The above innocuous swing seat arrived by USPS ground at noon.
His wife was more than game for his kinky escapades, and was always surprised by his ingenuity. This time was no exception as he lifted it out of the shipping box and held it up for her to see, leaving her totally in the dark as to its application.
That was about to change as he led her into the front hall coat closet and slid her leather trench coats to one side while pushing the above frosted vinyl garment bag to the other.
With the newly created space, he attached two large heavy duty S shaped hooks to the steel cross bar and then suspended the chains from the swing seat to them.
“Voila!” He shouted.
“Voila! My ass.” She snapped. “If you think I will be pushing you in this swing seat you are sadly mistaken, besides the fact that there is no room in here.”
In an attempt to set her mind to rest he responded, “Honey, there will be no pushing and there is more than enough room for what I have in mind.”
“Please go on,” she quizzed.
“You have a bridge game here in the apartment at 7PM?” He asked.
“And?” She responded still not in synch with his thought process.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if I wasn’t around to kibitz?” He suggested.
"It most certainly would.” As its practical use just dawned on her.
“Jump in!” She commanded while accidentally brushing up against the empty vinyl garment bag, triggering a wicked idea for its non-traditional use.
“It’s six hours to the bridge game. There’s still plenty of time.” He protested.
“Now!” She insisted while adding, “I want to see how this is going to work.”
Reluctantly or maybe not, he got out of his clothes and stepped into the rigid rubber swing seat, sat down, and patiently waited as gravity sucked him tightly inside, stopping with his feet just above the closet floor.
“It’s really quite simple. With my feet dangling I have no leverage to lift myself up and out without something to stand one.” He pointed out.
“Perhaps more security is in order?” She teased as she left the closet only to quickly return.
Spotting the two black patent leather cuffs in her left hand he begged, “Honey, trust me. I can’t get out of the swing seat without your help. That’s why I bought it.”
“Humor me,” she sweet-talked.
Knowing that it was futile to resist when she had her mind made up, he offered his left wrist and watched as she cuffed it, then yanked it behind his back before clasping it to the metal triangle on the other side.
The right wrist was similarly restrained.
He tugged and tugged on the cuffs to no avail.
“Honey, this is a really good idea that you’ve come up with. Perhaps I can improve on it?” As she held up his favorite silicone ball gag and dangled it against his closed mouth, holding it there until he acquiesced and accepted its insertion.
She easily pulled the larger of the leather straps behind his neck and secured it. Next she crisscrossed the two thinner ones across the front before likewise securing them.
He stared as she grabbed a black leather belt hanging from one of her trench coats, and knotted tied it around his crossed ankles, and then jerked them up and under the seat, tying it off at the back of the swing.
“Stops the swinging about.” She said matter of fact.
Unable to speak, she nonetheless answered his quizzical look.
“Less chance of you kicking over anything in here and startling my guests.” she explained.
Adding, “I think we also need to make you a little less conspicuous,” As she slid the frosted vinyl garment bag down the steel rod, coming to rest against his back.
“Can’t have you hanging out here in the open.” She teased.
“I know it’s probably more that you expected or even wanted but isn’t that what makes it that much more exciting?” As she kissed his forehead.
He attempted to struggle but was only able to hang there like a slab of meat as she unzipped the garment bag and methodically pulled it around his hanging body before zipping it closed.
He listened in bewilderment as she unscrewed the overhead light bulb before shutting the closet door.
Exciting as smothering and asphyxiation scenarios were for him, this felt far too realistic as he hung there silently while the first beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the garment bag heated up like a sauna.
She checked on him every ½ hour to lower and then raise the zipper allowing just enough fresh air to enter.
Mercifully she had moved up the game time to 5PM and waited patiently for the doorman to send up her guests, unannounced in the elevator.
“Yoo-hoo, we’re here,” they said en-masse as they opened the door and walked into the living room where the bridge table was set up.
Mrs. Williams called from the kitchen, “I’ll be right with you. Why don’t you hang your coats in the front hall closet?”
Adding, “Sorry, but the light bulb in the closet has burned out. You’ll have to turn on the hall light to see.”
Player #1 entered first and hung her black leather trench coat next to the frosted vinyl garment gab before asking, “I wonder where she has him stashed for tonight’s game?” oblivious to the concealed figure quietly hanging inside it.
Player #2 with an air of superiority, hung up her trench coat and bitchily commented, “Who cares? Maybe she has the damn kibitzer bound and gagged in the bedroom?”
Player #3 the twenty-one year old recent college graduate took off her plain wool coat, and hung it between the two black leather trench coats and suggested, “Maybe Mr. Williams is hanging inside the frosted clothing bag?” While reaching for its zipper to have a peek.
“Would you please leave the damn bag alone,” #1 insisted. “And stop addressing them as Mr. & Mrs. Williams.”
“Not until I’m offered a permanent position.” The neophyte shot back.
While #2 remarked, “For someone with an aversion to leather you have quite a kinky imagination.”
Her plan to inspect the garment bag would have to wait.
Mrs. Williams and the newest employee partnered up and lost the first game of the bridge rubber to the two high pressured account executives.
Seemingly out of the blue but in fact prearranged, the hostess got up and announced that she needed to get a few more bottles of wine from the front hall coat closet.
“Having fun?” She taunted while lowering the zipper, easing his mind somewhat as free air rushed in.
“Well that’s enough chit chat,” as she raised the zipper and gabbed two 750 ml bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon and went back to the game.
Mrs. Williams and her young partner quickly won the second game without partials. Each bidding and making 3NT.
The two ambitious account executives had an innate hatred of losing and would retaliate when they drew the short straws.
#1 coyly asked, “You’d never guess the interesting conversation we had while hanging up our coats?”
The twenty-one years old could immediately feel the missiles coming her way. “Mrs. Williams…”
“Please let her continue,” Mrs. Williams tersely cut her off. “I want to hear what was said in the coat closet.”
“If I remember correctly I said. ‘I wondered where you had him stashed for tonight’s game.’”
Mrs. Williams raised her hand to stop an attempted second interruption. “Can’t possibly fathom what you might have had to say #2?”
Not one to mince her words she responded verbatim, “Who cares? Maybe she has the damn kibitzer bound and gagged in the bedroom?”
“It’s comforting to know that you both have such deep concern for my husband’s whereabouts? Mrs. Williams quipped.
“And now to you,” Mrs. Williams said as she waited for her partner to give her input into her husband’s present whereabouts.
“Oh, Mrs. Williams I am so very sorry. It just slipped-out.”
“I’m waiting!” Mrs. Williams said.
“Oh enough already,” Player #2 cut in as she was prone to do and repeated exactly what the twenty-one year old had said. “Maybe Mr. Williams is hanging inside the vinyl garment bag?”
Mrs. Williams declared. “I really can’t decide what is more annoying? My husband kibitzing at our bridge game or listening to your preoccupation with him not being here after I have gone to such lengths to stash him away as was so crudely put.”
“For all you busy bodies, at my urging my husband has signed up for a three month art class during our twice monthly bridge game.”
“Now, let’s finish the rubber. Losers pay for tonight’s dinner at Carmine’s,” the boss said in an effort to lighten the mood.
And lose they did, the two spit-fired account execs. No partials. 5 Diamonds bid and made, plus 4 Spades bid and made.
Inconsolable the two sore losers rose from the table. “We’ll meet you down in the lobby,” as they headed for the hall closet, grabbed their coats, still totally oblivious to Mr. Williams’ close proximity, and stormed out the front door.
“Can you come a few hours earlier for the next game to help me set things up?” The boss asked. “It’s quite hectic getting everything just right before game time.”
“Of course, Mrs. Williams. I can’t imagine the special effort that is needed.”
Looking her straight in the eye, “Oh I’m quite sure that you have an inkling of all the pregame preparations that are needed.” as Mrs. Williams headed to the closet with her newly chosen sidekick following close behind.
“Please wait here while I get our coats.” Mrs. Williams said as she stepped into the front hall closet alone.
As much as she would have liked to keep her husband hanging in the closet until she got back from dinner, it was much too dangerous. She lowered the zipper and uncuffed one of his wrists and slid the all-important two step foot stool under the garment bag. It would take time but eventually he would be able to completely extricate himself.
Mrs. Williams put on her black leather trench coat and tightly cinched the belt before handing the wool coat to her bridge partner standing in the hallway while revealing matter of fact, “You really are a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“May I take that as a compliment?” The young woman smiled.
“It was meant as one.” Mrs. Williams replied.
“Do you think Mr. Williams feels the same?”
“You can bet your first bonus on it.” The boss responded.