"Lay back and roll over, Cyn. Let's see if I can make some of that tension to go
away. And don't worry about the time. If you show up before eight o'clock,
you're going to offend half the art patrons in Pittsburgh. They'll think you're
making a comment about punctuality and the decadence of modern society or
"Okay, if I must." Cyndi rolled over with a sigh that was only half playful. "I
really am nervous about tonight."
Kevin pushed the robe up Cyndi's thighs and pried her legs gently apart,
kneeling on the bed between them so he could lean over her back to reach her
neck and shoulders. "Baby, I can't properly relax you with all this terrycloth
in the way. How 'bout we lose the bathrobe?"
Cyndi tugged at the robe's belt, loosening it, and shrugged the garment off one
shoulder, allowing Kevin's hands to pull it down. She lifted the other shoulder,
and he slipped it the rest of the way off. It went flying through the bedroom
just as the towel had done moments earlier. "Happy now, sir?"
"Not quite, but give me a second," Kevin said, running his fingertips down her
arms and curling them around her hands. He pulled her arms to her sides and
tenderly smoothed them down. The bed creaked as Kevin straddled her thighs and
shifted his weight such that the bulk of him rested on her legs, holding her in
place. Despite her stress, Cyndi snuggled her face into the pillow and closed
her eyes, eagerly awaiting the strength of his fingers on her knotted shoulders.
Instead, he once more ran his fingertips gently down both arms to her hands. It
drew a soft sigh—a sigh that became a gasp as he grasped both her hands firmly
and moved them to the center of her back. Kevin wrapped the discarded nylons
around Cyndi's wrists, pulling tightly and tying them before she could gather
herself to struggle. By the time she did, he had her hands bound securely behind
"Kevin Thomas Rogers, you sneaky son of a bitch! You think this," she wiggled
her fingers, "is gonna take my mind off the show?"
Kevin stood and leaned over the bed to speak directly into Cyndi's ear. "No, I
don't think it is. I know it is—mainly because I don't plan to untie you until
all that worry is gone and you have a dreamy expression on your face. Perhaps
you won't be relaxed, per se, but your mind WILL be focused on an entirely
different kind of tension—a delicious kind. You won't need any blush this
evening, Cyn. I promise you that."
"Oh, ho! Listen to you, Mister I'm-So-In-Charge." Her voice, still muffled by
the pillow and the hair covering her face, hovered between incredulity at being
bound and amusement at Kevin's bravado. "Seriously, Kev. As much as I'd like to
play out this bondage thing with you, it'd take me hours and hours to achieve
the kinda relaxation you're talking about tonight. It's just not gonna happen.
I'm way too tense. Let's revisit this after the opening, shall we? I'll be a
much more enthusiastic partner then. Promise. M'kay?"
Cyndi waited for his response—and waited. After a few minutes, she squirmed
until she managed to turn herself onto her side. Kevin wasn't in sight. Just as
she opened her mouth to call for him, he returned to the bedroom. In one hand,
he held a lit candle. In the other, a tumbler of ice cubes which he placed on
"Did you say something, sweet cheeks? I'm so sorry. I couldn't hear you from the
kitchen." Kevin's voice dripped with feigned syrupy sweetness. He sat on the
edge of the bed and brushed the hair from Cyndi's face.
"Why, yes, sugar plum," she growled as she attempted to catch his fingers
between her teeth. "I did say something. I said for you to untie me so that I
can continue pacing and fretting and whining while I get ready for the biggest
damned night of my career."
"Like I said, passion flower, I'll untie you when you've relaxed. Or, perhaps I
should paraphrase: I'll untie you when you've come so hard that you can't stand
up. How's that, eh? Understand now, snookums?"
Cyndi responded by placing both feet on Kevin's flank and pushing him from the
bed onto the floor. "Lotsa luck, stud muffin." Continuing the motion, she
brought both knees to her chest and curled into a tight ball. Before Kevin
realized what she was doing, she'd slipped her bound wrists around her ass. With
a little wriggle, one leg passed through her arms—immediately followed by the
other. She stood, triumphantly; wrists now bound in front of her, cocked her
head to the side, and stuck out her tongue.
"Impressive," he applauded from his perch on the carpet. "Didn't know you could
do tricks. So, now what?"
"Now, I cut these bonds."
"Don't think so, sugar. We have unfinished business. Your relaxation is of the
utmost importance, and I see it as my sworn duty to take your mind off your
worries—a duty I take very, very seriously." As he spoke, he stood and
approached Cyndi. His hands caressed her bare skin. They traveled over her
shoulders and down her back, lightly tracing the crack of her ass. When he
pressed his body into hers and nuzzled her neck, she sighed. "Good girl," Kevin
His posture changed abruptly upon the realization that Cyndi's bound wrists
rested directly over the fly of his underwear. She was a split second ahead of
him, though, and had both hands full of him before he could pull away.
"Now, let me go," she said through clenched teeth, squeezing a bit to punctuate
her demand. "I mean it, Kevin."
"You, my love, are one devious wench! I do so like that about you." He shrugged.
"Okay, you win—this time. Lemme get a knife."
"Oh, no! I'm not gullible enough to fall for that. We'll go together."
They traveled through the master bedroom and down the hall toward the kitchen,
conjoined. Passing the spare bedroom they'd recently converted into a home gym,
Kevin caught sight of the new speed bag mounted at eye level against the far
wall, and inspiration struck. Without giving himself time to worry about his
potential discomfort, he grasped Cyndi's waist and hoisted her over his
shoulder. The surprise maneuver made her lose her grip, and she beat on his back
"Damn it, Kevin, put me down!"