Nick Proctor couldn't decide which was worse -- the unceasing throb of the hifi, or the squeals, gasps and groans of his new neighbours' sexual exploits. Whichever it was, it came through the flimsy wall separating his apartment from theirs, and he found it distracting.

This had so far been a hard week at work, and he needed to relax. Today he'd conducted six depressing interviews, and the prospects weren't good.

Nick hadn't met his new neighbours -- they kept themselves to themselves -- but they'd certainly made their presence felt. He'd already sneaked a few peeks through the slit at the back of the closet.

The apartments had built-in cupboards throughout, and construction standards had been poor. Shortly after he moved in, Nick had discovered that if he turned off the lights in his bedroom, and pressed his face against the rear of the closet, he could see into his neighbours' bedroom -- provided they left their closet door open.

He had peeked often since his new neighbours had arrived, but he was always careful to ensure there was no danger of them finding out. If he kept the light off, he was safe in the knowledge that they'd never know. And what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Most times, of course, there were clothes hanging up, obscuring the view. But the girl's moans and the man's grunts came through loud and clear.

Tonight it was just the hifi. Loud enough to drown out voices, the insistent vibration threatened to shake the building to its (no doubt inadequate) foundations. Nick reckoned their hifi must be in the bedroom -- the sound was loudest in his closet. He put his ear to the slit. He could almost feel the air moving back and forth through the narrow aperture. Then he heard something that wasn't music: a voice, perhaps, or maybe someone close by.

He put his eye up to the slit, in time to see a shadow recede, revealing a clear view.

The girl. She looked so young, standing there in black bra and panties, her straight black hair cascading over pale shoulders, her arms stretched up above her head. She faced three-quarters toward Nick's surreptitious peeping. He couldn't see her hands or feet, but the rest of her figure was framed in the slit's blurred outline, against which he pressed his face in an attempt to see more.

The girl kept looking up toward her hands, and Nick realized with a start that her hands must be tied. She was strung up. Then he saw the man, and recognized his neighbour.

The man, stripped to his boxers, approached the girl from behind, thrust his hips and chest against her, and ran his hands over the front and sides of her body, up and down, squeezing, pinching, caressing her skin. Then he unclipped her bra and pulled it away, revealing breasts made pert and inviting by the upward stretch of her arms. Her eyes were shut, and her face appeared relaxed, even serene, as her lips moved. The throb of the music drowned out any words she spoke.

Nick became aware of his own arousal as the man grasped her breasts, fondling and rolling the erect nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Nick's erection increased as the man's hands slid down her hips, hooking his fingers inside her panties.

Suddenly the man crouched, pulling the panties down and out of view. Nick felt his eyes widen and his chest throb with the beat of his heart. He stared at the fine dark fluff at the girl's crotch, as the man stood up behind her and placed his large hands on her waist, then stroked them round her ass, dimpling her soft buttocks with the tips of his fingers.

The man turned, and Nick reflexively recoiled as the silhouette approached the closet. The man slipped off his boxers, his shadow dancing against the brightness of the bedroom beyond, and then everything went dark.

He must have closed the closet door.

The music went on for several hours. Nick saw nothing more through his peep-slit, but images of the naked girl, strung up and subjected to all kinds of sexual impositions, assaults and humiliations, haunted his imagination.

At work the next day, the girl's stretched body and ecstatic expression filled his mind's eye. He'd no more interviews to do. Though this was a concern, the lack of applicants meant that he didn't have to concentrate too much on work.

That evening the neighbours' hifi was thankfully quiet, but at eleven Nick heard shouts coming through the wall. They were arguing. At first Nick couldn't make out any words, but the tone was unmistakable. He went into the bedroom without turning on the light, and stepped into his closet.

Through the slit he saw the girl, again naked, again somehow strung up to the ceiling. A black fabric mask covered her eyes, the elastic rucking up her long black locks. She wriggled, as if trying to free herself, boobs and butt rippling with each pull.

"Untie me, you bastard!"

"No way, baby." Now the voices came through loud and clear.

"Untie me! And then you can fuck off. I don't ever want to see you gain!"

"But you can't see me now..." The man's arm came into view, as he stroked a finger downward from a point between her shoulder blades, over the small of her back, ending at the crevice between her buttocks.

She squirmed at his touch. "Stop that! Just leave me alone!"

"Okay, baby. Whatever you say."

The closet went dark as the man approached it. He was dressed, in tee-shirt and jeans, and seemed to be gathering clothes from the closet.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting outta here. Like you said."

Nick heard a suitcase catch snapping open, or was it shutting?

"Bye bye, baby." A door slammed.

The girl stood still. Then, a sigh. "Oh, Jesus." She began struggling again.

Nick heard the lobby doors slam. By the time he reached the window, all he saw was his neighbour's battered sedan roaring off down the street.

Back at his peep-slit, Nick saw the girl hanging motionless. She had, for the time being, given up struggling.

What should he do? He could hardly go round and shout through the letter-box, _I know you're in trouble, can I help?_ What would that look like?

But he could say he heard some shouting and wondered if everything was all right. But how could she let him in while she was tied up? Would she want to?

These thoughts raced through Nick's mind as he pondered what to do. Eventually he decided to let her know that there was someone there, close by, if she needed help. It would then be up to her.

He let himself out of his apartment and took the few steps along the corridor to his neighbour's front door. He was about to press the bell when he noticed the door was ajar.

He hesitated. Maybe he'd just have a quick, quiet look. She needn't know. Then he could slip out again and press the bell, let her answer or not.

He pushed the door. It swung silently inward. Breathing as shallowly as possible, Nick tiptoed into his neighbours' apartment. It was very like his own -- but more sparsely furnished and less untidy. He could see the bedroom door, light spilling around its sides. He walked gingerly toward it.

He paused outside the bedroom. What if she'd already freed herself, and removed her mask? But from beyond the door came a familiar sound. The girl gasped and grunted in renewed efforts to free herself.

Nick placed his hand on the door and pushed, ever so gently. It swung slowly and silently wide, revealing the girl he'd seen through the peep-slit. Much closer now, he took in the view of her bare flesh, stretched vertical and vulnerable before him, displayed in the harsh light of three photofloods.

Nick was transfixed. The girl's curvaceous butt quivered as she strained her arms against the stout ropes encircling her wrists. The ropes were looped round a chrome eyelet fixed to the ceiling. Her black hair, pinched by the elastic of the mask, hung down her back, which narrowed to a slim waist that emphasized the sweep of her hips over that gorgeous behind.

Nick moved to one side, to get a better view, to see those pert breasts, those pink nipples in close-up. But he stepped on something -- an empty cardboard packet, which crunched under his foot.

The girl instantly ceased straining against the rope.

"Billy? Is that you? Thank God you've come back. I knew you would."

Nick opened his mouth, and shut it again.

"C'mon baby, do your stuff. I'm ready." She began to sway from side to side, then gyrated in a corkscrew motion, moving her body rhythmically before Nick's open-mouthed gaze.

"Come on, honey. I'm right here. All ready and waiting. You know what I want."

Without thinking, Nick reached out a hand and placed it on the girl's waist. She stopped moving, then leaned into his touch.

"That's right, baby. That's what I want...."

Nick grasped her waist with his other hand, and stepped closer. She squirmed under his hands as he pressed his groin against her delightful ass, feeling the hardness within his pants straining against her. He let his hands slide round to her belly and up to her breasts, cradling each fulsome globe and stroking her hard nipples.

The girl began alternately murmuring and sighing. "Mmm, that's nice...that's good...let me feel you...more...now!"

In the uncontrollable grip of desire, Nick unzipped his pants, slipping them off with his shorts. His cock, erect and heavy, liberated from uncomfortable confinement, felt free and dangerous as he let it slide hot and sensitive between the girl's delicious buttocks. In a frenzy of lust he grabbed at her hanging body, maneuvring and manipulating her, allowing him entry. She shook in his grasp as she submitted herself to his hunger.

"Oh...oh...yes!" She cried out, her flesh yielding to his urgent penetration. Her scent filled his nostrils -- a coarse, animal aroma mixed with cologne -- as he buried his face in her neck, tasting her hair. He held her in an iron grip, ensuring her complete submission to his will, his rhythmic thrusts propelling them both to climax.

It was over all too quickly, and though the hot desire of his lust would have spurred him to further exploits with this restrained and sexy nymph, the temporary dampening of his drives had alerted him to the realities of his situation.

He dressed silently and retreated, leaving the girl hanging -- panting from her exertion. He stole one last look at her. Moist threads of her rumpled hair stuck to the wet skin of her back, sweat glistening in a long stream, running down between her shoulder blades and ending in slick drops between her buttocks.

It was evident that she had fully expected the man -- Billy -- to return. So she was in no danger, and Nick had better not be there when Billy came back.

Only when Nick had returned to his own apartment did he consider what he'd done. How could he have been so foolish? What would happen when Billy returned? If the girl had mistaken him for Billy, surely she'd refer to their encounter when Billy really did return.

Nick didn't want to think about it. He wanted to forget all about it. And he certainly had no intention of spying through his peep-slit.

Nevertheless, over the next two weeks Nick found himself thinking often about his anonymous fling with the rope-nymph. He avoided looking through the peep-slit, and the episode took on the dimensions of an imagined sexual fantasy. He almost convinced himself it never happened.

Until, that is, he received an unexpected delivery. He heard something push through his letter-box. An instant later it thudded onto his doormat.

He retrieved the plain padded packet and turned it over in his hands. It bore no address, but upon opening it Nick discovered an unmarked video-cassette.

With mounting dread Nick inserted the cassette into his video. His heart sank still further as the black and white mush gave way to a brightly lit view of a young woman, strung up to the ceiling, naked except for a mask over her eyes. The mask concealed her identity, but the man behind her, who proceeded to undress and take her in a hurried frenzy from behind, was unmistakable. It was Nick.

He forced himself to watch till the end, cringing on the sofa, remote control in hand, heart in mouth. After the view of himself leaving the girl hanging, white letters appeared on the screen. For one surprised moment Nick thought they were the credits.

But it was a demand, obviously from Billy, for five thousand dollars. Used bills, to be pushed through his neighbour's letter-box within one week, or else a copy of the video would be sent to Nick's employer.

Nick stared at the screen in disbelief as the image faded to black, and then to dancing dots of unrecorded mush. He shut his eyes, tried to think. Where had the camera been? Not that it mattered -- the damage was done. The image of himself, and of his strained expression as he thrust and pumped into the girl, clouded his every thought. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, and ejected the cassette. He'd need to stow it somewhere safe. He had to keep it secure, just until this was settled. Then he'd get rid of the damn thing, forever.

So, had he been recorded by accident? And Billy was now taking advantage of a lucky break? Or had Nick been set up? The latter, probably. Anyway, though $5,000 was plenty, Nick thought he could lay his hands on that much cash in time. He didn't really have any choice.

In three days he'd got the cash. He stuffed it into the same padded bag the video had arrived in, and pushed it through his neighbour's letter-box late that night.

He heard nothing. After three more days he began to wonder when the _next_ demand would come. So it was with no little relief that he found the same padded bag on his doormat when he arrived home from work late Friday evening.

He ripped it open. The bag contained a small cassette, of a type used in a camcorder. Over the weekend he pondered how he might view the contents -- maybe he could hire a compatible camcorder. But he didn't relish seeing any more of his ill-advised exploit. As it was, he couldn't bring himself to watch again the video he'd already received. In the end he decided to destroy them both.

He spent an hour pulling the tape out of both cassettes, and set alight to the coiling black spaghetti in a metal waste-bin. Black smoke curled toward the ceiling, and Nick wrinkled his nose at its acrid smell. Then he crushed the empty cassettes under his feet.

Satisfied, he decided to forget the whole affair.

The following week Nick renewed his appetite for work. There were more interviews to do, now that they had some new applicants.

He sat in his office reviewing the applications as the time approached. He asked his secretary to send in the first -- someone applying for the new assistant's job.

The girl who entered his office seemed familiar. And then it hit him. She was the rope-nymph -- she looked different with her clothes on. She frowned at him when he didn't respond to her offered handshake, but he quickly gathered himself.

"Good morning, Miss...Bennett," he said, taking her hand and glancing at the application form on his desk.

Keep cool now. Remember, she was blindfolded. She never saw you.

"Excuse me, Mr. Proctor," she said. "Don't I know you?"

Oh, shit. But...maybe he should let on that they were neighbours? Or would that complicate things?

"I don't...I mean..." He tried to maintain his professional demeanor, "I...believe this is the first time we've met, Miss Bennett."

"Oh, maybe you're right. Or maybe you remind me of someone I've seen in a film."

Oh shit, oh shit.

"Or a video. I collect videos, Mr. Proctor. I didn't put that on my application form, as it didn't seem appropriate."

"No...?" Nick didn't like where this was going. Not one little bit.

"No. But I do. Collect videos, I mean. I like to keep them, in case I want to watch them again. Or if anyone else wants to watch them."

Nick sat down. His head reeled, and he felt sweat prickle on his palms.

"Mr. Proctor, do you think you could find a job here for my boyfriend, Billy?"

Nick put his head in his hands as the girl continued. "It would be great for us both -- Billy and me -- to have good jobs. So good to know we're both safe. And secure. Wouldn't it?"

[end]