Guilt|Pleasure

Father Figure: Chapter 2 (Partial Release)

I visited him the next day, as I had said I would. He politely told me not to worry about him and excused himself, he had a date to prepare for. Although that was the truth and I saw him leave in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks ensemble, I could feel that he was leery of me. Perhaps he had trace memories about the way I had touched him and kissed him that had become an uncomfortable dream. Perhaps his instincts were strong, I didn’t know, I couldn’t read him. I left him alone but kept him in my periphery. I would need more time to ready my plans at any rate.

A month went by until the preparations were ready. During that time, I only gave him a cordial smile when we happened to meet in the mail room or in the parking lot. I had driven by his workplace in my patrol car, catching him a couple of times when he emerged with his colleagues. His smile was uneasy, almost nervous, as he greeted me and excused himself in the same sentence.

Then the day came. I had taken two weeks of leave, telling my supervisor I was needed to tend to my family business -- it was almost true. I packed a rental SUV, filling the trunk with things I needed and had collected over time. I went to his apartment and let myself in. It would be another hour, perhaps three, if he stepped out to have a Friday night drink at a bar with his friends, before he came home.

I slipped on my leather gloves and loosened the light bulbs in the floor lamps -- the two torch-style lamps that clicked on at the switch next to the front door. I walked through his apartment again, this time to study his wardrobe hung up neatly in his closet. I found an empty carry-on suitcase tucked away in the corner. I packed it with a few of his shirts, pants and underwear, and zip-lock bagged a few of his toiletries. The most time consuming part of that was deciding what I wanted him to wear. He had nice clothes – most of them expensive with name brands. He made good money and he spared none of it to look good.

I set his bag by the door and looked through his refrigerator. I helped myself to one of his beers. He liked imports and he drank from glass bottles, not cans. Just like me. I drank two Kolsh from the case before I heard footsteps come up the staircase and stop at the doorway. I drained the last mouthful from the bottle and got to my feet. I was ready for him even as he slid his key through the lock.

The room was dark, and although I had ample time to adjust to the darkness – it was still difficult to maneuver in a place I was not entirely familiar with. I did know where his hand would be and where he would be standing when I heard the click of the light switch. That was my only advantage. He hadn’t even the time to register that the lights were out when I seized him by the wrist and pulled him into the apartment. He let out a gasp, surprised. He dropped his briefcase. Before he could say a thing, I clasped a hand over his mouth and slammed him against the door, closing it..

His hands came up reflexively to pry at mine. I kneed him hard in his midsection. He doubled over and a gasp came from his covered mouth.

“Don’t fight,” I said in a growl, dropping my voice deep enough for him not to recognize it. “I can guarantee you will come out on the worst end of it.”

He breathed heavily, trying to pull some air into his lungs. My hand that was sealed over his mouth, tightened.

“I bet you wish you’d done a lot of things differently now,” I said into his ear. “A little regretful that you didn’t take the advice you were given?”

I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but I could imagine his wide eyes. His breath caught – I could feel it with my fingers. I found myself inexplicably becoming aroused, turned on by his fright.

“As long as you do as you are told, I won’t hurt you,” I said, taking a gulp of air to calm myself down. “Understand?”

He tried to nod. He could move only slightly.

“Very good,” I said, taking a thin strip of cotton linen out of my pocket and wadding it into a ball in one hand.

“Shhhhh---“ I said, removing my gloved hand from his mouth slowly. I kept control over him with a firm hold on his jaw – my thumb and forefinger digging in. His struggle renewed but he barely got a word out as I shoved the linen into his mouth. I closed his mouth again before he could spit it out. “Be good….”

He was kicking, writhing against the door that rattled noisily as I bound another strip of cotton around his mouth, pinning the gag in. His hands came up, gouging at my arms. A flare of anger rose in me and I lost my composure in that short moment. I pulled him away from the door to stop him from banging against it. Then I hit him. I hit him across the face with the back of my hand – the sound of it loud and crisp, echoed in the dark apartment. I hadn’t hit him very hard, but he stumbled, the momentum throwing him off guard, and he fell, barely catching himself in time with his hands. He saw the outline of his carry-on bag as he knelt there.

I crouched down, taking him by the back of his neck and pinning him down. His face was still turned, looking at his bag.

“That’s right,” I said softly, as I fetched my handcuffs from my pocket. “We are going on a trip.”

I wrenched one of his hands toward his back and snapped one cuff on before he realized what had happened. He started to panic, refusing to let me take his free hand. His screams were strained, muffled through the gag. He sounded good.

“I know you’re scared so I’ll give you a few free passes,” I told him. I pressed a knee over his spine and shifted my weight until his struggles slowed to slight movements. I snatched his other wrist easily and pulled it toward the waiting cuff. “But no more….”

I leaned in and kissed the back of his neck.

“I will punish you for each trespass from this point on,” I said into his ear. “Each punishment will be worse and worse…until you learn.”

I double-locked the cuffs and left him lying on the floor. I told him to remain there as I gathered the beer bottles I’d drunk from into a plastic bag and shoved it into a pocket of the carry-on case. I went back to his bedroom and went through his closet again until I found what I was looking for.

He was lying still on the floor where I had left him. I could make out his shrouded figure clearly – the way he was trying to breathe, and I could hear the unevenness of it.

“Very good,” I said as I approached him. I helped him up to his knees and wound a scarf around his nose and mouth. “Don’t be scared. I really do like you.”

I stood him up and laced his long coat around his shoulders.

“We are going to go for a ride,” I said, slipping a hand under his coat so I could hook my fingers over the links that joined the cuffs together. “Don’t try to run. Don’t try to signal anyone. Keep your head straight and eyes ahead.”

I took out the gun that was clipped to my hip holster, hidden under my jacket and showed it to him. He took in another deep breath, his reaction to it evident.

“I won’t hurt you unless…” I didn’t finish my sentence. He knew.

I walked him down the stairs –- one hand guiding him by the cuffs and the other carrying his bag. It was past eight P.M. and although we could hear activities behind the closed doors of the apartments we passed, we didn’t meet anyone in the hallway or in the parking lot.

I opened the passenger side door first and pushed him in. I put his bag in the backseat and slid into the driver’s seat. His eyes were staring fixedly forward. I started the car and that was when he looked over, his eyes becoming large. He could see me under the street light that had spilled through the trees.

I only gave him a smile and fastened his seat belt.

“We can talk later,” I said. “We’re a little behind schedule.”

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