REHEARSAL

REHEARSAL

Brian Sands

Unknown French movie, Bindher

Chapter 10 Crisis

Laura settled back to watch events unfold. It was all she could do. Alison had secured her neatly to the chair. No fuss, no elaborate network of ropes like those enmeshing the Director and the Playwright. Those two older women for the most part sat quietly, enclosed in their own worlds, unable to see or hear as well as roped up tightly and silenced with the cloth gags that invaded their mouths. From time to time one of them wriggled and whimpered experimentally, but generally they sat motionless, subdued by their occlusion.

Having finished with Laura, Alison had turned to the two directors and removed their ear phones, only to pad them with cotton wool and tape before replacing them over the heads of her willing prisoners.

‘They probably couldn’t hear much before,’ said Alison in an aside to Laura, ‘but now they definitely won’t hear a thing.’

Once again there was a sense of mystery in Alison’s words that Laura could not understand. Why was it so important that Eloise Mordaza and Delia Biancoflore had to be blindfolded and made deaf in that way? Surely keeping them bound and mute was enough. The only explanation that Laura could think of was that Alison did not want the Playwright or the Director to see Clive when he arrived.

Thin tendrils of panic began to wind themselves around Laura’s chest. For the first time since being tied up once again into the chair, she fought involuntarily against her bonds. But the wrist ties were secure. Although they did not hurt much, she knew that there was no way she could slip her hands free.

There was literally very little room to move either, because of the way she was anchored. She was not in the network that was to become famous in the eyes of the two directors, but several coils at her waist, across her lap and around the chair’s seat, held her in place. The ropes too below her breasts and above them so that her arms were trussed, did an efficient job of making her stay put. Her legs were bound now, above the knees - tan stockings and suspender belt showing, and sometimes when she moved a little more peeping beyond that - and below the knees as well as at her ankles. The ties around her legs below the knees were fastened to one leg of the chair so that she could not kick about.

Perhaps by rocking the chair from side to side, Laura could tip it over, but that would achieve nothing beyond a frightening fall, a heavy bounce on the carpet, and additional anguish. Laura resolved that she did not have to undergo more discomfort than was absolutely necessary. What a different turn their innocent rehearsal had taken! And all because of a conniving con rat bastard of a man!

Laura bit down angrily on the silk cloth rolled in her mouth. She made sure to push the gag hard against the back of her teeth so as not to choke, and it was not too uncomfortable except when she forgot and tried to open her mouth against the pull of the tape. It kept her remarkably quiet. All she could do was make a faint humming noise through her nose and her sealed lips, not that a scream, however loud it was, would ever be heard through the thick walls of Alison’s house, from below ground in this basement suite.

Alison paced back and forth, glancing alternately at her wrist watch and the wall clock with a worried frown. ‘Come on, come on Clive,’ she muttered under her breath.

With a decisive air, she walked to the refrigerator and from it took a small bottle of tonic water and some ice. Then she turned to the kitchen sink where she dropped the ice into a long glass, poured a small measure of liquid into it from a bottle of good-quality gin that stood on a shelf, and topped it up with the tonic water.

Oh no, thought Laura, not again! But Alison sipped the mixture delicately, put back the gin bottle where it belonged, and did not return to it. She looked across at Laura. ‘Got to steady my nerves,’ she explained apologetically. She gave no further explanation but sat quietly in one of the easy chairs sipping the drink and watching the door at the top of the steps.

It was surreal. In the basement suite three women sat trussed into chairs, silenced with mouth-filling gags, two of them blindfolded and wearing headsets, while the fourth woman sat back in an easy chair sipping a gin and tonic.

The period of silent waiting lasted for almost twenty minutes, by which time Laura found herself nodding off despite the discomfort of her bonds and gag. Eloise Mordaza the Director and Delia Biancoflore the Playwright continued to sit bound to attention in their chairs, their heads nodding forward like Laura’s. All three women had ceased struggling against the ropes and cunning knots that held them and gave themselves up to the boredom of waiting. In the case of the Playwright and the Director it was a question of when Alison would release them from their self-chosen experiment. As well as being unable to speak, they could see or hear nothing.

Laura was continually astonished at how matter-of-factly they were accepting their helplessness. But then, as far as they knew, they were in no danger. For Laura it was different. She stirred into wakefulness from time to time, fearful that Clive would make his appearance at any moment. But, as the minutes dragged on, Laura began to wonder, Has the rat fink got cold feet and is this very moment fleeing the state?

But there was no such luck. As the hands of the wall clock moved imperceptibly to show that it was now eleven in the morning, there came a knock at the door. Then the handle was tried and, when the door was found to be unlocked, the visitor entered. Laura watched the shadowed figure standing at the top of the steps with a mixture of loathing and fear.

ACT THREE, SCENE 5.

THE DRAWING ROOM, SOME HOURS LATER.

The room is empty, the lights dimmed. In the half-light a figure emerges from the secret passageway by the fireplace, which closes behind. The figure straightens up, and walks across the room to the doorway centre stage right. There is a click and the light comes on. It is GERTRUDE. She is dressed as she was earlier in the mannish suit. She wraps her arms around her chest and begins to pace up and down nervously. There is a soft knock at the door centre stage right using the same pattern of signaling as in the earlier scene. GERTRUDE steps quickly to the door and flings it open. A figure enters dressed in an overcoat, the face obscured by a hat. Over his/her shoulder is a wrapped bundle that wriggles occasionally.

GERTRUDE: You certainly took your time.

UNKNOWN PERSON: (Breathing heavily). Be quiet woman! There was a lot to do, and I had to wait till the house was clear of those idiots. Even a small woman is heavy when you’re carrying her down three flights of stairs.

GERTRUDE: Put her over here. (She indicates the sofa).

The UNKNOWN PERSON steps forward and lowers the bundle onto the sofa. The prisoner is wrapped tightly from head to foot in a large satin sheet held in place by a network of ropes. The ropes are black and stand out in contrast against the peach colour of the sheet.

UNKNOWN PERSON: I had to take precautions with Miss Beaucoeur here, to correct your sloppy rope work. Her blindfold was almost off. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust coming out of that closet you put her in, and that gave me time to mask myself. And she had almost worked her wrists free. A good thing you had her elbows bound. She was easy to subdue.

(The UNKNOWN PERSON straightens up and steps into the light, at the same time removing his hat. It is the DETECTIVE INSPECTOR).

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: That bed sheet was very convenient, and I had the ropes ready and waiting. (He looks down at the prisoner and addresses her). Struggle all you like, Miss Dolores Beaucoeur, there’s nothing you can do about those knots.

GERTRUDE: She’ll suffocate! And she’ll recognise your voice.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: I doubt she hears either of us at all clearly. There are several layers around her head and she’s scarcely conscious anyway. She’ll get enough air for the time being. (He bends over the prisoner in her cocoon and places his ear close to her occluded face). Yes, she’s breathing shallowly, and her breasts are rising and falling gently, and rather nicely. (He stretches an arm over DOLORES and his cupped hand traces the contours of the girl’s breasts and midriff without touching them, evoking a particularly lascivious image).

GERTRUDE: Rex, sometimes you’re revolting! I don’t know what I see in you, sometimes.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: You just answered your own question, didn’t you? Darling!

GERTRUDE: Darling! (They embrace and kiss, then stand a little apart, their arms still around each other, and look down at the bound form on the sofa). She’ll fetch us a pretty penny in ransom, and that will come with my inheritance too. When I have a chance to make changes to the Will.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: You haven’t retrieved it yet?

GERTRUDE: I had to wait until everyone left, couldn’t take a chance that the butler or that stupid cook would discover me. It was a stroke of genius for you to send everyone away to the village police station to officially record their statements. (She looks up at the ceiling). Do you think ...?

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: (Hurriedly). Not yet. We have to secure our pretty little kidnap victim first. I’ll take her to an old crofter’s cottage past the next village. She’ll be snug in the storage vault under the floor. No one will find her there, not even if they enter the place. The trapdoor is hidden and it’s thick and soundproof, and she’ll be very tightly gagged.

GERTRUDE: She shan’t come to harm, will she? I asked you before.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: Of course not. She has less value if she’s dead. That’s why I’m keeping my identity from her.

GERTRUDE: But she’s seen me. She knows I’m one of her kidnappers.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: Yes, but I have faith in your powers of persuasion. A young woman like that can be easily terrified into keeping quiet, not blabbing to the police. And even if she does blab, they’ll put Detective Inspector Rex Barker on the case.

GERTRUDE: (Laughing with relief, but showing a trace of hysteria as well). You think of everything, Darling.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: Of course. Remember this my love, you’re nothing without me. (GERTRUDE pouts but remains silent). I’ll take our little retirement fund here out the back way through the passages. One can’t be too careful. When she’s stowed away nicely in the car’s boot it will be plain sailing. Then I’ll come back for you and we’ll retrieve that Will. Don’t do anything on your own initiative while I’m away. We’re running a triple risk.

GERTRUDE: The old lady, the heiress, the Will. I understand, but ... Wait! Listen!

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR: What is it? Ahh ... (A distant sound of footsteps can be heard coming from beyond the door at lower stage right, high heels on stone paving) ...

Laura watched with rising horror and disgust as Clive descended the steps. The man walked slowly, purposely, savouring the impression he was creating on the two women watching from below. Alison rose to meet him. She was a little wobbly on her feet. And with only one drink, thought Laura angrily. I didn’t notice but she must have poured in half the bottle.

When he came to the last step, Clive waved ironically to Laura. Then he stopped and looked sharply at the other two women, bound and blindfolded, seeing them for the first time because their chairs were located further across the room and were partly obscured by the metallic storage cupboard.

‘What do you thinksh, Darling?’ Alison exclaimed chirpily. ‘The Director and the Playwright wanted to jo- join in the fun. So I trushed them up too.’

Clive looked uncertain. ‘Can they hear us through those things?’ he asked, taking in the headphones that the two women were wearing.

‘Of coursh not. Thash the whole joke. Stereo earphones normally wouldn’t blot out all shound. But I’ve gone one better. There’sh cotton wool taped under ash well. That will deaden the sound. They’re not to be hurt by the way. The silly women are having fun, believe it or not. They know nothing about you - about us - and, Clive Darlingsh, I don’t intend them to ever know. When they’re shet free it will all be laughed off. Ha ha. That hoighty toity Playwright might even put it in one of her playsh.’

Clive’s smile was a mixture of relief and menace as he turned his attention to Laura. ‘I see you’ve done a commendable job of trussing her up. That’s more or less as I had her. Her clothes are in that disarray I so much liked.’

‘I did it for you, Clive. But remember, when you’ve had your little fun with her, you’re mine!’

‘I won’t forget. But, hey, we can add to the fun and put her out of the picture temporarily at the same time. My car’s outside and there’s a warm boot waiting. Too warm for her to travel in that fine dress.’

‘I know. Ash a woman, I can tell you, Clive, that a shilk dress can become quite hot. But also, ash a woman, I can shee your motifs ... motivesseses clearly!’

‘We must make dear Laura as comfortable as possible ... I rather like that stunning half-cup bra and - .’

‘Her panties? Aha. Your whish is my command, as they shay, hic.’ Alison swayed a little as she advanced upon Laura. ‘Lashy, an’ white. An uplifting. I let her chansh her clothesh. Then we joined in with the Director an’ the Playwrightsh.’

Laura was beginning to wonder whether Alison was entirely sane. Her friend had either taken far too much to drink this time, or she was over-acting outrageously for some childish joke.

Alison was continuing, button-holing Clive as she spoke. ‘You’ll fin’, hic, sh- stockings an’, an’ shushpender belt. Nicesh.’

‘Let’s see then.’

Clive’s fingers deftly unhooked the remaining buttons of Laura’s dress, from immediately above her belt down to the curve of her thigh revealed by the buttons that were already undone. He was breathing heavily.

Laura looked up at Alison, who was standing back watching the scene closely. Alison’s face was unreadable as Clive continued with his fumbling.

‘I see here,’ muttered the man, ‘The belt’s the key to the treasure chest. Nya-ha-ha.’

The belt was of soft wide leather stitched over with silk that matched the dress. The horrible man’s right, thought Laura in a near panic, for the whole dress fell apart in slow motion as the belt was unbuckled and drawn away. The sensuous fabric slid to either side over her shoulders and her thighs to reveal the new lace bra and string panties, the suspender belt with its small red bows, and the tan stockings. Clive stood completely still, devouring Laura with eyes that looked as though they would pop out of his face.

Alison watched silently, her arms folded. The fingers of one hand drummed warningly on an elbow.

With a palpable physical effort, Clive took on a business-like mien. ‘Okay, Ally, let’s truss up our little friend here for travelling. You won’t be hurt,’ he added to Laura as he began to untie the ropes that held her to the chair. ‘Just put on ice for awhile, long enough for us to get out of the state. Right, Ally?’

‘Right,’ agreed Alison in a tone that did not betray much enthusiasm for the idea. Clive was so intent on untying his victim that he did not notice her lack of response.

Laura was not completely freed. It was more a matter of changing ropes into new configurations. The first thing Clive did when the bonds that held the prisoner to her chair were released was to push Laura to her knees. Laura’s legs were still bound. Holding her firmly by her hair, Clive plucked the silk dress off her shoulders and down her freed arms to float in a wave on the floor around her. Laura’s arms were then pulled to her back and bound at elbows and wrists without further delay.

Clive fell back and mopped his brow before setting about the next stage. This was to untie the ropes at Laura’s knees. The move allowed him to unfasten the stockings from the suspender belt and roll them down to the girl’s bound ankles.

‘Nice, but a leetle more flesh showing is even nicer.’ The man closed his statement with a porcine snuffle.

The suspender belt itself was tossed aside. When Laura’s ankles were freed, Clive removed her stockings completely, crossed her ankles and re-tied them.

Laura was now sitting on the carpet at Clive’s feet, bound economically but very tightly at three places, her elbows, wrists and ankles. And now that she was clad only in bra and panties, thin, semi-transparent lace was all that lay between her and complete nakedness. Laura felt more helpless than when she was trussed up in all her clothing, but it was more a matter of degree. Vulnerability was what she experienced above all, and that was obviously Clive’s intention. She could do or say nothing about it. Her gag had been left untouched.

‘Nearly finished with her, eh Ally?’

‘Hmmm.’ Alison was still uncommunicative.

Clive pushed Laura face down onto the floor and a length of rope was attached from her wrists to her ankles. It was tightened sufficiently to bend her knees back in a half-hogtie. The man grinned down into Laura’s face. ‘Don’t worry, Lalla,’ he stressed her nickname ironically, ‘It’ll be hands to butt when you’re in the car. You’re easier to carry this way, when there’s a little more play in your legs - with your legs too,’ he added as he ran his hand appreciatively along the calf and thigh of one leg.

Alison bent close, pushed Clive’s hand away, and checked Laura’s ropes, testing them where her elbows had been so tightly bound that they were touching. When she straightened up, she scooped Laura’s silk dress into her arms. ‘This is such a beautiful dress, I think it’sh my turn to wear it,’ she slurred. And Alison walked unsteadily towards the bathroom.

‘I’ll make her gag more secure,’ Clive called after her, ‘Then we’ll be ready to leave.’

The duct tape still covered Laura’s lips and face. The wadding was still embedded in her mouth. Clive ran a finger over the tape, tracing the outlines of Laura’s lips beneath it. He pressed a finger thoughtfully against the girl’s cheek, feeling the small bulge of the packing in her mouth.

‘They say don’t fix something that ain’t broke,’ he murmured half to himself, ‘but there’s a couple of leetle improvements I can make.’

Clive walked to the pile of cloth near the kitchen and selected a piece of silk. When he retraced his steps, he held a dispenser of white medical tape as well. The duct tape was stripped painfully from Laura’s face and the additional wad of silk was packed into her mouth against the sodden ball of cloth already there. Laura tried to resist but it was useless to fight against Clive’s strong hands. In a short time the fresh layer of two-inch wide tape was strapped tightly across cheeks and lips. Laura retched faintly and shook her head from side to side. Clive ignored her distress.

Instead, he did the finger test against Laura’s cheeks again and grunted with satisfaction. He followed this by trapping the tape in place, tying a black silk scarf over it and around Laura’s head. He pulled it very tight before making the final knot. The silk clung smoothly to Laura’s face and compacted her mouth and jaw around the packing. Its pressure made the tape adhere even more firmly to her skin. Her lips strained uselessly against it.

When Alison stepped back into the room, she was wearing Laura’s blue silk dress. Laura felt angry that her friend could be so self-centred and vain at such a moment. But, as Alison walked towards them, she could not help admiring the sight as the silk swung and shimmered about Alison’s legs and thighs. Clive was laughing, and she realised that he believed the appropriation of her clothes by Alison was adding to her humiliation. Laura shrugged mentally. She and Alison had often shared their nicest clothes. All the sight did was to make Laura file a nascent plan for a new shopping expedition in the back of her mind.

... Whenever I get out of this whole mess, she reminded herself bitterly. Okay, he’s not going to hurt me. But how long am I to be held like this? Will I be kept bound and gagged for days before they leave the state? She did not relish the idea.

And then her heart lurched with a new fear as Clive withdrew something from his pocket that appeared to be a large piece of black material of some kind.

‘One more leettle thing,’ he said over his shoulder to Alison.

A thick black silk hood was drawn down over Laura’s head, stifling her and cutting out all light.

Alison’s voice came as if from a distance. ‘She won’t be able to breathe!’

‘Nonsense,’ Clive’s voice, ‘It’s only thin silk over her face. She’ll breathe through that easily. She won’t see anything. That’s the point. And it cuts down on struggling.’

‘Where are you taking her?’

‘Not far from here.’

‘I’m coming too.’

‘Why? I’m just going to stash her away.’

‘All the same, I’m coming with you, Clive. I don’t trust you with Lalla tied up like that.’

‘But - yeah, all right,’ the man conceded grudgingly. ‘What about those two?’

‘You said yourself it wouldn’t take long. They’ll be happy enough here. They can’t do anything about it anyway.’

Unnoticed by Clive and Alison, Laura gave a sharp intake of breath. My god Ally, how can you be so callous? Not for the first time, Laura asked herself, what on earth was Alison up to? She knew quickly enough how it applied to her.

Laura was picked up very familiarly by Clive and carried as an adult carries a child. She identified the slope of the steps by the movement of Clive’s body and his heavy breathing, which seemed to be not far from her face. Her skin goose-pimpled as she felt the cool air of Alison’s garage. There came the sound of the boot being opened and she was laid down on her side on a rug of some kind.

True to his threat, Clive now tightened the rope connecting Laura’s ankles to her wrists, putting her in a full hogtie that stretched her body back. She could feel her breasts straining in the half cups and flinched when Clive’s fingernails traced patterns over the exposed mounds. Then came the muffled thud and implosion of air as the lid of the boot slammed shut.

They’ve hidden me away neatly, thought Laura as the car began to vibrate with the starting of the motor. As the vehicle rocked slightly, she added, no one can see because they carried me into the garage from inside the house, and Alison installed electronic folding doors. The rocking of the car ceased, telling Laura that they had now pulled off the driveway onto the road. Then the rocking started again, but this time its nature changed subtly and, when the car stopped abruptly, throwing Laura to one side, she knew they were on their way. Probably for a red traffic light, she thought.

The helplessness of being thrown from side to side without being able to brace herself was unbearable. At least the hogtie keeps me pretty well fixed, she thought wryly. The car’s motion settled down. Whoever was driving was improving. The gentler motion helped Laura relax a little in her bonds. But her back and shoulders screamed with pain and her arms were growing numb with the cutting of circulation at her elbows.

Mercifully, the journey was short. Laura, now almost unconscious from pain and lack of air, felt herself being lifted and carried again. There were no recognisable sense impressions this time as she drifted into and out of consciousness until she found herself lying on her side once more. It felt as though she was on a mattress. The hogtie was released but she was left where she lay, her arms still numb and in pain, the hood and the gag still in place.

Laura must have languished there for little more than fifteen minutes, her skin goose-bumping again in the cool air of the place where she was being held - another cellar of some kind? - when she heard a muffled sound that she identified as the door to the room where she lay being opened and closed. Thoughts of Clive returning to have what he called ‘some fun’ with her sent a shudder of revulsion through her almost naked body. Fearfully Laura raised her head and mewed through the gag.

Chapter Eleven

Fortier, Jolly Roper