Scotti several eye-blinks to decide what to do next.
Mother Sybil and The Villainous Amy had returned to the main
house, supposedly so the former could tuck the later into bed...
whatever that meant. Scotti hoped it meant Sybil finding
more coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline and lashing
her wayward daughter to said bed, preferably naked and
inescapably. That way Amy wouldn't be wiggling free and
sneaking back to The Cottage to wreak additional havoc, but that
would be up to Sybil. Scotti knew that Sybil was tall,
beautiful, and very nice, but she was also at least a little
kinky, to some degree; however, she was also Amy and Iris'
maternal unit, so... probably no more rope... probably.
Scotti supposed there was an outside chance, but if it happened,
the bondage probably wouldn't be anything elaborate.
In any case, Sybil and Amy were almost certainly out of the game
for the rest of the evening... probably. Scotti still
didn't have a firm lock on the rules.
And speaking of Iris, she wasn't... meaning Iris wasn't
out of the game. Iris was still naked and stringently (and
artistically) bundled in the "X" or "crossed" hogtie crafted by
her big sister. And Scotti still wasn't a big fan
of Amy's hogtie jargon. Granted, with her ankles crossed,
legs frog-tied, and wrists crossed behind her back in a
fancy-schmancy enhanced box-tie, Iris' current condition was
different from the "straight" or "linear" hogtie Amy had
inflicted on Scotti herself; but so what? Was it enough
of a distinction to warrant the creation of an entire hogtie
classification system? Not really, in Scotti's humble
opinion. Her former and Iris' current helplessness had
been overwhelmingly the same in the most important aspects, and
helplessness was what really mattered with a hogtie, right?
Scotti gazed at Iris... and her ropes... and her pale,
rope-dimpled skin... and big brown eyes... and tape-gagged
lips... which were standing out in three dimensions...
Scotti's hands flew to her own mouth. She'd forgotten she
herself was still tape-gagged! How embarrassing.
Her fingers fumbled for the upper right corner of the strip of
off-white medical tape... then paused. I just have
to see this! she decided, then lifted her legs, rolled to
the side, planted her bare feet on the floor, stood, and
scampered/padded into the bathroom. Needless to say, Iris
remained behind on the bed.
Naked and covered with rapidly fading rope-marks (and freckles),
Scotti stood in front of the washbasin and stared at her
reflection in the mirror. As expected, her lips did, in
fact, stand out in three dimensions... just like Iris' lips...
like the lips of a marble statue. Well, not quite
like a marble statue, she noted, at least not a
classically realistic marble statue. The
shape of her lips rendered in stretched tape was a suggestion,
not a fully realistic depiction. After all, the smooth,
wrinkle-free rectangle of off-white medical tape—"Microfoam" Amy
had called it—was substantial, as opposed to insubstantial,
as would be the case with a neatly applied patch of white clown
makeup. That said, the fully detailed shape of her lips did
stand out in bas relief. It was... intellectually
Scotti stared at (meaning admired) her tape-gagged visage for
close to a full minute, turning her head to examine it from
multiple angles... then heaved a sigh, teased back the
upper-right corner of the strip... and slowly, carefully peeled
away the tape. She was taking her time so it wouldn't
hurt, but what it did do was stretch her skin and lips
as the adhesive reluctantly surrendered its grip. That was
also intellectually stimulating.
And with that, the tape was gone.
Scotti leaned close and examined her lower face, pouting and
grimacing to make sure her lips and mouth were still fully
functional. They were. Also, the rectangular pink
blush of that portion of her skin that had been directly under
the strip was fading as she watched. She decided the
pinkness was probably an artifact of the tape removal process,
and not a reaction to the tape itself. All medical
tapes are safe, right? Anyway... the blush was gone
and her lips and the surrounding skin were back to their natural
dusky coral pink and peachy-pink (with freckles),
respectively. No harm no foul... dermatologically
The same couldn't quite be said for the pink
indentations still banding and crisscrossing her limbs and
torso. They were also fading, and there didn't appear to
be any residual rope-burns or bruises—a further testimonial to
Amy's skill as a Rigger—but the pink rope-fossils were still
there. They'll be gone by morning, Scotti
Scotti indulged in a drink of water, then performed the rest of
her evening routine, which she'd been about to do when she was
so rudely (and kinkily) interrupted by the DuPont Sisters.
And at least for now, she'd decided to equally blame both Amy and
Iris for everything that had happened. After all, both
Scotti and Iris were still naked, and Iris was still bound and
gagged, so the game was still in progress, right? And
since Iris' classification had automatically shifted from
Scotti's fellow prisoner to Scotti's prisoner, and since Scotti
Hunter was not a kinky kidnapper, if the game was to
continue (and for some reason Scotti had decided she did want
it to continue), Iris had to be a villainess, and therefore
Amy's equally guilty coconspirator. It was simple logic.
Scotti padded back into the main cottage and towards the bed,
and in the process confirmed that Iris was, indeed, still naked,
hogtied, tape-gagged, and lying on her thighs, tummy, and boobs
on the rumpled bed... and she was watching Scotti's return with
her big brown eyes. She hadn't escaped.
Scotti stood (posed), hands on hips, and smiled (gloated) down
at Iris for several seconds. In response, Iris blinked her
big brown eyes and squirmed in her elaborate cross-hogtie
bondage and waited for Scotti to start setting her free... which
for some reason wasn't already happening.
And then, Scotti finally stepped forward and finally
began fiddling with the knots enforcing Amy's cruel
handiwork. Iris heaved a tape-gagged sigh of glorious
Scotti's nimble fingers teased apart the knots enforcing the
frog-tie portion of Iris' predicament, then attacked the many
hitches, cinches, and knots enforcing the hogtie itself.
Eventually, Iris' ginger rescuer was successful and Iris was
able to straighten her legs. By her reaction (another
sigh, and this time accompanied by a tape-gagged smile) it felt
wonderful. Iris rolled onto her side and watched as
Scotti selected one of her former hogtie ropes, straightened out
the tangled coil and found its center. Iris' smile
faded. In fact, she frowned. Why did Scotti need to
prepare a length of rope in order to untie her ankles?
Then, Scotti leaned close to Iris' still crossed and ankle-bound
feet, looped the doubled rope around Iris' already bound ankles,
and pulled the rope through itself, thereby eliminating all
slack and creating a tight lark-head or cow-hitch knot.
Next, Scotti looped the free ends of the rope over the bed's
foot-rail, back up and between Iris' ankles, then back down to
"Mrrrf!" Iris complained. Scotti was tethering her feet
(and therefore the rest of her) to the bed! She was changing
her bondage, not untying her!
Scotti smiled as she neatly wrapped the excess rope around
itself several times... then tied a terminal knot. She'd
made a neat, photogenic job of it, if she did say so
herself. Still smiling (in a sinister, Amy-like manner),
Scotti selected a second length of Iris' ex-X-hogtie
ropes and prepared it for use. Once ready, she
rolled Iris onto her rope-framed boobs—"Mrrrk!"—tied the rope
through the nexus of box-tie ropes just below the nape of her
neck, using another lark-head/cow-hitch, pulled it
tight, then looped and cinched the free ends through the
headboard. Finally, Scotti knelt and tied the terminal
knots around the lower bed-frame, down near the floor!
The end result was a naked Iris, cross-tied at the ankles,
tethered to the lower end of the bed-frame, box-tied from crotch
to shoulders, and tethered to the headboard end of the bed as
well! The tethers in question were neatly and tightly
compacted, but neither was especially taut. Iris had
something like four inches of wiggle-room at either end, but she
was definitely on the bed to stay... until Scotti
"Mrrrpfh!" Iris whined. Between her big sister's earlier
handiwork and Scotti's just-completed tethers, she remained
totally helpless! And tape-gagged! And
naked! And tied up! "Mrrrrr!"
It was heartbreaking, but Scotti was unmoved. "Don't give
me that," she huffed. "You think I'm stupid?
You're in on it. You're in on all of it.
Don't even try and tell me the naked hogtie demo was
all Amy's idea and that she... roped you into it."
She leaned close and gave a portion of Iris' box-tie a firm
shake. This had the unforeseen and unavoidable (but
entirely predictable) side effect of causing Iris' rope-framed
and slightly pinched boobs to wobble and oscillate. Scotti
stared at the pale, bobbling breasts (and their pointing
nipples) for a few seconds, then blushed. She'd just
realized that her own nipples were pointing!
Scotti quickly resumed her erect, gloating posture, crossed her
arms over her misbehaving tits, and resumed her disapproving
stare. "I wasn't born yesterday," she huffed.
Iris mustered her best combined argument for release and sincere
protestation of innocence: "Mrrrfh!" She also wiggled and
squirmed in her bonds... for added emphasis.
Scotti rolled her green eyes in response, collected all the
remaining unused clothesline, sloppily stuffed it into the
canvas messenger bag, tossed the bulging bag out of the way,
then padded to the floor lamp shining next to the loveseat,
turned it off, then padded back to the bed.
The only remaining light in The Cabin was the still-shining
reading lamp on the bedside table, but it was more than enough
to allow Iris to admire Scotti's freckled form and for
Scotti to objectively evaluate (ogle) her prisoner's pale,
bound, helpless, tape-silenced body as Iris lay on her side on
the bed's rumpled covers.
Scotti pulled back the covers in question, slid between the
sheets, made a show of settling in to sleep, and closed her
Scotti opened her eyes and smiled at Iris. "What?"
"Mrrrk!" Iris reiterated, this time in the imperative.
Still smiling, Scotti rolled her eyes. "Oh... very
well." She sat up and did her best to arrange the covers
over both of the bed's occupants. "There," Scotti
purred. "All better. Goodnight." She leaned
forward and planted a chaste kiss on the tip of Iris' irate
nose. (Iris' entire tape-gagged expression was irate, so
that meant her nose was irate as well). Still smiling,
Scotti lay back down, snuggled against her pillow, and closed
her eyes again.
"MRRRF!" Iris reiterated, more forcefully, but was just as
Scotti opened her eyes again, smiled what she hoped was an
infuriating smirk, then stretched out an arm and slowly,
carefully peeled the Microfoam tape from Iris' pouting
lips. As had been the case with Scotti's own kisser, the
tape stretched and deformed Iris' lips and skin as the adhesive
reluctantly surrendered its grip.
Her lips no longer sealed, Iris glowered at Scotti, licked her
lips, and repeatedly pouted and unpouted, recovering from her
tape-gag ordeal. While this was happening, Scotti neatly
folded the Microfoam strip back onto itself, placed it on the
nightstand for proper disposal in the morning, then redirected
her smile to her ex-roommate.
"Untie me," Iris requested (in a quiet voice).
"Why?" Scotti inquired (still smiling).
"Why?" Iris demanded, squirming in her bonds. "Because—"
"Because," Scotti interrupted, "otherwise, after I'm asleep you
won't be able to pounce and tie me up again?" Scotti
was still smiling pleasantly.
Iris shrugged her rope-yoked shoulders. "The thought never
occurred to me," she stated primly.
"Liar," Scotti drawled. "And another thing: what gives
your sister the right to strip me naked and tie me up in a
linear-hogtie. Just because she wants to?"
Now, Iris' smile was full and genuine. "In the first
place, all she did was tell you to strip. You could have
refused. And in the second place, you didn't even struggle
while she was tying you up. And in the third place:
Scotti's smile faded, then she frowned in Righteous Outrage (or
a reasonable facsimile thereof). "That's still no excuse
for her ordering me to get naked."
Iris' smile faded as well. "That's my fault,
actually. I told her you were ready. She wanted to
wait until after we all went skinny-dipping for the first time,
but I told her you were already ready."
Scotti was still frowning, but the expression had morphed from
feigned outrage to displeased puzzlement. It was
true. She'd acquiesced to Amy's demands without any real
resistance. The only explanation that occurred to Scotti
was that she was truly dedicated to her research
program. "But why naked?"
Iris' smile returned. "You're a lot more helpless when
you're naked. Kidnapped and fully clothed is one thing,
but kidnapped and naked?"
She has a point, Scotti mused. Of course,
clothes or no clothes, if the rigger is competent, helpless is
helpless... but still... Scotti sighed again.
"Okay, I get it. It's psychological."
"Also," Iris continued, "Mother's Special Catalog customers take
naked as a given, so when we do our product testing prior to
delivery, the test subject is always naked."
"That makes sense," Scotti conceded, then reached out and turned
off the reading lamp, plunging The Cottage into darkness.
"Uh... Scotti?" Iris said quietly.
"No. I'm not untying you," Scotti said evenly. "Shut
up and go to sleep, or I'll stuff my dirty panties in your
mouth, then use the Mircofoam still in the bag to make sure you
"Geesh!" Iris said after a few seconds of silence. "You really
A few more seconds passed before Scotti replied. "I
wouldn't really use my dirty panties," she
admitted. "That would be yucky. I know it's done all
the time on the internet, but... yuck."
"Yuck," Iris solemnly agreed.
"Anyway," Scotti continued. "Go to sleep... and
"Goodnight," Iris purred, then the bed shook as she squirmed for
comfort in her tight bonds... and heaved one last sigh.
Scotti closed her eyes to the darkness and resolved to do some
serious thinking about all that had just
transpired. Instead, she drifted off to sleep.
"Wake up and untie me. I have to pee."
Scotti yawned and opened her eyes. It was morning... early
morning. The drapes were open and there was light... a
little light... dim, early morning light. "Wha'z
"I'm tied to the bed, remember?" Iris answered.
"Oh. Yeah." Scotti threw back the covers, climbed
off the bed, and began the laborious process of releasing the
ankle and box-tie-tethers she'd tied to make sure Iris didn't
roll off the bed, untie herself, then return to pounce on Scotti
herself while she was asleep. "There," she huffed when the
last tether-rope slithered free, then took a firm grip on Iris'
remaining bonds (the elaborate box-tie tied by Amy), dragged
Iris to her feet, and they padded to the bathroom.
"You need to untie the crotch-rope," Iris stated.
"Cool your jets," Scotti muttered, but did indeed untie the
pussy-and-butt-cheeks-cleaving portion of the crotch-tie portion
of Iris' box-tie. She tucked the free strands out of the
way among the other box-tie-strands, then plunked her prisoner
down on the commode. "Make it quick. I need to pee
Iris did, indeed, make it quick... then freed the commode so
Scotti could do her business.
And then... it happened!
Scotti turned on the shower... waited for the temperature to
become comfortably warm... then dragged Iris with her under the
"Hey!" Iris objected, but it was too late. She was
wet. They were wet.
Iris fidgeted and tugged on her bonds as Scotti soaped a
washcloth and used it to scrub both their bodies—Iris' box-tied
but otherwise naked body—and Scotti's naked but rope-free
self! And that included both sets of boobs and their
lady-bits! Scotti was careful not to get soap in Iris'
eyes, and was diligent in her cleansing efforts.
Unfortunately, Amy's ropes prevented Scotti from a comprehensive
scrubbing of every square inch of Iris' pale body, but... after
a thorough rinse... they were both unarguably squeaky clean.
"You realize wet cotton clothesline is much more
difficult to untie than dry cotton clothesline," Iris
stated evenly, "and after it dries it's even worse."
"Really?" Scotti said with a bright smile as she used a bath
towel to dry both their bodies, including their hair. "Not
my problem." She then led Iris to the washbasin, which
required all of two steps.
Iris watched (grumpily) as Scotti brushed her hair (meaning
Scotti's damp, ginger hair)... then brushed her teeth... rinsed
and recharged her toothbrush... then brushed Iris'
teeth! Iris endured this ordeal of humiliating,
involuntary dental hygiene with naked, slightly damp, and
tousle-haired stoicism. She spat in the sink, accepted a
drink of water from her grinning ginger handler, swished it
around in her mouth... then spat again. Then, Scotti led
her back to the main room where she watched as Scotti quickly
made the bed... then plunked her down on the now smooth
bedspread. Iris continued watching as Scotti dressed for
the day. Scotti's hands (and the soapy washcloth) had been
all over Iris when they were in the shower, and once the shower
was over, the same went for the towel! That had been...
unexpected. That had been... initiative on
Scotti's part! She couldn't wait to discuss it with Amy
(and carefully suppressed the smile that wanted to curl her
Meanwhile, Scotti had donned underwear, socks, jeans, and
blouse, and was lacing up her clean, brand new, and
not-yet-fully-broken-in work-boots... then posed for her naked,
box-tied audience of one, hands on hips, ginger pageboy hanging
straight and perfect, green eyes sparkling, and a huge smile on
her freckled face.
Iris heaved a disapproving sigh. "You're going to make me
walk back to the house naked and tied up, aren't you?" she
demanded. "Look at my hair."
"It is a bit of a fright wig," Scotti chuckled, "but to
answer your question, yes. You deserve it for conspiring
with your sister to drag me into your sordid games."
"Sordid?" Iris objected.
"Nakedness," Scotti answered primly.
"Sordid is not a synonym of naked," Iris huffed.
"I didn't say it was," Scotti answered, then walked to the
Cottage door—Click! Creee...—and opened it.
"Off to breakfast. I'm hungry."
Iris favored her smiling friend with one last scathing scowl,
then stomped (padded) from The Cottage.
Scotti closed the door behind them. Creee...
Click! "Where do you guys keep the WD-40?"
"The workshop, of course," Iris answered, "and I think there's a
small spray-can in the main house, in the cleaning closet."
"Excellent," Scotti purred.
Iris split up when they reached the main house. That is,
at Iris' insistence, Scotti opened a side door so her naked and
box-tied friend with the disheveled hair could scamper off and
find assistance, presumably from Amy. Scotti smiled as she
watched Iris disappear into the interior, frowning, pouting (and
adorable, in Scotti's opinion). She then headed for the
kitchen and helped Sybil cook breakfast (French toast, tiny
sausages, and diced cantaloupe).
Most of the meal was ready by the time Iris and Amy breezed into
the kitchen and converged on the coffeemaker. Sybil and
Scotti were already sipping mugs of the hot, dark, delicious
ambrosia. Both sisters were typically dressed for the day
in boots, jeans, and work-shirts, although Amy's sleeves were
rolled up and Iris' were rolled down, no doubt to hide the
humiliating rope-marks that were almost certainly still covering
the younger sister's arms and wrists. Iris' hair was no
longer a short, dark-brown fright-wig, but was back to being a
stylishly tousled, dark-brown crop, as usual.
There was no discussion of last evening's Epic Events during the
meal. The atmosphere was friendly, just another day at The
DuPont Compound, with no after-action examination of the naked
bondage gaming session. However, who planned on
accomplishing what during the day was talked about, but
that was all, and nobody's plan-of-the-day involved bondage.
The plates were about half empty when (for some reason) Scotti
herself suddenly felt compelled to bring up The Game.
"What are the rules?" she blurted abruptly. The DuPonts
smiled and stared at Scotti's suddenly blushing face. "The
game," Scotti clarified, "the one with... with... rope."
Her heart was pounding for some reason, and she was very much
afraid she might start blinking.
"Do you know what she's talking about?" Iris asked her big
sister, then stabbed one of the tiny sausages still on her plate
with her fork, popped it into her mouth, and chewed, all the
while smiling at Scotti.
"Haven't a clue," Amy answered, than took a sip of coffee.
"No teasing!" Sybil decreed, then reached out and took hold of
Scotti's hand (who was still blushing), and locked eyes with her
young house-guest/tenant. Her lips were curled in a gentle
smile. "There is only one codified rule, Scotti, and here
it is: no means no. Always. No means no.
"I still don't know what she's talking about," Iris quipped,
then—"Ow!—frowned and glared at her big sister.
Scotti suspected that under the table Amy had kicked her
little sister in the shin (which she richly deserved). She
focused on Sybil's beautiful, smiling face and nodded. "No
"Good girl," Sybil purred, released Scotti's hand, and the meal
'No means no,' Scotti thought as she resumed
eating. That can't be the only rule, but it's
good to know it's the most important.
Nobody said much of anything while they finished their
food. Scotti assumed the DuPont sisters were taking the
time to mentally plot the next horrible research experiment they
planned to inflict on poor, innocent Scotti Hunter.
breakfast Scotti made a side trip to the main house cleaning
closet, and just as Iris had promised, there was an eight ounce
pressurized can of WD-40 waiting on the shelf among the various
cleaning products and polishes. It had a clever folding
nozzle that allowed the lubricant to be sprayed either as a fine
mist or through a folding red straw to concentrate it at a
precise point. She retreated to The Cottage and used the
can (in unfolded red straw mode and with a tissue to catch the
inevitable drip) to thoroughly lubricate the hinges of the front
door. She also lubricated the door-latch and bolt
mechanism, but that did nothing to alleviate the loud click!
that sounded whenever the latch was engaged or disengaged as the
door was opened or closed. At least the accompanying
semi-sinister squeal of the hinges had been eliminated.
Scotti lubricated every other hinge and bolt mechanism she could
find in The Cottage, then returned to the main house. Her
intent was to simply return the WD-40 to its closet home, but
instead she decided to oil all the hinges and bolt mechanisms of
all the exterior doors. While she was doing this, Sybil
appeared, smiled, cooed effusive praise, and planted a kiss on
Scotti's blushing right cheek. Apparently, Scotti's
unsolicited lubrication exertions had earned her several
Handy-Woman Brownie Points. Scotti was a "good girl."
The rest of the morning passed in a literary fashion. That
is, Scotti returned to The Cottage, sat at her desk, and
continued organizing and expanding her notes for The
Novel. This required the brewing and consumption of more
coffee at The Cottage's compact kitchenette.
Lunchtime arrived and Scotti abandoned her desk, wandered over
to the main house kitchen, and found Sybil stirring a pot of
chicken soup while Iris set the small table by the bay-window
with the spectacular view of the back garden with three place
Scotti asked the obvious question: "Where's Amy?"
"She said she didn't want any lunch," Iris answered.
Scotti focused on Sybil... who was smiling sweetly and
concentrating on the soup... which smelled yummy, by the
way. Something was up, but Scotti had no idea what,
"This is homemade but reconstituted," Sybil explained, using the
wooden spoon to point at the simmering pot.
"Mother makes big batches of all kinds of soups," Iris
explained, "then divides them into meal-size containers and
"I don't like canned soup," Sybil said as she carried the pot to
the table. "Too much sodium and not enough flavor."
Scotti nodded in agreement as she took her place at the
table. The simple meal was delicious, including the
store-bought rolls that accompanied the soup. However,
Amy's absence still hadn't been resolved to Scotti's
satisfaction. This was the first time Amy—or anybody, for
that matter—had missed a meal since Scotti's arrival at The
DuPont Compound. Something is definitely up,
she decided, but said nothing. If Amy was busy in the shop
or there was some other reasonable explanation (other than Iris'
statement that Amy simply "didn't want any lunch"), Scotti would
look ridiculous if she made it into a "thing." But how
could anybody not want any of this soup? Scotti wondered
as she ate.
Anyway, The Mystery of the Missing Amy remained a
puzzle through the rest of the meal and the kitchen cleanup that
followed. And then... Scotti's instinct was proved
correct. Amy's absence was indeed, a "thing." In
fact, as it turned out, it was a big thing!
"Need help in
the garden?" Scotti asked Iris as they exited the kitchen.
"No," Iris answered, "I need your help in storeroom number
"Storeroom number four?" Scotti inquired.
"Storeroom number four," Iris confirmed (with a friendly smile
that was only a little sinister).
Her brow knit with mild worry, Scotti strolled at Iris' side
towards the Storage Building behind the furniture workshop, the
one with the row of about twelve padlocked storerooms, including
Storeroom #1, the one with the pillory and stocks. "Uh...
you aren't planning on taking hideous revenge on me for not
untying you last night, are you?" Scotti asked.
"You also failed to untie me this morning," Iris pointed out.
"Granted," Scotti nodded. "So...?"
Iris' smile broadened. "No, I'm not taking hideous revenge
on you. Not right this instant, anyway."
"Oh. Good. That's reassuring." There was a
pause as Iris unlocked the end door of the Storage Building, the
one closest to the main house... then they strolled down the
corridor and past the higher numbered storerooms... until they
reached number four. Scotti frowned. "Wait. By
'not this instant' you mean one long, extended
instant during which you're not going to take hideous revenge on
me for not untying you, right?"
"Probably," Iris purred. "Now, pay attention, and you
should know that this is all Mother's idea."
"What you're about to see," Iris clarified. (The sinister
aspect of her smile had returned.) "Remember how you asked
about the rules?"
"No means no," Scotti solemnly quoted.
"Exactly, Iris nodded, "but Mother thinks you need context,
also to understand more of what's involved with the Special
Catalog product testing. So, she asked me to
explain. And, because Amy was such a prize
bitch last night, she ordered her to help."
Scotti nodded and watched nervously as Iris unlocked the
padlock, opened the Storeroom #4 door, reached inside and
switched on the overhead light, then, with a smile, a graceful
gesture, and a gentle shove, made sure Scotti preceded her into
the space beyond.
Scotti gasped as she crossed the threshold, then froze
in place, her green eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in
amazement (see also shock and horror).
The Mystery of the Missing Amy was now fully resolved!
| Chapter 5