She led him down the hall by his over-starched shirt collar. Music leaked through speakers somewhere, but he could not see where. She turned a corner sharply, causing him to spill his beer. He called her a bitch. She responded by twisting his collar around and around into a tight twisty knot that cut off circulation to his brain. He was scared. Then she let go. He faked a smile.
Inside the room to the right of the hall was a large dresser. The dresser was raw and patchy and made of old wood. The dresser had nine drawers. Six of those had pewter ring handles. On top of the dresser sat a candle and a photo frame and a stack of jeans. Cooled wax formed a ring near the edge.
She pushed him down onto his knees in front of the dresser, and then she pulled a pair of purple-feathered handcuffs from the top center drawer. She used the handcuffs to secure him to the handle on the top left drawer. Then she left.
With his right arm cuffed to the dresser and his beer just slightly out of reach, he moaned and looked around the room. It was an ordinary room. He was bored. He waited for her to return. He could still hear music coming from somewhere. He could also hear voices. He was drunk and did not understand what was happening.
Someone screamed. He opened his eyes and realized he’d been sleeping. Someone screamed again. He twisted his wrists and flexed his tan forearms. The sound seemed to come through the walls and the floor. He was scared.
She slowly entered the room, pausing at the door to look him over. She had a silver flathead screwdriver in her hand. The handle was midnight blue. She turned off the lights. He listened to her breathing. Then he screamed. And then he stopped.