BowPi’s Halloween: Part One
By Victor Von Doum
INSPIRED BY ACTUAL PEOPLE AND EVENTS (HONESTLY.)
“Amy. Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” Amy’s beautiful blonde sister Stefania, sitting on the edge of the bed, gently rubs her back to awaken her.
“Whoa, how long have I been napping?” Amy groggily responds, slowly turning over and lifting her head.
“About three hours. Looks like you needed the rest after your, uh, adventure today.”
TOTAL RECALL
The recently gorgeous chestnut haired, eighteen-year-old, 5-foot 4-inch, high school senior soccer and track star, Amy Stiefelbach, recalls the 1998 autumn day’s events: waking up and hurrying to the stables to “go riiiiiding” under her quickly-made-up alias “Elizabeth Morrison” with uber-bitch Penelope Van Dijk, Stef’s former best-friend-turned-hated- rival; upon arrival falling prey to Penelope’s ruse by getting chloroformed just inside the stable doors; waking up tightly bound and stuff- and cleave-gagged; hearing Penelope repeatedly address her by an old, short-for “Bowling Pin” nickname, “BowPi,” that Penelope used to call her years before; molested to three huge orgasms at Penelope’s masterfully bisexual hands; freeing herself when Penelope ducked outside; grabbing new crush Brett’s unloaded revolver from her jean jacket pocket; making Penelope think was loaded; turning the tables and tying up and gagging Penelope; getting her to orgasm twice; tying up Penelope’s raven-haired friend Heather after she’d arrived; aligning the two bound, gagged, blindfolded, and semi-nude women close together ; and laughing hysterically when Brett, and later, Stef, her real best friend / roommate / also-former-best-friends-with-Penelope Erica Anderson, and Stef’s boyfriend Jim all showed up and took pictures of the helpless duo with Jim making cracks the way Austin Powers did on the photo shoot with Vanessa Kensington.
Amy especially revels in the satisfaction she received by finally telling Penelope off when she got to address her with a nickname Penelope loathed, “Oh, Penny? My name’s not BowPi. It’s Amy Stiefelbach. I’m leaving you topless, tied up, and gagged in a barn. And guess what? You’re still a grade-A bitch!” A broad smile crosses Amy’s face just thinking about it.
Amy feels a pang in her stomach. She realizes she hasn’t eaten all day. “What time is it?” she asks Stef.
“Five o’clock. We’re all supposed to meet Jim and some of his fraternity brothers at one a bar called The Library for dinner at 6:00. Better get yourself dolled up—Brett’s going to be there too!”
“He IS? That’s right!” Amy excitedly remarks, remembering, before she’d fallen asleep what Stef had told her. “He’s awesome.” Amy recalls the barn dance from the night before: how well she and Brett got along, and their long, passionate kiss at the evening’s end. Mostly she remembers the feeling of how hot she got when Brett had jokingly tied her wrists together, then lassoed her when she attempted to pretend-run away. She remembers how they both slipped and fell on the hay-strewn floor and how her hand accidently landed on Brett’s crotch, feeling his rock-hard manhood from the outside of his jeans. Still a virgin, she wants him in a way she’s never felt before. She wants him to be her first in the baddest of all possible ways.
Amy smiles again, imagining what sex with Brett would feel like, and then crossly pursing her lips when the thought of the orgasms she received from Penelope enters into her mind. It pisses her off that Penelope made her feel so good, not once but three times.
She looks down the length of the bed and notices that she’s still wearing the expensive Lucchese boots that Penelope had left in Stef’s bedroom three years ago, about which Stef had remembered in her closet and had given to Amy to keep. She feels their ornately inlayed and stitched shafts again; admires their mid-high heels; appreciates the craftsmanship. These expensive, two-toned (dark brown foot, tan upper, with dark brown bootstraps and top accenting) boots already feel special to her, like plundered booty from a vanquished once-powerful evil enemy: maybe Soviet gold, she thinks.
TIME TO CHANGE
She takes off her new richly stitched boots and sets them back in the box, putting the cardboard boot-shapers back into each of them. Pondering it for a moment, Amy realizes she wants to save them for a special occasion. Standing up, she undresses, puts on her terry cloth bathrobe, then grabs her overnight bag and heads to the communal sorority bathroom shower. She proceeds to wash her slightly-below-the-shoulder-length wavy chestnut hair, then conditions it, somewhat quickly as she knows the girls have to head out soon to meet their dates and for a group bar food dinner. She heads back to Stef’s room, towel-dries her hair, then blows-dries it, adding just enough hairspray for it to puff out playfully, in a down ‘do—a more subdued ‘90s twist on the ‘80s HUGE hair days. Knowing she wants to wear some cowgirl boots again—partially to impress Brett, but also because how confident they make her feel—so she chooses the black pair that she normally wears least often as they, the most broken-in- from-Stef’s-wearing-them-years-before pair of the three of Stef’s hand-me-downs pairs, still feel most comfortable on her feet. She puts on lacy black bra, then a royal blue semi-form-fitting prairie dress with small black and white pattern designs. It comes down to low-thigh, so it shows off her ultra-toned legs. She then puts the boots on directly onto her bare feet, which she often does in warmer weather, especially once she’s broken the boots in.
“Boots again, Ames? “ Stef asks. “People are going to start calling you ‘the girl with the cowgirl boots.’”
“Oh, Stef, you’re always so worried about fashion trends. I want people to call me the ‘girl with the cowgirl boots,’” Amy replies, matter-of-factly. “Plus, wearing this outfit will get Brett to notice me.”
“He already notices your cute little bod, sweetie. How couldn’t he?”
“You think!?” the innocent Amy responds excitedly.
“Well, duh!” Stef answers. “You’re a hottie, little sis. Plus, he’s from a small town not far from here and your modified-cowgirl look must run right up his alley. He’s a country boy at heart. I’m surprised he hasn’t blurted out ‘May I be so bold as to hold your hand’ or some other cornpone line like that.”
“I think he’s dreamy.” Amy sighs, dismissing Stef’s mild putdown at Brett.
BAR TIME
Stef, her fellow blonde roommate Erica—people called the two of them plus Penelope in high school the “Blonde Squad”—and Amy all walk to the nearby Library bar. It proves a loud, cavernous, two-story place, with a large upstairs that provides a great view of the lower level—along with an obvious joke of a name—for dinner, where Brett, Jim, and some of Jim’s fraternity brothers join them. Its eighteen-to-get-in, twenty-one-to-drink policy almost always winked at, they all drink a few beers, tell a few jokes, and eat some decent bar food. Brett and Amy sit next to each other where Amy puts her hand on Brett’s lower thigh, occasionally moving it up higher up his jeans, but never too close; Amy knows Brett’s a traditional kind of young man, and she certainly doesn’t want to appear too slutty. This hand-on-thigh motion naturally excites him; he’s a teenage boy, after all.
After dinner they play a round of pool together, where they play against Jim and Stef. Amy’s lean-over pool shots sometimes mean she shows her royal blue prairie dress riding up her legs, revealing her well-toned and still somewhat summer-tanned gams, contrasting nicely against the black boots’ color. Brett notices and compliments Amy on her dress and cowgirl boots.
“Boy, Amy, you sure look great in kickers. You’re a natural cowgirl. ”
“Why thank you, kind sir.” Amy shoots back, appreciating the compliment and delivering a cute curtsy in return.
After a few games of pool, the gang all leaves the bar, walk back to Jim’s fraternity house, and gives the high schoolers some space. Amy and Brett move to a semi-secluded sofa on Jim’s fraternity house’s screened-in porch where they begin to kiss deeply, repeatedly.
PORCH TIME
Amy really wants more of Brett’s body; wants HIM to make her feel better than the way that molesting bitch Penelope did. Although she never has given a blowjob in her life, she just knows she wants to suck his shaft and swallow him whole; wants his manhood deep inside her the way that she’s never experienced in her whole eighteen years.
On the screened-in porch, Brett finally touches Amy’s firm boobs, outside her dress at first, then, via the wide openings around her arms, under it. Amy’s nipples practically pierce her bra fabric. She rubs his crotch, finally, and feels his stiffness. Barely containing herself, she gingerly places Brett’s right hand up on her left leg, where her royal blue prairie dress had ridden up to mid-thigh, practically begging him to bring it forward to massage her womanhood.
Brett pauses, pulling away slightly: “Amy, someone could walk in.”
“I don’t care,” Amy whispers back. Normally reticent, the inexperienced Amy is finding herself overcome with urges. Penelope’s romp with her earlier in the day must have fired up some long-smoldering inner heat within her.
“Amy, I like you. I like you a lot. I—, I—, want it to be special,” Brett lets out. “Plus, we’re both going back home tomorrow.”
Barely hearing Brett’s second sentence, Amy thinks to herself, “Did he say ‘special’? Could he be a virgin too?”
Not daring to ask, Amy contents herself with believing in his virginity and that when—because she certainly feels it a “when”—they get together, the wonder of a mutual virgin sacrifice will prove downright magical. She moves in for a kiss when—
“Hey, you two crazy kids! What are you up to?!” a clearly buzzed Jim enters the porch door and blurts out, followed by a Stef and Erica who’d clearly been attempting to keep him off the porch, in vain.
“Jim, give them some privacy!” Stef whispers.
“All right, all right. You two go back to whatever it was you two were doing.”
The moment clearly blown, Amy looks down, disappointed. She realizes she needs to go to the bathroom, and excuses herself, asking Jim for the location of the ladies’ room. She brushes past Stef and Erica, who start following her into it. Erica then realizes it’s a sister moment, and stops.
“So…..?” Stef queries, as the women enter the bathroom.
“So nothing,” Amy curtly replies. “Nothing happened, though. Though I sure want it to.”
“Amy, I know. Don’t rush things. You know Brett’s a good guy and you guys can meet up here any weekend you want. I’ll talk to Jim; I’m sure he’ll let you two have his room for your next trip.”
“’NEXT trip?!’ Why not now?” Amy demands.
“Because it’s past 1am and you have to get to sleep tonight to get on the road tomorrow early and back home to study for Monday. Mom told me you had a lot of homework to do.”
“Crap, you’re right. Got a stupid test on Monday and a paper due Wednesday on a book I haven’t started reading yet.”
“Next visit, you’ll be all set. It’s a great room, nicest one in the house. The house mom used to live there—when fraternities had them—so it’s got its own private bathroom and shower. Jim won it in fraternity contest: kind of like winning one of those little lotteries. Believe me, it’s nice.”
“Stef, that sounds great. I’m, uh, you know, going to need some pointers.”
Stef smiles at her now grown-up little sister, the one who has blossomed from ugly duckling to movie-star-quality beauty seemingly overnight. “Don’t worry. Before you and Brett hook up you and I will cover what we don’t get through before you leave tomorrow.”
Amy and Stef leave the bathroom and find Erica in the hallway, waiting for them. Amy tells them,
“I’ll be just a second. I’m going to say goodbye to Brett.”
Amy walks on the porch, finds Brett standing and chatting with Jim. Jim recognizes the kind of moment and excuses himself. Amy approaches Brett, and puts each of her hands interlocking with his, down at their sides. They kiss briefly.
Brett looks around, finds a pen and paper, hands it to Amy to write down her phone number and e-mail address. He then scribbles down his same information and they exchange the papers. Brett has to leave early that next morning to help out at his family’s farm, so they won’t see each other again on this trip. Brett, ever the small-town gentleman, walks Amy, Stef, and Erica the short way back to the sorority house, while Jim stays behind and drinks beer with his fraternity brothers. At the sorority house door, Brett tells Amy he’ll call her. She winks and tells him she’ll take his call. Stef and Erica go inside to give the high schoolers some space. Brett and Amy kiss one last time, she heads inside, and Brett walks back to Jim’s house.
Once upstairs in Stef and Erica’s bedroom, after such a long day Amy falls asleep right after changing out of her prairie dress and black cowgirl boots and into a t-shirt and baggy shorts, never getting to ask Stef her tips on how to please a man.
HEADING HOME ALONE
Amy wakes up the next morning; she and Stef eat breakfast at the sorority house. Amy packs her bags, taking extra care to pack the Lucchese kickers that Penelope had forfeited to her. Feeling newly confident from the weekend’s experiences, Amy drives the few hours back to her house. When she arrives, she gives her parents the Cliffs Notes version of the weekend—naturally omitting the Penelope escapade—concentrating instead on her meeting Brett and how much fun she’d had with Stef and Erica, and at the college in particular. She tells her parents she wants to go to college there too, much to their delight, what with the lower in-state tuition, the one car that she and Stef can share, and with Stef’s presence together there to guide her, for Amy’s freshman year, at least.
Brett calls Amy that night, too excited and/or blissfully ignorant to obey the Tuesday Rule. He and Amy talk a while before her dad makes her put the phone down and resume her studies, to her protestations. This pattern repeats almost nightly.
The week after returning from this visit, Amy sees her doctor and, her nose now fully healed from its preseason injury, gets the OK to resume her place on the soccer team. She is ecstatic to play again, and excels in her midfielder position, averaging nearly one goal per game. Amy tells Brett how happy she is to be back on the team.
The eighteen-year-olds start e-mailing each other daily, sometimes several times. They talk about movies, music, their classes, their families, their childhoods, their hobbies, their plans for college. They also obviously talk about their respective soccer teams and how their weekend games are keeping them from visiting each other at Stef’s and Jim’s college. While Brett and Amy both perform very well at the sport, they are both building up resentment to its impeding their next meeting.
Amy, for one, can barely contain herself. She finds herself dreaming passionate, erotic dreams almost nightly, always awakening before orgasm, frustrating her to no end. Sometimes these dreams involve her in bed or in a tie-up role-play fantasy, sometimes with Brett, sometimes with male movie stars. Penelope even appears occasionally in these dreams, which angers Amy. When showering or lying in bed, Amy must strain to keep from massaging her womanhood to orgasm. “Wait for it. Be strong,” she keeps telling herself.
Both high school soccer teams perform well in their respective state tournaments before getting eliminated short of the semi-finals. Amy received several yellow cards by virtue of her uncharacteristic aggressive play, including a few slide-tackles of opposing players. However, both she and Brett excelled on their teams, and with their soccer seasons both over by mid-October, they were hoping to meet back at Jim and Stef’s college until they realized that midterm exam season had fallen upon them: October 24th weekend, no way, not with midterms the following week and harvest time on Brett’s farm. Their visits would have to wait till a later weekend; both were hoping for one soon. One day that week, the phone rings at Amy’s house.
TELEVITE
“Amy?” the voice asks after Amy picks up the phone with the customary greeting.
“Hey Stef, what’s up?” Amy replies, after seeing Stef’s cell phone number come up on Caller ID.
“How have you been? How did the season go?” Stef asks, knowing that Amy had re-joined the soccer team after the doctor had determined that Amy’s nose healed perfectly from its pre-season dislocation.
“Oh, great, thanks. We did pretty well before we lost. Personally speaking, I did all right too. Been working out every day since to get in shape for indoor track. Still, it’s just that—“ as her voice trails off.
“Just what, Ames?”
“Just that I’ve been dying to see Brett again, but our weekends have always been packed with soccer games. Now, I’ve got midterms this week and Brett told me he’s got a lot of work for the fall harvest.” She sighs. “I don’t know when I can make it down there.”
“Amy, how about Halloween weekend? That Library Bar we all went to when you were down here a few weeks ago is having a big costume party and Jim’s fraternity is throwing an after-party…and you-know-whoooo NEEDS to come to campus that weekend too!”
“REALLY?!” Amy exclaims, “Oh, Stef, that’s PERFECT!! I’m going to call Brett now and see if he can come! I’ll have finished my mid-terms, and he should have finished all his harvest stuff by then. It’ll ROCK!!” Amy pauses for a second, realizing the she and Stef haven’t held “the talk” yet. Amy tells Stef so, who tells her they’ll for sure talk when Amy makes it down there.
“Plus,” Stef intimates, “I really need to SHOW you some things, not just tell you about them. You need the visuals, you know? Besides, we can’t really talk-talk when you’re at home with Mom and Dad.” Amy agrees.
As soon as the excited Amy gets off the phone with Stef, she calls Brett. They quickly realize they can both make it that weekend, although Brett can’t get to campus till about mid-day on Saturday due to some loose-ends at the farm he has to take care of, to clean up after the end of harvest and to prepare for winter’s ultimate arrival. When they discuss what costumes they’re going to wear, Amy immediately KNOWS. She is going to dress as an old west “good gal,” a gunslinger-hero, an incorruptible sheriff, complete with her new Luccheses. She tells Brett and he loves the idea, not only because he digs the cowgirl look—especially on Amy, who pulls it off so well—but remembers that his dad once dressed as a prisoner for an Elvis-themed party a few years ago, when he went as “Jailhouse Rock.” Brett knows he can fit into his dad’s outfit and tells Amy the two would work well as a costumed couple. He says he’ll hit a department store for a plastic ball and chain. Amy daydreams for a second when he hears his plan, at the mere thought of holding Brett as her prisoner, even if purely for pretend purposes.
ALL HELLOS EVE
Focused on this weekend, Amy concentrates on her studies. She reads her novel, aces her paper on it, then cruises her mid-terms. At night, her erotic dreams still plague her, however, and she must exert every bit of self-control she can muster not to take matters into her own hands, so to speak. Most mornings she wakes up finding herself biting her pillow, a puddle of drool surrounding her mouth.
When the bell finally rings that Friday afternoon, Amy rushes home. Already packed the night before, she double-checks her suitcase: several tight-ish shirts and jeans; extra frilly underwear, check; loose flannel pajamas; check; most importantly, new Lucchese two-tone cowgirl boots along with the rest of her “good sheriff” costume, including a real dark brown leather holster/gun-belt combo bought at a garage sale and dime-store-purchased fake plastic gun; check; saddle-brown wide tooled Western belt, check. She keeps on the outfit she wore to school today; red flannel shirt, thick black leather belt with square silver buckle, faded Levi’s. Before she hits the road, she tucks her jeans into her—formerly Stef’s—black boots, noticing a bit more the wear on their heels and soles, which is starting to bother her a bit; she likes her cowgirl look polished and not cowpokey.
Amy arrives on campus in a few hours, just in time for dinner. She, Stef, Erica eat at the sorority house, where the older women introduce her to more of their sisters. Tired from her long week of schoolwork but excited about the following night, she remembers that she and Stef never had “the talk” about the finer points of foreplay and sex. With Erica spending the night at her new boyfriend’s apartment, she asks Stef for pointers on how to please a man.
Stef goes into detail on proper fellatio techniques, showing Amy proper hand placement/movement, tongue fluttering, and of course, gulping. As for actual sex, Stef tells her that Amy’s first time is going to hurt, but it’ll soon get better the next few times. Plus, Stef tells her, it’s important to lose it to someone you care about and not just to lose it for the sake of losing it. Pondering the whole pending situation, Amy gets dreamy eyed before falling into dreamland.
She sleeps fitfully, the whole idea of wet and sloppy oral sex racing through her mind. A variation of the same erotic dream hits her, in which she and Brett are lying in bed having passionate sex when she opens her eyes and Penelope is standing over them. In this dream, she then turns back to look at Brett but Penelope has taken his place; rather than pushing her away, Amy receives her deep tongue-y kisses, returning them as deeply. Even after Penelope has taken Brett’s position, Amy still feels his cock deep inside her; her womanhood clamps around it tightly and with furnace-like heat, she loves how it feels.
She awakens; she’s tightly straddling a rolled-up corner of the blanket, her panties damp with sweat, and finds a corner of the pillowcase in her mouth, drenched with her saliva. “Bleccch!” she exclaims, as she splits it out. ‘God damn it,” Amy thinks, “Why does that bitch Penelope keep invading my dreams?!”
“Something the matter, Ames?” Stef, recently awakened herself, asks her little sister.
“Huh?” Amy, still groggy and confused replies, composing herself. “Oh, no, nothing. Just a weird dream.”
They eat breakfast, with Amy scarcely able to concentrate, what with her anticipation of her night with Brett. Just after breakfast, he calls her from his cell phone to tell her he’s got to finish up more work on the farm than he’d thought but he would absolutely make it there by party time. Amy, disappointed, comforts herself in knowing she’ll see him later that day—and well into the night, she hopes. (Stef, after all, convinced Jim to let Amy and Brett have the use of Jim’s room, the fraternity’s former house-mom’s bedroom suite, one with a master bathroom attached—quite the rarity in fraternity life.) Stef proceeds to show Amy around campus, including a trip to one of the gyms, where the beautiful sisters run through a short but strong workout of cardio and machines. Both of them of course love the feeling of sporting rock-hard bodies. They concentrate on an upper body workout today, where, incidentally Amy has been devoting most of her workouts since the end of soccer season.
DRESSED TO THRILL
Around 5pm, the women all start getting ready for the long night ahead of them: costume party, Jim’s fraternity after-party, and Amy’s long hoped-for virginity-losing party. Just having showered, the Stiefelbach sisters return to Stef’s room to get changed. By now, Erica has returned from studying, and she calls Stef into another bedroom for a second while Amy starts getting dressed, first in sexy underwear and bra, then in her good sheriff outfit: sheriff’s five-pointed star badge pinned to a light tan shiny leather vest over an untucked flared creamy-yellow snap-front shirt; medium brown tooled Western belt partially visible under the shirt’s flare; semi-faded jeans; dark brown leather gun-belt; and holster with the fake plastic gun. She finishes off the outfit with a yellow bandanna tied loosely around her neck. Prone to perspiration, Amy keeps a cure at the ready: she folds then tucks a large red bandanna in her left back pocket, and a large blue one in her right. She neatly tucks her jeans into Penelope’s former, now her, two-tone Lucchese boots, noticing for the first time how well the two tones of her two belts match the two tones of her boots: special occasion all around, she thinks.
From outside the room, Stef and Erica call out to Amy. They tell her to sit down, and to close her eyes.
“Ta daaaa!” the college women exclaim as they show Amy their costumes for the evening.
“Oh. My. God.” Amy cracks up. Stef and Erica are wearing equestrienne outfits. Stef’s beautiful long blond hair cascades onto the shoulders of a silky red blouse. Her swan-white jodhpurs run crisply into tall black equestrienne boots. Erica’s outfit—a white shirt under a saddle brown suede vest, with her long blonde tresses falling atop both; chocolate brown equestrienne boots supporting a pair of wide belt-looped tan jodhpurs cinched with a wide, shiny chocolate brown-colored leather belt with a 3/4 –circle weathered bronze buckle; a salmon-colored silk scarf tied around her neck, and additional ones around each wrist—Amy recognizes both outfits immediately:
“No WAY are you guys dressing like Penelope for Halloween! What a riot!!” Amy exclaims, as the admires the attention to detail that the women paid—Stef to Penelope’s Boot-Scoot Barn Dance outfit, Erica’s to Penelope’s “riiiiiding” outfit the day after the barn dance—also the day of Amy’s “adventure” with Penelope.
“Oh, cool, you like them,” Erica responds. “We weren’t 100% sure you would, you know, considering their inspiration.”
“Are you kidding? You guys look AWESOME in them and besides, we TOTALLY got the best of that bitch Penelope and her BFF Heather that next day.” Amy pauses for a second and asks, “Whatever happened to the pictures that Jim took of those two, bound, gagged, topless and with that dildo thing between them?”
“Oh, not much. Jim kept them on his digital camera. No need to print or publish them anywhere; Penelope knows we’ve got them, and that threat’s more than enough to keep her in line,” Stef states.
“Weren’t these outfits expensive? I mean, I’m sure that bitch Penelope spent a ton on hers,” Amy queries.
“Well, a little, but we didn’t go full-blown designer fashionista on them,” Stef responds. “We’re both taking that riding—excuse me, ‘riiiiiding’ class—at the stable next semester, and needed the outfits. When we were shopping for equestrienne outfits we bought some basic everyday riding ones when we remembered what Penelope had worn that weekend. So bought outfits just like hers too! It’ll be a hoot tonight when she sees us wearing them at the party tonight, mocking her mercilessly.”
Amy’s heart races, “Shit! SHE’S going to be at the party tonight? Are you sure?”
“Ames, yes, EVERYONE will be there tonight. But don’t worry; there’s NOTHING she can do since Jim has those digital pictures of her. She knows that if she does, Jim will e-mail them to the school paper. Hell, he’d also blow them up and put them up on every lamppost on campus PLUS put them on the Internet. She’s a bitch, but she also cares about her reputation entirely too much to try anything stupid.”
“Good to know,” Amy replies, still a bit nervous at how she’s going to react if she bumps into Penelope at the bar.
The women finish getting ready. Amy puts on her perfume, and finishes her hair in the same down-‘do that she wore last time on campus with Brett, topping it with her tan suede cowgirl hat. The women then all walk outside into the chilly and misty autumnal air and walk the few blocks straight to the Library bar, which, for a $10 cover charge, they get pizza, hot dogs, chicken fingers, penne pasta, marinating Italian beef, and fries to eat; cheap beer, cheaper wine, and bottom-shelf well drinks to consume for three hours, 7:00 – 10:00pm. Everyone’s dressed in Halloween costumes, some better than others. The women all eat their fill of the college staples. Amy eagerly awaits Brett’s arrival and bites her lower lip in anticipation of the evening’s planned proceedings.
Jim walks in, with his younger cousin Brett right behind him. Jim, ever the wisecracker, is wearing aluminum foil around his body, with a bunch of Barbie Dolls attached: a Chick Magnet. True to his promise, Brett is wearing a loose-fitting black-and-white striped prisoner’s outfit and is carrying a plastic ball and chain over his shoulder. Amy jumps out of her chair and runs to meet him. She grabs both his hands and holds them tight, interlocking fingers low at their sides, exactly the way they held hands when saying goodbye on Jim’s fraternity house’s screen-in porch, some five weeks before. They kiss repeatedly, but lightly, surrounded by a lot of people and barely buzzed.
The evening proceeds with the usual college Halloween rowdiness: Jell-O shots, games of quarters, body tequila and the like. Amy tells Brett not to drink too much with a coy wink; Brett, well aware of the potential pitfalls, agrees and merely sips his beers. Amy wants to retain her full sensatory capabilities and does the same. The couples congregate near the back of the bar, in a booth and nearby table somewhat far from the downstairs bathrooms. Amy notices the great many international students attending the event, what with the French, German, Spanish, and—she guesses—Chinese she hears while passing through the crowd. She likes the idea that so many students from around the world may be experiencing their first American Halloween.
Meanwhile, Penelope arrives with her boyfriend Charles and best gal-pal Heather in tow. Penelope, dressed as an outlaw, has richly appointed herself in cool-weather black and chocolate brown: black Stetson with a cream-colored band, creamy white silk shirt opened low enough to show off her ample cleavage, black patterned bandanna kerchief around her neck, western-style necklace with silver and turquoise pendants, black leather vest, chocolate brown tooled leather gun belt & holster with a real ivory-handled antique gun; black tooled leather western belt with an open square silver buckle and cream-colored stitching along the edges; and an exquisite pair of chocolate brown leather pants tucked into richly designed tall black snip-toe cowgirl boots, with plenty of wide white inlay and stitching along the shafts. She completes her outlaw disguise with rich chocolate brown leather gloves, a felt Lone Ranger-type mask over her eyes, and a straight-hair “Page Boy” auburn-colored wig, her long blonde tresses tucked tightly under it.
Heather dresses as Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, complete with shiny nylons, and white cowgirl boots with black heels. Charles dresses as an orange-clad prisoner, his face smeared with Vaseline and dark powder to make him look road-weary, ostensibly having escaped due to his outlaw girlfriend’s jailbreak. (Heather, evidently, provides encouragement from the sidelines to the pretend-criminals.)
Penelope, making her usual grand entrance, surveys the entire now-noisy bar. As she looks around, the crowd conveniently opens and, in the distance, she sees Stef and Erica wearing outfits in her own equestrienne style from those several weeks ago: it infuriates her.
“Fucking bitches,” she mutters under her breath as her blue eyes narrow to a laser-like glare. She thinks, “Those low-class sluts think they can mock me. They are fucking toast.”
Penelope then sees Amy and how Amy’s wearing her very distinctive old pair of expensive boots, the ones left behind in Stef’s bedroom three years before. “No fucking way!” she yells out, but in the crowded and noisy bar, no one hears or pays attention. Instead, she approaches her boyfriend Charles, who has just returned with drinks, and asks him whether his bar-back/bouncer friend Dewey is working tonight. Charles replies that he is.
“We’re going to need his muscles for a second,” Penelope replies, as she quickly hatches a plan to get back at her former friends. ”I need him to prop open the exit door, the one at the end of the hallway after the ladies room door. And you and I have to stay as far as part as possible for the moment,” she warns Charles. “I don’t want them knowing it’s me in this costume.”
Penelope did look fantastic of course, but with her outlaw mask on and her blonde hair hidden under an auburn wig, a person would have to get up close and hear her bitchy voice to recognize her. Dewey, a 6’5, 300+ pound ex-football player and good friend of Charles’, knows about how Charles had found Penelope and Heather bound, gagged, topless, and humiliated in the barn last month, the day after the dance there. He also knows that Penelope and Charles have been plotting revenge these past five weeks and is more than willing to assist; while no gentleman, he’s always preferred blondes and succumbs to their persuasion easily.
The leather-clad costumed outlaw woman approaches Dewey; Dewey can tell it’s Penelope by her voice once she asks him to prop open the back exit door. She hands him her drink and asks him to wait just a second. Heading out that door, she hurries to her Mercedes CLK 230 Kompressor Cabriolet convertible coupe parked in the lot across the street. She opens its trunk and removes a gym bag from it. Walking back to the exit door, she gingerly places the bag next to the door’s opening side, right behind a roll-away cart to keep it out of sight.
Penelope thanks Dewey, who hands her back her drink. Drink now in hand, she examines the hallway set up and notices the extra-wide fire-proof door that shut off access to the hallway in case of fire. She asks Dewey whether this door almost always stays open to provide easy access to the women’s bathroom down the hallway. He tells her it does and she whispers his role in her plan to him.
Beyond the women’s bathroom door sits another door to the storage closet, normally only open after the bar closes, to get out cleaning supplies and the like, with stairs to an additional storage basement, full of shelving units for storing long-term dry goods and other non-perishables. Penelope quickly hatches her plan and knows how she’s going to pull it off. She methodically walks up the staircase and sets herself in a good position to view Stef and Erica and wait for them to go to the downstairs bathroom together.
With the clock now reading 9:00pm, Amy has been talking, flirting, dancing, sipping her drinks, and stifling her urges for two hours. The crowd has raised the bar’s noise level and temperature; in addition to wiping her brow and neck with her back-pocket bandannas many times, Amy’s internal thermometer has been rising too. With her excitement having reached a fever pitch, she’s dying to tell Brett she’s going to head over to Jim’s room and freshen up: jump in Jim’s bathroom shower, put on some fresh panties and the silk teddy she’s carrying with her in her handbag, apply some new perfume, and get ready to open a new chapter in her life. She’s going to tell Brett to meet her there in a half an hour. She tells Stef what she’s going to do, who replies,
“Go ahead, little sis,” as she gives her a knowing wink. “And congratulations: you’re going to have a blast—or maybe a couple,” giggles Stef. “Oh, and if you need it, I’ve got a light blue towel and a fuzzy cream-colored bathrobe that I keep there in Jim’s bathroom.” The gorgeous sisters hug each other. Amy goes to look for Brett, while Stef and Erica head over to the ladies’ bathroom.
Penelope sees their movement and signals Dewey. She makes a beeline for the bathroom hallway, and checks out the ladies’ room, and looks inside, finding it conveniently empty. She moves down the hallway to the exit door, pushes it open, reaches outside, and grabs her gym bag, and then ducks herself and her bag into the storage closet. The exit door slams shut.
CLOSED FOR REPARATIONS
Stef and Erica move toward the ladies room. Right before they arrive, Dewey double-checks and listens for activity in the women’s washroom. Finding none, he walks out of the hallway—whose tile floor had become slightly wet from the mist tracked in from outside—and closes the bathroom by putting up a yellow “Section Closed” sandwich sign in front of the fire door.
“Oh, crap, really? Stef asks Dewey, disappointed at seeing the blocked bathroom right before they arrive.
Erica continues, stepping up the flirtatiousness, “Can’t you just let the two of us use it? We’ll just take a second.”
Dewey continues his charade, and pretends to grudgingly allow them to use the bathroom. Thinking they had scored a coup, the pair passes through the fire-door. Dewey, again following Penelope’s instructions, prepares to direct all approaching bladder-filled women to the bar’s other ladies’ rooms.
Penelope listens to Stef and Erica’s conversation from a vent in the storage room. “Isn’t it so sweet that Amy and Brent are going to hook up tonight? I’m so glad they get to use Jim’s room; it’ll make it extra special to have a nice place for them.” The proverbial light bulb goes off over Penelope’s head; she knows exactly where Jim’s room is; having slept with a few guys in his fraternity, she’s heard them talk about the awesomeness of his bedroom suite.
She waits for the pair to exit the bathroom; Erica walks out first, and Penelope pounces! She grabs Erica by the left arm, pinning it, and grabs her right arm at the elbow. She pulls out her gun, shows it to Erica, and grits through clenched teeth, “Not a fucking word. Stand up against the wall with your hands above your head.” Penelope pushes her to the wall, awaiting her next prey, grabbing Erica by the throat to keep her quiet.
Stef walks out to see Erica standing, back up against the wall, hands up. “What the hell?! Erica, are you O—,“ she hurries over to her friend when she hears a familiar voice announce, “Not a fucking move, you bitch,” cocking the gun to Stef’s temple. Hands on top of your head.”
“Penelope, are you INSANE?! What the fuck are you DOING?!”
“Nothing much, really,” she snidely replies. What’s more important is what you’re GOING to do.”
“I’m not doing a goddamn thing for you, you freak!”
“Oh, but I think you are. You see, you two have got no way out. You can scream, but no one’s going to hear you through the fire door, which Dewey is blocking from the other side, and what with all the party noise.” Bluffing, Penelope continues, “And the door behind me? Locked down solid. You literally have no place to go.”
Stef knows full well that emergency exit doors don’t lock from the inside. She eye-motions first at Erica, then at the door as a sign for her to follow her, then she makes a break for it. She pushes Penelope hard to the side and attempts to sprint around her. She slips, however, on the damp ceramic floor and smack-lands onto the cold tiles, banging and dirtying her right knee, well short of the exit door. Erica never even got the chance to follow her.
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t tried that, Stef,” Penelope, recovered from the shove, taunts thru clenched teeth as she takes the wincing Stef by the back of her long blonde hair and pulls it back hard. Stef yells out, grimacing in double pain, both from her banged knee, and from Penelope’s hair-pulling.
Hearing the shout, Dewey immediately enters from the fire door. Penelope tells Stef, “Get up, you bitch.”
Stef slowly gets up and onto her unsteady feet. Penelope blocks the exit door and directs Stef and Erica toward the storage closet.
“Pick up that bitch Erica and take her downstairs,” she orders him. Stef’s eyes widen in horror as the ex-football player picks up Erica’s lithe frame and tosses her over his left shoulder with ease. His left arm encircles the back of Erica’s knees, touching the tops of her chocolate brown equestrienne boots; her blonde tresses falling messily between her arms, petrified from fright. He waits for Penelope and Stef to go first, knowing he needs to block any new escape attempt.
Penelope shouts to Stef, “YOU! Start walking. Hands where I can see them,” the gun-waving Penelope orders her, who, out of options, complies. Stef limps toward the storage closet as Penelope jabs the gun into her back and pushes her toward the storage door.
BASEMENT BOUND
“Take the stairs to the basement, gimpy,” Penelope orders Stef. Stef follows her orders and walks down the somewhat creaky wooden steps, holding the rail to support her injured knee, the wood of her equestrienne boot-heels making the first of many clonks. Penelope follows, grabbing her gym bag along the way. Dewey, with Erica over his shoulder, closes the door behind him and walks down the stairs to the basement storage area. Penelope motions to him to put Erica in one of the two large wooden chairs present. He sets the equestrienne-garbed co-ed in one of them. Looking around, Penelope finds plenty of handy lengths of tan-colored hemp ropes already hanging on hooks on a few of the wooden support columns: ropes that the bar uses for hanging college banners from the ceiling,. She takes a couple of the rope-coils down, smug at the serendipity of it all.
“OK, Miss Cheap Imitation Equestrienne Outfit,” Penelope, grabbing a roll of line and handing it to Stef, “Get to work.”
“Are you crazy?! You want me to tie her up?!”
“Either you do it or I do it, and I guarantee you don’t want ME to.”
“God, you’re fucking nuts,” Stef mumbles under her breath.
Hearing it, Penelope replies, “For that comment, I’m going to tie you EXTRA hard.” Stef decides to keep quiet from now on. Penelope instructs Stef on how to tie up her friend:
“First, tie the tops of her thighs to the chair, so she can’t get out of it. Now, run ropes just around her legs, just above her knees.” With Erica’s upper legs now tied and her lower legs facing forward toward the floor, Penelope makes Stef work on Erica’s upper body.
“Take off the silk scarves from around each wrist and hand them to me.” Stef does both. “Cross her wrists behind the chair, palm-over-palm. Now tie them tight.” Penelope continues. “Now run a rope from her wrists to the lowest rung and pull it taut.” Tears starting to well, Stef mouths “I’m sorry” to Erica who subtly nods her head in acknowledgment.
Seeing her display of sympathy, but obviously unmoved, Penelope spurts, “You’re sorry?! She couldn’t even mock me correctly; I was wearing gloves the day I tied up your slutty little sister in the barn! But good work so far, you bitch. I see you remember your rope work from your high school bondage-romps with Zach.” Stef seethes at Penelope’s mention of the boyfriend who cheated on her with Penelope but says nothing, fully aware of her current powerless position.
“OK, now run rope all the way around and above her wrists and around her waist, just above her cheap imitation belt. Tie it tight.” Stef complies, weeping at her misfortune. With Erica now firmly secured in the chair, both top and bottom halves, Penelope commands,
“Now tie her cheap brown equestrienne boots just below the tops. When you’re done with that, tie them at the ankles and run a rope from there to the nearest chair rung.” Stef completes all tasks.
“Here,” Penelope blurts out, as she hands Stef back Erica’s salmon-colored silk scarves, “Shove this one in her mouth. I’ve already rolled it into a nice little ball for you.”
Stef protests at the thought of gagging her friend, “Penelope, no one can HEAR us down here. You said so yourself.”
“Shut up, bitch! This is MY revenge for what you and your whiny little sister did to Heather and me in the barn a month ago! Now shove it in her mouth, and gag her with the other one. Tight!” Stef sighs, bites her lower lip, and completes Penelope’s instructions. Erica whimpers into her gags. “You shut up!” Penelope orders her.
“Good job, Stef. Now sit the fuck down.” Penelope orders Stef to the same kind of wooden chair that she’s moved behind Erica’s. “Hands behind your back! Cross ‘em.”
Penelope grabs a rope, and runs it around Stef’s wrists numerous times, tightly, to the point that Stef winces. She ties off the knot, and runs another rope to the lower chair-rung, which pulls Stef slightly backwards, arching her back and pushing out her beautiful 36Cs. Penelope then runs a rope around Stef’s arms, just above the wrist ropes, and around her torso just above the waist of her swan-white jodhpurs. Moving onto Stef’s thighs, Penelope ties a rope around them and around the chair-seat, then another around Stef’s lower thighs, just above the knee. Anxious, Stef fidgets in her chair. Penelope looks up at her, her auburn wig under her black Stetson shaking in annoyance, and warns her, “Stop it. You’re annoying the shit out of me.”
“Stop it or WHAT?! Or you’re going to tie me to a chair in the storage basement of a bar?!” Stef retorts angrily.
Calmly and silently, Penelope gets up, walks behind her, and goes into her gym bag. Pulling out a large black bandanna and a large white cloth, she rolls the cloth into a ball, walks behind Stef and yanks her hair back. Involuntarily Stef’s mouth opens and Penelope forcibly shoves the wadded-up cloth into it.
“Noo-mmmmmph!!!” Stef cries in vain as she feels Penelope quickly wrapping the black bandanna around her long blonde hair and between her thick red lips, securely locking the mouth-pack in place. She pulls it very tight, knots it once, then double-knots it for good measure.
“Or I’m going to tie you to a chair and GAG the shit out of you in the storage basement of a bar, that’s what. Oh, before I forget,” Penelope responds, as she proceeds to tie rope around Stef’s boot-tops, then around her booted ankles, adding another rope running to the bottom chair-rung, completing Stef’s tight tie to the chair. Stef tests her bonds; she can barely move at all.
Penelope now motions to Dewey, who had been observing the whole process with great pleasure. “Move the back of Erica’s up against this one,” referring to Stef impersonally. Dewey moves the chair so that the women’s bound wrists touch each other.
“Here’s how it’s going down,” Penelope explains, chuckling a bit at her unintentional double-entendre as she walks over to Erica and begins unbuttoning her vest and shirt. Erica shakes her head and yells “N-mmmph! N-mmmph!” but Penelope shoots her an icy glare and proceeds to unclick Erica’s front-clasp bra, and then pulls it wide open, displaying Erica’s perky boobs, fondling her breasts for a few seconds, and tweaking her elongating nipples.
“Mmmmmph!” Erica protests, as she feels her racing pulse heading straight toward her aureoles, making them feel like the outside of a pounding bass drum.
Stef can’t see what’s going on behind her, but quickly guesses based on Erica’s muffled cries, and then with certainty when Penelope comments on the cool basement temperature, “Now it’s YOUR turn to put on your party hats.”
Walking over to pick up her gym bag and then in front of Stef, Penelope moves forward and straddles her on the chair, making sure to sit extra hard on Stef’s injured right knee. “Mmmph!” Stef screams in pain into her thick gags. Penelope proceeds to unbutton Stef’s red silk blouse, pulling it wide as possible, then undoing her red bra’s front clasp, pulling it wide too, to reveal Stef’s lovely pair.
“Damn, Stef, you STILL got it!” Penelope pays extra attention to Stef’s boobs, cupping each hand under each breast and licking out her tongue around the edges of her mouth and mock display of lip-smacking goodness. Stef feels her nipples pulsate, and it angers her that Penelope is arousing her. Penelope smiles a knowing half-smile.
“While I decide EXACTLY what humiliation to put you two sluts through, I think it’s time you take a little nap,” Penelope coldly announces as she grabs two cloths from a plastic bag in her gym bag, dousing them with chloroform, and shoving them Stef’s and Erica’s faces.
“I’ve got a little slut sister’s party to crash.”
The helpless pair hears this last threat but cannot protest much; Erica’s head drops first, but Penelope holds the cloth on Stef’s face an extra long time till she’s made sure her former best friend—now victim—has succumbed.
“Sleep tight, you little bitches,” Penelope snidely remarks as she walks up the creaky stairs and turns off the lights, plunging the room into near-total darkness. The only light remaining comes from an illuminated exit sign.