Sandy’s act of selfbondage
It was six o’clock that evening when I arrived at Sandy’s flat. I was at least two hours early. Sandy opened the door as far as the security chain would allow and looked a little surprised to see me. “Woody!” she exclaimed. “You’re early!” I just put on my best smile. “You know me, always unpredictable,” I told her. Sandy opened up the door and I looked her up and down. Once more she was wearing just a dressing gown and had a towel wrapped about her head, but as I embraced her in the doorway I was relieved to discover that she had at least had time to dry herself down this time. I had my travel bag with me. I tossed it into the room, and it slid across the floor past Sandy’s bare feet. This time I had come well prepared and had four sets of handcuffs and a truncheon packed. ...