The Surprise Gift
Fiction by
Frank Knebel
With grateful thanks to all the readers, especially Jeb, Gillian and Cordelia
The brunette at the end of the bar sipped her drink and glanced at the clock. Its face was difficult to see with all the artificial pine boughs, blinking colored Christmas lights and strings of garland hanging on the walls and along the shelves and woodwork. But from the light traffic in the foyer that connected the restaurant to its bar, she could tell that the dinner hour had not yet begun. Pickings were still slim. She could wait.
The woman was in her early thirties and, by any standards, an eyeful for any man. Dark brown curls framed her grave, sensual and attractive face. She was not very tall, about five-foot four, which probably made her seem small and delicate despite the prominent curves displayed by the snug-fitting white turtleneck sweater she wore. A dark bronze medallion on a thick chain dangled invitingly between her breasts. The fairly tight black knee length skirt displayed equally well the curves of her hips, behind and well shaped crossed legs in nude colored hose. From her small ears, hung large earrings that matched the medallion, the sizable hoops dangling low enough to brush her slender shoulders as she swung her head to look around the room with pleasant hazel eyes.
Though there was more than a hint of advertising in the woman’s choice of clothing, she seemed demure enough on the corner stool, sizing up the clientele of the place. Three men in power suits sat together peering at a laptop computer on the table in front of them, loudly discussing the importance of some sales reports. A middle-aged couple occupied a nearby table and another couple, slightly older, was watching A Christmas Story on the television over the bar, smiling and exchanging quiet words. There was also a good-looking man, slightly younger than she was, sitting alone at the bar. The woman stole anxious glances at him from time and noted that he frequently checked his watch. After one such check, he looked up to see a young woman hurrying up to the glass doors that led into the foyer. She waved at him. Smiling, he slid off his stool, dropped a bill on the bar and went to join her. The woman at the bar sighed.
A few more people began coming in. The woman became very alert. Any time now.
Another middle aged couple appeared at the door and called to the couple at the table. The waiting pair picked up their drinks and coats and joined their friends. As they walked toward the front door of the restaurant a solitary man entered the bar. He brushed the snow from the shoulders of his overcoat and unbuttoned it, revealing a sport coat and tie rather than a suit. She liked that. Not stuffy like the three one-minute managers playing with their computer. The woman looked him over again. He noticed and smiled at her. She looked down quickly. It was important to pretend that she was not used to doing this. He put his overcoat on his arm and sauntered over next to her.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.
She looked up suddenly, as though surprised by his presence.
“Why no, it isn’t.”
“Mind if I sit here?”
She checked his expression. He wasn’t being obvious or pushy. She liked that too.
“It’s always nice to have company,” she said.
He slid onto the seat, dropping his coat on the stool on the other side.
“Oh, you’re not waiting for someone?” he asked.
She giggled and looked into her glass again.
“No. Do I look like I am?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “It’s just that it’s hard to imagine a beautiful woman drinking alone so close to Christmas.”
The bartender appeared in front of him.
“Yes, sir?”
The man looked startled. It seemed to take him a moment to remember any alcoholic beverages.
“Oh… uh… Scotch and water, I guess. Johnny Walker Black if you have it.”
“We do, sir,” said the bartender turning away.
“Just a minute,” the man called. He turned to the woman. “May I buy one for you?”
She looked up and blushed, then pushed her empty glass toward the bartender.
“Same for me, I guess.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the bartender taking her glass.
She smiled at the man.
“Thanks, mister…”
“Spalding,” he replied extending his hand. “Al Spalding. I’m in sporting goods.”
She took his hand and hesitated a moment.
“Laura Smith.”
The pause had been sufficient to mark this an evident lie.
“It’s very kind of you,” she continued haltingly. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m the kind of girl who goes around looking for men to buy her drinks.”
“I understand.” He pointed at her left hand. “After all, a married woman doesn’t have to.”
She blushed and glanced in alarm at her ring, unconsciously covering her left hand with her right as she searched for something to say. After a few moments she put a hand to her temple and hung her head.
“Oh…” she mumbled. “I’m so embarrassed!”
He laid a reassuring hand on her arm.
“No need to be,” he said gently. “It’s a tough time to be alone, even if it’s only for a night or two. Your husband’s away?”
She nodded, still keeping her eyes down.
“Yes. And it’s hard for me. I mean he was so attentive when we were first married. But now…”
She was interrupted by the arrival of the bartender with their drinks. Before she could begin any gloomy story of marital unhappiness, their attention was drawn to the television screen. A little boy had just stuck his tongue to a frozen flagpole. They both laughed at the boy’s alarm and the dumbfounded reaction of his friends.
“That’s better,” he said, gazing at her. “You’re quite lovely when you smile.”
She flushed deeply then smiled gratefully at him.
“Thanks, Al.”
They chatted amiably for a while. She emptied her glass faster than he did. He signaled to the bartender.
“Oh, no!” she protested. “I’d better stick to ginger ale. I have to drive, you know.”
“I could drive you.”
She shook her head.
“Then my car would be here and I wouldn’t have a way to get it. No. It’s ginger ale for me.”
“Have it your own way.” He turned to the bartender. “One ginger ale, please.”
The man waved in reply and went to work.
The woman stole a look at the man beside her. Though he had caught her on a couple of details, he had not moved away nor had he been outraged at her. Perhaps there was still a chance.
“Oh what you must think!” she murmured, shaking her head as she spoke. “A bored suburban housewife sitting around in a bar trolling for men.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a little bored sometimes.”
Whatever he thought, she noticed that his eyes were firmly fixed on the medallion bouncing between her breasts. She straightened her back to give him a better look.
When the bartender brought the drink, the man drew the woman’s attention to something in the movie. His hand lingered over her glass for a moment. He drew it back quickly when she turned to him to continue:
“I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of tramp or something.”
He shook his head.
“Not at all. I’m sure you’ve got your problems. You want to tell me?”
She looked shyly at him as she sipped her ginger ale.
“You do have a kind face,” she said. “Can I trust you?”
“I’m practically a Boy Scout.”
She giggled.
“I doubt that. You have any merit badges?”
“I can do all kinds of things: camp in the woods, tie knots, and navigate by the stars. And I can listen really well if a beautiful woman’s talking.”
She sipped her drink again. The eyes above her smile were just a bit bleary.
“That’s sweet,” she said. She shrugged. “What’s there to say? I got married real young and it hasn’t worked out like I thought. Hey, that Scotch was pretty strong.”
“It can be potent if you’re not used to it. And you drank yours fairly fast.”
She smiled at him again. Her words were starting to slur a bit.
“It was good though. Real tasty. Now what wash I shayin’?”
“Your marriage hadn’t worked out as you thought.”
“Oh, yeah. He’ss jus’ not innerested in me, y’ know? Thinks about his job alla time. Sell, sell, sell iss all he wants ta do. A super salessman he iss.”
“And he’s out of town right now?”
She nodded several times more than necessary.
“Big trip. Michigan, Ohio, Pittsburgh, Canada maybe. Won’ be back ‘til Chishmas Eve.” She looked at him, sadness and appeal in her eyes. “I’m all alone for two days an’ nights.”
“Well, you’re not anymore,” he said sliding off the stool and taking her by the arm.
The woman dropped unsteadily from the stool, aided by his hand. She gazed up at him, trying to focus her eyes.
“That’s awful nice of ya, Al,” she said. “I’ll show ya a real good time.”
“I know you will, Laura,” he said dropping a bill on the counter.
He helped her into her coat then watched her closely as he put on his own. She slipped her arm through his and leaned against him. The bartender wished the man a good night as they carefully navigated around the tables. They left the bar, crossed the foyer of the restaurant, and exited through a heavy wooden door, disappearing into the snowy night.
* * * * *
Into the dark, silent interior of the modest ranch came the scratching of a key being clumsily inserted into a lock and a futile clicking as the key was tried but failed to turn.
“Try turnin’ it th’ other way then,” said a woman’s muffled voice.
The key was turned again. This time the door opened and the couple on the small porch was silhouetted against the falling snow. The woman took a wobbly step inside.
“I tol’ ya it was th’ right key!” she said gleefully. She pulled the man inside, almost losing hold of his arm and falling over backward as she did.
“Careful there!” said the man, catching her hand.
When he was sure that she was firmly planted, he closed the door and helped her remove her coat.
“I gotta watch out for Scotch!” exclaimed the woman. “That stuff is dynamite!”
The man removed his coat then held both of them up to her.
“What should I do with these?” he asked.
She took them from him one at a time, studied them closely then tossed them onto a nearby chair.
“That’s that!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “Now let’s talk about us.”
They kissed long and hard. When she finally broke it, the woman sighed and laid her head on the man’s chest.
“Oh, that wass good!” she murmured. “It’s been a long time since I wass kissed like that. Hey! Whazziss?”
In wrapping her arms around him she had touched a bag he was holding between his arm and side. It was the size of a small gym bag or perhaps a large shaving kit.
“Just my emergency supplies,” he said with a smile.
Whatcha gonna do? Stop for a shave?”
She patted the bag. It was packed quite full, but the contents were fairly soft.
“It’s something to add to the romantic atmosphere,” he replied.
“Oh! I’ve gotta way t’ do that!”
She slipped from his arms and went to a wall switch near the door. When she flipped it, a lamp came on as well as the small colored lights of a six-foot Christmas tree by the sheer curtained window and several more strands of lights strung about the room. She turned off the lamp leaving the room bathed in the soft, multi-colored glow. She smiled and hurried back to his arms.
“That’s very nice,” he said appreciatively.
She pulled him down on the couch.
“You haven’ seen anything yet,” she whispered as she began kissing him again. “We’re gonna haf a really good time tonight.”
They kissed for a few more moments. When they stopped, the woman tried to look at him but had difficulty keeping her eyes open.
“But mebbe I better haf a l’il nap firsht.”
Her eyes closed and she slumped forward.
“Are you there, Baby?” asked the man softly. When there was no response he smiled. “Now let’s see what we can arrange for our bored suburban housewife.”
Slipping one arm under her back and shoulders and the other under her thighs he lifted her from the couch and carried her to the hallway. All the rooms were dark save one in which a small nightlight was burning. It was a good-sized bedroom, obviously the master. He lowered the woman onto the queen-sized bed and dropped his little bag beside her.
“First, let’s check out the goods,” he murmured. “And they look pretty good at that.”
He removed the medallion and its heavy chain from her neck and slipped it into his jacket pocket. The hem of the woman’s turtleneck was not tucked into her snug skirt, so he pulled it up and over her head to reveal the creamy skin of her torso and a tiny black bra hopelessly overmatched by her good-sized breasts. He hummed approvingly and worked to release her hands from the sweater cuffs. Removing her skirt, he found matching black panties under her pantyhose.
“You sexy little thing!” he said with a chuckle. “All dressed for the hunt, weren’t you?”
He reached under her arms with both of his and raised her to a sitting position against his chest. Without looking, he slipped a practiced hand behind her, unhooked her bra, then lowered her to the bed again. Motionless and silent for a moment, he gazed at her, finally reaching one hand to play with one of her nipples.
“Very nice, indeed,” he whispered. “And real too.” He looked at the flimsy bra in his other hand. “This’ll be a nice trophy.”
He stuffed the garment into his pocket with one hand while using the other to start peeling down her panties and hose. The sling-style shoes she wore were little more than soles with wide straps across the arches, thin ones at the ankles and two-inch heels. He slipped them off and examined them briefly.
“These are ‘intercourse me’ shoes if ever I’ve seen any,” he noted. “Well, tonight, my little oversexed vixen, you’re going to get your wish. But first, security. Over you go.”
He rolled the naked woman onto her belly and pulled her wrists behind her. A tug on the zipper of the little bag revealed it to be packed full of clothesline. He extracted a piece about five feet long and began looping it around her wrists. The woman stirred and mumbled something as he tied a secure knot.
“Not too tight I hope,” he inquired rhetorically. The woman hummed softly and lay still.
He rolled her onto her back again, now turning her so that her feet and legs hung over the edge of the bed. One rope was quickly circled around her ankles several times and cinched; another longer piece did the same to her legs just above the knees. He again raised her to a sitting position and made several coils about her arms and upper body, a couple turns above her breasts and five or six more below them. A separate rope was used around her waist and forearms, pressing her bound hands firmly into her derriere. The man sat beside her for a few moments, his arms around her as he admired her.
“Yes, sir!” he said softly. “I’ve got myself a real beauty tonight. And who knows: you might be kinky enough that you’ll enjoy this part. I hope you do enjoy it.”
He turned her face toward him and kissed her for several seconds. She was still out, so he carefully laid her on her side and took the case off one of the pillows on the other side of the bed. He was about to rise when he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll indulge a whim,” he said.
Her shoes were still on the bed. He put them back on her feet. Her legs looked even more shapely. After stroking the side of her face, he frowned.
“Better be safe.”
Taking another short piece of rope from his bag, he ran it around her bound ankles then pulled on the free ends. Her legs bent at the knees as her feet were forced toward her shapely rear end. When he ran the free ends around the loops around her wrists and tied them off, she was effectively hogtied. A last reach into the bag produced a bright red ball on a strap. He forced the ball into her mouth and fastened the buckle behind her head.
“There!” he said, with a grin. “Snug as a bug. Now let’s see what you’ve got here.”
He scanned the top of the nearby dresser, spotting a woman’s jewelry box. Several items from this went into the pillowcase. He opened some drawers and found a few more things for his bag: a man’s watch and some other jewelry. The man ignored most of the clothing but carefully searched under the contents of an underwear drawer.
“Bingo!” he whispered.
He drew out a wad of cash and added it to his loot. Satisfied that he had seen all that this room had to offer, the man quietly stepped into the hallway to search the other rooms.
On the bed the woman began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered a few times, then opened. She looked about dazedly, as though trying to figure out where she was. When she tried to move her bound limbs would not respond. She tried harder. Still nothing happened. With a start she looked down and saw her own naked body securely bound with ropes. She pulled hard at her hands and arms and grunted indignantly when she realized how thoroughly she had been secured. She threw back her head and wailed into the ballgag. The man appeared at the door.
“Anything wrong?” he inquired innocently.
She glared at him and wiggled violently, gesturing with head at her bound form.
“You want to know what it’s all about don’t you?”
She nodded emphatically. He walked over and sat beside her on the bed.
“I thought you were looking for a night of wild and kinky sex,” he said affably, unbuckling the gag.
She spat out the ball and licked the saliva from her lips.
“Well, I’d have appreciated you asking before trussing me up like the Christmas goose!” she said. “I’m all for a little adventure, but”--- she looked down at herself--- “isn’t this a bit much on the first date?”
He looked at her, smiling slightly. He pointed to her breasts.
“You seem to be enjoying it.”
She looked. Her nipples were quite hard. Her expression softened.
“Well, I can’t say that it isn’t kind of exciting,” she said kittenishly. “I mean, this is every woman’s dream, to be the object of overpowering lust and to have no choice but to submit. But couldn’t we have had some more foreplay first?”
“Oh. You mean like this?”
He began stroking her lush body with his hands, running them along her legs, hips and sides before playing with her breasts. She closed her eyes and sucked in a great breath of air.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
He leaned over and began kissing and nibbling her face, ears, neck and shoulders. She moaned with pleasure. He slipped his hand between her bound thighs and slowly caressed his way up to the dark thatch of hair at her mons.
“Oh, my God!” she whispered.
“I think you’re supposed to resist bravely and say ‘No! Please no!’” he corrected.
She opened one eye and smiled at him.
“Okay. If you’d rather.”
“It seems much more natural, under the circumstances, I mean.”
She closed her eyes again.
“All right.” He voice changed to pleading. “No! Stop! Please, let me go!”
“That’s the spirit!” he said. “Of course, if you get too loud I’ll have to gag you again.”
“You bastard!” she said louder, but with a slight smile. “You tie me up and think you can play with me. I’ll never give in! I’ll scream for help!”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said picking up the ballgag.
She opened her mouth for it when she noticed the bulging pillowcase on the chair by the door.
“What’s that?” she asked nodding in that direction.
He pushed the ball into her mouth and began buckling the straps.
“Oh, that’s your valuables.” She stared at him, uncomprehending. “It’s the stuff I’m stealing from you.”
Her eyes were wide with alarm and disbelief.
“Yeah. That guy who you claim doesn’t care about you seems to treat you pretty well here. You’ve got a lot of nice things, even if you don’t care about them. And after I’m finished helping myself to them, I’m going to help myself to you, Angel.”
She shook her head wildly, moaning into the gag, and thrashing convulsively at her bonds.
“It’ll be just the thing for a bored suburban housewife looking for a wild night. Why we could even---“
A phone was ringing in another room. The man was instantly alert.
“Should I answer it, Honey?” he asked.
The woman shook her head and hummed into the gag.
He stepped into the hallway to listen as an answering machine picked up after two rings. The woman was left alone. She heard him pick up the phone and speak. In a moment he was back in the doorway.
“Oh, we’re fine,” he was saying. “The Christmas rush has us a bit tied in knots, especially Debbie… Just a minute.”
Bill Morrison had dropped the role of suave thief. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at his wife on the bed.
“It’s your sister Becky. You want to talk to her?”
Debbie Morrison nodded emphatically and hummed into the ballgag. Bill sat on the bed beside her and fumbled at the buckle. Debbie urged him on, though unintelligibly.
“I’m doin’ my best,” he whispered, “but I have to keep my hand over the phone.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. Finally the straps came loose. He held the phone to her mouth and ear as she again cleared the moisture from her lips.
“Becky!” she cried. “It’s great to hear from you! How are things in Denver?”
The conversation went on for a few minutes. Now Bill was the one who rolled his eyes as he held the phone for his wife. She smiled at him and gave a couple of lascivious winks as she tried to disengage from the conversation.
“Sure, Hon,” she finally said. “I’ll call you back in about an hour. G’ bye.”
Bill pressed the button to hang up.
“Your sister has a wonderful idea about timing,” he drawled.
“And I think she knew what was going on too, the little stinker.”
“She knew about this?” Bill exclaimed.
Debbie smiled again.
“I don’t mean she knows all the details,” said Debbie. “But I think she knew that she’d interrupted some fun.”
Bill let out a relieved breath.
“The ‘Unlucky Pick-Up’ is one of my favorite games,” he said. “It makes a very nice present, even a few days before Christmas.”
“Well, since we were interrupted, we’ll have to have another try.”
Bill smiled at her.
“You give new meaning to ‘Baby, you’re the greatest’.”
“Now where were we?” Debbie asked coyly.
“I was just about to ravage the wanton housewife I think,” said Bill.
He dropped the phone and reached for the gag.
“Well let’s get to it, you beast,” she said opening her mouth.
He stopped for a last kiss before gagging her again. Debbie began to struggle and protest as her husband reached for her breasts.
The phone started to beep with the ‘off the hook’ alarm. It continued for several minutes.
Copyright © 2002 by Frank Knebel