbed his cocooned prey by the shoulders and held her down. "What is your problem? Why are you so combative? I'm only following your instructions." He noted the confused horror in her stifled screams and snatched the paper. He looked at it, looked at her then looked around the room. He read aloud, "614 E 9th Street, Apt. 41. That's here, right?"
An anguished keen rose from her throat.
"Your name is Kelly Roy, right?" She heaved and gasped for air. Her pale complexion turned an apoplectic red.
"This is your picture, right?" He showed her an image on one of the pages. "And your signature?" He showed her the name signed at the bottom of a legal looking document.
Kelly began to choke.
"Okay, okay. Take it easy. I'm only asking. Here, let me get this out of your mouth." He pulled the cloth down over her china-fine chin. The intake of oxygen powered up her lungs into a fitful wail. He covered her mouth with his smooth nylon-covered hand. "Your caterwauling won't help me figure this mess out." His hand moved from her lips to brush tangles of her fiery red hair from her face like smoothing the feathers of a trapped tropical bird. "Settle down now."
"Look, I don't have much here in the way of valuables," she blurted, "just a computer and fifty dollars in my pur--"
He put a finger to her trembling lips. "Hush. I'm not here to rob you."
