PART 3
I woke to hot water splashing down in my face, but this time I saw that
it was from the shower. Steve was standing over me in the dim morning light,
directing the water from the showerhead over my body as I writhed in the heat.
I was moaning for him to stop, but he ignored me, not understanding my pleas
through my gag.
"I'm gonna untie you..." he said, spraying my body, "but you stink.
Gotta hose you down first." When he was finally satisfied with my cleanliness,
he shut off the water and knelt on the edge of the tub to cut me free with a
pair of scissors. I sprawled out in the wet tub when my limbs were free,
moaning with relief. He left the gag for me to remove.
"I'm willing to forget about last night." He dried his hands as he
stared down at me, but I could hear the disgust still lingering on the edge of
his voice. "I don't know what you were up to. I don't really care. Shary
thought we might have been robbed, but nothing is missing that I can tell. I
don't know if you did that to yourself, or maybe you had a girl over...or a guy.
Whatever, you got caught. What you do when I'm not here is your business, but
if you keep this up, I think maybe you better find someplace else to live."
"Steve..." I moaned, struggling to rise from the bath tub, then slinking
back as I realized that I was still naked. "I didn't-"
"I don't want to hear it. Let's just forget about it." He shrugged,
then turned to leave, pointing at a bundle of clothes on the toilet. "Get
dressed. Shary needs to use the bathroom." He shut the door and left.
I climbed out of the tub and dried off. I was totally bewildered. I
had no idea what had happened or how I had come to be tied with my head in the
toilet. Had someone broken in and tied me up? Had I done it myself? Why
couldn't I remember? And drinking out of the toilet...None of my wildest
fantasies had ever included that. I liked feet, and apparently bondage, but
that was beyond me...
I got dressed and went into the living room. As soon as I was clear of
the bathroom doorway, Sharon pushed past me, flashing me a meek smile as our
eyes met, and shut herself in the other room. Steve was on the sofa sipping
coffee and would not meet my gaze as I walked past and poured myself a cup. I
sat down beside him, not knowing what to say, but he finally broke the silence.
"I called in sick for you today, and late for me. I have to go in, but
I think you need a day off to get your head straight. Shary's off, but she's
leaving with me so you'll have the whole day to think about what happened, and
whether or not you want to keep living here."
"Steve..." I stuttered. "I do. I want to live here. Hell, I can't
afford anyplace else. I don't know what happened last night. My mind's a
blank."
"Whatever." He got up and went to the kitchen as Sharon came out of the
bathroom carrying her clothes from last night. She was back in the more
familiar faded denims and half-tee shirt, dropping her moccasin boots in front
of the couch as she stuffed her dirty clothes back into her backpack. I watched
as she stretched and bent, stuffing and sealing her bag, then tried not to stare
as she slid the soft leather of her boots over her feet and up her legs. She
seemed to take forever, holding her leg aloft as she tugged at the fringes at
the top of her boot, twirling her foot until it settled into the worn sole of
the moccasin. She caught me watching from the corner of my eye and smiled
coyly.
"You about ready?" Steve's voice broke the moment, and I felt my face
flush red. Sharon jumped right up, smoothing her jeans over her ass right in
front of me before strolling towards the front door, her backpack slung over one
shoulder. Steve gave me a look, then headed for the door as well, shaking his
head. I heard Sharon call out a quick goodbye, then the door slammed shut and
locked, the automatic dead bolt falling into place with a solid click.
I finished my coffee, thinking, but after several minutes still did not
have a clue as to what had happened the night before. In the end I gave up, my
head pounding from thinking so hard, and started in on my chores.
I called them chores, but as I said, it was my responsibility to keep
the apartment in shape. More so now, as I was on Steve's black list. I knew
that with a phone call he could have me homeless and jobless if he so chose. I
had to stay on his good side now, more than ever. I cleaned the coffeepot, and
did the dishes from their breakfast to start, then wiped down the kitchen. It
was not too bad.
Steve's bedroom was another matter. His clothes were strewn about the
room again, the bed was un-made and there was a big stain on the sheets. The
whole room smelled of sex. I stripped the sheets and gathered all the clothes
into a pillowcase before spraying the bed with air freshener and making the bed
up. I thought about vacuuming, but in the end I was on my knees on the carpet
picking the bigger bits of dirt off the floor as it was not too dirty yet.
The living room was fine, so I soon found myself in the bathroom. I
scrubbed out the toilet and tub and wiped down the shower curtains. I changed
the towels and wash rags, then flung open the window to let in some air. I
stuffed the dirty laundry all together and set the load by the door for later,
then gave the rooms a final quick glance. It looked good, and decided to reward
myself with a cigarette.
I sat on the toilet and lit up, enjoying my first cigarette of the day.
It tasted great, and I leaned back to savor the flavor. Glancing out the
window, I saw the girls working in the cleaners across the way. I watched for
awhile, ducking out of sight when it seemed they might see me. I wondered just
how sick I really was; a voyeur, watching girls work in a laundry for a quick
thrill. It seemed that it was not outside the realm of possibility that I might
tie myself up in a lustful stupor.
I spied something from the corner of my eye. At first I thought it was
a wadded up wash cloth, but as I picked it up it unrolled and I saw that it was
a sock. A dirty white sock that had to belong to Sharon. It had been in her
boots...on her feet...
I stared at the sock, looking intently at it as I turned it slowly from
side to side. It was small and soft. The sole was dark with dirt and I could
see the imprint of her toes and heel in the material. I brought it to my nose.
It stank, beautifully. I inhaled the scent of her foot odor, the lingering
fragrance of the leather of her boots, the soft smell of her soaps. It was
wonderful...
I heard laughter and jerked upright. My penis was limp in one hand,
Sharon's sock in the other up at my nose. There was a puddle on the floor at my
feet. I glanced about nervously and out the window, across the courtyard I saw
Crazy, Sexy, and Cool huddled at the window of the laundry staring up at me and
laughing. I slammed the window shut, my skin burning with embarrassment and
wiped up my mess with a wad of tissue. I was stuffing Sharon's sock into the
laundry bag when I heard the telephone ring. I scrambled to answer it...
