Tryst with a Twist

The lounge was pretty much like any other lounge in any other large downtown hotel late on a weeknight.  Only a few customers remained.  The bartender had started his closing activities, wiping the glasses as he had a thousand times before.  A young man sat at the bar finishing the last of several beers.

Vicki, pretty in her thirties, sat at a table, immaculately attired in a stylish business suit.  She had kicked off her high heels as she playfully sipped her customary daiquiri.

At another table, separated from hers but close enough to overhear conversation, sat John.  In his early forties, he wore a conservative suit, with a glass of his favorite bourbon on the table, and his briefcase resting on a chair nearby.

Vicki slowly nursed her drink.  She was in no hurry to finish it.  She noticed a forgotten newspaper, and saw that the crossword puzzle had been only partially completed.  Several of the most difficult entries remained unfinished.

She considered for a moment.  Then, withdrawing a pen from her jacket pocket, she quickly finished the remainder of the puzzle, and tossed the paper aside.  Another problem solved.  Another task discharged.  Another evening spent alone.  These things were all, apparently, what she did best.

Suddenly the young man from the bar appeared out of nowhere and stood beside her table.  By now he had obviously downed quite a few beers.  "Do you play any other adult games?" he propositioned, the self-righteous smirk running from ear to ear.

Vicki looked him over, wholly unimpressed.  Her calculated response was chillingly delivered. "Only with other adults."  Taken aback, her young suitor silently turned away.

All the while John had been watching Vicki with a great interest.  He had been observing her intently for some time, and now had just witnessed her impressive exchange with the young man.

He stood up, dropping some tip money on the table.  His half-finished drink in one hand and his briefcase in the other, he made his approach.  "I thought you might like a little 'adult' company.  May I join you?"

Vicki looked him over with tentative approval.  "Sure.  Have a seat."

John set his drink on the table, seating himself in the chair next to Vicki's, and placed his briefcase in the empty seat beside him.  As he settled in, Vicki put her shoes back on, instinctively wanting to look more formal and presentable for her new guest.  "Hi, I'm John."

If he wasn't going to give his last name, she wouldn't either.  "Vicki."

After a moment of silence, John broke the ice.  "So, are you staying here in the hotel?"

"Yep," she admitted.  Then with a skyward glance added, "Room 219."

John studied her a moment.  "Business trip?  Traveling alone?"

Surprised by his quick and accurate assessment, Vicki suppressed a nervous laugh.  "God, is it that obvious?"

With a knowing smile, John replied, "'Fraid so.  So what brings you to this fair city?"

"I’ve been elected to do the lecture circuit, so to speak," she confessed.

John grew more and more interested.  "Oh?  Lecturing on what?" he inquired.

"Computer Networking Technology.  I'm head of Information Services back at head office.  Twice a year they send me on this cross-country tour to bring all the branch offices up to date."

"That sounds exciting," offered John.

"...Not!" was Vicki's terse reply.

John was becoming confused.  "You don't sound too happy about it."

"I don't know," Vicki whined.  "I guess I just get bored sometimes.  Another night, another city, another hotel...  So what do you do?"

John almost laughed.  "Me?  I'm the proverbial traveling salesman."

The strange overtone in his voice piqued Vicki's curiosity.  "Hmmm.  And what is it that you sell, Mr. Traveling Salesman?" she probed.

John reached over and patted his briefcase.  "Novelties."

"Novelties...  How novel," quipped Vicki.

As though defending his profession, John became more serious.  "Well, they are, actually."

The mystery deepened.  "How intriguing," encouraged Vicki.  "Are you going to show them to me?"

John took a long moment to study her, like a doctor examining an x-ray, before pronouncing his verdict: "I'll show you in Room 219."

The suggestion surprised Vicki.  "Oh I don’t know whether..."

John interrupted her.  "Come on.  They're trying to close up here.  We can finish our conversation upstairs."

Vicki hesitated, looking nervously at her watch.  John continued, "You said you wanted to see my samples.  I can't very well be setting out products all over the table here."

"Okay then," conceded Vicki.  "Come on, let's go."  She collected her handbag, John his briefcase, and they left.  Not a word was spoken, either in the elevator or on the long walk down the second floor hallway.

On arriving at her hotel room door, Vicki removed her card key from her handbag, opened the door just a crack, then turned her head to face John.  "I don't usually do this, you know."

"I know," John replied.  They entered the hotel room without further dialog.  Unnoticed by Vicki, John made a point to double lock the door behind them.  "Nice big room," he observed.

"The company pays for it, so why not?" explained Vicki.  "Have a seat.  You're welcome to whatever you can find in the bar."  John placed his briefcase on the bed and seated himself in an easy chair.  "Just make yourself comfortable.  I'm going to change out of these clothes.  I've been wearing this suit all day."

"No problem at all," replied John.  "Go ahead."

Vicki disappeared into the bathroom out of sight, but left the door open.  John felt a bit strange continuing the conversation under these circumstances.  "So... what do you think of your job, other than these trips?" he asked.

Vicki replied from within the bathroom.  "Pretty stressful... you know."

"How do you mean?" asked John.

"It's like I'm the only person in the company who ever knows anything," lamented Vicki.  "I always get stuck with making every decision."

"Well, you are the department head, right?" John offered.

"Yeah, I know," confessed Vicki.  "But sometimes I wish I could just take a vacation from all the responsibility and decision making, you know what I mean?"

This last statement piqued John's interest.  With recognition he said, "Yes, I think I know exactly what you mean."

Vicki emerged from the bathroom, wearing a low-cut semi-diaphanous nightgown.

"Wow.  That was quite a transformation," gawked John.

"After I started changing I remembered that this is the only 'comfortable' thing I brought with me," Vicki explained.  "Besides, I don't plan on going out anymore tonight."

She walked over and sat on the bed next to John's briefcase.  "Now, back to the mystery," she continued.  "What exactly are these novel novelties that you sell?"

"Okay," said John.  "Have a look."  He reached over and opened the briefcase.  It was filled with sex toys of all description, including lotions, feathers, erotic underwear, vibrators, and a wide variety of cuffs, chains, gags, and small padlocks.

Vicki was shocked.  "Wha...  You gotta be kidding!  Where do you sell this kind of stuff?"

"Isn't there a sex shop anywhere near where you live?" asked John.

"Yeah... I guess so," Vicki replied.

"There are dozens of them in every city, and a lot of them buy their inventory from traveling salesmen, just like any other business."  John's explanation sounded logical.  Vicki picked up a few random items, and examined them more closely.

She was still confused.  "There's that big a market for this kind of stuff?" she asked.  "What kind of person uses all this?"

"People like you, actually, from what I've heard you say."  His reply startled her.

"What!  What are you talking about!" protested Vicki.

"Well, you were just telling me how you'd like to get rid of every bit of responsibility for a while," John explained.

Vicki was unconvinced.  "Yeah...  But..."

"That's largely who's into this type of stuff," John continued.  "High pressure decision making executive types, male or female, who just want to take a little vacation from all decisions and responsibility."

Vicki was skeptical.  "And this stuff gives it to them?"

"Because it takes control totally away from them," said john.  "No control, no responsibility."  He could see that Vicki was still not convinced.  "Here, let me show you."

John took a pair of leather wrist restraints from the briefcase.  He took Vicki’s wrist in his hand, but she pulled it back.  "It’s just soft leather with a buckle.  Here, feel it."

Vicki felt the inside of one of the restraints.  "It does feel soft, doesn't it?" she confessed.

John took Vicki's wrist again.  This time she allowed it.  He placed a restraint around her wrist, and buckled it tight.  He then started to place her arms behind her.  "Behind my back?" she protested.

"That's how they're usually used," John explained.  "You get a much stronger effect that way.  You'll see..."  Vicki resisted slightly, but John gently drew her wrists close together and buckled the other restraint tightly around her other wrist behind her back.

"So, how do you feel now?" he asked.

Vicki wasn't quite sure.  "Nervous..."

"But a bit excited, too?" guessed John.

"...Yeah," she admitted.

John pressed further.  "And maybe turned on... Just a bit?"  Vicki was embarrassed by the question, but nodded her head.  "That’s very typical," he explained.  "I think you're definitely potential customer material."  John produced a pair of ankle restraints, and began to place them around Vicki’s ankles.

"What are you doing?" Vicki protested again.

"You'll get a much better effect if you have these on as well," coaxed John.

"No thanks," Vicki declined.  "I think I can imagine the effect just fine."

"You can imagine it intellectually," explained John, "but this is all about feelings.  Could you have accurately imagined the feeling you're experiencing right now with the wrist cuffs?"

Vicki thought for a moment.  "...No."  John placed the pair of ankle restraints on her ankles and buckled them tight.

Like an experienced teacher, John continued his instructions.  "Now turn over and lie down on the bed... face down."

"Why?" questioned Vicki.

"You've come this far.  You might as well go for the full effect."  Vicki hesitantly lay face down on the bed.  John removed a short piece of chain from his briefcase, lifted up Vicki's bound ankles toward the small of her back, and attached the wrist cuffs to the ankle cuffs.  John continued his lesson.  "There, try getting the feel of that.  How much can you move?"

Vicki tried to flex her arms and legs, but there was virtually no visible movement.  "Hardly at all."

"We just need one more thing to cap it off," observed John.  With that he removed a ball gag from the briefcase, and moved it toward Vicki's mouth.

"No, no.  Wait a minute," said Vicki.  "I really don't want that thing.  In fact I think we’ve gone far enough with all this.  Now take all this stuff off me and mmmmmpphh..."  John had quickly inserted the ball gag.  He pulled the strap around her head and buckled it tight.

John then withdrew several small padlocks from his briefcase, placing one through each of the buckle straps around Vicki's wrists and ankles, and one to lock the short piece of chain together.  Vicki's eyes glared up at him.

John cordially answered her silent question.  "For a little added security.  Most of our customers demand it.  They claim that nothing ruins a 'scene' as thoroughly as a strap coming loose in the middle of it."

He sat back down in the easy chair, and switched into "salesman" mode.  "Well, you're now wearing all our top-of-the-line equipment.  Those wrist and ankle straps have a soft covering on the inner surface, but they're high quality leather, internally reinforced with steel mesh.  They've been tested to five thousand pounds, and the stretch was negligible."

Vicki twisted her wrists and ankles in an effort to escape the restraints.  "Right, see?" he continued.  "Everything top quality, carefully designed to be inescapable.  Those padlocks may be small, but they're made of high quality chrome-vanadium steel.  And even that little connecting chain has welded links."

Vicki tried to yell something, but the sound was barely audible even a few inches away.  "Oh, yes, I almost forgot.  That gag is made of sound-absorbing material.  Professional recording studio quality."

John thought for a moment.  "You know, I am allowed to give out salesman's samples.  Of course I'm not supposed to give so many to one person, but since you seem like such a natural for this stuff..."  Vicki emphatically shook her head "No!"

"Oh, it'll be okay," John reassured.  "I'll just write it up as though I gave them out to different people."  He stood up, removed a set of keys from his briefcase and closed it.  "I'll put the keys in the top drawer here.  The maid service can let you out in the morning.  Meanwhile, you'll have the whole night to enjoy the sensations of total helplessness."

John picked up his briefcase and walked toward the door as Vicki let out a strong but heavily muffled scream.  He paused and looked back at her.  Vicki's wide eyes stared directly at him.  She screamed again.

He simply said, "You're welcome."  He then turned, stepped through the door, and closed it.

As John walked down the hallway, he heard the chime of an arriving elevator.  Running to catch it, he arrived just as the doors were closing.  He used his hand to reopen them, and jumped in.  In his haste to catch the elevator, he missed seeing a small notice posted adjacent to the door:

"The rooms on this floor are booked at a reduced rate.  Housekeeping services are not provided."
 

THE END
 
 
 
 
 
 

04.08.04