A loud slam startled me awake from a deep sleep.
When I propped myself up on my arm, I remembered nothing more than the stinging pain on my forehead as the world went dark again.
It could have been hours, but more than likely minutes when I finally came to. No longer was I in the comforting warmth of my bed. Now, I was sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of my room. It took me a little while to figure things out. In the darkness of the room, I could recognize that I was still in my bedroom, and I recognized the chair as one from the hallway -- the solid oak chair that got very little use sitting outside the door of the bedroom. Someone had moved it to the foot of the bed and didn't want me to move from it.
I tested the restraints that held my wrists to the arms of the chair and wiggled my feet, which were tightly secured to the legs of the chair at my ankles. I was still as naked as the moment I slipped under the sheets beside my wife, for what I thought would be a good night's sleep.
My mind suddenly turned to my wife. My eyes started to find their focus in the low light of the room, and I looked around frantically. As I tried to call out for her, my voice was muffled by the sock that was shoved into my mouth.
It didn't take long to find her silhouette leaning up against the headboard. Her arms also seemed to be tied there. She was trying frantically to free herself, rattling the headboard and pulling at her restraints. I could hear her muffled sobs through her gag as well.
But who did this? Why us? Why now?
There didn't seem to be anyone else in the room with us. Was this just a robbery? A smash and grab, leaving us tied up so we couldn't call the police?
All of my questions were soon answered.
The sounds of footsteps outside the bedroom door indicated to me that there was still some unfinished business.
The door swung open, and the light on the nightstand flickered to life. My eyes hurt from the sudden change of contrast. My first thought was my wife. I looked across the bed and there she was, indeed restrained, her naked skin now gleaming in the light.
As she continued to strain and struggle, she would arch her back, her breasts reaching out in front of her. Whoever tied us up seemed to be liking the show, with a soft laugh coming from that side of the bed.
I looked over to the man, trying to see if I recognized him.
A rubber mask of George W. Bush covered his face, and a tight white t-shirt strained to contain his well-built chest and arms. He stood about 6'4", towering over the bed.
"That would be why my head hurts so much right now," I thought to myself, still trying to shake out the cobwebs of unconsciousness.
He worked his way around the room, slapping me on the back of my head as he moved to my wife's side of the bed. He stood beside her, silently looking. She tried kicking him but missed. Her sobs had now turned into angry grunts as she continued to fight to try and free herself. I'd long given up the battle with the leather straps.
Finally, the man spoke.
