Indian Girl 33

“Take your socks off and come over here” she said, turning and walking across the gym.I finished undressing, tossing my discarded socks on top of my shirt and followed her.“Do you trust me, Richard?” she asked.“Yes, Miss.”“Put your hands on that bar for me, please.”I looked above my head to find one of the wallbars, used in gymnastics training, had been extended out into the room. I placed my hands on the top of the bar and Miss Smales picked up a skipping rope from a basket by the wall. She tied the rope around one of my wrists before fastening it to the bar and then repeated the process with the other wrist.“Well, that’s your hands out of the way.” she said “There’s just one other thing I need to do.”She walked across the gym, opened the store room door and went in. She emerged a couple of minutes later with two of the concrete weights used to secure the badminton nets. She placed one on each side of me and then proceeded to tie my ankles to the weights. She pulled gently on a rope. He’d see her shortly, she thought, and she could imagine his flush of embarrassment, his awkward body language. He’d scuttle off someplace more private to finish his little conversation. She’d smile at him, just a little, as he passed, like he was just a blip on her radar screen. But when he turned, there was no embarrassment in his expression. There was no awkwardness in his body language. In fact, he radiated that same quiet confidence, that insistence, that was the defining characteristic of his voice. His eyes rested on hers for a moment, and then floated down her body, frankly appraising her modest dress, her curves, and then resting again on her face. His expression went from mild curiosity to mild realization, and a subtly lurid smile touched the corners of his mouth. She felt like a deer in headlights, unable to move. The flush of embarrassment that should have been his rose in her own neck and cheeks. He knew she’d been listening. Somehow he knew everything. ‘Yes darling..
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