Leigh wakes, consciousness returning like the sun slowly rising over the horizon. Disoriented, she takes in her surroundings. She is on a bed in a room she doesn't recognize, propped up on large, soft, red velvet pillows, her body enveloped by pink satin sheets.
She is naked ..... and handcuffed to the headboard.
"Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into?"
The cuffs are padded, at least. She yanks hard, first her left arm, then her right, testing the strength of the steel cuffs and brass bed frame. Solid, no give at all. She starts to pull her feet up for more leverage, but finds soft straps around her ankles, limiting her leg movement. She is in no pain, however. Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to insure her physical comfort.
Mental comfort is another story entirely.
"What have I done? What have I done?" she frantically asks herself, desperately looking around. The single window is completely covered with red drapes that match the pillows. No phone is visible, and the only door is closed. The scent of roses permeates the air, and she realizes that the flowers are everywhere; vases full on both night stands flanking the antique bed, vases on the large, ornate dresser, petals scattered over the sheets. The bedside lamp has a beaded red shade embroidered with pink and white roses, and there are two candelabras with crystal rose blooms holding unlit tapers.
She glances up and sees her wide-eyed reflection staring back from a large mirror hanging directly overhead. Were the situation not so overwhelming, she might laugh. The mirror is framed with a banner of paper Cupids and hearts. Balloons proclaiming "Happy Valentine's Day" drift and cling to the ceiling.
Valentine's Day?
Shaking and fuzzy, she tries to visualize the night's events. Was it just this evening? She had finally met Anthony, her mysterious and passionate Internet lover, in the flesh only hours before. Or was it days? Minutes? She has no sense of time passing.
Anthony seemed to be everything Leigh had ever imagined in a wet dream -- tall, handsome, charming, sexy, and urbane. They both loved to read and started out discussing books for hours on end, but then things began to change. She recalled how his intelligence and gentle, accepting attitude had attracted her, and how, little by little, like a spring drizzle turning into a downpour, she had revealed her heart and soul to him.
Opening up to this sympathetic man over the Web had seemed so much easier than stretching out on a couch in a therapist's office. She told him about her repressed upbringing with fanatically religious grandparents after her mother and father had died in an accident; about a grandmother so strict she considered Valentine's Day a "pagan" holiday and never let Leigh accept or give out the colorful little cards and candy hearts the other kids happily exchanged. She told him about the school dances and parties she could never attend, the pretty dresses she was never allowed to wear, and how she had envied the other girls as they talked about their dates. She spoke of loneliness and tears on pillows and chances missed, and how she had finally escaped to freedom with a college scholarship in library science at a school in another state.
Finally, she confessed her fear and hesitation with men, her shyness around them, and her doubts about her sensuality. She wasn't a virgin, but at 30 years of age, she had never been anybody's Valentine.
Anthony was patient and understanding, and she eventually worked up to sharing a few of her unrequited fantasies with him. Weeks of computer flirtation, phone calls, photo exchanges, erotic stories had ensued -- the most exciting and prolonged "foreplay" Leigh had ever experienced. His attention was exhilarating, his concern nurturing. She felt like a neglected rose bush blossoming for the first time.
They had met in the promenade of a local mall, she in a red dress, he in a red tie, beaming wide smiles in instant recognition. The sexual tension, the so-called "chemistry" she had always heard about, had been palpable and astonishing, and after a few sentences of inane small talk, Anthony had pulled her close, kissing her passionately. Leigh had felt like she was falling into quicksand, but she hadn't cared. Even now, she can still feel Anthony's firm body against hers, the softness of his lips, and the first delicious taste of his kiss. She can still see the shocked and comical looks of the passing shoppers.
A mall security officer had started in their direction, grim-faced. Laughing, breathless, she and Anthony had tumbled out into the street and run hand-in-hand to his nearby car, where they proceeded to "make out" like teenagers who had just discovered that their mouths were good for something besides back-talk and the consumption of junk food.
When they finally came up for oxygen, they went to a romantic dinner at the most perfect little French bistro. Slowly, and with lots of wine, her awkwardness at "real time" conversation had disappeared. She had felt so wonderful, so familiar with this man she had just met. Anthony had invited her back to his place -- oh, no -- for a nightcap. They had talked, laughed, nuzzled, and again explored each others mouths thoroughly with their tongues.
She recalls how drowsy she had gotten from all the wine, how she had rested her head on Anthony's shoulder, his arms warmly encircling her, just to close her eyes for a moment. The last thing she remembers is Anthony's breath in her ear and barely heard whispers, something about how beautiful she was, and that he had a special Valentine's gift for her.
"Did he drug me?" she wonders, her thoughts machine-gunning through her mind. "Am I his prisoner now? What on earth is he planning? Did he think I really meant some of the stuff I was telling him? Oh, God, they were just fantasies! I hardly know this man or what he's capable of! Why did I come home with him? How could I be so wrong about someone? Idiot bimbo! Oh, Jesus, oh Lord, help me! What kind of lion's den of inequity did I toss myself into? How do I get out of this? What am I going to do? Arrrgh!!" She jerks more forcefully on the unyielding cuffs. She's not going anywhere, she realizes.
She is very afraid.
