Show your Lines

“(Matt dropped off this manuscript after I”d already written up his story of “The Case of the Bound Angel”. It includes a scene with the gardener Miyoko that he hadn”t told me about before, so I present it here as Chapter 1.5 of the story for all the people who have shown such a gratifying interest in Mr. Danger”s modern techniques of scientific crime-solving.—dr.M.)”

Buddy was conked out and snoring to beat the band by the time I got downstairs, which was okay with me, because I didn”t know just what I”d say to a guy whose wife was still lying upstairs naked licking my come off her face. The liquor cart girl was sitting in a chair nearby, doing her nails, one long, slim leg crossed tightly over the other the way women do when they”re wearing skirts that end about a quarter inch above their crotch, making sure there”s no line of sight. She looked bored.

I stopped in the hallway and lit a square.

“He always drink like that?” I asked her.

She didn”t look up. Apparently her cuticles were a lot more interesting than me. No answer.

I walked over to her so that my shadow fell in her manicure light and she finally raised her face to me.

“You know, it wouldn”t be a bad idea to water down his hootch a little bit.” I said, “His liver might thank you for it.”

“Why don”t you go piss up a rope?” she asked me.

I assumed it was a rhetorical query, but it wasn”t a real promising note.

“Just doing my job,” I said. “Someone ought to cut him off before he hurts himself. Or is that the whole point?”

“What”s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“It means that there”s a lot of crap that”s going on here right under his nose, and he”s too lushed up to see it. I”m wondering if maybe that”s what you”re paid for.”

“I”m paid to do what Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine tell me to do.” she said. “And I do it. And if you had any brains, that”s what you”d do too, instead of going around sticking your nose where it doesn”t belong.” She looked at me, then down at my crotch. “Along with some other things.”

So she was wise that I”d just boffed the old lady. Well, you didn”t have to be the Amazing Randi to figure that one out. I still reeked from Felicia”s perfume and cunt-butter.

“What”s your name?” I asked her.

She stared daggers at me but I met her gaze. I”d just fucked her boss and I was feeling pretty cocky.

“Beverly,” she said with a little shrug. She figured she could give me that much.

It occurred to me then that Beverly must also be fucking her boss—her boss being Felicia—and that she must be one of Felicia”s muff mafia. And I have to admit, as totally fucked out as I was right then, the thought of the two of them going sixty-nine brought a little thrill to Matt Jr., who raised his head like a good little dog when his name is called. It was a waste of good talent as far as I was concerned, but even so, what a twosome they would make.

“So tell me, Beverly,” I asked, “What do you know about this business with the daughter?”

She picked up her emery board again and started lazily filing her nails.

“Like I said, I just do what I”m paid for. I keep my nose out of everything else.”

A couple of good remarks concerning where her nose might be of an evening flitted through my brain, but this kind of palaver wasn”t getting me anywhere. Beverly obviously wasn”t going to talk. Besides, I wanted to get out of there before Mrs. Tremaine got her shit together and came after me.

“Well, nice talking to you,” I said as I crushed my butt out in the onyx ashtray.

“Yeah,” she said. “A real slice of heaven.”

I showed myself out and stood for a moment on the veranda out front, just drinking in the landscape. It was so green and so well-manicured that I could have been looking at a video game. The pretty Japanese gardener was still mucking around at the edge of the pond, pulling out weeds and throwing them on the shore. She had very long legs and a tight, high ass, and wore a white hapi-coat sashed around her waist that showed a lot of skin as she bent over to pull out the weeds. A very un-oriental body.

I got into my car and cruised down by the pond, then cut the engine and got out.

“Hi,” I said as I walked over.

She looked up at me and wiped the sweat from her head with the back of her wrist. She smiled, only the second warm smile I”d seen since I got her. Hers had been the first too.

“Hello,” she said. She was wearing white cotton gloves that were covered in mud, so she didn”t extend her hand.

“My name”s Danger. Matt Danger. Mr. Tremaine just hired me to find his daughter. Okay if I ask you a few questions?”

Unlike everyone else in the house, she seemed to be guileless. Everything she felt was right there on her face: polite interest, alarm when I mentioned Beth, and then cautious openness. So much for oriental inscrutability.

“I”m Miyoko Tiramiso,” she said with an automatic little bow. If she”d bent any lower, no doubt her big tits would have fallen right out of the robe-like hapi-coat she had tied under them. As it was, standing in the sun I could see the engaging little shadows caused by her puckered nipples against the white fabric. “I am just the gardener, though. You are a policeman?”

“Private detective,” I said, handing her one of my cleaner business cards. “I just thought, working outside and all, you must see pretty much everyone who comes and goes in the house. I wondered if maybe you”ve seen Beth or anything weird in the last week or so.”

Her open smile vanished as she got frightened. The poor girl didn”t even have the sense to hide it. I”d hate to see her play poker.

“No. Nothing. I really see very little. Just my plants and the flowers. That”s all. Nothing else. It keeps me very busy.”

I could see her eyes flicking past me to look up at the house. That”s where the fear was coming from.

“Well, thanks all the same Miyoko,” I said. I moved around a little so that my bulk shielded her from the house and I held out the card. She took off her muddy glove and took it, handling it with her fingertips, as if it were hot to the touch. “If you think of anything, anything at all, just give me a call. There”s some stuff I”d like to know about the Tremaine”s and I”m having some trouble getting a straight answer. You could be very helpful. And I”m very discrete. No one will know. I promise.”

She smiled politely and nodded but it was obvious she was scared and operating on automatic.

As I left her I shot a look up at the house and saw Beverly standing in the library window clear as day, staring daggers at us.

I drove back to town and went to my apartment to stash the blank check Buddy had signed. I didn”t intend to cash it just yet, not until I had some idea of how much I should write into it

So I know, Philip Marlowe or Ellery goddamned Queen would have got down to the bottom of the whole thing in less than ten pages, but me, I really saw no reason to hurry this case along. After all, I was getting paid by the day plus expenses, and no one but Tremaine seemed to be on my ass to get results, and at the moment he was totally involved in metabolizing about half a liter of grain neutral spirits and couldn”t be disturbed. I decided what this case needed was some very thorough brainstorming and meditation. Don”t want to act too rashly when something like this falls into your lap.

My favorite phrontistary is George and Bill”s Amiable Club, right down the street from my office, so I hied myself over there, ordered a beer and a bowl of chili and would have gone over my notes if I had any notes to go over, but in this case I didn”t have any written notes, and to tell the truth, I wasn”t really very interested in this case. Obviously it was all a set-up, a clumsy attempt to extort money out of a Buddy who was too inebriated to know fuck-all from fireworks. I figured Felicia was behind it, because she seemed to be the only one who knew where her ass was in relation to her head, but anyway, I didn”t give much of a toad fart about the Tremaines and their self-inflicted delusions. I was more interested in finding the best angle to play my next shot from, Matt Danger-wise. A sweet job like this doesn”t come your way every other day.

Still, my admittedly avaricious ruminations kept on being interrupted by thoughts of Felicia: about how smooth her belly had been, and about her remarkable pole-riding talent. I know that women who have their kids young can often escape the worst of the attack of the stretch marks, and there was no doubt she would have had to have been awfully young to have a twenty-year old daughter, but still, it was pretty hard to believe she”d ever been a mother. And the way she threw that ass around in the bedroom: that was more than just raw talent. She”d been to school, and I was pretty sure that Buddy hadn”t been the teacher.

My office is a few blocks off the usual commercial beaten track, and I got there just as the sun was going down and those melancholy summer shadows were stretching over the empty streets, and as I keyed my lock I was shocked to hear my phone ringing. Two calls in one day. I might have to open another office if this kept up.

“Matt Danger and Associates. Confidential Investigations,” I said, burping a bit of chili.

“Mr. Danger? It”s Miyoko Tiramisu, the gardener from Mr. Tremaine”s? Mr. Danger, I must see you. It”s very important.”

I was instantly sober. Well, okay, I wasn”t instantly sober. But I stopped belching.

“Miyoko? What”s up? Where are you?”

“I”m just off work. I can”t talk. They might be listening. Can I come to your office?”

“Well, sure, but…”

“Good. In an hour then.” And she hung up.

An hour gave me enough time to catch a couple Z”s, then get up and splash some water on my face and some scotch into a coffee cup, and by that time the sun had gone down and the walls of my office were starting to glow red from Wing Yee”s Oriental Garden”s big neon sign that hung outside my window. My office is in a quieter part of town and the streets empty out early. It was so quiet outside that I could hear Miyoko”s heels rapping on the sidewalk half a block away. I stood in the shadows and watched her come. She wore a scarf over her head and dark glasses. I guess she thought she was in disguise. Like dark glasses at twilight would hide her identity. Like any male who saw her in that tight, tight white dress wouldn”t have her image permanently seared into his brain. The dress clung to her smooth thighs as she walked and I could only imagine what her as must look like from the other side. From up in my window I could see every jiggle of her ripe and sumptuous rack as her feet hit the concrete. To these not inexperienced eyes it looked like her dress was doing double duty as a bra too. Caged birds don”t swing as sweet.

“Mr. Danger!” she said when I opened the door for her, “Thank heavens you”re here!”

I got a chance to really look at her now. That white dress was some sort of jersey material, very stretchy, and now having its stretchiness tested to the utmost. For an oriental girl, she had a body that was pure corn-fed American beef, with long legs and generous hips and high, proud tits. Not too big, but sassy as hell. Her dress ended awfully far north of her knee and south of her neck—just a little sundress, really–and the foothills of those breasts were quite visible, crowded together like two cannonballs trying to hide under a handkerchief.

I let her in and stood close enough so that I could catch a whiff of her scent. Nothing much, just the smell of sun-ripened flesh and clean-scrubbed woman. A quick glance at her nails convinced me that gardening wasn”t Miyoko”s primary duty out at the Tremaine spread.

“Please, lock the door,” she said. “I”m afraid they might have followed me.”

“And who would that be?” I asked her.

“Felicia,” she said, looking nervously through the blinds. “Or maybe Beverly. They”re the ones who are behind this. I”m sure of it.”

I followed her into my inner office, closing the door behind me. She pulled off her scarf and let her rich black hair cascade around her neck., then took off her dark glasses. Whatever the emergency had been, Miyoko had found time to put on make-up, and she”d done a very good job of it, not that she needed any. She”d come to pitch a little woo, I guessed. I prepared to catch.

“So Beverly”s in on this too?”

It made sense. Beverly was obviously a part of Felicia”s Flying Gyno Circus, and was furthermore given the job of Buddy”s private booze-cart caddy, hired to make sure he got all the lush he could handle, and then some. The idea was to keep him too shit-faced to notice whom was taking what from his pocket.

“And why would they want to follow you, Miyoko? You”ve got something you want to tell me?”

“Yes,” she said, sitting down in the leather arm chair in front of my desk. Then, “No. Oh, I don”t know. I”m frightened, Mr. Danger. Mrs. Tremaine is a very dangerous woman. She can hurt you: cause you a lot of trouble. And Beverly is even worse.”

I parked half my ass on the corner of the desk and looked at her. “So how can I help, Miyoko? What do you know about this business with Beth”s disappearance.”

“Nothing. Not really. People come and they go all the time there. I can”t keep track of them. I don”t even try. Anyhow, I”m sorry, Mr. Danger, but that”s not really why I came.” She had her little handbag in her lap and was worrying it so much I thought she might bend it in half.

She took a deep, shuddery breath and I saw the gleam of tears in her deep, brown eyes “All right. All right, Mr. Danger, I”ll tell you why I came to you,” she blurted out “I came to ask for your help. You”ve got to get me out of there. They”re bad people, Mr. Danger. They do evil things, and they”re trying to suck me in. It”s a long story and…” Her voice trailed off and she lowered her face.

“Fine,” I said. “I like long stories.”

I walked around and sat down in my desk chair, reached into the lower right-hand drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jamesson—the good stuff I use for clients—and a couple of reasonably clean glasses I”d nipped from Wing Yee”s Oriental Garden. “Drink?”

Miyoko was perched on the edge of the chair across from me, her knees together like a good girl. I poured the Irish and pushed a glass towards her but she shook her head.

“Very well,” she said, her eyes in her lap. “I”ll tell you. I”m not really a gardener. I”m a music student. I play the marimba and vibraharp, and I”d won a scholarship to study music at the American Conservatory downtown. It”s a very great honor. An important scholarship.”

“The marimba?” I asked. “Isn”t that that thing they use in mariachi music? They give scholarships for that?”

She nodded quickly. “That was where I first met Beth Tremaine. At a recital.”

“The Tijuana Brass. They used a marimba, right? Like a xylophone?”

“Please, Mr. Danger. I think I”m in grave peril.”

“You play with two sticks in each hand and all that? Tijuana Taxi? Songs like that?” I was very impressed. I”d never known anyone who played the marimba. I couldn”t believe that they gave scholarships to people who could play Spanish Eyes and The Lonely Bull.

“It was Beth who first invited me to her family”s house. They have a vibraharp in their music room. They have everything out there, as you well know. She seemed sincere. I came to visit her, to play a little. Vibraharps are not very common, and the American Conservatory only has two. It”s difficult to practice. You have to sign up ahead of time. Beth thought her mother might be willing to sell theirs cheap, or at least let me practice there.”

I reached over and took her drink. Hell, she wasn”t using it. “Her mother?” I asked, tossing it back. “You mean Felicia?”

“Yes. That”s when I first met Mrs. Tremaine: Felicia. She said that she couldn”t sell it, it was a family heirloom, but that I was welcome to practice on it whenever I wished. In return I offered to help her out with a few things around the place.”

“Like gardening?”

“Yes,” she said. “My mother”s American, but my father”s Japanese. Very traditional, very conservative. He”s a gardener in California, a landscape limnologist. He specializes in aquaculture, ponds and the like, and I grew up around aqueous plants. They needed some help with their pond.”

“Wait a minute. A “landscape limnologist”?” I”d never heard of such a thing. This was a very talented girl. “So that”s why I saw you out mucking around in the mud?”

“Yes. Mucking around in the mud. Oh Mr. Danger, that”s so apt!”

She lost it then, and started crying onto the back of her hand. Unlike most private eyes, a woman”s tears don”t bother me much, so I let her cry while I concentrated on keeping a sympathetic look on my face. I wondered if her faith in me would be shattered if I poured myself another slug of booze.

Miyoko got herself under control pretty quickly and looked regretfully at her empty glass, which I”d just downed, so I poured her another slosh, a healthy one. I like to see pretty women drink, and she was worth it.

She wiped a tear away and took a tentative sip, then another. “This isn”t easy,” she said. Then she just took the glass, put her head back and tossed off the rest of the whiskey like a Russian sailor. She hardly blinked. I wondered whether all marimba players drank like that.

“My family must never know what I”m about to tell you, Mr. Danger. It must never leave this room. I can trust you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I lied.

“It”s very shameful. My father would take it very hard. He has a weak heart. It might kill him.”

I tried not to look too eager. I knew we were getting to the good stuff and I knew it was going to be something dirty. I made a moue of sincerity, but I was already trying to figure how I could play whatever shot Miyoko was about to give me into a way to get into her panties.

“I am a woman who has a weakness for…certain unconventional activities,” she said hesitantly

I didn”t think she was talking about marimba playing and landscape limnology this time.

“What sort of activities?”

She covered her face with her hand. “Hope,” she said.

At least that”s what it sounded like she said. She said it into her hand with her face down, so quickly and softly that I couldn”t be sure.

“Beg your pardon, Miyoko?”

“Rope,” she said this time. “For sex. Rope excites me. What they call bondage. It”s the only way I can get sexually…aroused.”

I felt a nasty little thrill right down in my nasty old testicles looking at this shy and gorgeous woman sitting across from me.

“Beth first found this out,” she said. “Fool that I was, I trusted her. It was a girl-talk kind of thing. They befriended me—she and her mother–and plied me with liquor. They found out my secret. But that”s not all.” She looked at me uneasily and I tried to look sympathetic.

“They are lesbians, Mr. Danger. They engage in sexual acts with one another, mother and daughter both, and they”ve ensnared me into their evil web of depravity.”

That”s what she said: “evil web of depravity”. Pretty girl, plays the marimba, and she talks like that too.

I cleared my throat. “Well, why don”t you just tell them to screw off? I mean, there must be other vibraharps in the world.”

She held her empty glass up to me. The tears were gathering again. I poured her another splash but she just looked at it and put it down on the desk and covered her face with her hands.

“They have photographs,” she said through her fingers. “Shameful photographs of me. And they”ll show them to my father. It will kill him, Mr. Danger. I know it will.”

“What sort of photographs?” I could already imagine, but I thought it would be a cheap thrill if I could get her to describe them to me.

No such luck. She waved her hand vaguely in the air, took the drink and threw that one down too.

“Uh, you want some water with that Miyoko? Maybe a coke?”

She sniffled and shook her head no. The girl must have about half a cup of Irish whiskey in her by now. I poured her another couple of fingers.

“And these photographs have you in compromising positions, no doubt,” I said sagely. “Would that be of you tied up, or with other women, or both?”

She drank “em as fast as I poured “em. I”ve never seen a young woman polish off the hootch like that, I wondered if that came from hanging around with Buddy”s crowd.

“Both, I”m afraid.” She opened her purse, and I was kind of surprised when she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

I didn”t mind if she burst into flames and exploded.

She lit a square, took a deep drag, and that seemed to calm her down a bit. With a cigarette between her fingers she seemed to be more of a dragon lady than without. It calmed her down and gave her some confidence.

“I”m sorry,” she said. “But this fetish I have—it”s a sickness really. Just the sight of rope or chain, or anything made of leather… I just find it difficult to control myself. Beth and Felicia discovered this, and from then on I was lost; I couldn”t resist. Women, men, it would have made no difference.”

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep my voice cool and dispassionate, but Matt Jr. was already rising from his torpor to see what the commotion was about.

I reached down and slowly opened my lower left-hand drawer, careful not to disturb her train of thought. My lower left-hand drawer is filled with just the kind of things she was talking about: rope, chains, leather cuffs, whips, gags, all the tools of my own perverse avocation. Miyoko”s face was down. She didn”t notice.

“Even as a little girl, I used to tie myself up, or try to. It just excited me. It”s always excited me, even before I knew about…about sex.”

I found a nice, brand-new coil of three-eighths inch braided white nylon. Good stuff. Soft, strong, and very supple. I pulled it out and just let it drop on the desk right in front of her, studying her face.

Miyoko jumped. No doubt she was feeling the liquor, and had been lost in her own reverie. Now she looked at the rope, and it was like there was suddenly a third person in the room. Her lips parted and her nostrils flared. The cigarette dangled unsmoked from her long fingers. I saw her tits rise as she took in a deep breath.

Her eyes flicked up at mine just once. She looked at me and saw what she was afraid she was going to see. It was also just what she wanted to see. In her eyes I saw a woman surrender. I saw her self-control just slip away. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The look in her eye was begging me, but begging for what I didn”t know.

I got up from the chair and picked up the rope, walking behind her. “Go on, Miyoko,” I said, “Tell me about it.”

It was all she could do to breathe a few times. Then she said, “I”ve never told anyone about this, Mr. Danger. Only Beth and Felicia. I”ve never done this with anyone else. I”ve never done this with a man. I heard them talking about you when they called you. they called you the “bondage detective.” I didn”t know what they meant but I… Oh! Oh my God!”

She breathed out this last as I stood behind her and ran the frayed end of the rope across her cheek. She tightened her hands on the arms of the chair, dropping her cigarette. The floor of my office is old, institutional linoleum, so I just ground it out beneath my foot. I took a length of the nylon between my hands, wrapping it around both fists, leaving a couple of feet between them. I put my arms down at Miyoko”s sides, slipping the rope over her and sliding it down her body till it was at the level of her nipples, then I pulled it back towards me, sawing it back and forth right over those excited little peaks.

“Mr. Danger,” she breathed. “Mr. Danger this isn”t fair.”

She closed her eyes as I sawed the rope over her nipples and she whined in a kind of feeble protest. This was almost too easy, and I should have hated myself for taking advantage of her like this, but she was sitting in my office in that skimpy white dress with her perfect porcelain skin, her jet black hair and red, red, lips and the rope just looked so damned good on her. She pushed her knees together and gripped the arms of the chair as I passed the rope down and up over her nipples, twanging them like they were little diving boards, and she just clenched her eyes shut tight and whined.

“Come on now. Miyoko,” I said. “There”s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of women like the feel of ropes on their bodies. Believe me, I know. Now, you do want me to help you, don”t you? And get those pictures back?”

“Yes. No. Oh, I don”t know. Yes I do. Only… Only…”

I took my Spiderco from my pocket and flicked it open. I cut an eighteen inch length of the nylon rope and held onto it while I dropped the rest of the coil.

“Watch now, Miyoko. Watch what I”m going to do.”

I picked up her right hand and wrapped the rope around it as she stared at what I was doing, her eyes wide with fascination or horror or maybe both. I know how it goes with women who are really into it like Miyoko. They can”t believe you”re doing this to them, they can”t believe the sight of themselves in rope. It”s just an incredible turn-on for them.

I did the same to her other wrist, then I said, “Stand up Baby.”

It was dusk in my office now, and the setting sun sent its dying rays through the Venetian blinds in the west window, painting stripes across her tight white skirt. The red neon glow from Wing Yee”s big sign outside seeped in giving the room a Hades-like glow, making it seem hotter than it already was, and evil in a deliciously lewd kind of way. (I love my office.) Miyoko didn”t resist me as I turned her around and found the little zipper high on the back of her dress.

“Mr. Danger…”

“Matt,” I said.

“We shouldn”t do this. It”s the photographs. That”s why I came to you. I didn”t mean for anything else to happen.”

I had the zipper between my fingers. I pulled it halfway down her back and the dress parted. Her back was bare: not so much as a tan line. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Sure she hadn”t meant for anything else to happen.

“Don”t worry about that now,” I said as I pressed my lips against the base of her neck. “I”ll take care of everything, Miyoko. But you have to give me something to work for, baby. You have to give me some incentive.” I ran my finger nail down her spine. “And this is about the best incentive there is.”

She had a beautiful back and gorgeous, flawless skin.

“And don”t you want this?” I went on, so close she could feel my breath on her skin. “Don”t you want to see what a man does to a woman he has tied up? All the terrible sexy thing he does to her, the way he makes her fee? Did you ever feel a man”s desire let loose on you, Miyoko? I want to show you what you make me feel. I want to let it all out on you, baby.”

I could feel the little hairs raise on the back of her neck as I kissed her behind her ear. I could feel her grow warm beneath my lips and smell her perfume as it started to release. I pushed the zipper down farther, down to the small of her back. I could just see the top of her tight silk panties, the dimples in her lower back where her buttocks started.

I pushed her dress off her shoulders with my nose as I licked her back, and it fell to her feet without a sound. She was naked except for those tiny panties, and she was exquisite.

“Come here, Miyoko, back into the chair.”

I led her back to the leather chair and put her into it. I cut another length of rope and bound her wrists together behind her so they were over the back of the chair, causing her to thrust her tits out as if in invitation. She didn”t fight me. She was under the spell of the ropes: they took up all her attention.

I tied her wrists to the rung of the chair in back, and by that time she was breathing hard, whimpering softly and staring down at her heaving tits as if she”d never seen them before, shocked that her nipples could already be so hard. I stood behind the chair and leaned over her, took her breasts in my hands, warm and heavy, and I ran my hands down her naked body: over her ribs, her flat and quivering stomach, down over her hips, then around so that the flats of my palms were on the incredibly soft and tender skin on the inside of her thighs. I pressed her legs apart and she opened them with a soft moan of protest.

I don”t know how bondage works with other guys. I know a lot of self-styled doms (and I say fuck that capital “d” business) like to torment and humiliate their women: stick pins in them and make them eat garbage and crawl around on all fours and howl like dogs, but I”m not into that. To me, those guys are women-haters, guys with some serious mommy issues. For me it”s all an act of worship. It”s about holding her there so you can get your fill of her, about bringing out the fire inside her: inside both of you. It”s about getting to a point you could never get to without the ropes there to hold you back and keep you on the edge.

Because I”ll tell you this about women: they”re every bit as sexy as we men are, even more so. But they have problems in letting that out. There”s all this pressure to be a good girl and nice and polite and non-sexual, so it all gets buried inside. They need to be coaxed. They need to be convinced. They need you to bring it out of them, to force them to feel like that, to want it, to give expression to everything they feel. In fact, they need to you to insist on it, to pull it out of them, because on some level every woman wants to be a sexual animal, wants to be as physical and passionate on the outside as she feels on the inside. And the ropes are the best way I know to do that.

Miyoko now was getting off not only on being tied up, but on seeing herself tied up. She”s a shy and reserved girl, but she has a tigress inside, prowling around, looking for a way out. She knows she needs to be tied up for that to happen. She knows she has to be with someone who wants her bad enough to do that to her, who”s going to demand that she let go, who”s not going to let her off the hook. And now that guy was me.

“Let”s just see,” I said as I went around to my toy drawer and found a big-ass vibrator, a ten-incher. “Let”s just see who we”ve got inside, okay, Miyoko? Are you ready for this?”

She just whined in the chair. She was twisting her hands around, testing the bonds, enjoying her own helplessness, and wanting to know that I wasn’t playing with her. Her nipples were hard as two cherries on the round vanilla scoops of her tits, the whole still covered with a carpet of goose bumps. I tore a good chunk of adhesive tape off a roll in the drawer, came over and taped the vibe right against her pussy so the head made a dimple against her panties, aimed right at her opening. I taped it to her creamy thigh and I turned it on.

“Oh! Oh no! No!” she sighed.

I threw a couple of coils of rope around her thighs, and pulled her knees up over the arms of the chair, holding her open, and tied them off. She didn”t fight me, and by the time she realized what I was doing it was too late to fight, and she found herself spread as wide and as lewd as in any porno pic, almost naked in the chair, her panties stretched tight against her pink cleft and the vibrator trying to burrow inside. She twisted, she writhed, she ground her ass in circles, trying to dislodge the vibrator, and I just sat on my desk and watched.

She knew I was watching too, and that”s what made it especially shameful for her. Exciting too. It”s one thing for a girl to let her slut out in private, it”s quite another to let someone else see her acting like that, see who she is inside, especially a little tight-ass like Miyoko. She groaned. She gasped and whined. She threw her head back and bit her lip, trying to deny the sensations from that humming little buzz bomb between her legs, trying to hide her feelings from my scrutiny, all the while knowing I was watching her.

I left her squirming in the chair and went back to my toy drawer. I found a set of nipple clamps and untangled then from the rest of the stuff and brought them around to where Miyoko was still slowly grinding her hips against the chair and moaning. Her eyes went wide for an instant when she saw them, but she wasn”t going anywhere and there was nothing she could do.

I turned off the vibe. “Hold still,” I told her.

That was hard for her to do, as she was panting from the vibe and her big tits were rising and falling on her chest. I leaned over and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. Miyoko”s entire nipple was hard, not just the tip. The areole was puckered out too, like a little Chinese hat, and I sucked it into my mouth and rolled my tongue around the edge, feeling where the turgid convex disc merged with the soft skin of her breast. I could feel the beating of her heart through my lips on her nipple.

Once it was nice and hard, I slid the arms of the tweezer over it and clamped them in place. Miyoko kept her eyes closed and bit her lip, but she couldn”t keep a little whine from escaping her lips as I drew the legs of the clamp together. I did the same to the other breast, teasing the nipple into erection, but then I stopped and drubbed the peak back and forth with my thumb, enjoying the way she jerked and gasped. I fixed the clamp to it and stood back. The silver chain hung in a graceful arc from her nipples, swinging as her tits rose and fell with her excited breathing.

I turned the vibrator back on and she jumped as if a snake had bit her. It started up just where it had left off, with Miyoko fighting to hold on to her composure in spite of the lewd and obscene spectacle I”d made of her. She looked like the perfect little BDSM slut now with her tits chained together and the buzzing dildo pressing hard into her wet pussy. I parked my ass on the edge of my desk and lit a cigarette, just studying her for a while.

That cigarette was destined to go unfinished though. She was just too sexy sitting there trembling under this obscene assault. She was moaning and whimpering constantly now and my cock was screaming to be let out and find some relief between the bright red lips. I stood up, stepped out of my shoes and socks, opened my pants and pulled down my shorts.

Despite her obvious distractions, Miyoko couldn”t keep her eyes from my big prick as it spring up from my shorts. There was a look a fascinated horror in her eyes, but there was no way she was going to be able to resist me now. From the looks of her she was close to popping off herself right then and there, and I was tempted to let her. I”d like to see this perfect little China doll come right then and there, knowing I was watching her get her slutty rocks off from a buzzing piece of plastic.

But this was too good to resist. I grabbed a riding crop out of the bottom drawer and went to the chair. Miyoko looked up at me pleadingly, begging me for some relief and pleading for me not to shame her at the same time. I ignored the look in her eyes, grabbed a handful of that midnight black hair and twisted her head around to face my evil, oozing snake. She fought the urge for a moment and then seemed to surrender to her own lust and opened her mouth. Her lips reached for me, trembling with excitement, and then I plunged it in.

If she”d ever sucked a cock before than I”m Mr. Rogers. She had no technique, no fancy tricks: she just sucked like she wanted it inside her belly. (Is that something that women just instinctively know how to do? Or is that something all us humans do? That when you”re presented with something long and thin you just open your mouth and suck on it?) I didn”t know, but the sight of those brilliant red lips on my stalk send chills up my spine. I held her head in my right hand, with my left I tapped the end of the crop against her panties about where her clit should be.

“Oh Mr. Danger! Please! Oh God!” she wailed, pulling her face off my cock. “Don”t make me! It”s too much! I…”

Whatever she was going to say was muffled by my big cock as it sunk between her lips again, squooshing in and out of her saliva-filled mouth. I kept it up with the crop–tap, tap, tap—as her hips churned in the chair and the vibrator hummed away. When I felt the first shard of orgasmic pleasure start to gather in my balls I stopped. I pulled my dick from her mouth and quickly untied her legs and wrists from the chair. She yelled when I pulled the vibrator and the tape off her leg—it must have hurt—but she when I pushed her down on the sofa, she immediately assumed the position: knees up and spread.

I ripped her panties down off her legs, exposed that perfect pussy with its little wisp of fine black hair, then my cock seemed to just pull me down on top of her and I sank into her buttery depths.

“Oh! Oh my! Oh yes!” she cried.

I hooked my arms behind her knees and pushed her legs back up to her chest and my big hard cock spread that little pussy wide as it sunk into her.

I don”t know what kind of games she was playing up at the Tremaine”s, but no one had been trampling around in that pink little vineyard recently, I can tell you that. Miyoko was as tight as a miser”s fist and despite all her gyno-grease I had to do some pushing and grunting to get it all in. She raised her head to watch my cock sinking into her, then clenched her eyes shut and slammed her head back down on the couch as if the sight had burned her eyes, but in a moment she was looking again, not wanting to miss a second of her own violation by my big, hungry cock

She had such an innocent little face,: a little China doll with a red-hot slut engine inside, an engine that was getting its first taste of high-octane fucking. Once I got it sunk inside her and got over that first maddening squeeze of tight Japanese cooze, I got my knees under me and lifted my ass, trying to pull out of her so I could give it to her again and officially claim her as a prize.

Miyoko stuck to me like a bug on a pin, wailing as I pulled her pussy out with my thick cock; she was that tight. I could feel it when she groaned; I could feel it when she breathed or gasped. I could feel the puffy lips of her cunt spread wide and squashed flat by my own pubic bone. I could feel the tiny finger of her clit tenderly tapping the top of my stalk. I was in her throat-deep.

“Oooh, Mr. Danger… Matt…” she cooed, begging me to spare her life. She didn”t want to come, didn”t want to lose face by showing me what a whore she was for me, but I could tell she didn”t have a chance. Miyoko was the kind of girl who spent all her time in high school and college in hard work and study and marimba practice and never had any time to screw around or find out what really made the world go round. Now she was getting a late lesson: a master class in the ways of a man with a maid

I worked my hands down to her ass, which was already slick with her overflowing lubrications. I grabbed those melons and spread her apart and pulled her up onto my pole. Miyoko sobbed with joy to feel that thick hard meat inside her pushing her insides around, and then she gasped with embarrassment at her own enthusiasm. She was shaming herself, and putting on quite a show doing so, and meanwhile tugging at the ropes that bound her wrists, loving her own captivity.

The ropes. The ropes that were everything for her. They were her freedom, her permission; they allowed her to pretend that she wasn’t involved, that she wasn’t loving having my big log sawing in and out of her dripping cunt, that she didn”t love feeling me going crazy on top of her. It”s every woman”s fantasy: to be so sexy and so desirable that a man would stop at nothing to take her and fuck her, and now Miyoko was living the dream. That”s why she came over here with her makeup perfect in that tight white dress, without a bra, without a stitch on that perfect body. Bondage detective, huh? I”d show her bondage detective!

“Nnnn! No! Don”t! You”re going to make me… Don”t make me.. No! Oh Please!”

She kept up a breathless chatter as I reamed her out, my balls splashing in the wet pool of her moisture. She had her little china-doll face turned to the side in denial, but now she suddenly turned face front and her eyes opened wide, but they weren”t looking at me. They weren”t looking at anything.

She got a foot under her on the floor and suddenly heaved her ass up off the sofa, impaling herself on my prick. Her body trembled with the strain, but she was a strong little thing and her need to be fucked hard was even stronger

“Come on, Miyoko, you hot little bitch!” I said down to her. “You”re gong to come, aren”t you baby? You”re gong to spill all that hot juice all over my cock! You”re a little slut, aren”t you, baby? A little slut who loves the ropes, who loves being tied down and fucked!”

“No! Yes! Oh, I don”t know!” she cried out. “Oh Mr. Danger please! Shoot in me now! Shoot it! Please! Come in me!”

That little outburst made me stop. I reared up on my outstretched arms and looked down at Miyoko, staring at her. We both knew she had crossed the line. She”d given up being the pretty little marimba-playing prodigy and was showing me the hot face of her naked female lust; her obscene desires. All the secret things she”d ever dreamed about or felt, all her hidden fears about herself, they were all true, and we both knew her now for who she was. Lying beneath me with my thick cock crammed into her cunt, she was a total slut for me, and she reveled in it. She was a gloriously sexual, fully aroused woman with all a woman”s passion and hungry desires revealed, and it thrilled me to the core to see the look on her face as she realized that all her needs and everything she wanted was now exposed.

I flexed my cock inside her and she groaned, but it wasn’t a subservient groan; it was more like a sound of triumph, of revelation. She was fully aware of her sexual power as a woman now, and she knew that even though she was poised on the edge of orgasm, she had me hanging there as well. Even with her arms tied behind her—or maybe because of her arms tied behind her—she”d brought me to the brink of my own surrender, brought my strength to the point of helplessness, and she clutched at me with the muscles of her pussy, telling me that she had power too, that she could give it to me as well, that we were in this together.

Erotic chills raced up and down my spine and I fell forward on top of her. Our open mouths met, and Miyoko”s shy little tongue was a rampaging tiger in my mouth, urging me to let go, to surrender to her own feminine strength, and I had no choice but to comply. Beyond control or rational thought, I felt her lips suck my tongue into her mouth urging me to do it and there was no way I could refuse her. I groaned myself as I felt the come boil out of my balls and seem to come flooding up out of the very soles of my feet and I gushed into her in hot, scalding jets.

Miyoko lost control of her body, throwing her head back and arching her cunt up to me to suck it all in, mashing that sweet little clit against my throbbing stalk, her arms hard as she pulled at her bonds. I held her to me as I came inside her, giving her all of it and planting it deep. I wanted it to be dripping out of her for hours. I wanted her to feel me when she went to bed that night and when she got up in the morning. I wanted her to know that Matt Danger had been there, and that he knew all her secrets.

You can say all they want about virgins, about how great it is to be the first and all that, but that”s just high school stuff to me. What you want is to be the first one to take a woman to that height of passion, to introduce her to her own sexual desires. To take her to the edge and make her look into the chasm. That”s the kind of sex they never forget. They never forget the man who made them whole.

Miyoko was beside herself when we stopped, and it took a lot of cuddling and cajoling to calm her down. We lay on that funky leather sofa for a long time as Wing Yee”s neon lights played over her perfect skin and I held her and stroked her sobbing body. Of course one thing led to another, and we made love again; slow and sweet this time, but again she went ballistic. Her gates were down now, and she didn”t know what to do with this new side of herself.

I had some ideas, but it had been a long day for me—for both of us—and she had to get back before anyone started asking questions.

And of course, I had a case to solve.