| FROM THE CASE FILES OF KITTY
| by Van ©2016
| Chapter 7
confident that Jessie-the-slut and Kitty-the-detective couldn't
possibly escape from their ropes during her absence,
Angelique climbed the stairs to the first floor. It was
time to move Philberta-the-other-detective, her third
plaything, down to the basement to join playthings one and
two. She'd also take the occasion to reinforce the
blonde's bondage, but hadn't yet made her mind up as to exactly
how. She decided to get her downstairs, tape up her
fingers and hands, like she'd done with her partner, then wait
"Philberta," Angelique muttered to herself as she neared the
closet incarcerating the plaything in question. From the
few words she'd exchanged with the little blonde before her
capture it was obvious she was British, and during the course of
disarming, stripping, and binding the pixie-haired cutie, she'd
discovered her business card, which was how she knew her full
name: "Philberta Finch." If Mumsy and Dada had named me
'Philberta,' Angelique thought as a delicate shudder
shook her petite form, it probably would have driven me quite
Angelique knew she should call Miriam to tell her of her good
fortune, that she now had three damsels upon whom to
visit distress, but decided to wait until she had Philberta
further restrained and suffering for her partner's and Dr.
Maitland's edification and her own entertainment, then
make the call. Angelique frowned. When she called
Miriam, there was a good chance Big Sister would send over a
goon to, shall we say, "deal" with the detectives, and then
Angelique wouldn't have had much time to play. She'd still
have Jessie-the-slut, of course, but the detectives would be...
gone. No, Angelique decided, best to wait
before informing Miriam, perhaps even wait until she decides it's safe to
come over and do her gloating in person. Miriam
will complain, of course, but by then it will be a done
deal. I'll already have had scads
Smiling in anticipation, Angelique pulled out her keys and
unlocked the closet containing
the naked, bound, and gagged Philberta, but paused to
give the door a knock. "Hello? Philberta? Are
you ready to come out and play?" She opened the door and—
A nude but very much not bound and gagged Bertie Finch erupted
from the dark closet! She delivered a punch with her right
fist to Angelique's jaw and the startled brunette staggered
back. The blow was followed by a swing-kick to Angelique's
Angelique fumbled for her taser and pulled it from her
pocket—but it went flying thanks to another swing-kick from the
attacking blonde. "How?" Angelique gasped, barely able to
muster the breath to speak. "How were you able to—Ah!"
Bertie had delivered a
third swing kick, this time to the side of her
opponent's head. With a dazed expression, Angelique stood
in place for a few heartbeats... then crumpled to the floor.
Still in fighting stance, Bertie scowled down at the unconscious
brunette. "How? I'm Kitty's squirmy little English
Muffin!" she shouted in triumph. "That's
how!" Bertie returned to the closet for the ropes her
captor had used to bind her. "Time for you to learn how to
tie someone properly," she huffed, then doubled the
longest coil and found its center.
| Chapter 7
feeling increasingly wretched, especially her shoulders, calves,
feet, and tied toes, and she knew Jessie was probably even more
unhappy. And the "fun" Angelique had promised hadn't even
begun. Worst yet, with Kitty's fingers and hands mummified
in silver duct-tape, escape from her rope bonds was
impossible. All of Kitty's hard earned escapology skills
were useless, thanks to her tightly encased fingers.
Kitty refused to surrender to despair. This might be the
end of her career—the long, slow, agonizing end of her
career—but Kitty didn't surrender to despair. Bertie!
The worst part was her partner. Angelique Crazy-Nurse
Porter had gone upstairs to fetch Bertie, and it looked like it
would be the end of both their careers.
Still, there was always hope. Maybe Nikki would rescue
them. That was an exceedingly remote possibility, of
course, for as far as Kitty knew, Bertie's NYPD "girlfriend" and
the Shyster's kid sister was totally unaware of Jessie
Maitland's capture, much less Kitty and Bertie's efforts to
effect a rescue, much less their subsequent capture and the
concomitant need for a rescue of their own.
There was always Athena Zavros, of course, the "security
consultant" Miriam Holden had hired to kidnap Jessie in the
first place. Athena had changed sides—in a passive sort of
way—and provided the clue that put Kitty and Finch Investigative
Services hot on Jessie's trail (and bumbling into the
crazy-bitch arms of Angelique Porter). Maybe Athena would
turn totally from the Dark to the Light and come to their
rescue. Yeah, right. It was a slim hope, to
say the least, but at the moment it was the best that Kitty had.
Just then, Kitty heard the patter of rapidly approaching
feet—rapidly approaching bare feet, as opposed to pounding
sneakers. Someone without shoes was approaching at a run
and was already quite close. And then, the someone in
question emerged from the shadows, entered Kitty's field of
view, and she was—"Mrrrfhn!"—Muffin!
"Oh, darling," Bertie sighed as the naked but unbound Brit
rushed to Kitty, took her head in her hands, and planted a kiss
on her tape-gagged lips. She then continued on where
Angelique had secured the rope enforcing Kitty's strappado
position and quickly untied the terminal knot.
"Mrrr," Kitty sighed through her tape-sealed lips as the rope
went slack and she was able to come down off her toes and stand
erect. Heels, soles, and tied toes solidly on the floor,
she watched as Bertie scampered over to the steel table, rolled
it under Jessie's suspended body, then padded to the hoisting
rope securing the suspension and began untying its terminal
knot. "Mrrr!" Kitty hummed through her gag.
"Hold your horses, darling," Bertie purred as she took hold of
the suspending rope, released the final hitch of the knot, and
slowly, carefully, lowered Jessie to the table. "Customer
service comes first," the little Brit chuckled.
This was intentionally infuriating, of course. Muffin knew
damn well that Kitty agreed that Jessie was their first
priority, but Kitty had questions and she needed answers.
It was... frustrating.
Meanwhile, Bertie made a quick trip to the cart with Angelique's
array of toys, snatched up the paring knife beside the dish with
the ginger root, then returned to the table and attacked
Jessie's ropes and cords. "Besides," Bertie sighed as she
severed the cords binding Jessie's braided hair and toes to her
hogtie-bonds, "I'm sure poor Jessie has been a bound prisoner far
longer than yourself." She winked at her glowering
partner. "Don't be selfish."
Kitty sighed through her gag, again. Hilarious.
Keep it up.
Kitty had issues:
I'll deal with you later, Kitty promised silently,
continuing to glare at her naked, smiling, irritating (adorable)
partner. Kitty was very much not bent over in a
punishing strappado, but she was still naked and tied
up. A wave of relief and pure love for her
girlishly beautiful, tow-haired lover washed through Kitty's
bound and gagged body. God she's so CUTE! Of
course, Kitty still intended to take her righteous and entirely
justified revenge on the naked pixie for having the unmitigated
gall to rescue Kitty Wynter instead of waiting to be
rescued like a good damsel. The very nerve!
- Relief! Bertie was not only okay, but she was in
charge! Bertie didn't need rescuing. In fact,
Bertie was doing the rescuing!
- To reiterate... Bertie. Was.
Doing. The. Rescuing. That's MY job!
- Where was Angelique? Kitty assumed Bertie had things
under control. But, where was Angelique?
- And of course Jessie took precedence,
dammit! Bertie was enjoying Kitty's frustration entirely
Meanwhile, Bertie was making rapid and dramatic progress in her
task of freeing Jessie from her bonds. Soon, the naked
nerd rolled off the steel table, peeled the tape from her lips,
then spat a red rubber ball from her mouth. "Quick!" she
croaked, "pencil and paper!"
Bertie watched the ball bounce away, then turned to
Jessie. "Excuse me?"
Jessie executed an awkward stretch. "Arrgh! I need
to write down some equations."
"Uh, I suppose there might be some paper upstairs," Bertie
answered, gesturing into the darkness, "but... Oh!"
Jessie had given Bertie a quick, fierce hug, then padded away in
the direction indicated.
Bertie watched Jessie disappear into the darkness. "Don't
mess with the computer!" she called after her, then shrugged and
turned to her partner. "That was unexpected," she
"Mrrrf!" Kitty was not amused. She was also bound
and gagged. Still. And who cares about the damn
computer? Kitty blinked in confusion. Wait.
Bertie padded to her partner and pulled her into a fierce
embrace. "Oh, Kitty," she sighed. "Thank goodness
Kitty was not okay. She was bound and gagged, and
naked... but a shudder of pure affection shook her helpless body
and she rested her tape-gagged head on her diminutive partner's
Bertie held the hug for several seconds, then sighed, released
Kitty and stepped behind her, untied and removed her
wrist-bonds, untied the knot securing her elbow-bonds, used the
paring knife to carefully, deftly slice through most of Kitty's
finger-wrappings, then scampered away. "I'll be upstairs
taking care of Jessie!" she called back over her shoulder.
Just you wait! Kitty squirmed and wiggled and was
rewarded by increasing slack in her elbow-bonds. Soon, the
slack coils of rope slid from her arms and dropped to the floor.
Kitty struggled to extract her fingers and hands from the
remaining tape, but it was an awkward, clumsy task as her
fingers were still half-buried in the semi-intact and sticky
mass. Bertie! You did this on purpose!
After nearly a minute of determined tugging and wiggling, Kitty
was finally able to free her hands and toss the silver
wad into the darkness.
Next, Kitty bent forward at the waist, ignoring her complaining
back, and began untying her knee-bonds. After that, only
her ankles and toes remained. Just you wait! she
reiterated, silently, as her gag also still needed
removing. Kitty's lips were still sealed.
And before her departure, Bertie hadn't explained the
significance of the computer upstairs. Kitty assumed the
digital device in question was somehow connected to the
case. She'd know soon enough.
| Chapter 7
discovered the hamper-on-wheels containing her clothes and
quickly dressed herself. There was no sign of her Glock,
backup piece, spare magazines, lock-pick set, iPhone, or her
other pocket contents. Bertie had tossed the paring knife
back on the cart as she left, so Kitty picked it up. It
was a pitiful weapon, but better than nothing. As ready as
she was going to get, Kitty turned and strode in the direction
the naked Jessie and Muffin had taken, what Kitty assumed was
the direction of the stairs.
Her assumption was correct. Kitty found Bertie and Jessie
in a large room on the first floor. It was either a home
office, a lounge, or more probably, both.
Jessie was kneeling on the floor in the center of the room with
a pen, clipboard, and open package of printer paper, and was
feverishly writing. Several of the white sheets were
already covered with what Kitty took to be either mathematical
equations, circuit diagrams, or Klingon poetry... possibly all
of the above. The hot nerd was still naked and was
apparently totally oblivious to her surroundings. As Kitty
watched, she finished filling a page, removed it from the
clipboard and carefully positioned it among the pages already
fanned out into various groupings that more-or-less surrounded
her naked, kneeling form, clipped a fresh sheet to the
clipboard, and resumed writing... or drawing... or both.
Bertie, also still naked, was seated in an office chair at a
large desk and was busily tapping the keys of a high-end Apple
desktop computer. As Kitty watched, her partner tapped a
final key and a box popped up on the monitor screen. A
download of some sort had commenced. Bertie sat back in
the chair, swiveled to face Kitty, and smiled in triumph.
There was a third occupant of the room, not counting Kitty
herself. Angelique Porter was lying on the floor off to
one side and was naked, hogtied, and very tightly cleave-gagged
with a winter scarf. Kitty assessed her bondage as
relatively simple, inescapable, and somewhat
dangerous. The hogtying rope ran from Angelique's crossed
and bound wrists, through her crossed and bound ankles, then
doubled back to encircle her neck in a noose! If Angelique
struggled, or if the muscles she was using to keep her legs
folded succumbed to exhaustion, the noose would tighten and
she'd strangle herself! Her pale blue eyes were wide with
Kitty frowned at the still smiling little blonde in the
chair. "Bertie!" Kitty wasn't above a little hideous
revenge at Angelique's expense (actually, she wasn't above a lot
of hideous revenge at Angelique's expense), but there was a time
and place for such things.
Bertie's smile became decidedly coy. "What? I have
Kitty continued frowning.
Bertie ticked off her reasons with the fingers of her right
hand. "One, I had to search her for weapons. Hence,
the stripping. Two, I had to make sure she didn't escape
while I was conducting my search."
"Of course," Kitty conceded.
"And three..." Bertie turned to gaze at the naked,
helpless, and carefully not struggling Angelique.
"She made me angry."
Kitty heaved a sigh. "Well, I know how you get when you're
angry." She turned her gaze from Angelique to the download
indicator slowly creeping across the monitor screen. "What
are you doing?"
Bertie's smile broadened. "Guess which pair of psychotic,
kidnapping sisters decided to make video recordings of
everything having anything to do with their crime?"
"You're kidding," Kitty huffed. "Nobody's that
"No, I'm not kidding," Bertie purred, "and apparently, they are
that stupid. I haven't had time to review everything, of
course. We can do that at our leisure, after the download
of copies to our office server is complete."
"You took time off to hack this bitch's computer while I was
downstairs being tortured?" Kitty demanded.
"Don't be hurtful, Kitty-Kat," Bertie giggled. "I was
frantically searching for Jessie and yourself, entered this
room—" She indicated the monitor with a graceful flip of
the wrist. "And there the pair of you were on the
screen. A 'record' indicator was flashing in one corner,
and the opposite corner had a flickering date and time
stamp. Also, the word 'basement.' That told me where
to look next... not that I wouldn't have found you eventually."
Kitty nodded. "Complete records?"
Bertie shrugged. "Based on the file labels, yes.
Even the planning stage."
Kitty nodded, deep in thought. This was mildly
irritating. Now Kitty didn't have an excuse to take
justice into her own hands. She gazed at Angelique, and
the naked, hogtied, quite obviously terrified captive gazed
back. "I guess that means we have to let the law deal with
them," she said finally. "We don't get to kidnap the other
sister and dump them both in the East River."
Bertie giggled. "Disappointing, but watching their lawyers
try and squirm out from under all of this evidence should be
Bertie continued smiling and Kitty smiled back. Jessie
continued scribbling equations. Angelique, her pale blue
eyes still wide with fear above the wool scarf cleaving her
mouth, continued not struggling.
"I suppose we should call Nikki and Shyster," Kitty suggested.
"Right," Bertie agreed, then pointed to a coffee table in front
of a sofa and pair of easy chairs. "Our stuff is over
Kitty rushed to the low table and picked up her weapon.
"Glockie!" she exclaimed with glee as she quickly, deftly
removed the magazine, checked the action, then slammed the
magazine back into the butt of the handle.
"Glockie?" Bertie giggled.
"Shut up," Kitty ordered as she holstered the Glock and clipped
it in its proper place at the small of her back, restored her
backup piece to her right boot top, and pocketed her other
stuff, leaving her iPhone for last. "And go find your
clothes. We're about to have official company."
Bertie giggled, left the chair, and padded in the direction of
her former closet prison. Logically, her clothes might be somewhere
"Wait!" Kitty shouted, and Bertie turned and padded in her
"What?" the adorable, brave little Brit asked.
Kitty pulled Bertie into a tight embrace and kissed her startled
lips. "I love you, Muffin," she sighed when she came up
"I love you too, Kitty-Kat," Bertie responded, and the kiss
Finally, Kitty released Bertie and sent her on her way with a
slap on the butt. "Go," she ordered, "and find something
for the nerd to wear." Her eyes were on her partner's
naked, disappearing back, dimpled butt, and flashing legs.
"Will do!" Bertie shouted back over her right shoulder.
Kitty activated her phone, selected one of her contacts, and placed her
call. "Detective Braslow," she purred when Nikki answered, "have I got a story for you."
"Kitty," Nikki's voice sighed, "I'm busy."
"This is work
related," Nikki chuckled. "Now listen up and take
notes. I'm about to make you famous."
|The Damsel Vanishes
| Chapter 7
THE MANHATTAN TOWNHOUSE OF HARCOURT AND MIRIAM HOLDEN
was enjoying a cup of tea in the sitting room. She
couldn't help but smile, thinking about the tortures Harcourt's
Whore was suffering at this very moment. She realized it
was prudent to wait until it was absolutely clear that nothing
was going to lead the authorities to Miriam or her sister before
downloading and viewing the video records of Angelique's
"entertainment" of Jessie Maitland. She herself had
insisted that there be no contact until she decided it was safe,
and while delayed gratification could be sweet... Miriam very
much wanted to see the brainy bitch writhing in
pain! She wanted to savor the terror and despair in her
big brown eyes.
Suddenly, Miriam heard a commotion coming from the direction of
the front hallway. Seconds passed, then, much to her
alarm, several men with pistols aimed in her direction barged
into the room. They were dressed either in NYPD uniforms
or business suits, and all wore dark blue bullet-proof vests
emblazoned with the word "POLICE." Miriam's cup and saucer
clattered to the floor as she leaped to her feet. Close on
the heels of the first intruders came an attractive blond woman
in a pantsuit, also wearing a bullet-proof vest labeled "POLICE"
and brandishing a handgun.
"Miriam Holden," the blonde said as she holstered her weapon and
produced a pair of handcuffs, "you are under arrest for
kidnapping and criminal conspiracy."
"What?" Miriam demanded. "How dare you!" The
blonde had spun her around, seized her wrists, and was cuffing
her hands behind her back!
The cuffs in place, the blonde pulled a small card from a pocket
in her vest and began to read. "You have a right to remain
silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used
against you in a court of law."
"Stop!" Miriam shouted as she was led from the room.
"You have the right to an attorney," the blonde continued
without missing a beat. "If you cannot afford an attorney,
one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these
rights as I've read them to you?"
"This is an outrage!" Miriam cried, tugging on the cuffs.
"I demand you leave my home immediately!"
The blonde returned the card to her vest, then produced a folded
piece of paper. "Not until we've executed our search
warrant," she purred. "Come, we can chat after you've been
"I demand my lawyers!" Miriam exclaimed.
"A small army of your husband's lawyers will no doubt meet us
down at the precinct," the blonde explained. "Although,"
she continued with a smile, "sorting out which ones will be
representing you and which will be joining you in the conspiracy
charge may complicate things for a while. I'm Detective
Braslow, by the way."
Miriam was half-led, half-dragged towards her front
entryway. More police were milling about, some in
uniforms, and some in suits. There were also a handful of
her servants present, most of whom were being interviewed by the
police. They watched her pass with a mix of shock and
poorly concealed delight.
Miriam and her escort exited the townhouse and—"No!"—were met by
the flashing strobes of still photographers, the bright lights
of television cameras, and a crowd of reporters shouting
questions. Dazed and confused, her heart hammering, her
normally flawless hair slightly mussed, helpless in the firm
grip of Detective Braslow and her handcuffs, Miriam
found herself the center of unwanted attention in a classic
example of what has come to be referred to as a "perp walk."
Nikki struggled to suppress her smile and maintain a
professional demeanor. Her big sister Kirsten's
off-the-record warning calls to her press contacts was putting
just the right spin on the story. By the time Miriam
Holden's lawyers got around to holding a press conference,
additional details would have leaked and it would be difficult,
if not impossible, for them to paint the kidnapping bitch as a
victim of police harassment.
|The Damsel Vanishes
| Chapter 7
airtight alibis not withstanding, Athena Zavros had decided that
at least a temporary vacation from the Big Apple might be a good
The BREAKING NEWS! of Crazy-Miriam's arrest was blaring from the
television. The anchor desk reporter didn't seem to know
anything that could be called informative, nor did the gorgeous
blonde with the microphone in her hand doing the remote report
from the stoop of the Holden townhouse. The news cycle was
a classic example of the "beast that cannot be fed."
Harcourt Holden's wife has been arrested! We don't know
why! It would be wrong to speculate! Let's
Athena intended to travel light. In fact, it might be said
she lived light. There was nothing she was leaving behind
in her apartment she couldn't do without. If the cops did
come knocking with a search warrant, Athena would lose a few
changes of clothes and not much else. Her traveling
clothes, important papers, laptop, and the cleaning kit and a
couple of boxes of spare ammo for her two handguns were in a
single small, wheeled suitcase. Athena closed the lid,
extended the telescoping handle, rolled the suitcase near the
front door, then made a quick, final sweep of the apartment.
The soon-to-be-vacationer (fugitive) was dressed in high heel
pumps, a heather gray pencil skirt with matching jacket over a
white blouse, and a dark-tan trench coat. Her hair was
pulled back in a loose ponytail and her head covered by a
patterned silk scarf, mostly in subdued shades of purple, folded
into a triangle and loosely tied under her chin. Finally,
a large pair of designer sunglasses shielded her eyes. It
was hardly a disguise, but the colors and style elements were
carefully chosen to blend into a crowd. When she wanted,
Athena could dress to the nines and be the center of attention,
but knowing how to not be noticed was a professional
skill she'd mastered a long time ago.
Athena returned to the front door, placed her right hand on the
suitcase handle, then turned for a final look around. It
was a fully furnished apartment with a reasonable rent,
something as rare as hens teeth in New York City. Granted,
it was small, but she liked it. She decided she was going
to miss the place... then dismissed the matter from her mind,
turned, opened the front door—and found herself staring at Kitty
Wynter, Bertie Finch, and down the barrels of a pair of
Glocks. The partners were dressed in heels, gray business
suits, white blouses, and light coats, much like Athena, but
without the scarf and sunglasses.
"Hey, Athena," Kitty said with a smile. "Heard the news?"
Athena released the extended handle of the suitcase and kept her
hands carefully at her sides, away from her body. Her Sig
Sauer P226 was holstered at the small of her back, but
unfortunately that was under both her jacket and trench
coat. Her smaller, P229 backup piece was in a holster
strapped to the inside of her right thigh and equally
inaccessible. Both weapons might as well be packed in her
suitcase. That left Athena's unarmed combat skills, but
handguns aside, she knew both Kitty and her partner were just as
well trained and it would be two against one. There was no
getting around it. They had the drop on her.
Athena smiled. "You mean the news that Miriam Holden might
be spending the night in the gray bar hotel? I give it
fifty-fifty. Her husband's lawyers will spring her in an
Kitty was also smiling. Bertie, not so much. Kitty
waved her Glock, "suggesting" that Athena back into the
apartment. "I'd take that bet, but it wouldn't be
fair. I know something you don't."
Athena took several slow, careful backwards steps before
Kitty and Bertie entered the apartment, their weapons never
wavering. Continuing her angry (and adorable) scowl,
Bertie closed the door and turned the deadbolt.
"New York's Finest have evidence that several of Holden's
lawyers knew about the kidnapping scheme," Kitty explained, "and
her husband will be briefed on the entire affair. There's
a good chance he'll turn on Miriam, cut his losses, and file for
divorce. Gossip has it the Holden marriage is already,
shall we say, strained. Miriam Holden may soon find her
legal team reduced to an overworked public defender."
Athena nodded. "Evidence?"
"Miriam and Angelique made video records of their plans to
abduct and torture of Jessie Maitland, as well as the torture
"Narcissistic, entitled idiots," Athena sighed, shaking her
"The good news is they never mention you by name," Kitty
continued. "The bad news is they do discuss hiring
muscle to do the actual kidnapping. I'm sure the cops will
be very interested in learning the full details."
"If she names me, she incriminates herself," Athena noted.
Bertie spoke for the first time. "And how long do you
think it will take that crazy bitch to throw you under the bus
for a reduction in sentence? Or an extra bologna sandwich
at lunch, for that matter."
"Good point," Athena conceded.
"Assume the position," Kitty ordered.
Athena heaved a sigh, turned and faced the nearest wall, placed
her hands on the wall and spread her feet, then leaned forward.
Bertie stepped forward, careful not to mask her partner's field
of fire, holstered her weapon, and frisked the still smiling
brunette. The frowning blonde was thorough and
professional, but not especially gentle. She found and
removed both of Athena's weapons, as well as her spare
magazines, iPhone, and a small folding knife. She then
removed Athena's scarf and sunglasses, reached up under her coat
and skirt, and pulled down her panties.
Ever the helpful prisoner, Athena stepped free of the
panties. She watched as Bertie crumpled the panties into a
silky wad, then continued being helpful by opening her mouth so
the glowering pixie could stuff them inside. She continued
cooperating as Bertie pulled a wide strip of clear tape with a
matte finish from her pocket, peeled off its paper backing, then
plastered the strip to Athena's lips.
Bertie pocketed the paper, then pulled Athena's coat down and
off her shoulders, produced a pair of plastic flexi-cuffs,
closed them around her upper arms, and zipped them tight,
pulling Athena's elbows together. Kitty reached into her
pocket, produced a pair of hinged handcuffs, and tossed them to
her partner. Finally, Bertie pulled the trench coat free
from Athena's lower arms, tossed it aside, and closed the cuffs
around Athena's wrists.
"I suppose we could put her on the bed," Kitty suggested.
Bertie shook her glowering head, took her prisoner by the arm,
and dragged her to the apartment's small bathroom. "Good
news," she muttered. "There's a bathtub."
In short order Athena was in the tub, lying on her right side,
her ankles bound by a second pair of flexi-cuffs, and gazing up
at her detective captors.
"What goes around, comes around," Bertie huffed, smiling for the
first time since Athena had opened her front door. She
then turned and stomped back into the apartment.
Kitty smiled down at the bound and gagged "security
consultant." Bertie had removed Athena's shoes and they
were neatly arranged, side by side, on the tiled floor.
Athena's skirt had hiked up and her jacket and white blouse were
decidedly rumpled. Bertie had opened Athena's jacket and
released several blouse buttons to expedite her search for
weapons, so the captive's bra-covered breasts were more or less
on open display.
"I agree that it's a good idea for you to disappear for a
while," Kitty purred, "but it turns out there's no rush. I
have inside information that the police won't get around to
knocking on your door for at least three days. I know just
the place for you to hide, and it's only a few blocks from
here. Once the sun goes down, we'll take a stroll in that
direction. Between your trench coat, scarf, and
sunglasses, and with Bertie and myself on either side, I'm sure
any pedestrians we pass won't notice a thing, especially after
we add a little makeup and lipstick to hide the gag. After
all, this is New York."
Athena heaved a tape-gagged sigh and gazed up at her captor,
more ticked off than afraid. Everybody knew Kitty Wynter
and Bertie Finch were straight arrows. Kitty was
street-smart and tough, but Athena knew she wouldn't do her any
real harm. The same went for Bertie, although Athena
wouldn't put a little revenge past the blond Brit. And she
couldn't really object to Bertie being a little vindictive...
not that Athena was in a position to do anything about it if she
did object. And it's true, she thought, what
goes around does come around.
"See you after sundown," Kitty said. "Please don't make
any noise, or I'll be forced to send in Bertie to make you more
secure, and I seriously doubt that you'd enjoy it. Do we
have an understanding?"
Athena heaved another sigh through the panties stuffed in her
mouth and the more-or-less invisible tape sealing her lips, then
"Good girl," Kitty chuckled. She left the bathroom,
leaving the door open behind her.
Having no other real choice, Athena settled in to wait.
|The End of...
|The Damsel Vanishes
| Chapter 7