Watching the Detective (Complete MM/F)

[Stiletto Amore]

Part One:

"Hi there, my name is Michella, Micha for short, and I'm a part time legal secretary living in a leafy suburb of South London with my two flatmates (although they hate it when I call them that!) - My 8 year old Son Jessie, and my husband of 15 years, John.
In family pictures, I'm very much the odd one out with my full (dare I say, voluptuous) figure and long blonde hair - a stark contrast to the rake thin frames, and bright, ginger manes of the two leading men in my life.
Charmingly awkward, easily befuddled and severely lacking in rudimentary motor skills, if I was feeling generous I would describe my husband as looking like a redheaded Hugh Grant, or, less charitably, a well dressed Mr Bean.
If pressed, I'd struggle to tell you exactly what John does for a living, but it seems to involve a lot of spreadheets, and an inordinate amount of time prattling around on a golf course - so he's either an accountant, or the world's oldest caddy.
Still, despite his knack for turning DIY projects into abstract art, and the fact that he would almost certainly burn cereal if left unsupervised in the kitchen, John does perform one husbandly duty with aplomb,.. namely keeping me and my Son safe from household spiders.
Also, it doesn't hurt that he looks good in a suit,..
As something of an obese teenager, I was a frequent target for school bullies, who made my school years a living hell, however I'm happy to report that those days are now largely behind me, and over the years I've become far more comfortable with my size - and now I happily embrace the tag of a "Plus sized Barbie"
I like to think that I'm blessed with a unique fashion sense, although John would probably tell you that I dress 'a colourblind Nickelodeon presenter'.
Case in point, today I'm sporting a delightfully understated outfit of an Adventure Time t-shirt, paired with some oversized pink dungarees and a pair of glittery trainers.
After a particularly demanding week at work, I'd been looking forward to some much needed R & R whilst Jessie binged on a heady diet of Saturday morning cartoons. Sadly, it seemed that my Son had not received the memo,..
"Halt! In the name of the law!" Jessie shouted, brandishing a bright yellow water pistol which he trained in the direction of an imaginary enemy located somewhere behind my head.

"Pew! Pew!" he cried, throwing himself over the coffee table and landing awkwardly in a crumpled heap against the sofa.

"Rat-a-tat-a-tat!" went my Son's Tommy gun.

This had been going on since eight this morning.

With a world weary sigh, I removed my reading glasses and set my book down.
"Jessie! Can you come here for a minute, please?"
The young speedster gradually slowed down and finally stopped.

"Yes Mom?" He said, beaming back at me with a smile that suggested butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Is there any chance you can play a bit quieter? Mommy's finding it a little hard to concentrate on her story with a shootout going on around her."

"What are you reading?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

I held up the tattered paperback and showed my son the lurid cover. It depicted a faded gumshoe detective and a gangster's moll in a figure hugging dress, tied, back to back in a pair of wooden chairs, a bundle of dynamite at their feet.

"Any good?" He asked.

I told him it wasn't exactly Dostoevsky, but that I had been enjoying it,.. right up until the moment that the front room was transformed into the set of the latest John Woo blockbuster.

"I think you mean John Wick" Jessie corrected me, in his haughtiest tone. The one he reserved for adults who (he believed) were being particularly thick headed.

"Potāto, potäto" I replied.

"Eh?" said my Son.
Alas Jessie showed little, to no, interest in discussing the entomology of the phrase 'Semantic discord', or the musical output of the Gershwin brothers I decided to move on.

"So anyway, how about it?" I asked, returning to the point.

"How about what, Mom?" replied Jessie, who had long since forgotten why we had started talking in the first place.

"Could you go easy on the shooting for the next half hour?" I asked, in as reasonable a tone as I could muster.

"But Mom," He whined, "I'm chasing bad guys."

"I understand that honey,.. but maybe you could all use silencers?" I suggested.

"Silencers!? But Mom! Bad guys don't use silencers! They want everyone to know they're coming!" Jessie retorted, defending the authenticity of his game.

It was hard to argue with this logic, and I told him as much, but the fact remained that the living room was not exactly the ideal location for a bloody gunfight.

"It's not fair!" He huffed

Then, changing tact, he asked "Why don't you ever want to play with me?"

Jessie's accusatory words, cut me to the quick.
I was suddenly hit with a tidal wave of pure, uncut parental guilt.
I'd been so wrapped up with work this past month I'd barely spent any time playing with our Son.
Something needed to be done to earn me some desperately needed Mom points.
Struck by inspiration I heard myself asking "Say, is there a part for me in your game?"

"Really!?" Jessie exclaimed, suddenly cheering up.

"Sure, why not?" I replied.

"Woo-hoo!" Jessie cried out in excitement.

"So, what are you playing anyway?" I asked curiously.

"I'm Dick Tracy, and I've been chasing Pruneface and his gang," he proudly announced.

"Sounds like fun," I said, humouring him. "So, who do I get to be?"

"You can be Tess Trueheart,.. that's Dick Tracy's Girlfriend," he went on to explain.

"Oh, okay," I replied, a bit disappointed not to be cast as one of the principal villains. "Do I at least get to have a gun too?"

"Don't be silly, Mom. Tess doesn't carry a gun."

"Are you sure? It seems like she'd be an obvious target for villains considering her boyfriend's occupation," I pointed out.

"But Mom, Tess Trueheart always gets kidnapped by the bad guys. That's her job!"

"Oh" I said, unsure what else to say. This was already feeling like a rather reductive acting role.

"But don't worry, I'll save you," Jessie assured me with a lopsided grin.

"Ah. Well, I suppose that's okay then," I replied happily. "So, how do we play?"

"First, we should get into our costumes..."

"Costumes? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I said, glancing down at my colourful outfit.

"Nothing's wrong with it, Mom, but it's not what Tess would wear," he explained patiently.

"Okay, how does Tess dress?" I asked, realising this game was already far more involved than I had anticipated.
Jessie rushed upstairs and returned moments later with an old DVD box featuring the actress Glenne Headly in a conservative looking, buttoned up dress.

"You want me to wear something like that?" I asked, seeking clarification.

Jessie nodded eagerly.

"Um, Ok, I'll see what I can do." I replied, already fearing that none of my bold (some say garish) outfits would be suitable.


Up in my bedroom I rifled through my wardrobe, looking in vain for anything that might be considered an appropriate outfit for a refined, comic book damsel in distress. Eventually I struck pay-dirt when my eyes settled on a long-sleeved dark blue blouse, and pleated gray skirt that had once formed part of my school uniform.

'This will do nicely' I thought to myself as I paired the items with some dark
woollen tights and a pair of black Mary Jane's.
It's funny, I'd always hated being made to wear a uniform when I was younger, but now I couldn't deny there was an unexpected thrill at the prospect of playing dress up in my old school clothes.
I felt like an actor getting into her costume on opening night.
As I struggled to fasten the collar of the shirt, I shuddered as I remembered the many hours spent wrestling with an uncooperative necktie before class each morning.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the uniform was a little more snug than I remembered, and the collar was probably a couple of sizes too small, but I persisted and finally succeeded in doing up the top button.
After tucking the hem of my blouse into the waistband of my skirt, I began to feed the narrow leather belt through the loops before pulling it tight.
Idly, my thoughts turned to a conversation I'd had with Carla (my bff) earlier that week during the school run.
"You won't believe what my two little terrors did this time," She confided, when she was sure we couldn't be overheard by any of the other parents at the gates.

When I declined to guess, Carla continued,
"They asked me to play a game of 'Cowboys and Indians" and, before I knew what was happening I'd been captured by members of the Mitsubishi tribe and trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Carla went on to explain that she had spent the better part of an afternoon roped to a chair until she was eventually 'rescued' by her husband - who had to pretend to be a frontier lawman.
The mental image of my best friend, usually so composed, tied up in her own living room had stuck with me ever since.
I remember thinking how absurdly creative the girls had been in concocting this make-believe scenario, and how naive Clara must have been to fall for such a transparent plot, however now I was beginning to wonder if I wasn't about to suffer a similar indignity of my own,..
Resigned to my fate, I stole a quick moment to stand before the mirror, with my hands clasped behind my back so I could see what I might look like as a helpless prisoner. I even "Mpphed" a little, much like a performer running through her lines..
And with that, I gathered my resolve and headed back downstairs, ready to embrace an uncertain future,..
TBC

[Stiletto Amore]

Part Two:

When I returned to the living room, I was taken aback to see my son clad in a white shirt, a black waistcoat, and one of his father's neckties—a red and black design reminiscent of the famous detective himself. He had a silver star pinned to his lapel and wore a comically oversized felt hat that periodically threatened to obscure his vision completely.

"You're quite the dashing young detective in that get-up," I remarked, trying to suppress a proud smile.

"Thank you, ma'am," replied Jessie, tipping his hat. "And you look pretty as a picture as Tess Trueheart."
His compliment made me blush a little. I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride that my wardrobe choices met my son's approval.

It was then that I spotted several lengths of frayed cords and brightly colored bandannas on one of our high-backed dining chairs, catching my attention. There was an undeniable surge of excitement, mingled with a tinge of apprehension, as I imagined just how these items might fit into Jessie's imaginative game.
A wry smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I began to connect the dots,..
"What are these for, honey?" I asked, arching an eyebrow, although I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer.

"Well," Jessie began, "in the game, Tess has been kidnapped by Big Boy Caprice, and I, as the fearless Dick Tracy, have to save you."
Apparently my son was pulling double duty, casting himself as both the hero and the villain.

Jessie looked up at me, hopefully, as if half-expecting me to put a stop to the game then and there.
"Are you saying you want to tie me up?" I inquired, at once taken aback, yet also strangely intrigued by the notion. Part of me was already feeling a peculiar thrill at the thought of being bound and gagged like the lead character in one of my detective novels.

"If—if you don't mind..." Jessie stuttered nervously. "You did say you wanted to play..."

I pondered this for a moment. "That's right, I did," I admitted, recognising that I was being outmanoeuvred and finding myself in a bit of a predicament. It boiled down to breaking my word and damaging my son's trust, or spending the morning trussed up.
In the end it was a relatively easy decision to make, especially if it would give me an excuse to put off doing the household chores
'Sorry I couldn't do the dishes today honey - You see, I was a little tied up,..'

"You make a compelling argument," I conceded. "Okay, you've convinced me. How do we begin?"

Jessie flashed a mischievous grin and raised his (water) pistol
"You're coming with me, Miss Trueheart! Big Boy Caprice demands your presence!"

"Oh, mercy me!" I exclaimed, playing along "Not another kidnapping. Whatever shall I do!?"

"Take a seat, lady," Jessie said, and I obliged, picking up the rope and scarves and placing them in my lap. (I sensed that they were shortly going to play a pivotal role in the game,..)

"You two shaved gorillas made a big mistake bringing me here," I said sternly, slipping into the role of a captive damsel. "When my boyfriend, Dick Tracy, finds out what you've done, he'll throw you all in jail!"

"He'll have to catch us first!" Jessie snorted dismissively. "Now hand me that rope and put your hands behind your back."

Ever obliging, I passed the binding materials to my son and crossed my wrists between the chair back. It felt surreal, and unexpectedly exciting, as Jessie began looping the soft rope around my wrists and over my shirt cuffs.

'Someone's been paying attention in Scouts', I thought to myself as the rope was tied off and double knotted.
Testing the knot, I found it to be snug but not so tight as to affect my circulation. With some effort, I could probably free my hands, although it would certainly leave me with red marks on my wrists. That said, I had to concede that my Son had done a commendable job for his first go. Almost suspiciously so, one might say,..
I began to wonder if he'd had some coaching from Carla's daughters,..

"That's pretty good," I cooed admirably, shuffling in my ropes, wondering how far this imaginative play would go.

"It's not too tight, is it, Mom?" Jessie asked, suddenly sounding concerned.
He was a good kid.

"It's fine, honey," I assured him "I just didn't expect you to be so good at tying knots"
Jessie looked like he was about to burst with pride.

"I'm top in my class" He boasted.

"Congratulations sweetie" I said beaming,
I have to admit, it felt a little surreal to be complimenting my Son on his rope skills whilst tied to a chair, but whoever said parenting was easy,..

"But you'll never get away with this!" I added boldly.

"Au contraire, mon ami," said my Son in a hokey French accent, "We have a big surprise for Monsieur Tracy... you see, when the door is opened it pull the string on the handle, which, in turn vill pull the pin from this grenade,.. and voila - no more flatfoot!"

"You unconscionable fiend!" I exclaimed

"Vot can I say? Ve love a classic!" Jessie replied.

"But I'll warn Tracy, I'll stop him from coming through the door," I threatened, signaling my willingness to be gagged.

"I'm afraid that vill not be possible, Miss Trueheart," Jessie replied, picking up on my, not so subtle hint.

Attempting to act nervous, I stammered, “W-w-what’s that for?” as my son approached with a black and white spotted handkerchief in hand.
Breaking character to address me, Jessie explained, “Oh - it’s called a gag - you wear it over your mouth so you can’t speak.”

Amused, I replied, “I know what a gag is, honey - I was just pretending.”

"You're the best, Mom!" Jessie exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I knew you'd make the perfect damsel in distress.

"Thanks, I think,.." I replied happily

"Ok, lady, put your lips together!” Jessie said, folding the material into a neat triangle.

Following his instructions to the letter, I allowed him to place the scarf over my mouth and tie it securely behind my head.
“Mmph!” I mumbled, delighted to be playing the part of a plus sized damsel-in-distress for my son.

“Ha ha ha!” Jessie laughed, grabbing another length of rope and bringing my thick ankles together.

As I silently watched my son wrap a length of soft rope around my feet, I found myself experiencing a wide range of emotions. It was an unusual feeling—being tied up and gagged in my own living room—but there was a strange sense of enjoyment in the fantasy, almost like I was performing in a play. Indeed, if I was being honest with myself, I was probably having just as much fun as my son,.. if not more so.
Despite my best efforts to conceal my mounting excitement, I found my cheeks were flushed and I was sweating in some rather unfortunate places.
Was it possible that I actually liked being tied up..?
My musings were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a key in the front door. Panic surged within me. It was one thing to be voluntarily rendered helpless in my son's game, quite another to be discovered in such a vulnerable state by someone else,..but Jessie seemed remarkably unperturbed, deciding to simply incorporate the surprise visitor into his unfolding narrative.

“Rats! It’s the Feds!” he hissed, as he finished binding my ankles.

My mind raced with a surge of panic as I tried to guess the identity of the new arrival.
Who could it be? Were we being robbed?
But that didn't quite make sense. How could a thief have gotten their hands on our front door key? I began to run through all the family members I knew who had a spare key,..#
TBC

[charliesmith]

Loved it so far! Excellent cliff hanger. Looking to read more soon!

[Trammel]

You have been missed @Stiletto Amore. You are a very creative and imaginative writer and your stories are fun to read. Welcome back.

[Stiletto Amore]

Loved it so far! Excellent cliff hanger. Looking to read more soon!

Aww, that's lovely to hear - thank you!
Hope you enjoy the next instalment

[Stiletto Amore]

You have been missed @Stiletto Amore. You are a very creative and imaginative writer and your stories are fun to read. Welcome back.

Aww, thank you for the kind words - they are very much appreciated
I'll try not to leave it quite so long in the future,..

[Stiletto Amore]

Part Three:

And then, all at once came an all too familiar voice - “Hi honey! I’m home!”

My panic subsided; it wasn’t an intruder but my husband/ Jessie's father, John.
As I watched the tall, somewhat lanky figure of my other half enter the doorway, I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks.
John beamed with unreserved joy at the sight before him—his wife inexplicably tied to a chair with a gag over her mouth. It was like all of his Christmases had come at once.
“Sorry - am I interrupting something?” John remarked drily, causing my blush to redden several shades, -from light coral, to blood red crimson.

"Mphhh Mmmmh," I mumbled, struggling to communicate through the gag.

“What's that, Micha?” He teased. "Sorry, I can't understand you with that thing over your mouth."

"Notph funnmphh!" I replied, deciding to salvage as much of my dignity as possible by sitting still and straight.

"Don’t move a muscle, flatfoot; or the dame gets it...!" Jessie threatened, pointing his water pistol at my temple.

"Oh no, Don't shoot!" John exclaimed, raising his arms in jest.
Jessie couldn't believe his luck. Were both his parents going to join in with his make-believe game?

“We’re playing cops and robbers,” Jessie explained.

“I can see that,” John replied with a wry smile.

Suppressing a laugh, I tried to maintain some sense of composure.
"Wanna play with us, Dad?" Jessie asked eagerly.

John glanced at me, flashing an enigmatic grin.
“Say Jessie, why don't you grab a snack from the kitchen or something,” John suggested, pointedly not calling a halt to the game. "I just want to speak to your Mom for a minute"

Jessie agreed, heading off with the hope that the game would resume when he returned.
As I mentioned, I am something of a heavy set woman and having my hands secured behind my back had the unexpected side effect of lifting my already sizeable bust-line - a fact that had very much not escaped the attention of my husband.

“Well, I have to say, this is a pleasant surprise,” John purred. "So, is this what you two get up to when I’m away?”
My cheeks flushed again as John gently untied the gag.

"If you must know, this is a new game," I explained as John shook out the handkerchief, before tucking it into his back pocket.

“And whose idea were the ropes and gags?” John teased.

"Well, they certainly weren't mine!" I replied in a playful tone. "Now will you be a dear and untie me?"

"Maybe later," He teased, checking my bonds. "Say, he did a really good job tying you up."

"Really?" I replied sardonically "I hadn't noticed"

“Is this a new look, Micha?” John's voice carried a hint of playful curiosity as he observed my attire, his gaze lingering on my buttoned-up collar.

I couldn't help but grin, enjoying his reaction.
"If you must know, we're playing Dick Tracy,"

"The old cartoon strip?" John asked, somewhat surprised to hear that our son had taken a liking to a pre-war comic book.

"Close. More like the Warren Beatty movie," I explained. "He found a stack of your old DVDs in the attic, and apparently, this one is his favourite."

John raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
"I can see why," He said, sounding mildly flirtatious.

"John!" I scolded him jokingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, failing to hide his smirk. “So, if Jessie's Tracy, that must make you the damsel in distress? Tess-something, right?"

"Trueheart," I added. "And yes, that's me. I gather I'm supposed to be the bait to lure Dick Tracy into an overly elaborate death trap."

John seemed impressed. "How very dramatic!"

"We thought so," I replied, feeling proud of our son's imaginative play.

John pondered for a moment.
"Well then, it seems I've arrived just in time to join the fun,.."

With a flourish, John produced an imaginary finger gun and pointed it at me.

"So,.. What, are you kidnapping me now, huh?" I huffed, making very little effort to conceal my excitement at the prospect of continuing with the game.

"Say, that's not a bad idea,.." John replied, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

"Oh, brother," I sighed.

"Don't worry doll face, you got nuthin' to worry bout'" he snarled, before adding "S'long as you do as you're told that is,.."

"Let go of me,.. you, you,.. brute!" I said, by now positively incandescent with comic rage.

"Yes, yes, I know. But it isn't all bad, is it?" John teased, gently lifting my chin "Maybe, it's only, half bad..."
An involuntary shiver ran through my body as he kissed me.
I really was enjoying this new game very much,..

I watched helplessly as John retrieved a colourful scarf from the coffee table
"Do you mind?" He asked, temporarily breaking character.
I assured him I had no objections whatsoever, before slipping back into my role as a sassy dame from the 20's

"Oh, you cad! You beast! You monster!"

"Open wide, darling," he instructed me as he held the material up to my face.

"Yes, dear," I replied with a playful eagerness,
The next thing I knew, John had inserted his scarf between my teeth. I felt a rush of emotion as I felt the gag was drawn ever tighter, so much so that I could no longer even touch my lips together.

"This is something called a cleave gag, honey" Explained John as he knotted the scarf securely behind my head "It works much better in keeping prisoners quiet. Don't you agree?"

Feigning mock indignation, I scowled and set my jaw in playful defiance.

As I playfully thrashed about in my restraints I couldn't help but wonder how my husband was so well-versed in the terminology of different types of gag.
I definitely had some follow-up questions to ask later, when we were alone,..

As I sat there, I couldn't help but reminisce about the classic noir films and detective novels I had enjoyed over the years. Channelling the spirit of those captivating heroines, I glared back at my captor, determined to be brave, despite my captivity.
I flashed a tight, defiant smile from behind my gag.
"Struggle all you like, Miss Trueheart. You won't get free," he said with a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes.

"Mm mpphhh mph Mppph!" I replied, which roughly translated as "Go Boil you head!")
Just then, Jessie returned to the living room, clutching a plate, stacked precariously high with the biggest sandwich I'd ever seen outside of a Scooby Doo cartoon.
He looked thrilled to see that I was still tied up, not to mention even more tightly gagged than when he had left.

"Dad!" Jessie exclaimed. "You're playing too!?"

""Mmmph mm, mmmph mmph mmph?!" ("What am I, chopped liver?!")

"Drop your weapon, Copper, or the lady gets it!" John boomed.

Jessie looked over at me.
"Mmmp mmp nmm Mmphyy! (Don't do it Tracy!) I implored.

"You got yourself a keeper here - pretty too. But she ain't gonna be too pretty - WHEN I FILL HER FULL OF LEAD!!" John yelled, in his best Pacino impression.
I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes at his manic outburst.
Jessie, however, was enthralled.

By now, fully immersed in the role of a courageous detective, our son dully lowered his water pistol.

"Okay, you win Big Boy" he said, dropping his firearm and raising his hands.

"Mmmph mm mmm, mmmph mm mmph!" ('Don't do it Tracy! Shoot him in his Big Ugly Face!")

"Take a seat flatfoot!" John commanded, with a theatrical flourish.
Jessie, playing along wholeheartedly, obliged, taking his place in the chair next to mine.

Moments later, John reemerged from the kitchen wielding a roll of thick packing tape,..
TBC

[Stiletto Amore]

Conclusion

Without waiting to be asked Jessie placed his hands behind his back and his feet together.
As he brandished the tape, John's demeanour mirrored that of a seasoned pantomime villain.
With calculated precision, he wrapped the tape around Jessie's hands and feet, securing him to the chair, whilst being careful not to obstruct his movements too much.
From my vantage point, I observed the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and pride. I couldn't help but admire my husband's commitment to creating an immersive experience for our Son, whilst also ensuring Jessie's safety throughout.
His task complete, John stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Jessie met his father's gaze with steely determination.
"The press, they got it all wrong Tracy, I'm just a simple business man," John proclaimed, very much still in character.

"Oh really?" Jessie clapped back "Then why are we tied to chairs?"

John exchanged a conspiratorial smile with me that seemed to say, "Ain't our Son a pip?"
I nodded happily, my face beaming with pride.

"The point is, I don't want no more trouble" John said, producing a handful of bills from his wallet which he held out to Jessie "And EVERYONE'S got a price!!"

Jessie gave a blank smile "Not me!"

John's face crumpled with exaggerated disgust "Don't be silly now, I AIN'T gonna ask a SECOND time!"

Jessie stared back "Did I stutter? No dice, Caprice!"

"Have it your own way, copper!" John said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Don't worry Tess" Jessie said, trying to sound reassuring "I'll find a way to get us free"

I wasn't entirely convinced, but ever the dutiful damsel, nodded nonetheless.

"Tsk, tsk, this boiler has seen better days. Looks like it hasn't been serviced since before the war,.." shouted John from the kitchen.

"What are you blathering about Big Boy?" Jessie replied impatiently.

"I'm just saying that it's getting pretty hot in here, don't ya' think?' ' he said as he keyed in the timer on the microwave. "I reckon you've got less than 15 minutes before this rig blows sky high - taking both of you with it!"

"You'll get the chair for this!," Jessie retorted with heroic fervor, thrashing about in his bonds.

John leaned in closer, reveling in the success of his scheme. "Alas, the only people frying today will be yoos two love birds"

Jessie's eyes widened, filled with excitement and glee.
"You fiend! You won't get away with this!" he declared boldly.

As John taunted Jessie, I sat tightly bound and gagged, unable to do anything but watch as the scene unfolded around me. John, the master puppeteer, had choreographed the pseudo-bomb scenario with all the flair of a B-list action movie director.
It was,.. undeniably thrilling.

"Farewell you dynamic dunderheads, enjoy your final moments together!"

And with that Jessie/ Big Boy Caprice was gone, leaving the two of us to our fiery fate (although I suspected he hadn't gone too far as I could see my husbands shoes poking out from behind the grandfather clock,..)

I could see the determination in Jessie's eyes as he worked to free himself. The tape on his wrists started to give way as he tugged and twisted, each movement accompanied by a quiet rustling sound.

"Mmpph mm mpph, kkddo!" I encouraged, trying to balance staying in character, with my motherly concern that he didn't hurt himself by knocking over the chair.

With a sudden, decisive moment, Jessie managed to break the seal on the tape around his wrists, his face lighting up with a victorious grin.

"Mmph mmp boy!" I couldn't help but cheer, feeling a surge of pride at his resourcefulness.
Jessie shot me a triumphant glance, his eyes filled with excitement as he completed his last minute escape, before rushing into the kitchen to switch off the timer on the bomb/ microwave.

I marveled at John's cleverness in setting up the scene. It was apparent that he had deliberately plotted the game so that Jessie could perform a suitably dramatic rescue in the nick of time.

"Don't count your money yet, Caprice!" boasted Jessie "You're coming with me!"

John stepped out from his hiding place, feigning exaggerated surprise. "What? How did you...?"

In a swift, cartoonish move, John lunged at Jessie, imitating a punch more comedic than intimidating.
It missed its target by several feet.
The fight soon descended into a hot, campy mess, complete with exaggerated sound effects and over-the-top expressions that reminded me of the super sweaty slug-fests from the old Batman TV show.
As the two leading men exchanged swinging haymakers, I, as the leading lady, remained bound and gagged, watching the absurd spectacle with barely contained delight.

The two adversaries continued their animated scuffle, engaging in a spirited duel using stuffed pillows before Jessie jokingly delivered a "knockout" punch to John's chin. My husband theatrically staggered back, simulating a dramatic, if elongated, fall to the ground.

As John lay sprawled across the back of the sofa, my muffled cheers and laughter filled the room. Jessie, delighting in his triumph, turned to me with a flourish. "Fear not, Tess, for your champion has prevailed!"

"Hrruhh!" I exclaimed through my gag as I felt Jessie loosen the bonds around my
wrists. With my hands freed, I reached up and removed the scarf from my mouth, leaving it to dangle uselessly around my neck.

"My hero," I beamed, appreciating Jessie's help in untying my feet

"All in a day's work, ma'am" replied Jessie with a playful grin.

I thought I caught a wink from my husband, who was still pretending to be 'dead' on the sofa, adding to the lightheartedness of the moment.
As I untangled myself from the last of the ropes, I gestured to Jessie, who was still basking in his glorious victory.

"Well," I said breathlessly "That was quite the adventure"

"Thanks, Mom!" Jessie beamed "Say, did you see my knockout punch? Boff! Bonk! Pow!"

I assured him that I saw everything and was very proud of his fighting abilities (even if his technique was more taekwond-no, than taekwondo)

"Hey sweetie, why don't you go up to your room and get changed? Mommy needs to have a word with Daddy."

"Okay, Mom!" Jessie chirped, before bounding upstairs, leaving John and me alone in the lounge.

With our Son happily clattering about in his bedroom, I turned to my husband, who was still selling his theatrical 'injury.'

I approached John with an amused smirk, gesturing to him as if to say, "You can stop pretending now."

He lifted his head slightly, peeking through half-closed eyes, maintaining the facade of a defeated mob boss. Slowly, a mischievous grin crept onto his face, and he let out a small chuckle.
"How was I?"

"And the Academy award goes to,.." I said, miming the presentation of a golden statuette.

"Thank you, thank you," John said, taking his bows. "I'd like to thank God, my agent Estelle - 'We did it baby! All the other nominees,.. the baby Jesus, my hairdresser Claudio,.."

"I think I can hear the orchestra playing you off," I remarked drily.

"Everyone's a critic these days. I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said, 'The play was a great success, but the audience was a total failure'"

"If you're quite finished with your acceptance speech, why don't you make yourself useful and put the kettle on while I go upstairs and change into something more comfortable"

I turned to leave, only to find a firm hand on my wrist.

"Honey. What are you doing?" I asked curiously

"Well,.. there's no rush is there?"

"How do you mean?" I asked, not quite understanding

"Um, that is to say,.. maybe you could stay dressed up like that for a little while longer,.. you know,.. for me?"

"Oh," I said, the penny having finally dropped. "You mean to say, you like seeing me in my old school uniform?"

"Well, I think the buttoned up look really suits you,.." He replied.

"You do?" I grinned, a faint blush creeping back into my cheeks. "Well, I'm glad you like it,.. but it's not very comfortable,.."

"Micha, you're talking to someone who has to wear a suit and tie to work every day" John pointed out

"Fair point," I conceded "Okay, the uniform stays on,.. for now!"

John leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I did know that. But it’s still nice to hear you say it. Oh, and John,.."

"Yes, my little honey pot"

"I was meaning to ask. How was it that you're so familiar with the correct names for various types of gag?"

John, caught off guard, chuckles nervously: "Oh, you noticed that, did you? Well, I don't know,.. maybe I read it somewhere?"

"Should I be concerned about your internet search history?" I quipped"

John hesitates, then decides to be honest: "Okay, Mich, here's the thing. You know how much I enjoy watching old time cliffhanger serials,.."

"Sure," I said glancing over at the bookshelves, positively heaving under the weight of his DVD collection.

"Well, my favourite parts of those movies are the parts where the female protagonists find themselves in a bit of a jam."

"'A jam?'" I replied, my eyebrow rising ever higher.

"Yeah," He said sheepishly "You know, tied up and silenced"

"Oh" I said, not sure how else to respond

I thought for a moment.
"That doesn't sound very progressive" I commented "The weak, helpless female, awaiting rescue by the male knight on his white charger"

"I hear what you're saying, but that's not the appeal, at least not for me" He said, now eager to share "In my favorite stories, the heroines are always the smartest people in the room,.. that's why they have to be kept quiet"

"They can't be that bright if they keep getting kidnapped every week" I pointed out drily

"Maybe not," said John, warming to his theme "but they're incredibly resourceful, most often they’re able to get free all by themselves”

“How so?”

“Oh, all sorts of ways - maybe they're really good at escapology, or they've got a blade hidden in their boot,.. and then sometimes they simply talk their way out of trouble."

“Okay, well that doesn’t sound so bad,.." I conceded "So, are there pictures I can look at, or,..?”

It turns out there were pictures.
Lots of pictures.
Lots and lots of pictures.

All told, there were several files full - all featuring a variety of attractive women in various states of bondage.

To my great surprise all were fully clothed (indeed many were dressed in smart, business-like attire) and none of them looked in any real discomfort. Indeed, they seemed to be viewing their captivity as something of a minor inconvenience, if not an occupational hazard.

"Well,.. What do you think?" John asked, nervously chewing a hangnail.

I let him stew for a little while before responding.

"So, I guess my husband's got a thing for ropes and gags,..?" I surmised.

"That's pretty much the L and the S of it," replied John bashfully.

My eyes lingered on a particularly striking image of a shapely woman dressed as Velma Dinkley.
Naturally, her hands were bound and she had a strip of tape over her mouth.
Not that she seemed in the least bit upset about this.
In fact, I got the distinct impression that she was smiling behind her gag.

I looked up from the screen "So, what did you think was happening when you came home early to find me all tied up,..?"

"I mean - I guess I just assumed that you'd discovered my secret and had arranged a suprise birthday present"

"But John, your Birthday isn't for another four months,.."

"Hence the surprise"

I couldn't help but laugh "Then I can only imagine your sense of disappointment when you realized it was just some dumb kids' game,"

"Let's just say, I got over it pretty quickly. But,.. you’re not angry?” He asked, letting out a relieved chuckle.

I thought for a moment and reflected on the events of that morning and how much I had secretly enjoyed the experience of being trussed up and gagged.
I shook my head.

"Surprisingly not,.. Quite the opposite in fact,"

"Oh?" He said, his curiosity heightened.

I nodded, offering a reassuring look.
"What can I say? I was somewhat taken aback too, But there was something undeniably thrilling about the whole experience - from getting dressed up in a costume, to being captured at gunpoint and placed in an inescapable death trap. I had a wonderful time. And really, who wouldn't enjoy playing the lead role in their very own detective story?"

"Well, when you put it like that,.." John replied, grinning like a lottery winner.

"I mean, I was aware that some people were interested in this sort of stuff, but I guess it never occurred to me to try it, or even suggest it for myself,.. but it was really quite,.." (I searched for the word) "Exhilarating"

“So, does this mean we can play a similar game in the future,..?” He asked, hardly able to believe his luck

In truth, I was utterly thrilled by the suggestion that I might get to play the part of the damsel in distress again, but for appearances sake, I decided to portray the role of the dignified, if slightly amused and indifferent wife.

"Sure, I mean, I guess that would be ok,.."

At this point Jessie came bounding back down the stairs eager to see what more mischief he could find/ instigate. He was once again back in civvies.

"Hey little man!" John called out "You're just in time. Me and your Mom were just about to put on a movie"

"Will there be popcorn?" Our Son could drive a hard bargain.

"There sure will champ!" John declared.

Having been successfully negotiated his weight in salty treats, Jessie took his customary place, sprawled out in front of the TV, his face inches from the screen, whilst I fixed us all some snacks.

"So, what are we watching?" Jessie asked

"Arsenic and Old Lace!" John said proudly, holding up a DVD as if revealing a hidden treasure.

"Aniseed and what now?" I said as I laid out the bowls of popcorn.

"It's a comedy about couple of sweet old ladies who happen to be serial killers. You'll love it - it's an American classic!"

"Oh no," I chuckled

"What?" Asked Jessie, sounding concerned.

"It's just, whenever your Dad uses the word 'Classic' he means 'black and white'"

Jessie rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Dad, seriously? Can't we watch something in color?"

John, settled comfortably in his favourite armchair, chuckled at his son's reaction. "Hey, you chose last week, remember? Now it's my turn."

"Look," I said, conspiratorially "I understand wanting to teach Jess a lesson after making us sit through the entire Fast And the Furious saga,.. but why am I being punished?"

"You're not. This happens to have been one of my favourite movies growing up"

"Let me guess, it's that old film of a train pulling into a station,.." I joked.

Jessie giggled at the reference he probably didn't fully understand, but John played along splendidly.

"You can laugh, but was terrifying. We hadn't seen anything like it before. We thought a real train was coming at us. There was a stampede in the
cinema, I barely escaped with my life."

"Oh, you poor soul. That must have been really traumatic," I replied with a smirk.

Jessie burst into laughter, "For real, Dad?"

"No Son. You're Mommies just being silly - That movie was made over a hundred years ago"

As John queued up the movie, he turned to me with a mock stern expression. "But, if you are going to talk all the way through this masterpiece, I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

I was suddenly conscious that I was still wearing the scarf around my neck from the earlier game.

I shot John an amused look, deciding to play along. Taking this as implied permission, John reached up and placed the gag back in my mouth.

"Mmpfh!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening with surprise.

"There. Problem solved," John said with a grin

I pretended to fume indignantly, but in reality I was having the time of my life.
This could be just the beginning of a whole new adventure,..

[charliesmith]

That was BRILLIANT! A fantastic story and a very cute family! I loved reading it from start to finish.

Please.. please tell me there will be more stories about these cuties

[TightsBound]

I really enjoyed this story! You kept it fun while teasing a little more adult nature. I’d love to read more stories with these characters. Thanks for writing!

[JadeJones]

Great story....very well written

[Stiletto Amore]

That was BRILLIANT! A fantastic story and a very cute family! I loved reading it from start to finish.

Please.. please tell me there will be more stories about these cuties

Aww, thanks so much. So glad you enjoyed it!

Now that you mention it, I have a few fun ideas for follow-up adventures, but I'm always open to suggestions,..

[Stiletto Amore]

I really enjoyed this story! You kept it fun while teasing a little more adult nature. I’d love to read more stories with these characters. Thanks for writing!

That's very kind of you to say, thank you! I was certainly trying to find a balance between flirty and childhood innocence - so glad you think I managed to achieve it.
Let me know if you have any suggestions for further stories with these characters

[Stiletto Amore]

Great story....very well written

Aww, thank you so much. Thanks for reading/ being so kind about my story

[Trammel]

You are such a clever writer Stiletto

[AmyRu]

This is so much fun!

[Stiletto Amore]

You are such a clever writer Stiletto

What a lovely thing to say. Thank you!

[Stiletto Amore]

This is so much fun!

Yay! So glad you enjoyed it!