Chapter Thirteen

The car-park was full but the most important vehicle was missing; Libby’s. And it was too late to cancel his matinee performance at the exotically named Peking Theatre. He’d just have to improvise, but some of his regulars would notice the short change. He swirled his cape, and headed for the entertainer’s door.

His props were on stage, and the red velvet seats were full; now was the time to see if he really was an escape artist.

The hypnotism was always improvised, and the cloakroom attendants had gleamed enough from careless pockets for mind reading titillation. But he still had two thirds of the show left. Before the audience took a break at the bar he asked for a volunteer to join him. Three eager hands shot up, and he chose the girl who was on her own; not least because he’d seen her before, and she might remember parts of the routine. Also, she was gorgeous.

He beckoned her backstage to his rooms. She had dyed red hair, wore fishnets and dark eyeliner. If you looked close enough, and he did, you could see the top of a suspender clip underneath her tartan kilt. Her cleavage burst forth from a tight ribbed t-shirt, and she had long Doc Marten boots up to her knees; if she were a DVD it would be X rated.

‘What would you like me to do?’ she asked, before checking her studded tongue in the mirror surrounded by light bulbs.

‘You’ve been before, right?’ he asked.

‘Many times, I just love magic, and your show seems so sensual, almost creepy in a supernatural way.’

The escapism was to come, BDSMesque as he and his assistant struggled with ropes, chains, and all manner of restraints. It was dark and fetishist. Artistic like a 1960’s spanking porn mag cover.

‘Thanks. What’s your name?’

‘Karin, and before you ask I’m 34,’ although she looked much younger, and dressed it too.

She was four years younger than Orvid, and already zipped up for role play.

‘Libby’s costume won’t fit, so we’ll have to go with what you’ve got.’

Although it did look kind of magical, and his wand was already captivated.

‘What happened to the latex cape?’ she asked.

‘It used to get in the way when tying all the knots.’

‘Pervy,’ she said, smiling.

‘Don’t worry; I’ve still got the bondage mask.’

She clapped her hands, and Orvid wondered if this was play or foreplay.

‘Anyway we haven’t got much time, what do you remember?’ he asked.

In the next twenty minutes Karin quickly learned the ropes.

She was a little clumsy but the male audience, and some of the women, didn’t notice. Then it was time for the grand finale. Orvid placed a flute to his lips, whilst Karin held a limp coiled rope: Though it had no problem becoming rigid in her hands.

Orvid blew, though he was no cuckold, as the rope wrapped itself around Karin’s tight body. She looked a peach. Her breathing was faster, and she watched Orvid’s menacing eyes through the slits in his mask, mesmerised like the audience.

‘It’s alive,’ shouted Orvid.

At the front tip of the rope a snakes head was manifest, with a rattlesnake’s tail waving behind. The snake hissed, and the tongue flickered like never before, with the delectable Karin entwined.

Orvid picked up a bullwhip, placed at his feet by a stage hand. With one crack he lashed the reptile’s head, it fell to the ground dismembered, and the ropes uncoiled; rippling downwards like a silk dress. They bowed, soaking up the applause.

‘You were good, very good,’ said Orvid.

‘Thank you master magician’ she replied. ‘And is Master taking me back to his rooms?’

They bowed one last time.

‘Of course; I can hardly contain my delight.’

‘And are you bringing the whip?’

He smiled.

She was sitting in front of the dressing mirror; they could both feel the attraction.

‘I’ve always been an exhibitionist,’ she confessed.

‘Then how would you like the job full time?’ he asked.

‘Sure if you’re serious. But just one thing’ she said. ‘I don’t screw anyone on the first date.’

‘I’m glad to hear it; I think it’s way too soon to get involved.’

‘But I didn’t say anything about spanking,’ she said with a gleam in her eye.

She left her address, for Orvid to visit tomorrow. A more thorough interview was required, at Karin’s request; though she preferred to call it an interrogation.

Orvid threw his carpet bag on the sofa, and poured himself a stiff one. There was a message on the coffee table.

‘Hi Orvid, hope the show went ahead. But I had to leave and make a clean break. You were great for me once, but I’m not the woman for you anymore.’

He went to their bedroom; she’d cleared out the rest of her stuff. But the handcuffs, ropes, and cane were still there. He smiled to himself; Karin had one great ass, and bondage babe stamped all over her. Libby who?