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"I'm going through with it."
"OK," said Keith. "Ready when you are."
Lucia peeled off her jersey and procrastinated by folding and stacking it neatly with her jeans and bra, then she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, pulled it loose, and tried again. Lucia's nerves made her pee twice before I escorted her to the living room. A fresh white sheet was spread over the floor where she had danced.
Danielle met us with a coil of black rope.
I took the rope. "I'll do that."
"Fine," Danielle said, "I want her on her knees. Tie her ankles and her arms behind her back."
The rope was quality, finely braided nylon, about 10 millimeters in diameter. Coincidence or not, it was near perfect for the task—maybe Keith and Danielle had little secret.
"Danielle," said Lucia. "May I keep my panties on?"
"No," said Danielle.
"Bitch." Lucia, swearing under her breath, shucked off her panties and knelt naked. "A little mercy wouldn't kill anyone."
"Have you ever been tied up?" I asked.
"Do you mean like bondage, S and M, shit like that?"
"Yes, Lucia, shit like that."
"No comment," she said with a fleeting corrupt smile.
I showed Lucia the rope. "Watch me. This knot's called a French bowline. One loop goes around each ankle and it won't slip. This is a slipped reef knot for your hands and arms; it's just a square knot with a quick release. You won't have any bruises or rope burns, I promise. Now be a good girl and cross your ankles."
Around us, two distinct vibes permeated the air: the voyeuristic thrill of watching a girl get tied up, and, disturbingly, a pack of timber wolves circling a hobbled fawn. Lucia succumbed to the latter, chewing her lower lip and offering neither resistance nor assistance as I moved her limbs into position. Her scent diverted my attention. Nervous perspiration had ratcheted up the volume of her sandalwood, and it's timbre had sharpened. I concentrated on the rigging, guiding Lucia's ankles into the French bowline and checking the fit. I tied a few loose loops around her upper arms.
"I want it tighter," said Danielle. "Push her tits out."
"Lucia?" I asked.
"It's OK."
I folded Lucia's arms behind her back and cinched the rope around her upper arms, curving her shoulders back and forcing her breasts forward. Lucia spread her knees for balance, then it hit me, the extra kick in her scent - Lucia was turned on. I finished the tie with an unnecessary flourish just to take it in.
"Comfortable?" I asked.
"More or less." Lucia's voice dropped to a whisper. "After this you and me are gonna have a come-to-Jesus meeting. Where the hell did you learn this shit?"
It was my turn to smile. "No comment. You ready?"
"No, but it doesn't matter now," Lucia said, testing my handiwork. "Kiss for luck?"
I kissed her.
"Thanks, hon, now get out of the line of fire."
I nodded to Keith.
Danielle offered me a slip of paper. "Want to get in line?"
"No," I said. "How many?"
Danielle smiled like a fox in a hen house. "I had seven before she danced. Eleven after."
