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Copyright 2001 by Rod Harden All rights reserved |
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It was 11:00 PM in Las Vegas. The action in the casinos was just getting started, but less than a mile from the strip all was quiet in the offices of Enthralled Real Estate. Throughout the empty hallways, security lights cast eerie, extended shadows.
With a new fluorescent tube in hand, the janitor attempted to turn the key to Julie Thrall's office but found the door already unlocked. He grew cautious, knowing she always kept her office secure. Slowly, he tried the knob, opened the door and stepped in. At the sight that greeted him, his eyes widened in shock. He gasped. The fragile tube fell from his hand, somehow managing to land on the plush carpet without breaking. Hurrying out, he stumbled around till he found a phone and dialed 9-1-1. "Remain calm," said the emergency dispatcher after listening to him describe what he'd witnessed. "We have people on their way to you right now. Whatever you do, don't touch anything!" "I won't," said the janitor. His hand was shaking so much, he almost missed the cradle as he hung up the phone. It was less than seven minutes later when Grim Gristle and his crew arrived. They stormed into the building, wearing jackets with "BSI" emblazoned in large letters on the back. Gristle approached the janitor. "Are you the one who discovered the scene, Mr. um...?" "Schick. Jack Schick." Gristle regarded him suspiciously. "Have we met before Mr. Schick?" "I don't think so." "Strange. I thought I knew Jack Schick." "Well, I guess you don't know Jack Schick after all. Anyway, yes, I was the one who discovered the- Miss Thrall. Um, what's 'BSI,' anyway?" "Bondage Scene Investigation, of course. Which office is it?" "This one here." Gristle and his assistant, Kitten Willowy, snapped on their latex gloves before venturing into the office. Once inside, they saw what the janitor had seen. On the desk, still wearing most of her expensive, navy blue, tailored business suit lay Julie Thrall. She was on her left side, squirming and straining against the constriction of tightly bound ropes. Cords were wrapped around her wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees. Her legs were bent behind her and her ankles lashed to her wrists. A wide band of silver tape covered her mouth and circled completely around her head. "Classic hog-tie," Willowy murmured after a cursory look. Gristle nodded. Miss Thrall glared at them, mewing indignantly from behind the tape. Just outside the office door, with an efficiency born of many hours of practice and experience, the other members of Gristle's crew cordoned off the area with yellow plastic tape. In thick black lettering the tape read, "Bondage Zone! Keep Out!" As Seraph Saddle crouched to search for out-of-place fibers amid the carpeting, Dick Strokes began taking photos. Still making his way in with a load of electronic equipment was Toke N. Blackguy. Meanwhile, in Julie Thrall's office, Gristle and Willowy set to work. Starting at opposite ends of the desk, they carefully examined the helpless form of Miss Thrall. "Looks like an expert job," said Gristle, peering at one of the knots. "Agreed. Whoever did this knew what they were do- Wait! Look at this." Gristle hurried to examine the spot Willowy was pointing to. He took out his magnifying glass and stared through it. "Looks like a- a- granny knot! Good eye, Kitten." "Mmphh!" said Miss Thrall as she began to thrash.
BSI
"Please!" cautioned Gristle. "You'll contaminate the bondage scene!"
"But why a granny knot?" asked Willowy, remaining focused on the evidence. "All the others are square."
"Sloppiness perhaps? Or maybe he was interrupted. Or in a hurry."
"'He'?" asked Willowy.
"You're right, Kitten," said Gristle. "I was jumping to conclusions. We must let the evidence lead us, not the other way around."
Willowy smiled. "You're the one who's always saying we should just let the evidence speak for itself."
"HMMPPPHH!" complained Miss Thrall.
Ignoring the noisy victim, Gristle went to the door to help Blackguy bring in the ultra frequency spectroscopic analyzer. He flipped a switch and the room was filled with a garish, unnatural light. Gristle and Willowy donned their specially coated, polarizing goggles.
"Hm..." pondered Gristle. "Note the overall skin spectrum. High blush index. And the medial blood flow indicator is off the chart! That could mean only one thing."
"Yes," agreed Willowy. "Extended, continual orgasmic episodes."
"But what could be causing it?"
Beneath the drone of the traffic noise and the hum of the fluorescent lights, a faint buzzing could be heard. Gristle motioned to Blackguy. "We need to localize that sound." He pointed to another one of the devices. "Turn on the sound wave attenuator and-"
Blackguy turned a knob and the room immediately became deathly quiet. Gristle's lips continued to move but no voice emerged. He quickly became agitated, gesticulating wildly at Blackguy, who jumped and turned the knob again.
"-times do I have to tell you not to do that till I say so?!"
"Sorry."
"I know they taught you better than that at Eastern West Virginia State. But no matter. Now, isolate for small motor frequencies."
Once more the room became silent. Slowly, as Blackguy fiddled with the knobs, a single tone became audible. Silently, Gristle mouthed, "That's it!"
Together, they used the sound tracer to localize the emanations. Gristle gave the cutoff sign and Blackguy turned the device off. "So," he said, "now we know that the buzzing is coming from the lower abdomen region."
Blackguy pointed to Miss Thrall's crotch. "I think it's just a vibrator in her cu-"
"You know better than to make assumptions, Toke! First we gather the evidence, then we analyze it! Get me the ASL."
Blackguy shrugged. "Okay. If you say so." He started toward the door, then stopped. "Did you say the ASL or the ALS?"
"The ASL, of course! We need the Automated Skirt Lifter, not the Alternate Light Source."
"Right."
As Blackguy headed out, Strokes appeared at the door. "Gristle, I think you should see this."
Just outside the door, the two men crouched low to the floor. Gristle looked in the direction pointed to by Strokes, and nodded. A few feet away, Seraph was bent over trying to examine a smudge on one of the chairs, and from their vantage, they could see right up her skirt. "Good work," said Gristle. "Get a few shots of that."
Back in the office, as Blackguy and Willowy set up the ASL, Gristle carefully cut a tiny sample from the tape covering Miss Thrall's mouth. "Appears to be duct tape, but we'd better have the lab check it out. They should be able to trace it right to the store where it was purchased."
Miss Thrall grunted angrily, but the investigators paid her no heed.
"We're all set," said Willowy, as she started the ASL in motion. Immediately, the slender, mechanical arms extended toward Miss Thrall, and tiny grapplers snapped onto the hem of her skirt. The arms pulled the material up her legs. In no time, her entire pelvic region was on display.
"So this is the source of the buzzing sound!"
"Of the extended orgasmic episodes, as well."
"It's fiendish... Ghastly!"
"It's called a 'Snugglebunny' vibrator, isn't it?"
"Right. See how the little bunny shape extends upward from the main shaft, and the bunny's itty bitty ears pulsate directly on her cl-"
"Exactly. So we'll need to pack up Miss Thrall and take her back to the lab. There we'll be better able to extract the vibrator and trace it from the serial number."
Just then Miss Thrall shuddered. She moaned loudly. Her eyes rolled back.
"What kind of monster would do this?" asked Blackguy.
"It's not for us to judge," said Gristle. "The courts will do that after we've let the evidence tell its tale."
The three of them reflected for a moment, then Willowy and Blackguy began dismantling the ASL. Gristle walked to the door. Outside, Seraph was yelling at Strokes.
"You were too taking pictures up my skirt again."
"Well, Gristle told me to."
Gristle stepped between them. "All right you two. Enough bickering. I think we have just about enough evidence now to track down the binder in the case. Seraph, you can help Dick put Miss Thrall in an evidence bag and load her in the back of the van."
As the crew left, the janitor stopped Gristle. "Um, it's none of my business, but aren't you going to untie poor Miss Thrall?"
Gristle solemnly shook his head. "Not until tomorrow at the earliest. We have to keep the evidence uncontaminated for as long as possible."
Jack Schick nodded vacantly. "Gosh." He watched the crew gather up their fancy equipment along with one large, writhing evidence bag. He called out to them as they walked off, "I'm glad we have experts like you around."
Gristle smiled. "It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it."
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