by Van ©2010
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		Chapter 3
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Delfina usually rose with the sun, but on this, her first morning at Seaglass, she opened her eyes to find sunlight streaming in through the open window.  She sat up in bed, stretched, yawned, ran her fingers through her hair, then glanced at her travel alarm and was surprised to find it was nearly half-past eight.  I guess the sea air agrees with me, she mused, then parted the mosquito netting and slid from between the sheets.

Still in her usual sleeping costume (nothing), she ran through her morning exercise routine of stretches, sit-ups, and push-ups.  She then dressed in panties, a pair of tan walking shorts, and her paprika-orange bikini top under a white cotton tank-top, then pattered down the hall to the bathroom to complete her morning toilette.

Next was breakfast, of course.  Delfina bounced down the back stairs to the kitchen and found Polly slurping the last of what had probably been a bowl of cereal.

The little blonde was dressed in denim cutoffs and a white cotton blouse.  She beamed as she carried her spoon and bowl to the sink.  "Mornin'!  Sleep well?"

"Morning," Delfina responded, smiling back.  "Yeah, rock-like, in fact."

"Good," Polly chuckled.  "We have cereal and milk, eggs, bacon, toast... the usual."

"Cereal's fine," Delfina said, and opened the cupboard to make her selection.  "Ah, mini-wheats!"  Polly handed her a bowl and spoon.  "Two-percent milk in the fridge," she said.  "I gotta run."  She grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and a sling purse, then a set of car keys off a small key-rack.

"Where are you off to?" Delfina asked as she poured cereal into the bowl.

"Grocery and mail run," Polly explained.

Delfina paused with her hand on the refrigerator door.  "You need any help?"

"Nah," Polly answered, shaking her head.  "No using guests as pack mules, that's a house rule.  Read a book or do some writing or take a swim or—Oh!  Do you run?"

"Yeah."

"Go for a run," Polly suggested.  "That's one of the advantages of living at the beach.  You find the water, turn left or right, and run.  As long as you remember to turn around at some point, you can't get lost.  Ciao!"

"Wait!" Delfina blurted.  "Where's Christina?"

"I don't know," Polly said, "but Edna's writing in her office.  Bye!"  Then, Polly was through the door and gone.

"Bye!"  Delfina smiled as she added milk to her cereal and began to eat.  Edna Windermere, Christina's pen name...  Delfina sighed and stared out the window at the waves crashing on the beach.  Glad somebody can write, she thought.  Delfina could feel the slightest glimmer of interest from her muse, probably triggered by the "Bondage-101" demonstration she'd participated in yesterday... but she wasn't ready to start writing... not yet.

Just then, Christina (Edna) entered the kitchen.  She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a stoneware mug was in her right hand.  "Morning!" she said, as she poured herself some coffee.

"Morning!" Delfina mumbled around a mouthful of cereal.  She chewed and swallowed, then smiled, rather sheepishly.  "Sorry."

"No problem," Christina chuckled.  "Polly is off to town, I take it?"

Delfina nodded.  "Yeah."

Christina sipped her coffee.  "If you'll forgive my directness, are you ready to start writing?"

Delfina felt a blush warm her cheeks.  "Soon, I think... maybe... but not today."

Christina nodded, and sipped her coffee, again.

"Yesterday helped, I think," Delfina muttered, "at the beach, I mean... with the rope."

Christina nodded, again.  "I really believe experience is the best teacher.  Are you willing to give it another try?"

Delfina swallowed the last of her cereal, then nodded.  "Sure.  Uh... right now?"

"I'm in the middle of polishing my latest chapter," Christina responded.  "Can you wait a couple of hours?"

"Of course," Delfina responded, carrying her bowl and spoon to the sink.  "Polly suggested I go for a run."

"Good idea," Christina smiled.  "Meet me in here before lunch.  Did you bring running clothes?" she asked, and Delfina nodded.  "I suggest you go south.  Just short of two miles you'll come to a stream crossing the beach, part of the mangrove swamp draining into the ocean.  You can jump over it or wade right through, especially at slack tide, but it's where I usually turn around."

"Okay," Delfina said, "I'll go change."

"Don't change a hair for me," Christina chuckled.

"Not if you care for me," Delfina grinned, and started up the back stairs to her room, humming My Funny Valentine.

Christina sipped her coffee and watched her go, then turned and headed for her porch office.  What some might call a sinister smile curled her lips.

Delfina enjoyed her run a great deal.  It was a sunny day, but the sea breeze and surf spray had been very refreshing.  The not quite four mile distance was something of a short run for her, but running in the wet sand was good exercise, especially for her calves.  She didn't encounter a living thing during the entire run, not counting seagulls, shorebirds, and a few skittering crabs.

She returned to Seaglass, left her shoes on the back porch, then pattered up to her room and stripped off her running clothes.  After a quick shower she changed back into the panties, walking shorts, bikini-top, and tank-top she'd worn to breakfast, then bounced down to the kitchen.

Christina was waiting.  "Good run?" she asked.

"Excellent!" Delfina grinned.

Christina pulled out one of the chairs from the table and patted the seat.

Delfina took the hint and sat.  "What's the plan?" she asked.

Christina pulled out another chair and sat, as well.  "That depends on the scenario you'd like to explore.  Is your heroine conscious?  If she's awake, is she being coerced?  Is one of her captors holding a gun on her?"

"Well..." Delfina ran her fingers through her hair, which was still slightly damp from the shower.  "I don't really have a detailed scenario."

"If you're unconscious," Christina said, "meaning sprawled on the floor, I could tie your wrists and haul you up into the chair, but that sounds like work."

"Yeah," Delfina chuckled.  "So does a wrestling match, with you trying to take me by force.  I suppose a hypothetical second villain pointing a pistol at my head is the best option."

"I quite agree," Christina grinned.  "Hands on the armrests, please."

Alone among the chairs of Christina's mismatched dining set, this chair had arms.  A tiny thrill of anxiety fluttered in Delfina's stomach as she followed her instructor's (kidnapper's) orders.

Christina stood, opened a cabinet drawer and pulled out a box of plastic wrap.  "Hold out your hand, palm open and fingers together and straight."

Delfina grinned.  "Uh... like I'm gonna karate chop you and escape?"

"Don't forget my henchman with the 9mm," Christina purred.

"Oh, right," Delfina sighed, and held out her right hand, as directed.  She watched Christine wrap her entire lower arm in plastic from her fingertips to just below her elbow.  The clear film clung to her skin, but wasn't especially tight.

"Okay, back on the armrest," Christina ordered.  "Other hand."

Delfina placed her right arm on the rest and presented her left.  It was wrapped in the same manner, then Christina dropped the plastic wrap on the table.  Delfina placed her left arm on the armrest as Christina went back to the drawer.  "Seriously, what's the point of...?  Oh."

Christina was returning with a rather large roll of silver-gray duct tape.  "This is the good stuff," she explained.  "Two inches wide, fabric reinforced, and super sticky."  Riiiiip!  She pulled an eighteen inch length from the roll.  "Not like that all-plastic stuff that calls itself duct tape.  The plastic wrap is to protect your skin, so all the little hairs on your arms won't be ripped out when your rich daddy pays the ransom and I decide to let you go."

"A considerate kidnapper," Delfina chuckled.  "How nice."

"Cup the ends of the armrests with your hands," Christina instructed.  Her orders were followed, and she took three turns of tape around Delfina's right wrist and the armrest.  She tore off the tape, then, in one non-stop effort and starting near the elbow, proceeded to tape down Delfina's right forearm, wrist, hand, and fingers.  She took her time, working her way down the arm, making the wrappings tight (but not too tight), overlapping each previous turn by half, and covering all traces of the plastic wrap.  She then walked around the chair and did the same to Delfina's left forearm, wrist, hand, and fingers.  "There," she said, finally.  "Insert gloating remarks by the villainess here."

Delfina tugged on her bonds. "Each followed by a brave, defiant comeback from the heroine, of course."  The cocoons of silver tape flexed as she struggled, but she could tell the tight bands were easily up to the task of keeping her in the chair—probably ten times up to the task.

Christina walked behind Delfina's chair—Scrape!—and gave it a quarter turn away from the table.  She repositioned her own chair in front of Delfina, then strolled to the pantry and returned with a couple of cans of soup.

"Lunch already?" Delfina asked with a grin.

Christina sat in her chair.  "Foot," she ordered.

"Huh?"

"Give me your foot."

"Oh,"  Delfina lifted her right leg and placed her foot in Christina's lap.  She watched as her Dastardly Kidnapper plastic-wrapped her lower leg from her ankle to about six inches below her knee.  Christina smoothed the clear film with her hands, then, without prompting, Delfina withdrew her right foot and presented her left, which received an ankle-to-knee plastic coating of its own.  Then, Christina stood and pushed her chair back a couple of feet.

Christina grabbed the soup cans, knelt, and set them on the floor to either side of the front legs of Delfina's chair.  "Okay, feet on the cans and ankles against the outside of the chair-legs," she ordered.  Delfina complied, with Christina making adjustments so the balls of Delfina's bare feet were atop a can in the specified positions.

"Uh, what—?"

"I'll explain in a minute," Christina interrupted, grabbed the duct tape, and proceeded to tape her Victim's lower legs to their respective chair-legs.  Again, she took her time, making the wrappings tight, smooth, and with uniform overlap.  "There," she said, when the taping was done.  "Now..."  She smiled at Delfina and removed the cans from under her feet.

Delfina flexed her feet and wiggled her toes, which were now held about five inches above the hardwood floor.  The tape supported the weight of her legs, so the arrangement wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but...  "I still don't get it," she said.

"Try to move," Christina suggested.

Delfina tugged on her bonds, then squirmed and struggled.  As she shifted her weight, the chair scraped on the floor, but only by a fraction of an inch in any direction.  "Okay, now I get it.  With my feet off the floor I can't drag the chair around."

"Exactly," Christina confirmed.  "Of course, if I really wanted to keep you in one place I'd back your chair up against something solid and lash you to it.  Anyway, you might be able to tip yourself over, but you'd still be in the chair and you might hit your head on the table, so be a good little hostage and don't do it, okay?"

"Okay," Delfina grinned, and tested her bonds, again.  "This chair is really solid."

"It's a thrift-shop antique," Christina chuckled.  "Polly refinished it and added steel 'L' brackets at the stress points."  She stepped behind the chair in question, taking the duct tape with her—Riiiiip!—and tore free more tape.  "Scoot back as far as you can," she ordered.

Delfina squirmed her butt to comply, then gasped.  "Hey!"  Her captor was taking turns of tape around her waist and the chair-back.  "Is this really necessary?"  She counted five tight turns before Christina was satisfied.

"Too much is never enough," Christina chuckled—Riiiiip!—and tore free even more tape.  She then proceeded to take five turns around the chair and Delfina's arms and torso, passing just below her breasts.

Delfina squirmed in her now even more stringent bondage.  In the course of the waist-taping the bottom of her tank-top had ridden up, exposing a couple of inches of flat tummy between her navel and the waistband of her shorts, and the upper bands had pulled and stretched the tank-top down, causing her breasts to bulge under the straining fabric as they rested atop the tight band of tape.  "Okay," she said, "I guess I'm kidnapped."  She squirmed and struggled, again, and this time the chair didn't slide on the floor at all.  She focused on Christina's smiling face, and forced a smile (a slightly nervous smile) of her own.  "How long 'til the ransom arrives?"

"This is just prep," Christina laughed.  "We haven't even started your lesson."

"What?" Delfina demanded.  "I thought 'fun with duct-tape' was the lesson."

Christina shook her head.  "No, the topic for today is 'your friend, the gag'."

"Gag?"  That flutter was back in Delfina's stomach, somewhere under the five tight layers of silver tape.

"Gags, actually," Christina amended, "as in plural, but today we'll only explore one."  She turned and started for the kitchen door.  "Don't go anywhere," she called back over her shoulder, and was gone.

"Sure," Delfina sighed.  "Whatever you say."  She gave her bonds another halfhearted test.  Wow... she's really got me, the Helpless Kidnap Victim mused.

Christina returned in less than a minute, carrying a pair of folded cotton bandannas.  She set them on the table, then sat in the chair still in front of Delfina.  "How many different gags can you name?"

"Uh... I suppose I could name them all," Delfina answered, with a sly smile, "but will they come when I call?"

Christina's lips curled in a We are not amused moue of a smile.  "Please... that's terrible.  I'll chalk it up to nervousness.  Anyway, gags can be categorized by position and/or material."  She reached for the top bandanna.

Delfina watched as her hostess (kidnapper) unfolded the cloth.  It was a pretty print, mostly blue, in a geometric pattern somewhat like an Indian blanket. The cotton square was repeatedly folded on the diagonal, the final result being a four-inch wide bandage.  "And you know all this gag lore... how?" Delfina asked.

Christina chuckled.  "It's called the internet.  Look into it."

Delfina smiled.  "Okay, Professor—position and/or material."

"Starting with position..."  Christina lifted the bandanna and held it over her mouth.  "Over the mouth, or O-T-M.  Classic, but not very effective... unless it's crushingly tight."

The OTM bandanna was indeed ineffective.  Delfina had been able to understand Christina's words with ease, despite the supposed gag.  "And yet," Delfina noted, "you see it all the time in old movies."

"Poetic license gone wild," Christina chuckled.  She folded the bandanna one more time, making it a two-inch band, then held it between her teeth, tight enough to make her cheeks bulge.  "Ah eve agh," she said, or rather, mumbled.

"A what?"

Christina pulled the cloth band from between her teeth.  "A cleave gag."

Delfina smiled.  "And you duct-taped me to a chair so I could watch you gag yourself, because...?"

Christina smiled back.  "Just for that, wise-ass..."  She reached for the second bandanna.  It was similar to the first, but predominantly in shades of red.  She draped the first bandanna around her neck like a scarf and stepped behind Delfina's chair.  "The way to make either an OTM or cleave gag effective—"  She cupped Delfina's chin with her left hand, gently pulled her head back, and smiled into her prisoner's upturned face.  "—is with stuffing."

Delfina watched as Christina shook out the red bandanna and balled it into a wad.  "Stuffing?" she whispered.

"Stuffing," Christina confirmed, and shoved the wad into Delfina's mouth.  She then centered the blue bandanna over the stuffing and between her student's (captive's) teeth, and cinched the ends together at the nape of her neck.

"M'mmfh!" Delfina complained.

"Not yet," Christina chuckled, gently pushed Delfina's head forward, and pulled her hair from under the bandanna.  She then cinched the cloth even tighter and completed a square knot.  "Okay, now you can test it."

Delfina lifted her head and shook out her hair.  "M'rfh?"  Christina was leaving the kitchen.  "Hr'rr'ah?" she asked ("Christina?"), but her kidnapper was gone.  "Mrrf!  MRRFH!"  The gag was, indeed, effective, and the stuffing had a slight chemical taste.  Sizing, she decided.  It must be new.  She shook her head and tried to expel the wad from her mouth.  Fat chance.  Her jaw was more or less locked, and her tongue was trapped and useless.  "MRRRF!!"

"See, it works," Christina chuckled, breezing back into the kitchen.  She was holding a round makeup mirror, which she held before Delfina's face.

Delfina stared at her reflection.  Her cheeks were flushed and bulged against the top of the blue, cleaving bandanna, and she could see a little of the red stuffing, her front teeth, and her strained lips.  "Mrrf!"

"You seem to be doing okay," Christina noted, "by which I mean, you aren't gagging on your gag."

Delfina's eyes crinkled in what she intended as a sarcastic smile.  She wasn't sure what actually came across.

"Anyway," Christina chuckled, and placed the mirror on the table.  "The only way to keep a captive totally silent is chemically, to knock them out.  As long as air can move across your vocal cords, you can make noise.  The realistic goal for the practical kidnapper, therefore, is turning down the volume to an acceptable level."  She smiled, sweetly.  "That's acceptable from the kidnapper's point of view, of course, not the victim's.  Anyway, as you can tell, a gag like this can be pretty effective, if you use enough stuffing and make the cleave nice and tight."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the kitchen porch.

Delfina's head whipped in that direction and her eyes popped wide.

"Sorry, my dear," Christina purred, "it's only Polly.  You're not being rescued."

Delfina blushed in embarrassment.  She'd been horrified at the prospect of a stranger barging in and finding her like this.  Rescue hadn't even entered her mind.

It was, indeed, Polly.  The door opened and the grinning blonde entered.  "Six bags of groceries in the car," she announced.  A large, tape-sealed, cardboard box was under one arm, a package, probably part of the mail.  She carried it to the kitchen table, then did a half-turn to face Delfina.  "Finally," she giggled, "someone else for you to abuse."  She leaned forward and kissed Delfina's forehead, then turned back to Christina.  "Well, you gonna help me with the groceries, or do I have to haul it all up here by myself?"

"I'll help you, Little Bit," Christina chuckled, "but first, we need to unclutter the kitchen."  She nodded at Delfina.  "Help me carry her into the office."

Delfina looked from face to grinning face.  "Mrmfh?"

Christina grabbed the back of Delfina's chair, Polly grabbed the chair-seat between the captive's splayed legs, and they lifted her into the air.

"Oof," Polly complained as they carried Delfina and her chair through the kitchen door.  "Next time kidnap somebody my size or smaller, okay?"

Delfina squirmed in her chair and tugged on her tape bonds.  She knew she wasn't going to break free, but it filled the time.  In the half-hour since she'd been carried into the "office" she'd already satisfied her curiosity about Christina's workplace.

She could tell it was a small sitting room and an enclosed porch that had been combined in some past renovation.  There was a bay window with a window seat off to one side, and a bank of windows facing the ocean.  In front of those windows was a built-in desk and cabinets, a comfortable office chair, and a computer workstation.  The rest of the room was taken up by a pair of easy chairs, side-tables and reading lamps, a sofa, and ceiling-to-floor shelves crammed with hundreds of books interspersed with a few knickknacks.  It was all very tasteful, but with a lived-in feel.

Grouped together on one of the shelves Delfina recognized the dust-jacket spines of her complete published works.  (The compliment was returned in Delfina's own condo/loft back in the city, where all of Edna Windermere's books occupied a prominent place in Delfina's own library.)

Roughly in the center of the room, with five or ten feet of open space in all directions, was a wooden column.  It was square, approximately six-inches on a side, with all four edges rounded.  From the way it met the exposed ceiling joist and disappeared through the hardwood floor, Delfina was sure it was a structural element, one of the bones of the house.  She suspected that when the original load-bearing exterior wall had been removed and the porch enclosed, the column was left in place.  It had probably been decided that replacing the overhead joist with something that could span the now greater distance to the new outside wall would be too much trouble or too expensive.  The column wasn't really all that intrusive, and besides, it had its uses.

For example...  When Delfina's Dastardly Kidnapper and her Youthful Accomplice carried Delfina into the office, they positioned the back of her chair against the column with the Helpless Damsel facing the desk, so she could enjoy the ocean view.  Then (an infuriating and incredibly cute smile on her face) Polly pulled a short length of nylon rope from her pocket and lashed the chair-back to the column.  Delfina couldn't follow the full details of what Polly had done, but she could tell the result made it impossible for the chair to tip over, no matter how she struggled.  It was the lashing-her-to-something-solid trick Christina had mentioned earlier.

Delfina's bulging cheeks were kissed by each of her kidnappers, and she was left alone to visually explore her surroundings.  She could hear the distant racket of the kitchen door and various cabinets opening and closing as Christina and Polly carried the groceries from the garage and put them away.

The commotion in the kitchen stopped... several minutes passed... then Christina breezed into the room.  She had changed into her bikini.  "How ya doin', Del?" she inquired.  "Enjoying yourself?"

Delfina sighed and rolled her eyes.  Her jaw was beginning to ache a little, but she was surviving... for now.

Christina smiled, reached out, and lifted Delfina's chin.  "Like I told you yesterday, time is an important part of lessons like this.  To know what it's truly like to be a helpless captive, you have to do some languishing."  Her smile broadened.  "That's the technical term for this, by the way, 'languishing'."

Delfina rolled her eyes, again.

"Anyway," Christina chuckled, releasing Delfina's chin and taking a step back, "Polly and I have decided to forego lunch and take a swim.  You, of course, as our helpless prisoner, don't have any say in the matter."

Delfina blinked, but didn't bother trying to voice an objection.  (And that flutter was back in her tummy, just for an instant.)

"So..." Christina said, turning towards the door to the kitchen, "later."  And then she was gone.

Delfina tested her bonds, again... and then her gag.  "M'rrfh!"  It was a futile exercise, of course, but it seemed appropriate, the sort of thing she imagined a bound and gagged kidnap victim would do... only imagination wasn't required.  She was a bound and gagged kidnap victim.

She heard the outside kitchen door bang, and a few seconds later Christina came into view through the windows, towel in hand, sauntering down the trail to the ocean.  God she's beautiful, Delfina thought, watching her hostess' (kidnapper's) bikini-clad form dwindle into the distance.

"So," Polly's voice sounded, "she didn't let you go."

Delfina turned to watch Polly enter the room.  She'd also changed into her bikini and was carrying a cardboard box.  She walked to the desk, set the box on the seat of Christina's chair, pulled out a cable, then knelt and plugged it into a USB port in the computer tower on the floor.  She reached back into the box and produced a small electronic component with a row of female power plugs along one side.  The component was placed on the desk, plugged into a power strip, and the other end of the USB cable attached.  She then tapped the computer's keyboard.  The screen flashed to life, but Polly's body was blocking Delfina's view as the blonde continued tapping the keys.

"There," Polly said, and took a step to the side.

Delfina recognized the Windows-style interface on the screen, but at this distance the top menu was a blur; however, most of the screen was taken up a single window with large, easy to read, red numbers glowing against a black background.

1:00:00

"This is one of those appliance control thingies," Polly explained.  She reached back into the box and produced the male end of another power cord.  This was plugged into one of the sockets on the control box, then Polly reached back into the box and pulled out a roll of duct-tape and—a wand-style vibrator!

"M'mmf?"  What the hell?

Polly sauntered towards Delfina, smiling sweetly.  Electrical cord trailed out of the box, in her wake, and it was now clear the vibrator was plugged into a long extension cord, which was plugged into the control device.

Delfina squirmed, struggled, and did her best to communicate her displeasure.  "N'rrrrf!"

"This is my own little contribution to today's lesson," Polly chuckled.  She knelt in front of Delfina's chair, set the vibrator on the floor, and began ripping off eight to twelve inch lengths of tape and tacking them by one corner to the seat of the chair, between Delfina's widely splayed knees.  "Languishing in complete helplessness is all well and good," Polly continued, "but languishing next to a ticking time bomb takes things to a whole new level."  She set the wand down on the chair seat, business end towards Delfina, and slid it forward until its doorknob-size head pressed against her crotch.

Delfina's eyes popped wide.

"Don't have kittens," Polly chuckled.  "This is much better than an actual bomb.  Besides, Christina would kill me if I blew up a house guest... not to mention her office."  She proceeded to tape the wand to the chair seat, applying and smoothing down strip after strip of silver tape.

Delfina could tell there was nothing she'd be able to do that would dislodge the vibrator nudging the seat of her shorts.

"If I just started the timer," Polly explained as she applied even more tape, "you'd have to pretend it meant something."  With a single piece of tape remaining, still tacked to the seat, she set the roll on the floor and gave it a shove.  It rolled away... across the room... and bumped against the cabinet that made up the base of the window seat.  "This way," Polly continued, "it actually does mean something."  She clicked the switch recessed in a slot in the base of the wand.  "Low"—Click—"medium"—Click—"and high."  She favored Delfina with a wicked grin.  "Just wait 'til you feel this thing on 'high'," she purred, as she stretched the last length of tape over the switch and smoothed it down.  "It'll make the whole seat throb... among other things."  She stood and walked to the desk.  "And just think..."  She tapped a key on the computer's keyboard.  "All you can do is sit there and take it."

The clock on the screen began a countdown. 

0:59:59...  0:59:58...  0:59:57...  0:59:56...

"Allrightiethen," Polly chuckled, and headed towards the door.  "See you in a couple of hours."

Delfina tugged on her inescapable bonds and screamed through her gag.  "MRRRRRRRFH!"  But Polly was already gone.

0:59:29...  0:59:28...  0:59:27...  0:59:26...

Oh god!  She's really leaving me like this!  She stared at the vibrator taped between her legs.  She squirmed and tried to lift her body off the chair.  Her crotch slid against the head of the wand, but Polly was absolutely correct, when the countdown reached zero and the vibrator buzzed to life, she'd have to "take it".  There was movement beyond the window, and Delfina lifted her head to watch Polly walk down the path towards the beach... away from the house... abandoning her to her fate.  Her eyes went back to the screen.

0:58:37...  0:58:36...  0:58:35...  0:58:34...

Polly was right about something else, as well: this did take things to a whole new level!

Polly dropped her towel on the empty chair next to the fire pit, then ran down the beach and into the surf.  Once it was deep enough, she dove under the water.  She frog-kicked for several feet, then bobbed to the surface and swam over to Christina.

"Well?" Christina asked.

"Well, what?" Polly purred.

"Don't be cute," Christina huffed, then smiled.  "No, cancel that.  You can't help being cute."

"Awww...  that's so sweet," Polly giggled.

The pair locked eyes and treaded water for several seconds.

"Keep it up, Little Bit," Christina warned, "and you won't be able to sit down for a week."

"Okay, okay," Polly laughed.  "As we speak, Miss Big-Boobs is straining against the half-mile of duct-tape you wrapped her in and staring at your computer as it sloooowly counts down to zero."

Christina's smile turned sinister.  "You should have seen your face when I pulled the old vibro-bomb trick on you.  I wish I'd videotaped it."

"Those were the days," Polly sighed, then shuddered, delicately.  "I had nightmares for a month."  Her frown turned to a leering grin.  "By which I mean wet dreams, of course."

"You're hopeless," Christina chuckled.

"You know," Polly said, "if, at this very moment, we were both eaten by sharks... poor Del would be in for a really bad couple of days."

"That's true," Christina replied.  "And the real tragedy?  We wouldn't be there to watch."

"Also true," Polly giggled.

"You keeping an eye on the time?" Christina asked.

Polly glanced at the diving watch on her left wrist.  "Of course."

"Just checking," Christina purred.  "Timing is everything."