by Shawn Keys
Like a cop showing up at your door. If this was tomorrow, and they stormed into some new job interview he was at, he would be done. Right there, no question.
He tugged on his ratty undershirt, long-sleeved over-shirt and his ugly sweater. The, he shrugged on his coat. He was going with worst-case scenario here. He was about to be dragged off to the station again to get grilled. The girls had been released by now. They had insisted on staying until he was let go, not willing to let him linger behind to be rail-roaded. Guess Michaels cut me loose to satisfy them, and he’s ready now to drag me back in when the coast is clear of protective women.
With that in mind, he was taking everything with him.
Grabbing up his small pack with his travelling possessions, he stomped down the stairs like he was going to meet his doom.
Surprisingly, he heard a pleasant conversation happening. Molly was a sweetheart, but he didn’t figure she would be chatting about her children making snow angels in her backyard if the police were there to haul him off to jail.
Molly was blocking the door. She was the only one who could see him coming down the stairs. “Oh, here he is. Told you he would be right along.” She swung the door a little wider.
Standing on the far side, still in her uniform, was Officer Sanchez.
Drake’s jaw ticked open in surprise. He jotted a quick glance left and right. No partner along for the ride. Weird. But she was in uniform, and there was a squad car parked outside. Careful, still worried that Sanchez might have been sent as a friendly face to bring him in nice and easy, he gave her a cautious nod of greeting. “Officer.”
Reading his concern, Sanchez jumped right in, “Don’t freak out, Mr. Drake. I’m here as a favor, not on duty.”
A favor? “Alright. You’ve got me curious. What’s this about?”
A devious smile clung to Sanchez’s lips. “Nuh uh. Questions aren’t on the menu.”
“What is?”
“A ride.”
Drake grunted. “A taxi might be easier. And don’t they have cars you can whistle up with a phone call these days?”
“Sure. Neither of those will hunt down someone you want found, first.”
“Ah. That’s the favor then.”
Sanchez smiled. “One of three.”
“And the second?”
“Like I said, taking you on a ride.”
“And the third?”
“That one you’ll have to see for yourself.” She tilted her head invitingly. “If you dare. We barely know each other. Will you believe me when I say you won’t regret it?”
It was foolish to trust anyone who he had only known for a few hours. But their earlier flirtations twigged him. He wanted to trust her, which was maybe a little stupid. But dammit, why not? What was she going to do, be the one who tried to kill him a third time that day?
Shrugging aside his hesitation, he threw himself on the mercy of whimsy and chance. Things could hardly get any worse. “Alright. Let’s see where this takes us.” To Molly, he threw a smile. “Escaping again, I guess.”
Molly sighed, but returned the smile. “You’ll be back. Our conversation wasn’t finished. I know it.”
Drake ducked the implications of that. He didn’t want to drift backward. There was hope in Molly’ offer. But also fear. Arguing. That wasn’t what he wanted right then. “We’ll see.” He turned back to Sanchez. “Lead the way.”
The officer pulled back and led him down the walkway to the waiting squad car. She opened the back.
Drake balked, though mostly in humor. “I don’t even get to ride in the front?”
“This way you can’t get away when you find out what this is all about.” Sanchez put a little evil behind her chuckle, holding the door for him. “Now, watch your head.”
“Uh huh. Thanks.” Smothering a laugh, he ducked in and let himself get sealed inside. Maybe not getting hauled off to jail, but certainly hauled off to somewhere.
* * *
They pulled to a stop near the curb outside a quaint little duplex. It was a little after six in the evening on the most bizarre Christmas of Drake’s life. Granted, he might have quite a few of them left, but this one didn’t seem likely to be topped anytime soon.
He squinted at the house. “I’ve never been here. Where are we?”
“Small subdivision on the eastern side of Berlin.”
Drake grunted noncommittedly. It wasn’t a super nice part of town, though it wasn’t a dump either. The sort of place you found affordable housing along with a little peace of mind without worrying about gangs roaming the streets. “Who owns it?”
Sanchez laughed under her breath. “If you haven’t figured that out yet, then I can’t help you.”
He chewed on that a second. “End of the line?”
Sanchez smirked at him. “Either that, or you walk back. That’s your choice. No-one’s forcing you to go in.” She pulled open the partition between her and the back seat. Her hand came up holding a ring with two keys. She held them within reach. “You might need these.”
Drake’s eyebrow quirked up. “Both?”
“One, for sure. The other? Well, that depends on what you want to do once you get inside.” Her smile grew a little more wicked each second.
“You’re beginning to worry me.” He glanced up at the house. Nothing made sense about this. But she was offering him a warm place to hang his hat for a while. A surprise party? A lot of the officers at the station had been on his side, passing him coffee and food and chipping away at any attempt Detective Michaels had made at implicating him in anything criminal. It was a group effort. Could this be their way of making it up to him for all the abuse he had been through?
But Sanchez wasn’t giving the impression of joining him. Drake asked, “You aren’t coming in?”
Sanchez grinned. “I sorta want to. But… no. Tell you what. The owners have my number. You go in. If you still want to get ahold of me later, give me a call. Maybe I’ll come over.”
Drake paused again, trying to decide what she meant by all that. Curiouser and curiouser. “Guess we’ll see.” He considered her. “What’s your first name?”
Sanchez gave it to him, looking pleased that he would ask. “Tara.”
“Tara.” He decided he liked it. He gestured at the door. “Going to let me out?”
Sanchez’s expression became a little more serious. “Promise me you’ll be good?”
Drake wasn’t sure what that meant, but he found the idea of promising her anything to be an easy leap now that he was in the habit of trusting her. “Always.”
She met his eyes, measuring him. A direct, no-nonsense measuring from a street cop to decide if he was going to live up to her expectations. He must have passed muster, because Sanchez gave him one last firm nod of approval, exited the squad car, then pulled open his door.
He exited. When she didn’t say another word, he focused instead on the house. He walked up toward the patio slowly, pulling in details. Behind him, he heard Sanchez pull away. She wasn’t lying; if he wasn’t staying, he’d be walking home.
Then, he caught sight of the green sedan in the back of the driveway around the side of the house. His smile reappeared instantly. He remembered back to the description Tricia had given him. A great little rental duplex not far from here. That’s what she said. This was their place.
He was suddenly far more enthusiastic and a lot less nervous. They had talked about cooking Christmas dinner for each other. The idea of sharing a little turkey and wine with the women sounded like a fine evening indeed. All his worry melted away, and he practically bounded up the steps.
He grabbed the door and found it locked. That was a small surprise, if the ladies were expecting him. Unlocked doors weren’t totally safe around here, but this wasn’t gang territory, either. Not many thieves out on Christmas, and they had been expecting him. Why lock the door?
He didn’t have to wait to solve the mystery. Sanchez had given him the key, after all. He pulled out the ring and cons
idered the two keys on it. They couldn’t have been more different. One was typical for a house key; just over an inch long, jagged in a way that would push the right internal pins on a deadbolt, and brass in color. The second was the bigger mystery. It was small, barely more than a bent piece of metal. He had seen one like it before, but he couldn’t place where. A locker key? A security box? Something small and simple.
Shrugging aside that mystery until he solved the first one, he inserted the house key into the deadbolt, turned it until it snapped open, and cracked the door open. He knocked the door, letting the sound echo inside, then called out, “Hello? Cara? Tricia? Karin? It’s Drake.”
There was no answer. A gust of warm air came at him. He could smell the woodsmoke from an old-fashioned fireplace. He could hear it crackling away from inside and around the corner. Some of the lights were on, but just enough for a soft ambiance. All the overheads were turned down, creating a cheery, warm, inviting atmosphere.
He paused, not sure he should go in. Breaking and entering hasn’t done him any favors, lately. Then again, he wasn’t exactly a robber. He had the key! They clearly wanted him inside and for some reason weren’t able to let him in themselves.
All things considered, he went in. Shucking his boots off at the front door, he walked in deeper. Her went for the living room first. “Hello? Any of you here?” He dropped his bag in the entryway as he went inward.
If this went on much longer, he would have started worrying. But any concern died as he saw a white envelope taped to the wall. His name was written on it in flowing script: Drake.
Pulling it open, he tugged out the plain white card inside and read the poem written on it. From the elegant hand-writing, he guessed it was Karin who wrote it:
'Twas the true night of Christmas, in our little shared house,
Where not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Our stockings, we have slipped on with all due care,
In hopes that Our Hero would soon be there;
We’re nestled all snug by the tree: dressed in greens and in reds,
While visions of rough-handling dance in our heads;
Our friend has prepared us, readied for your feast;
And we’ve settled our brains to be ravished by a beast;
To your wondering eyes we soon shall appear;
Worry not, there’s no danger, there is nothing to fear;
Three helpless elves await you, so naughty and wicked;
It may be necessary to see us well disciplined;
Come then into our parlor and find your sweet prize;
We’re yours till the morning, no matter our cries;
Come do with us as you wish, we’ll beg only for more;
The thought of you inside us warms us to the core.
Hurry.
Drake swallowed hard. He read it twice, and knew beyond a doubt he wasn’t ready for what he was going to find around the next corner. But he had to go. He had no idea what he was going to do once he was there, but he needed to see this.
He walked around the corner, and nearly died.
This time, the fire on the scene was under control, crackling away merrily in the fireplace. There was a smattering of tasteful Christmas decorations, from lights to tinsel to snow-globes and ornaments accenting the room. A brilliantly lit, lushly bushed, decked out Christmas tree dominated a full corner of the room. There were a few presents beneath it, already unwrapped in a previous celebration by the ladies. The gifts were tucked under the bushes to keep out of the way.
At the moment, the focus was on the presents left for Drake.
Namely: Cara, Karin and Tricia, lined up in that order.
All three of them were in their elf costumes again. The elven hats, the green corsets with the white fluffy trim, and silk pantyhose were the same. Their green tight-shorts were replaced, however, with nothing more than green panties that were far flimsier.
Similar to the first time he had seen them, they were tied up right next to each other. This time, they were positioned in front of the tree, lined up like presents for him.
There were some subtle differences. They had gags in their mouths, but these weren’t handkerchiefs used for convenience. They were cherry red balls held in place by black straps around their heads. They looked large enough to stop up their mouths, but made of skushy-enough material to bite into and not force their jaws too wide.
As well, while they were bound, it was not with Christmas lights stolen from the scene. Instead, in deliberate contrast to their green outfits and to complement the gags, red silk rope had been used to strap their ankles and knees together, then arranged so they were tucked up to their chests in front. Their hands were behind their backs. Drake couldn’t see them yet, but he already knew what he would find. It was suddenly obvious what the second key was for. Handcuffs, probably lined with red padding to keep them comfortable. His second key would release the girls when he was ready to let them go.
If that wasn’t provocative enough of a scene, there was the look in their eyes.
They had set this up. There was no doubting they were willing in all this. He now knew what the three favors were from Sanchez: the search for him, the ride back here, and helping tie the girls up before she left. Getting into this state of bondage would have been impossible without help. They had been sitting here waiting for him for the last hour or so.
But they were peering up at him with incredibly wide eyes, brimming over with uncertainty mingled with anticipation.
It wasn’t like Drake was used to this, but he got it. Instantly, he got it. They had probably dared each other into this. Now, here they were. They knew he had just read the poem. They knew he was seeing their sexy bodies and was probably keyed up into a state of throbbing, sexual need.
And he was.
Their faces shone with nerves. They weren’t sure if they were ready for what they were getting themselves into.
Drake had a choice.
They clearly wanted something to happen here. He could give them a sexy laugh, let them free, and flirt through the evening with them. Hopefully, they would tumble into bed and the sexy fun could continue in a far safer way.
Or…
Molly’s words echoed in his mind, reminding him he had the right to be happy. This last day had shaken him from the darkness and shown him a hint of light. He had the right to walk in the sun. To consider that he might be happy again. To get what he wanted. And that wasn’t such a bad thing.
A last vestige of his guilt tugged at him, trying to keep him from accepting that simple, so important truth.
But look at this. Look at what they have done for me. Look how much they trust me, to make me a part of this fantasy. He embraced the way the beautiful women were peering up at him with pleading eyes. They were offering him the control here. This was his gift. He could take this slow. Take this soft. Or he could take the chance to impose his every sexual fantasy on them right then and there.
They had surrendered themselves to his lust.
Did he have it in him to take them up on the offer?
Would he regret it forever if he didn’t?
His gaze flowed along their three sets of legs: shapely, lean and perfect.
He absorbed the sight of their breasts swelling up from behind their corsets with their deep, excitement-charged breathing.
A primal growl started deep in Drake’s chest.
Karin whimpered a little as she saw the set in his eyes. She knew the moment he decided.
Cara was no less aware. She visibly trembled.
Tricia’s spirit flared out at him. She was glaring back at him in challenge, as if daring him to do his worst.
Drake strode forward, giving in to his hunger. A shadow of his old self emerged. He didn’t walk toward them. He stalked toward them, like he had been the one to capture them and tie them up in the room and was now back to harvest whatever pleasure he wanted from them.
Moving with the prowling grace of a predator, Drake went
to one knee in front of them. With Karin positioned in the center, Drake was closest to her, inches from touching her. The red-head shook with emotion. Drake swore he scented her sex on the air. Her lips quivered around the soft-leather gag. She was emitting a near continual stream of muted cries of excited fear.
Drake wanted to keep that surge of emotion going. For whatever reason, the women had decided they wanted to feel this. To be overwhelmed. To get swept away on a tidal wave.
He reached out with one hand. There were a thousand ways he could have touched Karin for the first time. He chose to slide over her knees and plunge down between them. The blade of his hand glided between her trapped legs. The flesh of her inner thighs parted to his advance, then hugged back around him, pinned in place by the red cords binding her knees together.
Silk hosiery made the passage of Drake’s hand all the sweeter. He started near her knee, then began a sinful trip down past her thighs. Drake trapped Karin’s gaze with his, fixing her with an intense stare as he went lower. And lower. And lower… until finally, his fingertips brushed the already dripping fabric of her panties. He alternated between cupping her thigh and enjoying the sensual tension in her leg toned by hours upon hours of yoga exercises, with then stretching his fingers out to stroke through her panties and pantyhose along her concealed slit.
Karin’s whimpers were coming louder, and less and less from nerves. Her teeth clenched down on the gag, strain beginning to show as if she wanted to be begging for more, but was completely unable.
It was a heady sense of power to be in such control. What was more, Drake could feel the eyes of Tricia and Cara on them. Whatever he did to Karin, they were watching and knew they were next.
Drake had been taught something of psychological games. They want a little thrill along with their fun? Fine. I can give them that. Drake deliberately pushed his fingers harder against Karin’s core, making her moan into the air. He then shifted his gaze to first Cara and then Tricia, and issued a threat in the most erotic way he could conjure in the moment. “Whatever I do to her… don’t worry about getting bored. Because I’ve got entirely new fantasies in mind for each of you. Each… more wicked... than the last.”