I wrote this story years ago and shared it on my old blog. I'm reposting it here for your enjoyment.
Brandon Ringer slowly opened his eyes, completely disoriented as he tried to remember where he was. Whatever the location, it was pitch black, dank, and musty.
His head throbbed, a punishing beat that pounded throughout his skull. He groaned, lifting his head upright on his sore neck.
To alleviate the pain, he tried to cup his head in his hands and realized with a start that he couldn’t move. His eyes widened in panic. Suddenly, the throbbing pain increased as his heartbeat kicked into a frantic gallop at the realization that he was completely immobilized.
And his mouth was taped shut.
What the hell?
He struggled into full consciousness, now aware of the fact that he was in a seated position in a chair with armrests - completely naked.
Tape bound him to what felt like a wooden chair, wound from the top of his hair-sprinkled torso down to just above his hips. His hands were bound, secured tightly to the arms of the chair. His legs were open and bound to either side of the chair’s front legs.
As the fog in his brain cleared, the memories came flooding back.
He had attended the annual Halloween costume party held by a local law firm. The party was known all over town for bringing out the local who’s who and being a good place to make business and sexual connections. He had been interested in the latter.
Dressed as a Roman gladiator, Brandon had prowled the party looking for a woman interested in having fun for the night. After being shot down several times, he met a blonde wearing a mask across her eyes and a toga cinched over her shoulder. He moved in for the kill, introduced himself, and found out her name was Jill.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, pouting prettily.
“If we’ve met before, sweetheart, pardon my manners, and allow me to get reacquainted.” Smooth.
Unexpectedly, she invited him out to the privacy of her car. The last thing he remembered was opening the door for her, and…nothing. Nothing except…a blinding pain to the back of his head.
Wait a minute. That’s how he’d gotten here. Someone working with her had knocked him unconscious. They must have put him in the car and brought him here. But why?
As if on cue, a noise caught his attention. Light filtered through to what he now saw was an unfinished basement.
A bulb overhead suddenly illuminated the space. Footsteps on the stairs indicated more than one person. The door through which they’d entered closed. His heart began to beat faster, pumping so hard he was certain it would burst through his chest.
Then he saw her, coming toward him in her white toga, sans mask this time. Her eyes were no longer playful and teasing. Instead, they were glacier blue, devoid of all emotion. She looked angry. An attractive brunette trailed her, dressed in a black and white maid’s costume. He remembered her from the party.
Before he saw it coming, Jill slapped him hard across the face, twisting his head back. The jolt from the blow increased the pounding in his head to an almost unbearable pitch.
“You lying, cheating, son of a bitch!” Jill hissed.
What is she talking about?
She cast him a scathing look.
“You’ve really let yourself go,” the maid said. She shook her head. “You’ve lost weight, you’re pale.”
“That didn’t stop him from hitting on us,” Jill said, as if he wasn’t in the room. Whack! It landed in the same spot. Brandon felt dangerously close to passing out from the pain. “Your rap has gotten weak, too.”
They both giggled.
What was going on here? Brandon tried to talk, but only muffled tones could be heard behind the tape. He tried to jostle the chair. Nothing. They’d tightly secured him, and it seemed as if the chair was bolted to the cool concrete below his bare feet.
Jill laughed. “Nothing to say now?” she asked, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. Her voice sounded sweet like honey when she said, “You look scared, but you’re only getting what you deserve.”
Jill straightened and walked away, prompting the brunette to lean forward. In a menacing tone, she said, “You shouldn’t play games with women’s emotions. There are consequences.”
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm.
A whirring sound caught Brandon’s attention. Jill strolled back over to where he sat. She held an electric knife in her hand. He gulped.
“I knew you’d come to the party. I just had no idea how easy you’d make it for us.”
“You’ve been a bad boy, Barry. And now it’s time to pay,” the maid said.
Barry? Wait a minute…
Brandon’s eyes widened as Jill moved closer, the knife cutting through the air as she waved it in his face.
Sweat broke out on Brandon’s forehead and upper lip. His stomach muscles clenched and he began to fervently pray. He promised a multitude of changes in his life if God would get him out of this.
It was a case of mistaken identity. He had been house-sitting for his brother, a successful attorney, of whom he’d always been jealous. His brother was in the south of France, living it up with his latest model girlfriend. Brandon had taken the ditched costume party invitation from the trash and decided to go as his brother. His twin brother, Barry.
“Where should we start?” Jill asked her companion.
“I say we save the best for last,” the brunette answered, looking pointedly between his open legs. “Let’s start with his fingers.”
He tried to move as the knife came closer, but there was nothing he could do.
Please, God, he prayed. Help me. I’m sorry I pretended to be Barry. Tell them I didn’t do whatever it is they’re angry about.
He moaned hysterically.
Somebody, tell them. I’m not Barry. I’m Brandon. I’m Brandon!
Share this with anyone you think would enjoy a short Halloween story. Be safe and have fun. Happy Halloween!
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The Romance Studio
~ authors, prizes, fun ~
November 16-20, 2018