Chapter 3: Rising Action
The clock on the nightstand blinked 2:17 A.M. as Angie slipped from between the sheets, the silk nightgown she wore shimmering in the dimly lit room. Nervously, she glanced at Joe who lay sprawled across her modest, queen-sized bed. His body tensed under the blankets with each harsh, guttural snore he released.
Angie, like many an entitled privileged twenty-two-year-old, had a penchant for pushing boundaries and an insatiable appetite for eroticism.
Sadly, poor old Joe had found himself a victim of Angie’s whims ever since they started dating a few months back. No matter how many times they had coitus, Angie always seemed to crave more.
The inventory of erotic toys in her bedroom closet was growing proportionately to Joe's anxiety levels—whips, riding crops, handcuffs, blindfolds, paddles, and a wide array of sex toys, forming a formidable arsenal of carnal delights.
Angie, feeling a sudden gush of sexual energy, opened the closet and retrieved several of the kinkier pieces, a manic smile playing at the edge of her lips.
Tiptoeing across the plush carpet, conversations from centuries past coupled with the occasional city siren swirling through the open window, Angie gently stirred Joe from his slumber. Startled, Joe opened his eyes, groggily attempting to discern reality from his sluggish brainwaves.
"Wassup?" he slurred.
Shaking her head, Angie's smile transformed into a playful grin. "There's plenty more where that came from, Big Boy," she purred, her voice betraying a need for something more animalistic.
Angie hadn't even allowed a proper goodnight kiss before she pounced – her slender fingers gripping the rope, binding Joe's wrists to the headboard. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a sudden panic registered in his expression.