This short story is an abridged depiction of an experience that still leaves me baffled. My wife and I bought a home from an eighty-something widower four years ago. Victor seemed nice enough in spite of the fact that he was selling the home he and his wife had built in the mid-fifties. All was going well with the inspection and closing until a discrepancy in tax records led us to discover the house was actually smaller than the listing. This effected the amount the lender had agreed to. It was now worth a little less and we needed to renegotiate. The seller was more than eager to be done with the process of selling and was cornered into lowering the price. He dropped it by $5000. Then some other contingencies were presented which put him in an awkward position of compromising once again. In the end, he lost nearly $10000 from the asking price and let our agent know he wasn’t happy. The agent was somewhat unscrupulous as it turned out and we felt bad. We never had the opportunity to apologize one on one. We moved in to his home as he settled into his retirement community.
The following spring weather afforded me the chance to tidy up the garage and add some shelves to the unfinished space. I noticed several two by fours lying across the rafters and pulled the ladder out to investigate. There was some sort of wooden lawn chair up there with torn canvas weave. I reached across and pulled down a dusty box that looked as though it housed a microwave oven or a small fridge. I carefully pulled the box to the edge and began to step down the ladder. Dust began to fall along with some mouse droppings as I held my breath. The box was not empty and I had to grab a box knife in order to remove the duct tape.
I realized after cutting through two or more layers of tape this box was not meant to be opened by a casual interest. My curiosity was given more than I could have imagined. The contents were archaic but clearly identifiable: old bondage and discipline gear. This vintage equipment included lots of hand-sewn leather, whips, cuffs and slightly corroded chrome shackles. That was just the start as I came across more snapped undergarments meant for hasty removal. The leather-bound baton was the topper. There were nicks in the finish that showed some hard miles. To whom did these things belong? I could only guess it was the old man since no one else ever lived in the house. Maybe it was stored there by a niece or nephew without his knowing. I was very curious but decided to keep my discovery under wraps. I was tempted to tell my wife but I thought she might throw it all away. I was way too fascinated with this time capsule and paid a visit to the garage for the next three days. I tried the leather mask on. Next came the leather corset and the hardened rubber briefs that split before they were halfway up. I was completely aroused and could not help but masturbate there in the garage with the door closed and the light off.
I wanted some sort of explanation and decided to call Victor.
-
“Hello, Victor?” I asked.
“Who is this?” He said in a gruff manner.
“This is Carl – the guy that bought your house last winter.”
There was momentary silence.
“Well, what do you want?” he asked.
“I…I found a box and some lawn furniture in the garage you might want.”
“Oh, you can keep that stuff. I’ve got no space for that now.”
I knew the box did not register with him so I pressed the issue.
“Well, sir, there’s a box of yours that’s in the rafters. Shall I open it first before you decide…”
“That would be fine,” he interrupted.
I had to make noise as though I was moving the box for the first time. I was not prepared to itemize each object in the box so I took my time.
“There’s a lot of duct tape on this, sir. I need a knife.”
There was no response.
I waited a few seconds for some sort of comment.
“Sir?”
“Leave the box. I’ll come and get that stuff,” he barked.
At that moment he realized the contents and decided to act.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be here all day.”
He hung up with no goodbye or time frame.
-
I was sort of nervous with the idea of seeing him face to face after such a nasty ordeal. It was clear in his voice that there were hard feelings after all and I prepared myself with an apology.
