The Tangled Maiden: Complete (Mostly F/F, M/F)
Posted: Thu Jun 17, 2021 10:56 pm
“I’m sorry, I never follow strangers home.”
The cheerful lady with her crimson winter jacket and short black hair curling up above her neck bent down. “I thought beggars can’t be choosers.”
From my piece of cardboard, I stared in her round black sunglasses and ignored her condescending comment. “Miss, I can’t thank you enough for your offer, but the risks don’t outweigh the benefits.”
The lady’s cherry lips curled up. “I’m 99 percent certain I won’t harm you.”
I pressed my back further into the cold brick wall. “With all respect, if I would take such a risk every day, I would be harmed three or four times annually.” My words erased her smirk and earned me an apology.
“The dinner I invited you to is at my own inn two blocks away, so you won’t ever be alone,” the lady offered. “You’ll be safe.” Further arguments persuaded my cautious self. I folded my piece of cardboard into my backpack and rose to my feet. As is usual, I had to narrate my past five years on the streets and how my last foster parents abandoned me for a world cruise when I was 16.
“Miriam,” she introduced herself when we waited for a traffic light. “My inn is unusual and could be intimidating. Ignore the other guests and eat. Nobody will bother you.”
My stomach growled, urging me to choose burgers and fries over canned beans and rice and ignore the red flags. Tonight was another 99 percent guess.
Miriam had not lied. The bouncer of the The Tangled Maiden welcomed Miriam as ‘Madam’ when we passed the opaque glass door. I instantly matched eyes with a man who fed his blindfolded wife a cheese platter. He wore a black turtleneck, and she was dressed in a long grey woolen jumper. Her hands were tied behind her back and pulled down to a tie-down ring.
I gazed at an empty table in the half-filled restaurant, redeeming my inappropriate stare. The yellow-brown floorboards and barriers created a light atmosphere such that many tables enjoyed the much-needed privacy. Thick steel chains hanging from the high ceiling carried empty dog cages and shattered the lights like disco balls. Most couples had a disparity in the number of clothes, exposing bellies, breasts, and feet. Some were cuffed, tied, or pinned to rings on the floor and pillars. Yet, most surprisingly, none of it bothered anyone as slow coffeehouse music played in the background. Only a few whose mouths were filled by ball-like objects did not chat amicably.
“Marlon, this is Bree,” Miriam declared me to the barkeeper, a heavyset bald man with a forked black bread. ”All week, she panhandled on our sidewalk, and I could not contain myself anymore. I would say a plate and dessert on the house. Make her feel at home.” She explained my presence as I felt more and more out of place in my brown army boots, olive cargo pants, and heavy azure blue coat.
Marlon greeted me by offering me a drink, and I picked tap water. “I got to see your ID anyway as this is an adult club,” he asked, and I retrieved the proof I was 21 from the pouch around my neck. Carrying valuables in my pockets or backpack was a cry for them to be stolen. I sipped from the cold water as Marlon examined my face. “Um, sorry, but –”
“I have albinism, and the scar is from a car crash involving a deer,” I cut Marlon off. “It’s okay, no need to apologize. I often get that question.” My chest-long white hair, light grey eyes, and colorless skin intrigued many. Only a deep scar running from my chin, next to my nose, through my left eye socket to my almost invisible eyebrow ruined my naturally stainless face.
“Thanks, that resolves my question. If you have any questions or doubts, ask ahead. You look uneased.”
From the other side of the bar, a bear-like man screamed Marlon’s name and requested three ropes for his ‘ill-behaved little pet’. A short guy with fuzzy red hair behind him focused his eyes downwards. A collar with a leash was strapped around his neck. Marlon scribbled something in a notebook and handed the man three white ropes.
“Any questions?” Marlon inquired when he returned to me.
I had squandered my chance to run away. “What is the place?”
Marlon smirked, refilling my water. “The Tangled Maiden is a bondage inn. People who like to tie or be tied up come here for dinner, events, or a memorable night. Here, they can be themselves publicly.” He had said this explanation a hundred times already. “Don’t do anything you don’t want. Everything and everyone here is voluntary.”
I thanked Marlon and turned silent. He had real customers to serve. Three waitresses wearing black heels, a short black dress with deep cleavage, and a tiny white apron ran back and forth with drinks. I glanced at the customers, who began filling the remaining tables. The head of an Asian lady popped out of the center of one round table. Twelve were seated around another long table. They drunk wine and gossiped as twelve others knelt on rubber pats with exposed chests, straight backs, and their hands behind their back. None moved or talked while they balanced solid metal cubes on their heads.
“Bree, darling, how are you?” someone said, laying their hand on my shoulder. I spun around. A black, shiny skin encased all of Miriam’s body save for her hands and face, and knee-high black boots with killer heels completed her outfit. She wore no underwear underneath as there were no bends in the plastic-like fabric while her nipples were evident. “You’re a jumper, aren’t you? Dinner is at least another half an hour away. Also, can I offer you a shower? Or can I wash your clothes?”
I closed my mouth that had fallen open. “I prefer not to be on the streets after dusk. That’s safer, so I leave after dinner. I hope you understand.”
“No problem, but at least take a shower. If necessary, I got a modest room for you.”
My mind could not wire the situation together like a sensory overload. I could not think clearly and nodded at Miriam’s enchanting smile and followed her into a hallway.
The cheerful lady with her crimson winter jacket and short black hair curling up above her neck bent down. “I thought beggars can’t be choosers.”
From my piece of cardboard, I stared in her round black sunglasses and ignored her condescending comment. “Miss, I can’t thank you enough for your offer, but the risks don’t outweigh the benefits.”
The lady’s cherry lips curled up. “I’m 99 percent certain I won’t harm you.”
I pressed my back further into the cold brick wall. “With all respect, if I would take such a risk every day, I would be harmed three or four times annually.” My words erased her smirk and earned me an apology.
“The dinner I invited you to is at my own inn two blocks away, so you won’t ever be alone,” the lady offered. “You’ll be safe.” Further arguments persuaded my cautious self. I folded my piece of cardboard into my backpack and rose to my feet. As is usual, I had to narrate my past five years on the streets and how my last foster parents abandoned me for a world cruise when I was 16.
“Miriam,” she introduced herself when we waited for a traffic light. “My inn is unusual and could be intimidating. Ignore the other guests and eat. Nobody will bother you.”
My stomach growled, urging me to choose burgers and fries over canned beans and rice and ignore the red flags. Tonight was another 99 percent guess.
Miriam had not lied. The bouncer of the The Tangled Maiden welcomed Miriam as ‘Madam’ when we passed the opaque glass door. I instantly matched eyes with a man who fed his blindfolded wife a cheese platter. He wore a black turtleneck, and she was dressed in a long grey woolen jumper. Her hands were tied behind her back and pulled down to a tie-down ring.
I gazed at an empty table in the half-filled restaurant, redeeming my inappropriate stare. The yellow-brown floorboards and barriers created a light atmosphere such that many tables enjoyed the much-needed privacy. Thick steel chains hanging from the high ceiling carried empty dog cages and shattered the lights like disco balls. Most couples had a disparity in the number of clothes, exposing bellies, breasts, and feet. Some were cuffed, tied, or pinned to rings on the floor and pillars. Yet, most surprisingly, none of it bothered anyone as slow coffeehouse music played in the background. Only a few whose mouths were filled by ball-like objects did not chat amicably.
“Marlon, this is Bree,” Miriam declared me to the barkeeper, a heavyset bald man with a forked black bread. ”All week, she panhandled on our sidewalk, and I could not contain myself anymore. I would say a plate and dessert on the house. Make her feel at home.” She explained my presence as I felt more and more out of place in my brown army boots, olive cargo pants, and heavy azure blue coat.
Marlon greeted me by offering me a drink, and I picked tap water. “I got to see your ID anyway as this is an adult club,” he asked, and I retrieved the proof I was 21 from the pouch around my neck. Carrying valuables in my pockets or backpack was a cry for them to be stolen. I sipped from the cold water as Marlon examined my face. “Um, sorry, but –”
“I have albinism, and the scar is from a car crash involving a deer,” I cut Marlon off. “It’s okay, no need to apologize. I often get that question.” My chest-long white hair, light grey eyes, and colorless skin intrigued many. Only a deep scar running from my chin, next to my nose, through my left eye socket to my almost invisible eyebrow ruined my naturally stainless face.
“Thanks, that resolves my question. If you have any questions or doubts, ask ahead. You look uneased.”
From the other side of the bar, a bear-like man screamed Marlon’s name and requested three ropes for his ‘ill-behaved little pet’. A short guy with fuzzy red hair behind him focused his eyes downwards. A collar with a leash was strapped around his neck. Marlon scribbled something in a notebook and handed the man three white ropes.
“Any questions?” Marlon inquired when he returned to me.
I had squandered my chance to run away. “What is the place?”
Marlon smirked, refilling my water. “The Tangled Maiden is a bondage inn. People who like to tie or be tied up come here for dinner, events, or a memorable night. Here, they can be themselves publicly.” He had said this explanation a hundred times already. “Don’t do anything you don’t want. Everything and everyone here is voluntary.”
I thanked Marlon and turned silent. He had real customers to serve. Three waitresses wearing black heels, a short black dress with deep cleavage, and a tiny white apron ran back and forth with drinks. I glanced at the customers, who began filling the remaining tables. The head of an Asian lady popped out of the center of one round table. Twelve were seated around another long table. They drunk wine and gossiped as twelve others knelt on rubber pats with exposed chests, straight backs, and their hands behind their back. None moved or talked while they balanced solid metal cubes on their heads.
“Bree, darling, how are you?” someone said, laying their hand on my shoulder. I spun around. A black, shiny skin encased all of Miriam’s body save for her hands and face, and knee-high black boots with killer heels completed her outfit. She wore no underwear underneath as there were no bends in the plastic-like fabric while her nipples were evident. “You’re a jumper, aren’t you? Dinner is at least another half an hour away. Also, can I offer you a shower? Or can I wash your clothes?”
I closed my mouth that had fallen open. “I prefer not to be on the streets after dusk. That’s safer, so I leave after dinner. I hope you understand.”
“No problem, but at least take a shower. If necessary, I got a modest room for you.”
My mind could not wire the situation together like a sensory overload. I could not think clearly and nodded at Miriam’s enchanting smile and followed her into a hallway.