Jack Peacock

Introduction Isla Del Sur, the Island Of The South, does not appear on any published maps. Satellite photographs show only an empty stretch of the Indian Ocean, assuming one knew where to look. There are no nearby sea lanes, and it is far from the air routes between Africa and Australia. There are a few historical references to the archipelago, though if those documents surface, they quickly disappear. Discovered in the 16th century by a Portuguese merchantman when it drifted off course enroute to Japan, the location was considered a state secret and locked away in the Portuguese royal archives, where it was soon lost. It was unexplored and uninhabited until the late 19th century, when a British utopian society purchased the location from an archivist in Lisbon. As with all such endeavors the great experiment soon failed and Isla Del Sur was once again banished to obscurity. ...

Open and Closed Two weeks later and we were back in my basement. We had stayed in contact after her first visit, though she was hesitant to meet up again. I didn’t press the matter. If she needed time to work through what had happened, I was willing to be patient. Keeping our developing relationship low key turned out to be the right approach. Here she was once more, ready to explore the use, or misuse, of the various items in my collection. ...

The Collection “So, this is my collection.” I waved an arm around the room. Pegboards lined every wall. Hanging on hooks were the results of a lifetime’s obsession with my peculiar hobby. My guest didn’t reply to the introduction. Instead, she slowly made her way around the room, taking the full tour of everything on display. When she returned to the door, she looked up at me with a question. ...

Take It to the Limit* She sat on the couch, provocatively crossing her long legs below her short skirt. I am old-fashioned in some ways so I didn’t approve, though being a slave to male instinct I kept my eyes on her anyway. She’d come to me with another one of her wild ideas. This one was, potentially, far more dangerous than the escapade of being half buried in the ground with the concrete slabs. ...

Taking Root* “Yeah, I’ve seen those old gangster movies, the ‘Chicago Overcoat’ and going for a swim in the lake. What you have in mind isn’t so extreme, and certainly won’t require you to hold your breath for days on end, but it does carry some risks.” I pondered the details of implementing her request. Her simplistic idea, based entirely on bad movies, was impractical at so many levels that I discarded it immediately. Pouring a massive chunk of concrete would require weeks to cure, and breaking it open afterward meant a jackhammer. ...

A Phone Call* “Thanks for the heads up, Gary,” the Director spoke into the phone. “It won’t alter anything but being informed Psycho Sally was behind her transfer is good to know. I’m aware of Sally’s reputation and what she does for a living. We don’t have any business dealings with her, since she would never agree to the conditions we impose on our female visitors. Anyway, my advice is to tread carefully. You’ve seen for yourself she isn’t someone you’d ever want to cross.” ...

Long Weekend Preparation* Another long weekend all to himself, and the time to indulge in his favorite hobby, if that term applied. Three days to enjoy the benefits of enforced leisure, without a care in the world. Best of all there would be no interruptions while he decompressed from months of built-up stress. His capacity for patience wasn’t high, which would normally be a complication when attempting to calm the soul with some introspective meditation. That might be difficult for others, but he had found a way to guarantee his focus would not stray. Thanks to both modern and centuries old technology he had developed a solution that was infallible. ...

Life Imitates Art* Pete followed Carol down the stairs to his basement. She took a seat on the couch, leaned back and crossed her legs. “Like I told you on the phone, I really enjoyed last week, but it left me wanting more; more as in greater intensity. I leave the details to your imagination, since you have the expertise to keep me safe from harm. I’ll add I’m willing to agree to more, umm, demanding conditions.” ...

Sally’s Subject III: Leverage Tribunal* _When Denny regained consciousness, he was lying face down on a concrete floor. His wrists were bound close together behind his back with rigid cuffs. His ankles had received the same treatment, also clamped in a larger version of the cuffs on his wrists. His knees were bent back due to the short connecting chain running from hand to foot, through a ring suspended from the ceiling. When he tried to straighten his legs, his arms were pulled up behind his back, sending an agonizing pain through his shoulders._Okay, that’s not going to work. I’m in some kind of hogtie, except it’s with shackles instead of rope.* He turned his head to one side, trying to gauge how well he was trussed up. From what he could tell it wasn’t good. The connecting chain was too short to attempt any kind of movement. It wasn’t too much of a strain if he held still, but it would quickly pull taut if he strayed off his spot on the floor. ...

At Work Settling In* “Okay, looks like you’re all set. Anything I need to know before we get started?” He leaned over her, double-checking his work for any possible problems that might give her some trouble during the next few hours. She twisted and turned, testing the restraints. As always, he was very careful with the details. Today, while he was on the job she would be sitting by his side, quietly watching the man she loved while he immersed himself in his labors. She might never understand the creative steps that went on in his brain, but she was fascinated by how that logical progression manifested itself while he sat at the computer. ...

The Wall Carol stared at the items displayed on the walls. “Wow! I’ve never seen a collection like this. Truth is I’ve never even seen a real pair of handcuffs. I had no idea there were so many different types.” “Not just handcuffs, all kinds of restraints.” Pete pointed to what looked like a pair of padded gloves. “These cover your hands. The padding is stiff, so you can’t use your fingers to grab or hold onto anything. They’re used with extremely dangerous prisoners.” ...

The Costume* Looking over the table she verified everything was neatly laid out. There was a specific arrangement she had in mind, and the items intended for her adventure tonight must be carefully lined up in the sequence they would be used. It was important to her that everything should be organized in the proper order. Perhaps that was what so fascinated her about the British Edwardian era, from the beginning of the twentieth century up to World War I. The rigid social structure and its precise, well-defined role for everyone, based on class, appealed to her own belief in how the world should work. The costume theme tonight would be drawn from that era. Fortunately, there were plenty of websites that offered period authentic (or nearly so) women’s clothing. ...

Sally’s Subject II: Put to the Question Too Much* When Denny opened his eyes and looked around, he found nothing to offer him hope or explanation. He was sitting in a very small room, barely more than a closet, propped up in a corner with his back to the wall. The floor was cold concrete, there were no windows, and the one door was a solid metal barrier with no way to open it from the inside. ...

Sally’s Subject I: Dungeon Visit The Dungeon Visit The click when the head cage closed and locked around his neck sent a thrill down Denny’s spine. There was a certain finality in the sound, a sense his helplessness was now complete. Through the wire mesh stretched over the steel frame that now enclosed his head he could see the slightest of smiles on Mistress Edith’s lips. She’s in charge now, she knows it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. With that thought in mind he could already feel the stresses of the day draining away. ...

Dime In Change The Next Weekend* Friday afternoon, while the building was emptying fast, Roy casually walked by Dale’s cubicle to say hello and ask if she would like to go to dinner. “I’d love to,” came her expected reply. She took a deep breath before risking it all. “What about a weekend instead of a dinner?” How would he react at her being so forward? Roy wasn’t stupid; he’d see all the implications in that question. ...

Phase I: Preparation I had lots of time, and the urge, so I gave in and started a bondage session. Short of the house burning down I was guaranteed I wouldn’t be disturbed. Off came all the clothes, a tradition where I would be discouraged from seeking outside help. One of my goals, just to make the scenario more of a challenge, was minimal mobility. Once I was suitably weighed down, I’d make my way climbing up the basement stairs to the floor above. Naturally the keys would be available only after negotiating some type of difficult and time-consuming task. When I finished, all the means to enable my release would go into a sturdy safe bolted to the concrete floor. The safe in turn could only be opened with a specific key, which was located upstairs. Once the door was shut, I was committed to either an indefinite stay in the restraints or somehow making my way to the where the safe key was located, and then back again to the basement. Obtaining that key would present an additional set of challenges. Unless I completed my round trip, I would be severely limited in any future activities. ...

The Dinner Date Getting Ready* To celebrate the one-month anniversary of that fateful night when Tina had revealed her most closely held secrets to Leo, he had decided they would have a nice dinner out and maybe some dancing afterwards. Their relationship had rapidly progressed since that first, fateful lunch date. Tina now lived with him, a rapid progression that moved far faster than Leo anticipated. Not that he had any objections. ...

Getting Ready* The small camping site where the paved road ended was deserted, as usual for this time of year. It was late Sunday night, when everyone was home, so a perfect time for an outdoor stroll. There was a three-quarters moon providing a decent amount of light, without the need for flashlights to light the way. This was one of my favorite places. It was quiet, secluded and unspoiled by manmade structures, other than the rest area. Why the County had built a road out here, and added a modest camping area, was a mystery. Fortunately the road was still maintained, including a single lane dirt road that wound further out into the desert valley. That road didn’t go anywhere. It eventually deteriorated into barren desert. It was graded, at least for the first five miles, which made it ideal for walking. ...

George and Sharon Legal Matters “That covers the disposition of Gary’s financial assets. Aside from the Zakat, the charity tax, and the court filing fees the remainder of your brother’s estate is free and clear. As you can see from the provisions in the will his intent was to leave a large trust to provide for Sharon’s welfare. You’re named as the sole director.” The lawyer, Ed Gleason, gathered up the papers into a neat pile. ...

A Day Like Any Other* The date was for a Saturday afternoon lunch to try out a new Asian restaurant. This was their third time out together, after the first two ended well. Leo Teller had come across the opening announcement in the weekly local junk mail flier, and thought it might be a novel experience for his new social companion. He still wasn’t sure what to make of her. Tina, short for Christina as she usually introduced herself, was something of an enigma. They worked for the same company, he in Engineering, she in Purchasing, which often brought them together for meetings. She was definitely good at her job, which was apparent when he all too often had to field tough questions on component costs. At first he thought she might be challenging him because she didn’t care for his brusque style, yet he had to admit her figures merited discussion. Once he justified the additional cost she didn’t pursue it further, so clearly it was business not hostility for motivation. ...

The Problem “So here’s the problem we face,” the Director began his explanation for calling in Robert and Big Mike. “A serious situation is developing that threatens to expose the Center, one that forces us to act immediately. There’s an investigative reporter who uncovered some potentially damaging information. Fortunately we have someone on site who is working to deflect the reporter’s attention, but that’s not going to buy us much time. We do have a long term solution, but to implement it we need your help.” ...

Getting There The scenery outside the airplane window was empty desert, punctuated with the equally desolate mountain ranges. The small twin-engine plane was a four seater, with the pilot in front and Darla in the back. After leaving the civil airport in Ontario, outside Los Angeles, she was able to track their progress eastward until they reached the Mojave Desert. At that point she was lost. The landscape below them was a featureless expanse of rock, gravel and sagebrush. There were no roads, either paved or dirt, to indicate anyone had ever been down there. Their destination was definitely off the beaten track, though it made sense since Mr. G’s establishment required isolation in order to exist. ...

The Half Dollar* “This place was last used as a County Sheriff’s substation back in the 1960s. When the factory shut down just about everyone on this end of the valley left for greener pastures. Most of the old buildings around here were torn down in the 80’s when there was a big environmental push to return the land to original prairie. There isn’t enough water for farms, so all that’s left are a few houses and this place. When I bought it at auction it was in rough shape but over the years I’ve been able to restore the building to as near authentic as I can, from old pictures.” ...

The Depths* I woke up lying on some kind of bed. My arms were stretched out over my head, held wide apart with leather cuffs attached to straps going somewhere out of my sight, over the edge. My legs were in the same position, spread wide and held down with leather cuffs on my ankles. Ominously, there were more straps across my knees and thighs, again held apart by wide belts around the bed. I tried twisting around, struggling to free myself. ...

Breakfast “On your knees!” Edith snapped at me. Slowly I struggled to get my legs under me so I could obey her order. As usual my hands were cuffed behind my back, with a waist chain to keep them in place. I was forced to sleep like that every night after I foolishly directed an unflattering remark toward one of the guards. She didn’t appreciate it and found a most uncomfortable way to demonstrate her displeasure. ...

Day 1 Plan B Barbara Manning tossed the rejection form letter onto the table. It wasn’t unexpected; she knew in advance her chances of being accepted were poor. Still, it was a disappointment. Based on her research the Facility would have been the ideal place to achieve her dream. Now she’d have to move on to her “Plan B”, the closest alternative she could find. There were the standard routes endorsed by the South Island government: apprentice to a company; enter into the first phase of a standard agreement; or for a lucky few being accepted by the Facility. The last option was now out of reach. The company route was the least attractive option, since it might take years to reach the same stage as a standard agreement. And for a standard agreement she needed a second party, which brought her back to the original problem: there was no second party. Both approaches were far too slow and cautious for her taste. And neither really addressed her underlying need. ...

New Arrivals Prologue Isla Del Sur, known simply as the Island to its inhabitants, was first discovered in the 16th century when a Portuguese merchant ship bound for Japan went off course after rounding the African Cape. Lost in the Indian Ocean, the ship stumbled across the uninhabited island group. The captain marked it on a chart, refreshed his supplies of food and water, and headed due west, eventually finding the African coast, where he continued on his way. Upon his return to Portugal the chart of the new discovery was forwarded to the Royal Archives and became one more state secret. It was lost until the 19th century when a minor clerk checking historical records discovered the well-preserved chart with the hand-written notes detailing how the islands were found. He immediately recognized the worth in what he had found and sold the secret to an English businessman, one of the many who came to Portugal each year to buy port wine. ...

Preparations “Remember, no talking when in contact with the Subject. Use the tablet if you have a question.” The Technician slipped on the helmet of the isolation suit. The silvered front acted like a one-way mirror, concealing the face of the person inside. The Apprentice nodded in understanding. “The Subject is still unconscious?” The two faced each other, verifying there was no exposed clue to the identity of either one. ...

Compulsion* _This was going to be more fun than anything I’d tried before now. It would lend a whole new meaning to the term “Dumpster Diving”, at least for me. If I were objective, looking at myself from the viewpoint of a dispassionate, disinterested observer, then I’d have to conclude I was certifiably insane to carry through on my plan. Maybe I was crazy, but it wasn’t going to stop me._Why did I do it?* What was it in my head that drove me to become human garbage, to be tossed aside as unwanted trash? Most of the time I felt normal, but every so often that compulsion came upon me. Maybe it was the feel of the smooth, clingy plastic against my hand when opening a fresh kitchen trash bag. Or maybe it was some kind of guilt complex. Whatever the reason, I had to wrap myself up in a neat package inside one of those bags, preferably surrounded by other bags of equally unwanted refuse. ...

Planning* My situation was not improving. They had me kneeling on a mobile platform, ankles and knees held down with leather straps. Behind my back my wrists were clamped together with manacles attached to a cable. That cable went to a winch mounted on a beam over my head. My arms were pulled up behind my back, forcing me to bend over till my head nearly touched the platform. Otherwise I was sure to dislocate my shoulders, or worse. ...

The Plan She had planned it all very carefully. The time, the location, weather, equipment, even the phase of the moon for light; everything was perfect. Now she faced the one last decision to put her plan into action, the final moment at which she could stop, back out, and change her mind. Little did she realize how a simple weekend outing would turn into an adventure that profoundly changed her life. ...

The Right Color No, the color wasn’t quite right. Veronica Cooper went to the color palette, looking for a darker, yellow-brown hue. It might be a medieval design, but the construction was modern pine, expertly stained to bring out the natural colors. This was the full page drawing, the one where she could justify extra time on the details. An entire page called for maximum dramatic impact while depicting a key event in the story. Thanks to computers she didn’t have to rely on a colorist to make the change. ...

How It Came To Be “Is it true, Paula? You came here, to the Center, by choice?” The question came from Trina, the most recent addition to the circle of friends. The two women had something in common. Katrina, Trina for short, had also started her life at the Center as a willing if uninformed participant. The dinner conversation had turned to early days at the Center, a safe topic since they weren’t in the secure area. Paula and Big Mike, her master, were the earliest arrivals at the Center among the group sitting around the table. Paula looked a question at Big Mike, silently seeking permission to answer. ...

A Bad Night I woke up with a headache and a bad taste in my mouth. That wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but I had no idea why. Try as I might I could not remember a single thing after eating lunch yesterday. I think it was yesterday; I wasn’t even sure of the date. That’s when I fully woke up. Something was very wrong. I was lying on my stomach, with my hands and arms behind my back. Or rather fastened behind my back; I recognized the bite of handcuffs locked on my wrists. The moment I tried to move my hands I discovered the chain around my waist, holding the handcuffs in position in the small of my back. I knew what that meant: transport chains, enhanced security, and a serious problem for me. ...

Center Express Trina, short for Katerina, stole a glance at the guard sitting next to her. He seemed to be bored; that was understandable considering how many times he must have traveled this road. Bored but always alert, she noticed when he sat up in swift reaction to her sidelong peek. On the job as well, as Trina discovered when he reached behind her back to check on the handcuffs. ...

Part V Shock to the System Building Up Once again the end of the year arrived along with the usual Christmas holiday slowdown. The company I worked for shuts down for two weeks, leaving me with plenty of time for leisure activities. My good friend, who so often helps me with my adventures in the Stox Box, was off visiting family for those same two weeks. That left me with a serious problem. ...

Special FX From On High “So what do you think?” Joe asked as he hit the stop button on the DVD. “My impression, it was too contrived. There was no way she could get away from him. There were so many coincidences that it distracted from the story. A competent screenwriter might be allowed one deus ex machina, but I counted at least three, maybe four times the plot was saved by a miracle.” ...

Part IV A Day of Rest All I wanted was a day to myself, one day to rest free of distractions. And I wanted to spend that day in the box, alone, with no one to bother me. I’d need my friend to act as my safety backup, on the remote chance something went wrong. Once I was in place though, again with my friend’s help, there was no reason I couldn’t be left to my own devices. ...

Part III On the Beach There I was in the garage, staring at what was fast becoming my all-consuming lifetime project. My friend and co-conspirator for the malicious contraption before us was sipping on a can of some awful discount store beer. The great debate silently raging between us? What can we do to improve the Stox Box? Despite arguments from my unsympathetic friend, I made it clear in concise terms, mixed with a quantity of forcefully expressed expletives, that Psycho Sally was not to be involved in any future adventures with the box, at least those where I was inside. My gullible friend’s protests about her good intentions fell on deaf ears; I knew better. ...

Arrival Once the police had me in the van I had nowhere to go. The seat belt held me down, with the buckle out of my reach so I couldn’t take it off. The reason for that were the handcuffs on my wrists, keeping my hands secured behind my back. Although I knew the arrest was staged everything was by the book. The officers who took me into custody played their part well, almost as if they weren’t aware it was all preplanned. ...

First Day Jitters “I am the instructor for this class. You will address me as Miss Cathy. Learn what I teach you, and you will be able to leave this place.” For emphasis she tapped the pointer on the floor. “Nice touch, but be sure you look around the room. Try to make eye contact with everyone.” Robert sat on the couch while Cathy rehearsed her first class, only two days away. “Remember, when you come in they’ll all be watching you. You’ll be an unknown quantity; they don’t know what to expect. Don’t rush; slow, confident and deliberate till you get to your spot at the head of the class. Make sure they wait for you. Don’t look down, and don’t look away from them. Keep telling yourself that you’re in charge. You can do whatever you want, so by definition you can’t make a mistake.” ...

In the Elevator I won’t tolerate it any more, Laura told herself, watching the penthouse elevator doors close. Frank could be so stubborn and infuriating at times, but this was too much. She loved him more than life itself and would do anything for him, but he had to respect her need for her own space and time. Tonight it had come to a head, first his smug declaration that she would attend the party with him, followed by his refusal to let her stay home after she had pleaded with him to let her finish talking with her friends on the Internet. The party was some kind of retirement dinner for one of Frank’s co-workers and a long-time friend of his. She knew it was going to be dull and didn’t want to go. He had simply turned off her computer and told her to get ready. ...

Part II Party Night Plan Saturday night was fast approaching. Thanks to frantic woodworking practically around the clock I had just finished the last of the Stox Box modifications in time for the debut at the local bondage party. The plan was to make a surprise debut for maximum impact. As usual my invaluable friend would help me get ready. Once in the box it would be a quick truck ride to the party room. There I’d be covered in a tablecloth with the usual socializing eats and drinks laid out on top of me. Once the preliminaries were finished and cleared away one of the dominants at the party would unveil the box, with me inside. I planned to spend the entire evening in place, as it were, until freed later in the evening. As usual the release time was set by my friend, and deliberately kept from me until the last moment. I’d pick up the box the next day. ...

Hindsight Cathy leaned back in her seat, resigned to her fate. In hindsight it had been childish and stupid; she should know better. But she’d done it anyway, and now she must suffer the consequences. If she had only stopped to think, listened, made the effort to understand, none of this would have been necessary. As she sat there, under the guard’s watchful eye, she thought back to how it began. Was it really only a day ago? ...

The Stox Box Preparations “This is quite a change from what you’re used to. You sure you’re ready for it?” My friend voiced a legitimate concern, but I wasn’t worried. True, it was outside what might be considered my comfort zone but in concept it wasn’t all that far afield from my usual bondage pursuits. Sometimes one has to expand horizons to fully appreciate the myriad of experiences one might otherwise miss out on due to excessive caution and, well, fear, though I never thought of myself as the type to cower in terror under my bed when confronted with something new and different. ...

Waking Up It started when I woke up. I was lying flat on my back on some hard surface with a thin cushion underneath. When I opened my eyes I saw a strange sight, a mirror on the ceiling showing the reflection of what appeared to be a body covered from head to toe in a shiny, black rubber suit. The multitude of tan leather straps crossing that suit stood out in sharp contrast to the black background. Those belts securely lashed the body to a medical examining table. What is this? I thought. ...

Upper Reaches She looked out the tenth floor office window at the city, watching the lights below twinkling in the darkness of the moonless night. Above the streets it was quiet in the empty office building. Construction was finished but no tenants had yet to move in after the bankruptcy had left the question of ownership in shambles. Not even the judge was sure who legally held the title, or who could collect the rent from the leases. ...

Walk in the Woods This was the day, or rather night, she had waited for. Beautiful weather, mild temperature, a full moon in a cloudless sky, and the camp ground would be deserted. The recent wildfires had ravaged the countryside further down the mountain, closing the access road to the public. But she knew about the old logging road that was still passable and led into the camping area from the back. She should have the place all to herself. ...

Early Morning She was awake long before the alarm clock went off. How had he found her at the cabin? That thought kept going through her head. No one had known where she was going, no way could anyone have followed her up the mountain road without her noticing, yet there he had been the next morning. Automatically she stretched out her arms to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. At least she could be certain it was no dream this time. That last session on the cabin floor, trussed up in a painful hogtie with her arms behind her back, had been no fantasy. ...

Morning After Sunday night found her still staring first at the mark on her leg, then to the telephone, to the front door, and back to the faint red streak. It could have been a dream, except for that one tiny abrasion. Had it all been real? How else could she explain the outline of the leather strap? It had been so tangible: the smell of the leather, the sound of his voice, even the aches in her muscles from being tightly bound. ...

Looking Out The moment she opened her eyes she knew something was very wrong. A single bulb above her provided the only illumination in the room. Beyond the pool of light centered on her the room faded into an all concealing darkness. Dazzled by the glare of the spotlight shining overhead she couldn’t even make out the walls. Her arms were bound behind her back. Something was wrapped around her hands and forearms, holding them tightly to her waist. From the touch of her fingers it felt like roughly finished leather. A quick jerk proved her wrists were secured by wide leather straps of the same material. ...

Thursday nights I reserve for something special. It’s always for the two of us, with the express goal to bring us closer together. Marriage can wear out if you aren’t careful. It has to be kept alive, nurtured, and it takes attention and effort. That’s my job, to be proactive and take the initiative. From the beginning we agreed on certain roles in our relationship, privileges for each of us balanced by individual responsibilities. I got the short straw, the one where you win the dominant role. Not that I mind, in fact I wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would she. ...

Another yawn escaped despite her best efforts. Darlene shook her head, trying to stay awake. A glance at the clock showed the hands slowly creeping toward 3pm. There were two more hours to go on a Friday afternoon before a long holiday weekend. She was the last one in the small accounting office, covering for everyone else who had left early. Not even the phone was ringing, and she couldn’t hear any activity out in the warehouse. ...

A Weekend Trip “So when am I going to find out where the surprise destination is?” Darlene asked. She and Joe Riordan, the owner of the movie prop company, were the only two left in the building on a late Friday afternoon. She was sitting at her desk in the rear of the building, in the accounting department behind the warehouse. Joe sat on the edge of her desk. “Not just yet. I do have some coming attractions though. Want to hear the trailer?” Joe had taken over the family business a few years ago from his father. The main line was providing various props to movie and television production companies. A lucrative sideline was selling old movie memorabilia, primarily on the internet. Darlene, an aspiring art director, had been hired to catalog props when they were used in order to document the provenance, the proven history, movie fans demanded. ...

Even Trade “So, how long have you lived here?” she asked, looking around after she sat down on the couch. “It’s been about five years now. It’s a small house but there’s a finished basement, more room that you might think just seeing it from the street. Can I get you anything, munchies, something to drink?” He stood in the doorway to the kitchen. They had first met at work. He was in the Engineering department; she worked in Purchasing. Procurement meetings often brought them together when planning rollouts of new products. Co-workers warned him she rarely went out with anyone from the company. Eventually he asked her anyway, and to his surprise she accepted. ...

Writer’s Block “Here’s my problem,” she started to explain to Jim Preston, her literary agent and business manager. “In the new book I have a chapter where the female protagonist manages to escape from the prison van. She hides out in a farmhouse, contacts her friends, finally goes on to clear her name, et cetera, et cetera. The catch: she has her ankles shackled together along with the handcuffs. How far can she go in half a day of walking? And how well does she make out in the farmhouse? Can she find some way to get the chains off? It can’t be that easy or the cops wouldn’t use them.” ...