C: Safe and Secure

Safe and Secure
by Alexander Hastings

Nick Proctor couldn't decide which was worse -- the unceasing throb of
the hifi, or the squeals, gasps and groans of his new neighbours'
sexual exploits. Whichever it was, it came through the flimsy wall
separating his apartment from theirs, and he found it
distracting.

This had so far been a hard week at work, and he needed to relax. Today
he'd conducted six depressing interviews, and the prospects weren't
good.

Nick hadn't met his new neighbours -- they kept themselves to
themselves -- but they'd certainly made their presence felt. He'd
already sneaked a few peeks through the slit at the back of the
closet.

The apartments had built-in cupboards throughout, and construction
standards had been poor. Shortly after he moved in, Nick had discovered
that if he turned off the lights in his bedroom, and pressed his face
against the rear of the closet, he could see into his neighbours'
bedroom -- provided they left their closet door open.

He had peeked often since his new neighbours had arrived, but he was
always careful to ensure there was no danger of them finding out. If he
kept the light off, he was safe in the knowledge that they'd never
know. And what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Most times, of course, there were clothes hanging up, obscuring the
view. But the girl's moans and the man's grunts came through loud and
clear.

Tonight it was just the hifi. Loud enough to drown out voices, the
insistent vibration threatened to shake the building to its (no doubt
inadequate) foundations. Nick reckoned their hifi must be in the
bedroom -- the sound was loudest in his closet. He put his ear to the
slit. He could almost feel the air moving back and forth through the
narrow aperture. Then he heard something that wasn't music: a voice,
perhaps, or maybe someone close by.

He put his eye up to the slit, in time to see a shadow recede,
revealing a clear view.

The girl. She looked so young, standing there in black bra and panties,
her straight black hair cascading over pale shoulders, her arms
stretched up above her head. She faced three-quarters toward Nick's
surreptitious peeping. He couldn't see her hands or feet, but the rest
of her figure was framed in the slit's blurred outline, against which
he pressed his face in an attempt to see more.

The girl kept looking up toward her hands, and Nick realized with a
start that her hands must be tied. She was strung up. Then he saw the
man, and recognized his neighbour.

The man, stripped to his boxers, approached the girl from behind,
thrust his hips and chest against her, and ran his hands over the front
and sides of her body, up and down, squeezing, pinching, caressing her
skin. Then he unclipped her bra and pulled it away, revealing breasts
made pert and inviting by the upward stretch of her arms. Her eyes were
shut, and her face appeared relaxed, even serene, as her lips moved.
The throb of the music drowned out any words she spoke.

Nick became aware of his own arousal as the man grasped her breasts,
fondling and rolling the erect nipples between thumbs and forefingers.
Nick's erection increased as the man's hands slid down her hips,
hooking his fingers inside her panties.

Suddenly the man crouched, pulling the panties down and out of view.
Nick felt his eyes widen and his chest throb with the beat of his
heart. He stared at the fine dark fluff at the girl's crotch, as the
man stood up behind her and placed his large hands on her waist, then
stroked them round her ass, dimpling her soft buttocks with the tips of
his fingers.

The man turned, and Nick reflexively recoiled as the silhouette
approached the closet. The man slipped off his boxers, his shadow
dancing against the brightness of the bedroom beyond, and then
everything went dark.

He must have closed the closet door.

The music went on for several hours. Nick saw nothing more through his
peep-slit, but images of the naked girl, strung up and subjected to all
kinds of sexual impositions, assaults and humiliations, haunted his
imagination.

At work the next day, the girl's stretched body and ecstatic expression
filled his mind's eye. He'd no more interviews to do. Though this was a
concern, the lack of applicants meant that he didn't have to
concentrate too much on work.

That evening the neighbours' hifi was thankfully quiet, but at eleven
Nick heard shouts coming through the wall. They were arguing. At first
Nick couldn't make out any words, but the tone was unmistakable. He
went into the bedroom without turning on the light, and stepped into
his closet.

Through the slit he saw the girl, again naked, again somehow strung up
to the ceiling. A black fabric mask covered her eyes, the elastic
rucking up her long black locks. She wriggled, as if trying to free
herself, boobs and butt rippling with each pull.

"Untie me, you bastard!"

"No way, baby." Now the voices came through loud and clear.

"Untie me! And then you can fuck off. I don't ever want to see you
gain!"

"But you can't see me now..." The man's arm came into view, as he
stroked a finger downward from a point between her shoulder blades,
over the small of her back, ending at the crevice between her
buttocks.

She squirmed at his touch. "Stop that! Just leave me alone!"

"Okay, baby. Whatever you say."

The closet went dark as the man approached it. He was dressed, in
tee-shirt and jeans, and seemed to be gathering clothes from the
closet.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting outta here. Like you said."

Nick heard a suitcase catch snapping open, or was it shutting?

"Bye bye, baby." A door slammed.

The girl stood still. Then, a sigh. "Oh, Jesus." She began struggling
again.

Nick heard the lobby doors slam. By the time he reached the window, all
he saw was his neighbour's battered sedan roaring off down the
street.

Back at his peep-slit, Nick saw the girl hanging motionless. She had,
for the time being, given up struggling.

What should he do? He could hardly go round and shout through the
letter-box, _I know you're in trouble, can I help?_ What would that
look like?

But he could say he heard some shouting and wondered if everything was
all right. But how could she let him in while she was tied up? Would
she want to?

These thoughts raced through Nick's mind as he pondered what to do.
Eventually he decided to let her know that there was someone there,
close by, if she needed help. It would then be up to her.

He let himself out of his apartment and took the few steps along the
corridor to his neighbour's front door. He was about to press the bell
when he noticed the door was ajar.

He hesitated. Maybe he'd just have a quick, quiet look. She needn't
know. Then he could slip out again and press the bell, let her answer
or not.

He pushed the door. It swung silently inward. Breathing as shallowly as
possible, Nick tiptoed into his neighbours' apartment. It was very like
his own -- but more sparsely furnished and less untidy. He could see
the bedroom door, light spilling around its sides. He walked gingerly
toward it.

He paused outside the bedroom. What if she'd already freed herself, and
removed her mask? But from beyond the door came a familiar sound. The
girl gasped and grunted in renewed efforts to free herself.

Nick placed his hand on the door and pushed, ever so gently. It swung
slowly and silently wide, revealing the girl he'd seen through the
peep-slit. Much closer now, he took in the view of her bare flesh,
stretched vertical and vulnerable before him, displayed in the harsh
light of three photofloods.

Nick was transfixed. The girl's curvaceous butt quivered as she
strained her arms against the stout ropes encircling her wrists. The
ropes were looped round a chrome eyelet fixed to the ceiling. Her black
hair, pinched by the elastic of the mask, hung down her back, which
narrowed to a slim waist that emphasized the sweep of her hips over
that gorgeous behind.

Nick moved to one side, to get a better view, to see those pert
breasts, those pink nipples in close-up. But he stepped on something --
an empty cardboard packet, which crunched under his foot.

The girl instantly ceased straining against the rope.

"Billy? Is that you? Thank God you've come back. I knew you
would."

Nick opened his mouth, and shut it again.

"C'mon baby, do your stuff. I'm ready." She began to sway from side to
side, then gyrated in a corkscrew motion, moving her body rhythmically
before Nick's open-mouthed gaze.

"Come on, honey. I'm right here. All ready and waiting. You know what I
want."

Without thinking, Nick reached out a hand and placed it on the girl's
waist. She stopped moving, then leaned into his touch.

"That's right, baby. That's what I want...."

Nick grasped her waist with his other hand, and stepped closer. She
squirmed under his hands as he pressed his groin against her delightful
ass, feeling the hardness within his pants straining against her. He
let his hands slide round to her belly and up to her breasts, cradling
each fulsome globe and stroking her hard nipples.

The girl began alternately murmuring and sighing. "Mmm, that's
nice...that's good...let me feel you...more...now!"

In the uncontrollable grip of desire, Nick unzipped his pants, slipping
them off with his shorts. His cock, erect and heavy, liberated from
uncomfortable confinement, felt free and dangerous as he let it slide
hot and sensitive between the girl's delicious buttocks. In a frenzy of
lust he grabbed at her hanging body, maneuvring and manipulating her,
allowing him entry. She shook in his grasp as she submitted herself to
his hunger.

"Oh...oh...yes!" She cried out, her flesh yielding to his urgent
penetration. Her scent filled his nostrils -- a coarse, animal aroma
mixed with cologne -- as he buried his face in her neck, tasting her
hair. He held her in an iron grip, ensuring her complete submission to
his will, his rhythmic thrusts propelling them both to climax.

It was over all too quickly, and though the hot desire of his lust
would have spurred him to further exploits with this restrained and
sexy nymph, the temporary dampening of his drives had alerted him to
the realities of his situation.

He dressed silently and retreated, leaving the girl hanging -- panting
from her exertion. He stole one last look at her. Moist threads of her
rumpled hair stuck to the wet skin of her back, sweat glistening in a
long stream, running down between her shoulder blades and ending in
slick drops between her buttocks.

It was evident that she had fully expected the man -- Billy -- to
return. So she was in no danger, and Nick had better not be there when
Billy came back.

Only when Nick had returned to his own apartment did he consider what
he'd done. How could he have been so foolish? What would happen when
Billy returned? If the girl had mistaken him for Billy, surely she'd
refer to their encounter when Billy really did return.

Nick didn't want to think about it. He wanted to forget all about it.
And he certainly had no intention of spying through his
peep-slit.

Nevertheless, over the next two weeks Nick found himself thinking often
about his anonymous fling with the rope-nymph. He avoided looking
through the peep-slit, and the episode took on the dimensions of an
imagined sexual fantasy. He almost convinced himself it never
happened.

Until, that is, he received an unexpected delivery. He heard something
push through his letter-box. An instant later it thudded onto his
doormat.

He retrieved the plain padded packet and turned it over in his hands.
It bore no address, but upon opening it Nick discovered an unmarked
video-cassette.

With mounting dread Nick inserted the cassette into his video. His
heart sank still further as the black and white mush gave way to a
brightly lit view of a young woman, strung up to the ceiling, naked
except for a mask over her eyes. The mask concealed her identity, but
the man behind her, who proceeded to undress and take her in a hurried
frenzy from behind, was unmistakable. It was Nick.

He forced himself to watch till the end, cringing on the sofa, remote
control in hand, heart in mouth. After the view of himself leaving the
girl hanging, white letters appeared on the screen. For one surprised
moment Nick thought they were the credits.

But it was a demand, obviously from Billy, for five thousand dollars.
Used bills, to be pushed through his neighbour's letter-box within one
week, or else a copy of the video would be sent to Nick's
employer.

Nick stared at the screen in disbelief as the image faded to black, and
then to dancing dots of unrecorded mush. He shut his eyes, tried to
think. Where had the camera been? Not that it mattered -- the damage
was done. The image of himself, and of his strained expression as he
thrust and pumped into the girl, clouded his every thought. He shook
his head in an effort to clear it, and ejected the cassette. He'd need
to stow it somewhere safe. He had to keep it secure, just until this
was settled. Then he'd get rid of the damn thing, forever.

So, had he been recorded by accident? And Billy was now taking
advantage of a lucky break? Or had Nick been set up? The latter,
probably. Anyway, though $5,000 was plenty, Nick thought he could lay
his hands on that much cash in time. He didn't really have any
choice.

In three days he'd got the cash. He stuffed it into the same padded bag
the video had arrived in, and pushed it through his neighbour's
letter-box late that night.

He heard nothing. After three more days he began to wonder when the
_next_ demand would come. So it was with no little relief that he found
the same padded bag on his doormat when he arrived home from work late
Friday evening.

He ripped it open. The bag contained a small cassette, of a type used
in a camcorder. Over the weekend he pondered how he might view the
contents -- maybe he could hire a compatible camcorder. But he didn't
relish seeing any more of his ill-advised exploit. As it was, he
couldn't bring himself to watch again the video he'd already received.
In the end he decided to destroy them both.

He spent an hour pulling the tape out of both cassettes, and set alight
to the coiling black spaghetti in a metal waste-bin. Black smoke curled
toward the ceiling, and Nick wrinkled his nose at its acrid smell. Then
he crushed the empty cassettes under his feet.

Satisfied, he decided to forget the whole affair.

The following week Nick renewed his appetite for work. There were more
interviews to do, now that they had some new applicants.

He sat in his office reviewing the applications as the time approached.
He asked his secretary to send in the first -- someone applying for the
new assistant's job.

The girl who entered his office seemed familiar. And then it hit him.
She was the rope-nymph -- she looked different with her clothes on. She
frowned at him when he didn't respond to her offered handshake, but he
quickly gathered himself.

"Good morning, Miss...Bennett," he said, taking her hand and glancing
at the application form on his desk.

Keep cool now. Remember, she was blindfolded. She never saw you.

"Excuse me, Mr. Proctor," she said. "Don't I know you?"

Oh, shit. But...maybe he should let on that they were neighbours? Or
would that complicate things?

"I don't...I mean..." He tried to maintain his professional demeanor,
"I...believe this is the first time we've met, Miss Bennett."

"Oh, maybe you're right. Or maybe you remind me of someone I've seen in
a film."

Oh shit, oh shit.

"Or a video. I collect videos, Mr. Proctor. I didn't put that on my
application form, as it didn't seem appropriate."

"No...?" Nick didn't like where this was going. Not one little
bit.

"No. But I do. Collect videos, I mean. I like to keep them, in case I
want to watch them again. Or if anyone else wants to watch them."

Nick sat down. His head reeled, and he felt sweat prickle on his
palms.

"Mr. Proctor, do you think you could find a job here for my boyfriend,
Billy?"

Nick put his head in his hands as the girl continued. "It would be
great for us both -- Billy and me -- to have good jobs. So good to know
we're both safe. And secure. Wouldn't it?"