The door didn’t open.
They heard footsteps and then the men’s room door closing.
He laughed and laughed and laughed as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed … both silently, their bodies quaking.
The door, finally, flew open, revealing a local cop and Claire’s insistent, infuriated, frantic mother. The broom closet, slash-custodian’s-supply-room, was empty.
“Well, she couldn’t have simply disappeared!” the mother exclaimed.
“Of course not,” said the police officer. “Are you sure you dropped her off here?”
“Of course I’m sure!” the woman maintained.
“She wasn’t meeting friends? She wasn’t going to be picked up by a boyfriend for a date or something?”
“No, no, no,” the woman insisted. “I told you before. It’s a weekend audition for the radio station. They wanted local dancers and models for the Oyster Fest. She was going to check in and signal me that it was okay…!”
He listened to it all from above them. He lay on top of Claire in the rectangular duct-work in the ceiling above and beyond the square vent, which was in plain sight. If only the two below had arrived a few minutes earlier, they would have been able to witness the inspiring sight of a beautiful young, unconscious, cuffed and gagged girl in a boob-bulging shirt and pleated microminiskirt being lifted from the floor to the ceiling by a strap under her arms and shoulders -- her glorious, unfettered, legs in the leggings and ankle-boots trailing beautifully below.
He glanced down at Claire who lay sleeping beneath him. Well, sleeping might not have been the right term. He had given her a couple of good zaps the nanosecond his cock had left her slit – savoring the way she jerked and jolted beneath him.
He smiled at the cop’s misdirection and the woman’s confusion as he kneaded and squeezed Claire’s tit inside her bra… getting hard again just by the look on her angelic face.
He reached back to feel her smooth thigh and leaned down to stick his tongue deep into her lax, unpadded mouth. Her lips were fantastic: sweet, soft, plump…. His erection sought her slit again as the woman and cop took their strained contentions out toward the lobby.
No, he scolded himself. Not now. If he controlled himself, there’d be plenty of time for that later. He quietly shifted off her, then, reaffixing the handcuffs in front, gripped the chain-links and began to slowly drag her back through the duct work.
TO BE CONTINUED