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Bree would have felt better if she was dressed in clothes from Gap instead of Goodwill. This had not been part of the plan.
Bree had picked out what she wanted to wear the night before. She had packed an overnight bag, but Tim had pulled her out of the house in such a hurry she hadn’t had time to change.
Bree loved to spend as much time as she could as close to nude as she could.
Still being close to naked in a teddy under the rug got a little old and cold. Jeans and a tank top were a real improvement.
Her hands were tied at the wrist and her legs at the ankles. Bree insisted on it.
Tim knew it was part of her fantasy so he gave in. Besides most of the fight had gone out of him once the adrenalin from the Steven and Debbie murders had washed out of his system.
But he was still buzzing a little. It was kind of like the feeling he’d have after downing the Big Breakfast at the St. Izzy Diner following a night of drinking.
Just like in the diner, Tim was having trouble keeping his eyes open.
As the adrenaline drained, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.
Yawning.
Glancing at Bree.
The sight of her tied up brought him back to life. He wasn’t that far gone. Having her hands and feet tied was so hot.
It was part of their fantasy.
And it was all becoming reality.
Bree wasn’t even close to drowsy. This was all working out even better than she expected. There was no way that Steven or Debbie could have survived that explosion. Bree did feel a little tug at her heart when she thought of her mother dying like that, but she couldn’t care less about Steven.
Well, not true. Bree did have one regret. She wished she had been able to watch him die.
Tim told her about the way Steven went down screaming and then crawled across the floor with the steak knife.
“OMG. Who was he kidding?” Bree texted to Beth. “A steak knife. LMFAO.”
“I do wish I could have seen you shoot him,” Bree said to Tim, her thumbs working like lightening under a blanket she had wrapped around her for warmth, and privacy.
They didn’t want anyone who drove by to see that her hands and feet were tied up. At least Tim didn’t.
Bree flashed a couple of cars. “You are such an attention whore,” one of her friends used to tell her.
She didn’t show the other cars much, just enough to let them know there was a teenage girl in a car with her hands and feet tied.
What more did they need to know?
Nothing.