The Couriers

Chapter Five-1

Chapter Five

Bibi

“You have friends who tie you up?” she asked.

“How nice,” she added with just a touch of sarcasm, ...Bibi Wolfe Lynx.

Totally relaxed, Bibi Wolf Lynx, free-lance investigator, body guard to the wealthy, celebrity set and all-around detective for persons and agencies who needed brilliant, discrete and effective investigative work anywhere in the world, lay naked in a huge, double beanbag chair. The outsized design of the bags allowed her to drape her well-tanned body completely across the chair without touching the floor. The original chair had been covered in some tacky plastic material, but Bibi found a furniture expert who bound the two original bags neatly together, refreshed the puffy interior material and recovered the mass in sheared, white sheepskin, a far more comfortable fabric and one that she felt was more suitable to her character. Leaning back in the chair with the digital tablet resting on a pillow just below her bare breasts, Bibi studied a series of reports, maps and diagrams showing three different locations where Peterman’s Bank couriers were recently assaulted and robbed. When, after the third robbery, the local police robbery squad developed no useful leads, the bank’s security director contacted Bibi, asking if she would take the case under advisement. He reminded her that he knew this was not her usual kind of work, but that the bank’s board had been “prompted” he said, to at least discuss the case with her and see what she might recommend. It was not accidental that the bank’s board contained two of Bibi’s former clients, one of whom made it well known that she was, in his opinion, solely responsible for the safe recovery of his only daughter when she was abducted and held prisoner in Czechoslovakia by a disenchanted, and now dead, Dutch boyfriend. Ernst von Holt had sufficient influence in enough quarters to get his suggestions quickly implemented and now Bibi was on the second day of reviewing all of the case materials furnished by the bank’s security team, as well as a second set of data files from the police.

At Bibi’s feet was one of her new toys, Donna Elizabeth Cann, a strikingly beautiful university student who, although nearly twenty, reminded Bibi of herself when she too was a footloose, licensed private investigator, jobless and trying to make fiscal ends meet as she waited for her first crime case.

Dede, as the girl preferred to be called, struck up a conversation with Bibi in a nearby coffee shop when the display TV showed a news broadcast about a new club in Berlin that catered to the off-beat and kinky tastes of the city’s vast avant-garde, youthful population.

“I just don’t get it,” Dede said in English as they both sat with their coffees at the counter and studied the TV on one wall. “Why do people have to go to a club to get tied up?”

“Where else would they go?” Bibi asked, only half interested in the lovely girl’s somewhat different approach to starting a conversation with a stranger and not surprised that she apparently assumed Bibi was either a Brit or an American. She half turned in her chair and looked carefully at the woman.

Dede was a natural blond with almost white hair, cut long and straight. She had the blue-green eyes to match and even without make-up, her eyes seemed almost too big for her small and pixie-like face. Her complexion was in sharp contrast in smooth features with the long, light blond hair because she had an unlikely tan that, despite the winter weather, looked natural. From what Bibi could see, the body, slim and well cared for, matched the face and seemed suited for the girl next door look Dede apparently favored.

“Friends, for one,” Dede said, after thinking a bit.

On the overhead display, the TV broadcast showed video clips of the various jail cells, mirrored rooms and playrooms in the club which at one time had been an army installation and was now in a sleazy part of the city that was slated for urban renewal sometime in the distant future. The club was called Gwendolyn’s, named perhaps Bibi thought, after the hapless heroine in John Willie’s now nearly ancient cartoon series from the nineteen fifties when cartoon art of tightly bound women in skimpy attire was a bit avant-garde and b**m was almost totally underground.

“You have friends who will tie you up?” Bibi asked. “How nice,” she added with just a touch of sarcasm.

“No. Not really,” Dede said. “The last time I asked a date to put me in handcuffs he got pissed and finally, after I pestered him, put them on much too tight. He hurt me, the prick.”

“What did you expect?” Bibi asked, by now a bit more interested in this girl’s seemingly absurd dilemma. “You get a stranger to restrain you and then complain about it not being to your liking? A bit of a rätsel, a conundrum, I would say, if that’s the proper English term. By the way, your English is super. I gather you practice a lot?”

Bibi used the English word as well as the German, trying to make a point as she often did with strangers, especially those who seemed to demonstrate a higher level of education and intelligence. This worked well for her with both men and women and she did it often without thinking, even though her own education was extensive and she, like many Europeans in her generation, spoke four languages well and a few others barely.

“Yes,” Dede said. “I know. But don’t you think it’s strange that so many people have to go to a club to enjoy a very basic kind of s****l experience that hurts no one and shouldn’t cost anything?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Bibi answered, somewhat vaguely, but now studying more carefully the girl sitting next to her. “I’ve certainly never paid for it. Any other bondage experiences you want to tell me about?”

“Ha,” said Dede as she emptied her coffee cup. “I’ve had more than my share of fetish flops. Sandy, one of my classmates who I didn’t know very well, texted me a rather cryptic note saying that she would love to have me as her slave. Just like that.”

“And...” said Bibi.

“She was pretty direct. I ignored the text, but in gym class one day I found her in the shower room without a robe or towel and saw what looked like some pretty heavy whip marks on her back and thighs. Nothing was said, but she knew that I had seen her. A few days later, she stopped at my table in the café and asked if she could join me. One thing led to another and that night we got together in her dorm room, supposedly to study Western Civilizations, a course we both were taking. We’re sitting at the table next to each other to share the same books and she reached under the table and squeezed my leg. When I turned, she kissed me, hard, and her hand moved to my breast.”

“Were you accepting or resisting?” Bibi asked.

“Honestly, I wasn’t resisting. I was more curious, interested, because, well, it felt good and because I like to experiment and this seemed like a reasonable opportunity.”

“Right. So what happened next?”

“She says she had seen me at the strip club and liked what she saw and was going to make it a memorable night or two for both of us, as long as I agreed. No force, just a lot of...ah, the word I’m, looking for...ah, innuendo.”

“So...?” Bibi pressed.

She gets up from the table, strips to a very cool matching set of dark blue lace underwear and dark hose, which I hadn’t really noticed because she was wearing a long skirt and sweater. She more or less ordered me to strip as well and when I hesitate, she picked up a cane from the floor and lets me have a cut right between my legs.”

“Pretty direct, I’d say,” Bibi said.

“But you know what I am talking about, obviously,” the girl added, a bit breathlessly. “You sure you want to hear the rest? By the way, I’m Dede,” she added, holding out a carefully manicured hand with ringless fingers.

“Good morning, Dede,” she added quickly. “I’m Bibi Lynx. And yes, I want to hear it all, or as much as you want to tell me,” Bibi replied.

“Do you get tied up?” Dede said, perhaps trying to change the subject and meeting Bibi’s studied look as she peered over the top of her blue-tinted aviator glasses.

“Yes. Sometimes when I want to be and at other times when I don’t want to be,” Bibi added, wondering if she should, at this place and time, indulge in a discussion about her personal fascination with bondage and S&M activities.

“Oh, my gosh,” Dede blurted, louder than she probably intended, for she suddenly glanced around the noisy room and checked to see if anyone had heard her. As she turned quickly in her chair, her red scarf dropped free and the front of her long, black wool overcoat fell open. Dede reached for the scarf and the coat was now fully open. While no one in the shop seemed to notice, Bibi saw that Dede was wearing nothing beneath the coat and, seemingly without any concern, momentarily displayed a pair of high and unsupported milk-white breasts with small silver rings in the n*****s, all clearly visible along with a trimmed blond bush and small, childish butt.

“Sorry,” Dede said, grabbing the front of her coat and pulling it back around her. As she did so, the slightly conical right breast was trapped outside the folds of the coat and was thus still fully revealed. “I didn’t mean to be so loud. It’s just that no one I know would ever admit that.”

“Admit what? Getting into bondage? It’s not a big thing,” Bibi said, noting also that the girl didn’t even blush as she repositioned her coat to more suitably contain her breastworks. “Want another café au lait?” She pointed to the girl’s empty mug.

“Sure. Yes, please,” Dede answered. “I must limit myself to only one a day because, well, you know, student, and post graduate budget....” her voice trailed off and she was staring at Bibi now, her big blue eyes a bit watery for some reason.

“I think I’ll go over and chat with the barista for a few minutes,” Bibi added. “While I’m gone,” she said, smiling. “You might want to consider exactly how you would ask to be bound and by whom. I may be able to help you...no strings attached...and pardon the pun,” she added as she got off the bar stool and headed for the order counter. “And, just for the record,” she added, turning slightly and looking directly into Dede’s blue eyes, “I know it is currently fashionable to display as much skin as is legal, but I wouldn’t so easily display your assets in public if I were you. Some people might get the wrong idea. And I still want to hear the rest of your story.”

“Oops. Yes. Okay. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to appear wanton. I got up late and grabbed the coat, thinking I’d go right back up stairs. I live in the flat over this shop,” Dede said, blushing brightly now.

“Not a problem for me,” said Bibi. “I like to see nice bodies, but in private most of the time...”

Dede watched her walk away and wondered what she should tell this tall, frighteningly attractive woman that she knew nothing about. She was still pondering, staring blankly at the TV, when Bibi returned with two extra large take-away containers of steaming coffee and a pair of chocolate croissant.

“I thought that we might need the Xtra large size, given our topic of conversation,” Bibi said, smiling broadly. “These,” she said, pointing to the croissant, “looked a bit like you: too good to pass up.”

Dede blushed a flattering pink and unconsciously pulled her coat more closely around her. The braless boobs inside the coat seemed to object to this confinement and thrust themselves again the coat’s dark fabric, creating tantalizing twin mounds enclosed in the folds of the coat. Bibi, not to appear distracted, picked up a croissant and licked the chocolate off one crispy end.

“So tell me the rest of your tale, please,” Bibi said.

“I’ll shorten it a bit. The dorm room had support beams in the ceiling and, although I hadn’t noticed, there were sturdy metal screw eyes at regular intervals on one of the beams. This wasn’t uncommon because a lot of students had hanging lamps, plants and even hammocks, you know?”

“I get it,” Bibi said. Getting a bit exasperated as the story slowly unwound.

“So I told her I wasn’t getting undressed for her and was not really in the mood for a thrashing. Next thing I know I’m on the floor with her on top of me twisting my arms behind me and tying them with cord. She put a clean handkerchief into my mouth and tied it with a bathrobe sash, then doubled it with another handkerchief and that really shut me up. She tied my feet and then pulled me up, leaving me tied and standing in the room like some bound and gagged statue. I have to admit, it was quite exciting and my head and body were working overtime on this whole thing, trying to figure out what, if anything, I should do, tied and gagged as I was.”