It was a typical late summer day on the mid-Atlantic coast when I got off the plane. Even in the early afternoon the temperature was in the up 80ís and if anything it was going up overnight. A local company was having problems with the printing equipment we sold them six months ago. This wasnít my territory; the regular guy was on vacation. I picked up a rental car and headed out. I hoped it was something simple, it was Friday and I planned to spend the weekend at a local beach. I didnít get out this way often and I wanted to make the most of it.
I spent two hours crawling around the printer to find the defective part. It wasnít a part we normally change in the field -- in fact in the ten years Iíd been with the company this was the first time. After a few calls, I found what I needed. The kicker was that the earliest it would arrive was Monday morning. The gods must have been with me.
I left the plant in search of a motel near the ocean. Sometimes I wondered why I didnít move closer to the beach. I found a nice mom and pop place with rooms that opened right onto the beach. I changed into my shorts and took a quick dip -- the water was great. I lay on the beach for a while and then went back to my room. After a shower, I went looking for supper. According to the motel clerk there was a bar/seafood place about half a mile south. I set out on foot to enjoy the fine weather.
It was about six and the Trawler was filling up with a mix of locals and vacation folk. At one table, there were seven or eight of the local surfer crowd or at least that is what they looked like. Most of them looked like theyíd just stepped out of the movie ĎEndless Summer.í Yeah, Iím an old movie buff. The girls were tall, thin, with golden blond hair. They dressed in either cut off jeans or some version of the bikini. A few were barefoot, but most wore sandals. Behind them leaning against the wall were several surfboards. After watching them for a while, I realized that they werenít as young as I first thought. Indeed, I figure the youngest at about 25. I loved watching people. When you donít have a family, I was orphaned when I was two and never married, it can be fun watching how others interact. As soon as I finished dinner I moved to a smaller table between the bar and the surfer party opening the table for a larger party. One girl held my attention. She was sitting behind the group table and I couldnít see much of her, but I guessed she was in her late 20ís with black hair, dark eyes, a combination of a dark complexion and a deep tan that gave a hint of Mediterranean heritage.
The bartender put a soccer game on and I divided my attention between the girl and the game. Once she got up and went to the ladies room. I noted she was wearing a combination of cut offs, bikini top, and barefoot. No longer behind the table her high cheekbones, slim figure, and long legs led me to wonder if she was a model. We made eye contact and she smiled. Her gaze was honest and frank. She didnít seem embarrassed that I was watching her, giving my theory that she was a model more credence. About ten thirty, the game ended and I was ready for a nice walk on the beach before bed. First, I needed a trip to the menís room. As I came out the door, I nearly collided with the surfer girl I had been watching, as she was coming out of the ladies room.
"Sorry," I offered.
Boldly she said, "Youíve been watching me."
"Of course, I love watching beautiful women and you are one of the most beautiful Iíve ever seen."
She studied me for a few seconds -- I think she was waiting for me to feed another line, but it hadnít been a line -- she was very beautiful!
"Thank you. Where are you headed?" She must have seen me pick up my change.
"Iím not sure, but a walk on the beach sounds good and maybe Iíll head back to my motel."
"Do want company? Iím ready for a walk too."
Surfer Girl waved to her tablemates as we walked past the table towards the door. Others waved back.
"So what do you do?" she asked as we started down the path to the beach. I explained, briefly, to her what my job entailed.
The moon was full and had just come up over the water. The temperature hadnít dropped a degree from earlier in the day and the night was balmy, but not humid.
"So what do you do? It must be more exciting then what I do," I asked her, fishing to see if she were a model.
"I took the summer off to come out here and hang out. Iím a lawyer, I specialize in environmental law. I had a big case last year, and I needed some time off. Iím not sure Iím going back to it in the fall. With the current regime in Washington, the whole environmental issue is going to hell. The question is, do I want to be run over by the political machine, or find something else to do, so I came down here to think. I used to spend my summers here with my folks; their cottage is a mile down the beach."
We walked in silence toward the water. I had expected a model working at Wal-mart to support her efforts and I got a burned-out lawyer -- go figure. We hadnít walked very far when we came to a large "NO TRESPASSING PRIVATE PROPERTY" sign. She didnít slow down, so we kept walking.
A few yards up the beach, she slowed. Her hand dipped in her back pocket and came out with a hank of clothesline. She handed it to me. Not knowing what it was for I took it and held it. "Whatís this for?"
She turned to me and studied me for a moment -- this was the second time and it was getting a bit unnerving; it was as if she was reading my soul. "I trust you." Humm, maybe I was right, she was reading my soul; "I think you are what Iíve been looking for."
I didnít know what to say or think. A few minutes ago, we were playing eye tag in a bar and now she was telling me she trusted me? Trusted me, for what? To be honest I was thinking about a nice way to spend a lonely night in a strange town. This was way beyond anything I could conjure up in my wildest fantasies.
"What is this for?" I asked.
"I donít really know myself. But I have this driving need and the only way I can fulfill it is with your help."
Man this was getting strange. I was beginning to wonder what Iíd
gotten myself into; she turned around and crossed her wrists.
Looking over her shoulder, she said. "Please."
Hesitantly I said; "OK... do you do this often?" I kept my voice light -- I was both teasing her and trying to figure out where she was coming from.
"Nope, never." That amazed me.
"You have never been tied up before."
"Oh, I didnít say that. Iíve never asked a guy to tie me up before. Iíve done a little self-bondage with cuffs and things, but nothing like this."
By the time she had finished explaining, Iíd lashed wrists together. I hadnít done anything like this before either, but I had been a good Boy Scout; she wasnít getting loose.
We continued up the beach. She wandered down to the water line and back, bumping her shoulder into me. I pushed back, with a giggle, she ran. I caught her easily and we kissed. A few hundred yards up the beach we spotted the glow of a fire hidden at the edge of the dunes. I expected her to stop and ask to be set free instead she headed right for the fire.
There were three couples sitting around the fire making out and drinking beer. They didnít seem surprised to see us. Clearly my escort knew them. "Hi guys!" she called as we approached. A chorus of ĎHellosí followed. A tall willowy blond girl stood up. She was topless and either she was to drunk to care or it didnít bother her to be seen by a stranger. She made her way around the fire, took surfer by the arm, and led her off into the dark. Her boyfriend, or whatever he was, tossed me a beer.
"Sit down man. Those two are always talking about something. Make yourself comfortable, this could take a few minutes or an hour."
"Thanks." I sat on a log someone had pulled up. The conversation picked up again. They were talking about how some of the locals had gotten in a fight with the tourist kids and a tourist was knifed. Then the night took and even stranger twist. One of the guys got up and dug around in his fanny pack. Frustrated he dumped the contents on the blanket next to his girlfriend. Out fell handcuffs, a gun, a pager, some sort of radio, and a few other things. He picked up the pager and squinted at it for a moment reading the message. Then he grabbed the radio as one of the girls stuffed everything back in the bag.
"P1 to dispatch."
"Go ahead P1." The radio crackled.
"You paged me."
"They need you at the hospital. That kid that got stabbed died ten minutes ago."
"Thanks, Iím on my way." Turning towards the beach he called; "Cindy, weíve got to go, get up here on the double."
A few minutes later Cindy jogged into the firelight. She was wearing my dateís top. Her boyfriend grabbed her hand and they followed the cop and his girl across the dunes.
"Well that about shoots this gig." The remaining girl said as she urged her boyfriend up. Shortly they followed the other four.
I went in search of Surfer. Once my eyes adjusted to the dark again I found her sitting on the beach with feet in the water. I expected Cindy to untie her, but she was still bound and now topless.
"Hi, how are you doing?" I squatted down beside her.
She glanced up at me, "Great. Cindy was getting cold and had to leave so she borrowed my top."
"Yeah there was something about a stabbing."
"I know, it happened down on the boardwalk; a bunch of college kids got drunk and started a fight. Someone stabbed the kid that started all the trouble."
She pulled her feet under her and very gracefully stood -- especially considering her bondage. Without a word she started wandering down the beach in the direction we had been going. I followed her, admiring the view in the moon light. A hundred yards down the beach she stopped and turned towards me.
"Please." She thrust her hips out, towards me.
"What," I thought I understood her, but wasnít sure.
"I got sand in my shorts and... please can you take them off."
Without a word, I reached out and undid the button at the top. Staring into her liquid eyes I lowered the zipper. With a shimmy, she tried to get the shorts to slide down, but they were too tight on her hips. I reached out and pulled them down, over her hips. From there they slid down her legs and pooled around her feet. Stepping back she lifted them with her foot and tossed them towards the sand dunes.
Nude, she just stood there for a minute gauging my reaction. I didnít think she could see my hard-on in the dark.
"Thanks, itís only a little way to the cabin." She turned up the beach.
This time I walked beside her and when she bumped my shoulder, I pushed her towards the water. We played like that until we rounded a point to find a cabin and a dilapidated pier sticking into the water. Beyond there were other buildings.
Turning toward the cabin she said, "There used to be a fishing village here, but as the fish stocks declined they went broke. My dad came down here about 20 years ago on vacation with my mother. They fell in love with the place and he literally bought the whole place. From that time, Iíve spent every summer here. The cabin isnít much, but it is enough."
A dim light shown through the window, three steps led to a wide porch. I held the door open for her. The cabin was larger then it looked in the moonlight. I found myself in a nice size living room with all sorts of artifacts adorning the walls. In the light I could see surfer girl was even more beautiful then I had expected. She turned towards me.
"Please untie me. I need to go to the bathroom." I did so without comment. She was right; I had no interest in hurting her. She disappeared down a hall that led towards the back of the house.
I wandered around the living room checking out the photos, buoys, hooks, gaffs and things I wasnít sure what they were. It was like wandering around in a fishing museum. A few minutes later I heard the bathroom door open, then silence.
"Hi," she startled me. I was studying a photo of a ketch with a pretty girl setting the sail. I was sure it was Surfer Girl. She held up a key ring with and a bag. "Iím going to put the keys here," She hung the keys on a nail next to the door. "The bag is for you."
She handed me the bag and it was heavy. I glanced at the bag and then looked at her. "Go ahead open it."
I did and pulled the stuff out. I laid it on the table between the windows looking over the front porch towards the sea. I found straps, two sets of leather cuffs, a collar, police handcuffs, several ball gags, several lengths of chain, and lots of soft rope.
"OK, whatís next?" I was still very puzzled by this girl woman. "Even more importantly, why are we doing this?"
She looked from my face to the stuff on the table several times. Finally, she said, "Iím sure you think Iím dumb or maybe stupid. You may be right. But... well Iíve had this fantasy since I was about 18 and in college. I had a strange dream about how I meet a stranger in a bar; he takes me home, and chains me to a piling as the tide is coming. I nearly drown, but he saves me and then makes love to me."
I thought for a moment, searching for the right words, before I spoke; "I donít think you are either dumb or stupid, you may be to trusting. I. . ." She interrupted me.
"You donít understand. This isnít all about trust. If you are the right guy, and I donít know that yet, then it will all work out. If you arenít and... and you kill me or hurt me, then it doesnít matter because I donít care anymore. I know what I want and I hope you will help me."
I let out a soft sigh. I didnít know if I was the "right one" or not. Hell I didnít know much about all of this -- maybe this was all a midsummerís night dream. For a moment I wondered if Shakespeare ever smoked grass. I didnít, but I was about ready to question my sanity. I began to wonder if running out the door and back to my room was the only thing to do. But Surfer Girl -- hell I didnít even know her name, fascinated me and this might turn out to be fun.
"OK, we can give it a try. As long as this is really what you want."
"I assure you it is."
I handed her the cuffs and watched as she put them on her ankles and wrists. When she was done I picked up the chains and locks.
"Letís go." I took her by the elbow and led her out the door.
The moon was higher now and gave good light as we walked down to the water. Near the old pier was a single piling. It was about six feet tall and about the same size as a telephone pole. It was right at the edge of the water. The beach had very little slope here and I judged that by the time the tide was full, most of the pole would be under water. The full moon would insure that the tide would be the highest of the month.
I had her sit with her back to the pole. I locked one end of the chain to her right ankle and then had her pull it up so her foot was on top of her left thigh. I took the chain around behind the piling and under a convenient bolt. I had her pull her left leg up the same as the right. Pulling the chain tight, I locked it to her left ankle. Even with her hands free she couldnít get up or move from the pole.
"Open!" I pushed the gag into her mouth and buckled it behind her neck. A small lock insured that it wasnít coming off. Lastly I locked her wrist to the chain hold her ankles to the piling so her arms were pulled back on either side.
"Ok?" I asked her. All she could do was nod. "Good. Can you get free?" She shook her head no. She had been pulling at the cuffs. "Well maybe you did choose the wrong guy. Itís just after midnight and the tide will be over your head as the sun is coming, the last thing you will see is sunrise. Not a bad way to go, enjoy. Itís been nice knowing you. I just wish we had gotten to bed, but hey, you canít have everything." I leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her eyes were wild and very frightened. I think she cared more about her life then she thought. I chuckled. "Good night Surfer Girl and ah, good bye."
I walked back up to the cabin and lay down on the couch. About three thirty I got up and went out. I could make out the dim outline of the piling in the glow of first light. The moon was on the western horizon. As I got closer, I could see her. Her head was up and the water around her shoulders. Larger waves washed completely over her head. I approached from behind the piling so she couldnít see me. I could hear her moaning and every time a wave went over head she would shake her head and blow through her nose. Of course there was little else she could do.
I waited until her head was turned and the asked; "Hi babe, miss me?" If she could have screamed or jumped up, she would have, but she was stuck. Time was short, so I didnít screw around unlocking her from the piling. I pulled her to her feet and locked her hands behind her back. I picked up the chain and pulled her towards the cabin. Near the porch was an outdoor shower. I turned it on and pushed her under it; it must have been hooked to the hot water heater because the water was warm.
The sun woke me. I turned to find Surfer Girl lying on her side facing away from me. Her wrists were still locked together behind her back, one ankle chained to the bedpost. I got up and went to the john. When I came back she had turned onto her back and was watching me a smile playing across her face.
"Thank you Sir, I donít even know your name."
"Itís Ralph. Whatís yours?"
She smiled, "Iíve never known a Ralph before. I need to take a pee and my name is Susan."
I dug around and found the key to the chain connecting her ankle to the bed. I released her and she headed for the bathroom.
An hour latter we walked up the beach, found breakfast, and began to discover each other. On the way, back we stopped by my room and made the bed look slept in. The weekend passed quickly. Monday I left her at the cottage and went in to fix the printer. Around lunchtime, I finished so I drove the rental over to the cottage. I found her sitting on the porch, fully dressed except for shoes. I wondered if she owned any, hopefully she didnít.
Susan looked up at me. "Can I go with you?" There tears in her eyes.
I smiled down at her. "Weíll have to get a ticket for you, but other then that I donít see any reason you canít -- in fact Iíd love for you to go home with me."
"Iíve arranged for a ticket, we can pick it up at the airport. Iím all packed and ready to go." She smiled when I nodded yes.
A few minutes later, hand and hand we walked to the car. Susan blew a kiss to the cottage -- till next time. I was already computing how much vacation time I had coming and how soon we could get back. Then it hit me, the service tech in this area had been on vacation a lot, our boss wasnít too happy with him and maybe I could take over this territory. On way to the airport an oldies station played "Susan" by Leonard Cohen -- "Susan takes you down to her place by the water and ..." I glanced over and smiled at my Susan.