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Chapter 3
Jodie
After a day of sitting in the room by myself, I was bored. I’d done my planned daily sit-ups and knee bends, and practiced dance routines, including the Charleston, a dance I’m sure Klaus would think was some queer re-enactment of a chicken going into a frenzy. But now I was bored. This wasn’t a mind fuck. This was like the worst holiday ever, where the weather was so disastrous you had to stay in your hotel room and read and watch TV. Only you’d forgotten to pack some books, and the power was out. Okay, bad analogy. I had power. I wrinkled my nose and hugged my knees and stared up at the fluorescent tube. I also had a day of nothing much on film.
Maybe Klaus was planning to bore me to death. When he brought in meals he’d been more taciturn than usual. Which meant he’d said all of three words each time. Next time he came in I’d –
The door opened. Lunch. Chicken Caesar salad would be nice. I jumped to my feet and straightened the bottom of my T-shirt from where it had curled up onto my midriff. Annoyance flickered in me when I saw he’d not even bothered to glance at my bared skin. Was I that unappealing? Once upon a time, we’d had a passion for each other.
I sighed at the plate he carried. Over-cooked steak peeked from between two pieces of bread. Cardboard again. “Damn.”
“What?” The plate deposited on the floor, he was already stepping away. He waited with his hands relaxed by his sides.
“What? You know this isn’t going to get anyone all excited about my film. This –” I waved my arms in the general direction of the entire room. “Is not good enough! Boring me. Feeding me terrible bland meals. It’s…it’s dead fucking boring. Okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded as he spoke. “And what do you suggest?”
Uncomfortable, I shifted my feet. I had thought about this. “Your list…look the whole point of the capture fantasy is that you take charge.”
“My list? And what’s on there?” His expression was as dead as that steak. Flat, dead, not giving away a thing.
Hmm. Klaus was not that thick. Heat seeped into my cheeks. I knew the list by heart and so must he. We’d pretty much agreed on this already, before this began. For a moment, my tongue refused to move.
“Bondage. Try that. And you’ve got to get more into the swing of things.” I lifted my wrists then shrugged and made a dismissive face, even though the very idea of Klaus tying me up had instantly made way more than my face get hot.
Now, he smiled. “I’ll be back. One second.” He held up one finger, backed away, then he turned on his heel and reached for the door.
The door closed and locked, and I heard him walk upstairs. Maybe we should have written a script. Ugh. I could imagine Klaus doing his fake German accent while growling at me. You vill do ze dishes and mop ze floor! Yes, so scary. Not. I made an exaggerated sad face. Oh boy.
But bondage was the only thing specifically positive on that list. All the rest were no-nos. He’d deliberately waited for me to say it, hadn’t he? Was that his version of a mind-twisting dilemma? I sighed. This was so not working. And he thought he’d have me doing the dishes. Damn. The hot chef from the Thai restaurant would have been a better deal.
Realistically, my other male friends were either wimpy or too odd or not into women. Andrew, for one, was so gay the flowers burst into bloom when he wandered by. Klaus had once held me down on the bed, so I knew he had a little spirit even if he was an accountant. That he’d let go immediately when I protested was good though. And he’d rescued me more than once from a drunken state at a party, dusted me off, taken me home, and been a perfect gentleman. This was after we were no longer a couple too. He’d even fended off one stupid admirer who’d threatened me.
Once, I was pretty sure, I’d thrown up in his car. So, extra Samaritan points for taking pity on a pissed-out-of-her-skull ex-girlfriend. Yet he’d been the one who ended our girlfriend, boyfriend thing. Extra, extra points for helping a girlfriend you’d dumped.
I’d never quite figured out what had made us unclick. You know that moment when you click? Well we’d done the opposite. And yet as stark as a photograph made larger than life, I would never forget how gentle he’d been the few times I’d been ill. How caring. Maybe he had some nurturing babying thing going? It was a bit like the Holy Grail of womankind – finding a man who’d bring you an aspirin and mop your forehead. But it wasn’t what I needed here.
When the door opened again, Klaus carried a coil of blue rope. Soft rope, I discovered when it brushed against my skin as he threaded it through the D-rings on the cuffs. He hadn’t said anything or asked permission, he’d just done it. I liked that. Now this was getting somewhere.
As he towed me over beneath the O-ring that was screwed into the low ceiling beam, a confusing mix of emotions ran through me. The beams were maybe three feet above my head. I couldn’t reach them without a ladder but Klaus could. He poked the end of the rope through then led the rope to the side where another ring was attached to the wall. Slowly my arms were pulled upwards.
I’d read this enough times in books to wonder how I’d feel if it ever happened. Embarrassment vied with arousal, but was that me or the books? Was there a difference?
The rope kept moving. Klaus kept tightening it, pulling more through the wall ring, watching me. We’d set these rings up for this very purpose – for some sort of bondage. Still, I felt the urge to distract. My arms were almost at full stretch. “When are you stop –”
“Shh.” When I opened my mouth again, he added, “You want this to be your fantasy. Pretend it’s something you have no control over. And be quiet.”
I nearly choked. Had that been an order? No. No. He was just advising me. He was right though. I closed my mouth. The rope tightened some more and I went up on the balls of my feet. Bursting to tell him he’d gone far enough, I opened my mouth again, and he stopped and carefully tied the rope off.
Klaus folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. Face still, he studied me with those gray eyes.
I stared back and resisted licking my lips, or thinking about how my clit was throbbing, or anything at all of any sexual nature. I wanted him in my bed, making love to me, maybe even tying me up, but now he’d done it, I felt like a display in a shop window. Being helpless while he watched me did something odd to my insides. Like if I gave in, just let myself go, something would happen.
He wouldn’t do anything though. This was fake. Now that I was here, tied up, I could see it. A man with guts, true dominance…for this to affect me, I needed him, that imaginary man, not Klaus.
I discovered I couldn’t relax down onto my feet without the cuffs cutting into my wrists. Minutes passed. My feet ached and I flexed and teetered on my toes trying to get some relief.
“Klaus,” I whispered.
