gates barring both ends of the bridge linking St. Ignatius
"Island" to the "mainland" rolled aside... which took a few
seconds. Next, the black rental SUV carrying the Purple
and Green Binders (Ivy and Ripley) and the Purple and Green
Bindees (Betty and Sophie) rolled across the span... then
continued on... up and over a rocky ridge... and dropped from
view for the rest of California. The iron gates rolled
closed once again.
The main mansion was also screened by the ridge. There was
a generous gravel turnaround, a garage/carriage house, and then
the mansion itself, and it was beautiful. The
white-painted, welcoming, Victorian, "coastal" architecture
shone brightly under the bright sun. Ivy and Ripley's
smiles widened, as they did every time they arrived at the
Corbyns' vacation home. Betty and Sophie's smiles also
widened, but thanks to the waded bandanas they were holding in
their mouths, the effect was limited to their brown and blue
The landscaping was minimal, with the planting beds carefully
positioned and the species chosen to gradually blend into the
island's natural setting. There was a modest
green lawn around the saltwater pool on the far side of the main
mansion, but on the entrance side there were only
drought-tolerant native plants. The mansion's roof-gutters
diverted all rainfall into a large underground cistern, and on
normal years it was more than enough to support the human
residents and the patch of grass near the pool.
On dry years the lawn was allowed to go sere and dormant.
Alice, Chelsea, and Paige were present to greet the arrivals,
standing together near the front porch. They'd been
alerted by the mansion's security system when the SUV turned off
the main highway and onto the modest stretch of land owned by
the family on the far side of the bridge. The sisters were
in their team uniforms (skimpy string bikinis in purple and
green, respectively) with flip-flops protecting their feet,
while Paige was in Mexican sandals, jeans, and the cotton blouse
with vertical black and white stripes that heralded her Head
The vacationers and their hosts were finally together, so the
final giggling/squealing/kissing/hugging reunion of the journey
occurred; however, there was a complication. Neither Betty
nor Chelsea wanted to be the first to spit out their
bandana-stuffing for fear of forfeiting the warmup event of the
Bondage Olympics. Also, the Green and Purple Bindees'
wrists were still hinge-cuffed behind their backs, further
limiting their ability to participate in the hugs, kisses, and
"Oh, for crying out loud," Ivy muttered, rolling her eyes and
glaring at Betty and Sophie. "I told you two the
instructions said this was a warmup exercise and not
an actual part of the competition." She turned to
"Correct," Paige confirmed, then took things into her own
strong, freckled hands by stepping behind Sophie—quickly,
deftly, untying the folded purple bandana tied as a neck-scarf
around the blonde's neck—then swiftly re-tying the
folded bandana, giving the startled blonde a tight
cleave-gag! Stuffing retention was now involuntary!
Betty quickly realized what was happening to her fellow
Bindee—but her green stuffing was only halfway out of her mouth
before, quick as a striking rattlesnake (but with a grin
replacing the usual warning rattle) Alice reached out and
clamped her hand across Betty's mouth, firmly enough to prevent
the wad's expulsion!
"Don't be a spoilsport," Alice purred, locking eyes with her
fellow team member and continuing her infuriating smile.
Ivy and Ripley watched with grins of their own as Paige stepped
behind Betty, refolded her green, triangular, bandana-neck-scarf
into a narrow bandage, then tied it as a cleave-gag
through Betty's mouth.
"Mrrrmpfh!" Betty complained, stamping her bare feet in impotent
"Mrrrrr!" Sophie agreed, batting her blue eyes in dramatic
distress. The façade of her Feisty Damsel act was
crumbling rapidly and her more natural Gwendoline persona
struggled to break free (much like her hinge-cuffed wrists).
"There," Paige said, stepping back to the front and smiling a
broad smile that encompassed both the Purple and Green
teams. "Room assignments are the same as last year.
Make sure everything is out of the rental vehicle..." She
gestured towards the SUV. "Then, everybody should change
into their uniforms. She focused her smile on Betty and
Sophie. "You'll have to assist your teammates who've
decided to start playing early. Dinner will be burgers on
the grill with all the fixings and potato salad." She
clapped her hands. "Chop-chop."
Betty and Sophie watched (with resentment and trepidation,
respectively) as their fellow team members, including the
already bikini-clad Corbyn sisters, scurried back to the SUV,
gathered the travelers' minimal luggage, the Bindees' shoelaces
and shoes, and their former ankle-cuffs. Betty and Sophie
were then dragged (led) through the front doors and into the
Paige brought up the rear, smiling broadly and very pleased
with herself. "It's good to be the Umpire," she purred
under her breath.
| Chapter 3
At least for
Team Alice, what followed was a bit of a kerfuffle.
Once they arrived at Betty's spacious, well-appointed, and very
pleasant guest bedroom, the unjustly put upon and very Brave
Damsel did her best to squirm, struggle, and prevent her fellow
team members from relieving her of her traveling ensemble and
dressing her in her scandalously skimpy team uniform, what there
was of it. The lavender-purple bikini in question was
waiting patiently (hungrily), draped across the foot of her bed,
ready (eager) to embrace and cover Betty's boobs and
crotch. It was identical to Alice's bikini in every way
and was very pretty... as well as decidedly
minuscule. Betty made Alice and Ivy's task of carrying out
Paige's orders as difficult as she could. Fortunately (or
unfortunately, depending on your point of view), Alice and Ivy
had the experience and the required supporting
technology to overcome their teammate's inexplicable reluctance
to conform to proper team standards.
Alice did most of the actual undressing, with Ivy clutching
Betty's clothing and arms (as well as the occasional boob) as
required, entirely to expedite progress, of course. The
Captain of Team Alice unbuttoned Betty's buttons, unzipped her
zippers, and unclasped any clasps she encountered while Ivy
smiled sweetly into Betty's gagged and glowering face.
Clearly, Betty's non cuffed and gagged teammates were
enjoying the unfortunate damsel's futile resistance.
Betty, on the other hand, stared daggers at her wardrobe
assistants and growled muffled insults through her gag.
She could have tried kicking—Ivy's crotch was a
tempting and available target—but she knew such leggy resistance
would not only be ultimately futile, but downright rude.
Once Betty's dress and bra were off her shoulders, pulled down
her arms, and bunched around her cuffed wrists—thus baring her
upper body from neck to waist—the aforementioned supporting
technology came into play. With Ivy's continued
assistance, Alice pulled Betty's upper-arms close together and
locked them in the captive's former hinged ankle-cuffs, just
above her elbows. This made it possible to unlock the
hinged wrist-cuffs, pull Betty's dress and bra over her
desperately clutching hands, then cuff her wrists together once
Next, Betty's handlers (and alleged friends) pulled her dress
and panties down her legs, Betty stepped free (reluctantly), and
was now totally and embarrassingly nude, not counting the green
Team Chelsea bandanas plugging and cleaving her mouth and the
shiny steel hinged handcuffs locked just above her elbows and
around her wrists. She stamped her bare feet, twisted her
shoulders, tossed her head, mewled through her gag, and put on a
show, demonstrating her naked helplessness; however, not wanting
to mark her skin, she was careful not to tug on her wrist or
elbow cuffs with any great enthusiasm. Betty's long,
straight hair swayed and her breasts wobbled as she expressed
her dismay. Her brown eyes flashed in anger and
she blushed in mortification.
Alice and Ivy watched the spectacle with their lips curled in
the same smug, maddening grins, then began a detailed discussion
(and somewhat catty critique) of their victim's
physique, noting her all-over tan and firm musculature.
Obviously, in the off season (meaning between her vacations on
St. Ignatius Island), Betty made regular, habitual visits to her
local gym/spa and the facilities included some sort of tanning
arrangement. Alice suggested that Betty might have added a
few pounds since last year, but Ivy wasn't sure. Betty
knew the alleged weight gain was an obvious lie, an
overt, cynical attempt on her villainous captors' part to get
her goat. It was infuriating, and she wasn't going
to let it work! (No more than she had already, that is.)
Once Alice and Ivy were sufficiently satisfied that Betty was
sufficiently humiliated, they hung up her dress, dropped her
panties and bra in the guest bedroom's laundry hamper, then
picked up the purple bikini still patiently awaiting its
concluding/triumphant role in the involuntary change of apparel
melodrama, but instead of unfurling and deploying its very
modest number of square inches of fabric and tying its generous
strings, they dragged (led) Betty from her bedroom and down the
hall to Ivy's guest bedroom!
That's right! They paraded Betty's naked, gagged, and
double-cuffed body down the public hallway for all the world to
see! Of course, there was no one present, other than her
teammates, to actually witness Betty's walk-of-shame... but it's
the thought that counts. Betty was not happy.
"Mrrrf!" the outraged prisoner fumed.
"Oh, the drama," Ivy chuckled.
"Such histrionics," Alice agreed. "You'd think she'd never
been kidnapped and marched around bound, gagged, and naked
When they arrived at Ivy's bedroom, Betty and Alice watched as
Ivy stripped naked, hung up her dress and deposited her
underwear in her laundry hamper, then quickly donned
her copy of the team uniform.
Oh-by-the-way, like Betty, Ivy was meticulous in the maintenance
of her fitness program, and both of her teammates (nude and
bound and bikini-clad and unbound) agreed that her
shimmering ebony complexion, athletic figure, and feminine
assets were as exquisitely attractive as ever.
Finally—apparently deciding that enough was enough and working
jointly with the same deft teamwork they'd demonstrated back in
Betty's bedroom—Alice and Ivy positioned the bra-cups and bottom
of Betty's uniform over the appropriate regions of her anatomy
and tied the tiny garment's strings.
Team Alice was suited up and ready for the fray!
| Chapter 3
of drama... much the same stripping and dressing scenario played
out for Team Chelsea in Sophie's guest bedroom; however, having
reached the limit of her Feisty Damsel reserves, the helpless
blonde had reverted to her more natural Gwendoline
persona. She whined, whimpered, and heaved shuddering
sighs. It was truly heartbreaking and
poignant. And to go with her display of tragic and
undeserved captivity, Sophie offered only pathetically weak and
ineffective resistance as her grinning teammates replaced her
summer dress and sexy underwear with her jade-green Team Chelsea
bikini uniform. Her opposition didn't even rise to the
level of inconvenience for her handlers.
There had been no preliminary intramural discussion of handling
techniques between the two teams, but even so, Chelsea and
Ripley used the exact same wrist and elbow cuffing technique on
Sophie that Team Alice had used to deal with Feisty Betty, thus
keeping the pathetic blonde under their complete control during
her entire involuntary wardrobe change. (It's an
effective technique, of course, and both teams are
experienced, so its use shouldn't be all that surprising.)
Anyway—bikini-clad, wrist and elbow cuffed, and cleave-gagged
(with stuffing)—Sweet Sophie found her innocent and
undeserving-of-punishment self being dragged (led by the arms)
down the hall to Ripley's guest bedroom. Once there,
Chelsea hooked a finger through the left hip-strings of Sophie's
bikini bottom to keep her close, and the Innocent Damsel was
forced to watch (with Maidenly Mortification) as Ripley removed
and hung up her black traveling outfit, dropped her black undies
in the bedroom's laundry hamper, then donned the Team Chelsea
bikini waiting on the foot of her bed.
Now, all three teammates were sharing the overwhelming majority
of their physiques with the world, and it was clear they were
all in the same exquisite state of physical fitness and feminine
pulchritude expected of members-in-good-standing of Team
Sophie had a rich tan, and her undressing and redressing had
made it clear she did not make use of either a tanning
bed or a nude sunbathing venue during the off-season.
Ripley did not have an all-over tan, but she did have a
dusting of freckles on her shoulders, chest, and legs that
matched the dappling on her cheeks and across the bridge of her
button nose. Her breasts and bikini area were milky white
(light pink) and freckle-free, although no well-defined
tan-lines were on display. Ripley's teammates decided her
freckles were consistent with regular outdoor exercise, with the
proper use of sunblock and the wearing conventional
running/sports attire (all of which would probably be black, of
Finally, the team was ready. At their captain's suggestion
they headed for the pool.
| Chapter 3
For what was
left of the afternoon, a good time was had by all.
Initially, of course, a good time was had by most.
Alice, Chelsea, Ivy, and Ripley frolicked in the pool and
thoroughly enjoyed the cool, refreshing, filtered seawater
pumped up from the Pacific; however, Betty and Sophie were still
gagged and double-cuffed and were watching the watery fun from
the dappled shade of the pool's vine-covered pergola with
Glowering Resentment and Tragic Ennui (respectively).
Cleave-gags (with stuffing) and double-cuffed arms put a real
damper on aquatic frolicking.
Finally (after only a few minutes, actually) Paige emerged from
the mansion pushing a cart laden with numerous bottles of
different varieties of alcohol, a large ice bucket, and acrylic
glasses in various shapes. It was a mobile bar. She
put a stop to the ongoing nonsense by admonishing the four wet
vacationers for not releasing the two dry vacationers.
Chelsea pointed out that this was, indeed, rich, as Paige was
the one who had caused the current "nonsense" to happen, first
by supplying the required nonsensical supplies, and then by
personally gagging Betty and Sophie immediately upon their
Paige cautioned the junior Corbyn sister to watch herself, "or
Smiling and treading water, Alice, Chelsea, Ivy, and Ripley
watched as Paige pulled a key from her pocket, unlocked first
Betty's elbow and wrist cuffs... and then Sophie's. She
then concentrating on mixing a pair of her acclaimed Blood
Orange, Gin, & Prosecco cocktails.
That left Betty and Sophie to deal with their own gags.
The drinks were ready by the time they teased apart the tight
square-knots of their cleave-gags, removed said gags, and
expelled the underlying stuffing. They then dropped the
four bandanas (two folded and two crumpled) atop the four hinged
cuffs on a nearby table and licked their lips. The Bindees
had made the entire journey from SFO to St. Ignatius Island with
cloying cotton wads crammed in their mouths, so their first sips
of Paige's cold, potent, and very tasty masterpieces really
hit the spot.
By this time the remaining teammates had emerged from the pool,
water streaming from their nearly naked bodies and sopping hair,
and were placing drink orders. Paige laughed and told them
to mix their own drinks, gathered up the used handcuffs
and bandanas, and strolled back towards the mansion amidst a
chorus of friendly jibes and catcalls.
It was from that point forward that a good time was had
Betty and Sophie were gracious and forgave their Binders and
Team Captains for their horrible and unconscionable pre- and
post-arrival mistreatment... meaning they whispered together and
resolved to take unspeakable and entirely justified revenge on everybody
at their first opportunity... not including Paige, of
Much swimming, sunbathing, sunscreen application, and drinking
The resident hummingbirds made regular visits to the nectar
feeders hanging under the pergola, and they seemed more-or-less
unperturbed by the more than doubling of the Island's population
of giant, bipedal, nearly hairless apes. As long as the
sugar water kept flowing and the feeders were regularly cleaned,
they were cool. The apes in question smiled and
appreciated the zooming and hovering tiny avian wonders, all
except for Sophie, who smiled and giggled. Sophie
really liked hummingbirds.
Dinner was, indeed, grilled burgers-with-all-the-fixings, as
Paige had promised. In addition to being large, with an
attached hot tub, the pool was surrounded by outdoor lounging
and dining furniture and included a modern, fully-equipped
outdoor kitchen. Paige did most of the actual
grilling, but joined her beloved, bikini-clad "girls" for the
So far, the vacation was off to a smashing start.
Also, despite the volume of cocktails, wine, and beer consumed,
nobody went to bed actually smashed. Pleasantly buzzed,
yes. Smashed, no.
| Chapter 3
even though the competition wouldn't officially start until
morning and Paige had ordered everybody to get a good night's
rest... things got serious.
Ivy, at least, resolved to follow the Head Umpire's suggestion
(order) and retire to her bed for a night of undisturbed
rest. She visited the guest bathroom down the hall and did
her business. Then, bladder empty, face scrubbed, teeth
clean, breath minty fresh, goodnight wishes exchanged with all
members of both teams, Ivy returned to her bedroom, removed her
bikini-uniform, and slid between the sheets, gloriously nude and
smiling a happy smile. She couldn't wait for morning to
arrive. This was going to be fun. Vacations
at Alice and Chelsea's luxurious digs were always fun.
Her smile widened. Messing with Betty had been fun, and
she wasn't fooled by her friend's pretense of Brave
Ivy snuggled under the smooth, cool covers and against her
fluffy pillow. She knew Sophie had also had fun (although
the pouting prisoner would never admit it). Besides, when
it was time to go home, things would have evened out, the tables
would have turned like a revolving door (or something), and
everyone would have had their fill of both sides of the
She closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Yes... today
had been fun... a lot of fun.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ zzzzzzz ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The bedroom was dark—and someone was sitting on Ivy's stomach
and pinning her on her back on the bed!
A hand was clamped across Ivy's mouth, stifling her screams of
alarm, her attempts to summon help, and her expressions of
outrage. At the same time, someone was tightening rope
around her right wrist and binding her to the bed! There
was enough light for Ivy to identify her attackers and would be
kidnappers as... Betty and Alice. (Big surprise.)
Grinning hugely as she took her much deserved revenge on the
Purple Binder, Betty was the one sitting on Ivy, pinning her
down, more-or-less controlling her flailing and thrashing limbs,
and hand-gagging her mouth. Alice (also grinning hugely)
was the one binding her to the bed, and thanks to Betty's
assistance, her efforts were coalescing into a stringent
Ivy struggled with all her might! Okay, truth be told, she
pulled her punches and her squirming attempts to buck Betty off
her squirming body were strangely ineffectual. Did she
want to be lashed to her bed with her four limbs flung
wide? Well, now that you bring it up... no!
But fair was fair. Betty was just lucky she'd realized who
was doing the dirty deed before she landed a jaw-breaking
punch. Ivy continued struggling, but fair was, indeed,
fair. Betty deserved closure, and of course Alice
was helping. Alice was Alice.
Both Perfidious Kidnappers were wearing their Team Alice
uniforms, while Ivy, as previously mentioned, was in her
birthday suit. And now, as Alice tied the final knot at
the foot of the bed-frame and down near the floor, Ivy was nude,
bound, and helpless!
Still grinning her infuriating grin, Betty released her
hand-gag. She did, however, continue straddling Ivy's
Ivy licked her lips, worked her jaw, and stared daggers at
her friends and captors. "You assholes!" she growled, then
did her best to buck Betty off her stomach. Needless to
say, her efforts were unsuccessful. "Get off of me, you cow!"
"If you insist," Betty chortled, then lifted a leg, climbed off
Ivy's body, and lay on the mattress against Ivy's right side,
snuggling close to the frowning, squirming captive. There
was a great deal of skin-on-skin-contact.
Meanwhile, and now smiling her trademark sly smile, Alice turned
on the bedside reading lamp, climbed onto the bed, and snuggled
close to Ivy's left side. Ivy was now the filling
in a Team Alice sandwich and there was even more skin-on-skin
Alice had brought with her a small plastic bottle of
lavender-scented moisturizing lotion. Ivy watched as Alice
spread a generous dollop on one hand, then handed the bottle to
Betty, who did the same.
"We talked about it, Betty and I," Alice explained, "and agree
you were woefully negligent in your use of sunscreen
Betty nodded. "Woefully negligent."
Ivy rolled her eyes. "Bullshit. I used
sunscreen. And apparently you dimwits haven't noticed that
I don't require much in the way of sun protection."
"That's no excuse," Alice countered primly, shaking her head.
"None whatsoever," Betty agreed solemnly.
And with that, Ivy's teammates thoroughly and ruthlessly
moisturized every nook and cranny of Ivy's firm, smooth, ebony
physique... especially her breasts, stomach, and thighs!
Ivy withstood this oily onslaught with admirable stoicism, but
she wasn't happy. (Maybe a little aroused, but not
happy, per se.) Surprisingly, she didn't scream for help,
but this was for a very good reason. Raising a ruckus
might well have summoned help, but it was not a sure thing which
side of the current "conflict" would receive help, the
moisturizing kidnappers, or the glistening kidnap victim.
No, it was best to just lay there like a glistening lump,
"allow" her teammates to anoint her dark skin with the
lavender-scented lotion... and ignore the tickling, crawling
sensations of her alleged friends' oily palms and
fluttering fingers slowly gliding over her breast, nipples,
armpits, ribs, toes, etc. She bit her lower lip, turned
her head as required, and glared at Alice and Betty...
who smiled back. Their white teeth were clearly visible in
the bedroom's dim light.
And speaking of etc.
Alice climbed off the bed, padded to the guest bedroom's laundry
hamper, and returned with Ivy's dirty panties—"MRRRF!"—which she
proceeded to stuff into the helpless captive's outraged
mouth! Then, holding one hand over Ivy's mouth to keep the
panties in place, she opened the lower drawer of the bedside
table, pulled out a roll of stretchy, white, fabric bandage
(Vet-wrap), and used it to give her squirming, struggling,
dark-skinned guest first a tight, multi-layered cleave-gag...
then a smooth, tight, multi-layered,
Betty had been busy thoroughly moisturizing Ivy's inner thighs
and labia. "Need any help?" she inquired politely.
"No, I've got it," Alice purred as she reached the last of the
roll and smoothed the end of the tape, ensuring a good grip,
"but thanks for the kind offer." She snuggled back into
her former position, used her fingers to comb through Ivy's
tousled hair, and smiled down at their naked, spreadeagled, and
Ivy glowered back. Gagging her with her own panties had
been unnecessary, discourteous, and even cruel, just the
sort of thing she might expect from her Team Captain when Alice
was in one of her frisky moods, with her lips curled in a
sinister smile (like now).
And speaking of frisky moods.
Ivy lifted her gagged head and glared down her
glistening body at Betty, who had continued moisturizing her
crotch region the entire time Alice had been applying her
gag. Betty's oily, sliding hands had made concentrating on
her outrage and resentment at being involuntarily silenced most
difficult. And now, her teammates' pretense of
remedial skin maintenance was wearing very thin.
Betty's smile was also "sinister," and her moisturizing efforts
had settled into a slow, gradually escalating, gentle, but
increasingly emphatic massage... an erotic massage.
"What?" Betty inquired, apparently referencing Ivy's
panty-gagged complaint. "What kind of friends would we be
it we didn't help you relax after a long, hard journey?"
"Oh, exactly," Alice agreed, gently kneading Ivy's right
breast with her left hand. "But don't worry. After
an orgasm or two... we'll let you sleep."
Betty frowned. "Only two? Really?"
Her smiling gaze locked with Ivy's worried (aroused) eyes, Alice
continued her boob massage. "I suppose we could
err on the side of excess. Yes, let's do that. Make
it at least three orgasms."
Betty's smile returned. "I can live with that."
Ivy's nostrils flared as she took deep, even, well-gagged
breaths. She tugged weakly on her stringent bonds with no
real hope of escape. Betty's hands were working their
inevitable magic and her first orgasm of the evening was drawing
nigh. It was horrible! (She loved it!)
| Chapter 3
Uncharacteristically, Team Chelsea acted responsibly. Go
The bikini-clad "youngsters" held a brief conference in
Chelsea's bedroom soon after Paige decreed that everybody should
retire for the night.
"This year we're gonna win!" Chelsea announced (in a
near whisper), and the nearly naked trio exchanged
high-fives. "That means getting a good night's sleep so
we'll all be at our best tomorrow."
Ripley and Sophie nodded in agreement (but exchanged a slightly
puzzled look). Chelsea was usually the party animal of the
group. She was the one who usually had to be reined in...
sometimes with several yards of rope and a nice gag to keep the
Chelsea's mouth twisted in a slightly sheepish grin. She'd
noticed her teammates' skepticism. "Okay, I get ya, but we
have to get serious about this. We did horribly
last year and Alice has been gloating ever since. It's
been hell around here."
Ripley and Sophie exchanged a knowing smile.
"Hell," Ripley purred. "Right."
"How bittersweet the lap of luxury," Sophie declaimed in an
appropriately dramatic manner, "when competitive catastrophe
leads to the sinister suffering of sisterly satisfaction."
"Nice alliteration," Chelsea purred, "but don't make me slap
"We did okay last year," Ripley objected. "And you know
Paige is more or less arbitrary when it comes to handing out
"Yeah," Sophie agreed. "It's obvious she's making this up
as she goes along."
"Not so!" Chelsea objected. "She puts a lot of effort into
organizing the events."
"Which is completely irrelevant," Ripley grumbled. "We're
talking about how she hands out points. She's like
Dumbledore at the end of Sorcerer's Stone, dispensing
'extra' points and rigging the game so Gryffindor wins the House
Sophie nodded. "If I'd been in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw,
I'd have been furious."
"Not so," Chelsea objected. "They all hate
"Snape was livid," Ripley observed, "which is rich, as he'd been
rigging the game for Slytherin all year."
"Who cares what Snape thinks?" Sophie chuckled.
Ripley frowned. "I've always found him... kinda sexy."
Sophie grinned and theatrically rolled her eyes. "Goth
nerd!" she accused.
"Focus!" Chelsea barked. "Get a good night's sleep and
bring your A-game to breakfast. Oh, and prop a chair under
the doorknob of your bedroom door before climbing into bed."
"Good idea," Ripley grinned.
Sophie nodded. "Who knows what kind of Purple Monsters
might be roaming the halls after dark?"
"Then we're in agreement," Chelsea noted, then held out her
Ripley grabbed Chelsea's hand... then Sophie grabbed both hands.
"Go green!" the teammates shouted (in a near whisper),
then dispersed to their beds. (And they did prop
chairs under the doorknobs of their bedroom doors.)
| Chapter 3