Title: My Hands Are Tied
Author: krystal214
Spoilers: no spoilers
Rating/Warnings: ~ R for sexual situations
Word Count: ~ 9,050
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: This story is very different for me, so let me know what you think. Special thanks to shopgirl909 and Cemebria for all of their help. Seriously, I would not have finished this without you both.
Description: Annie comes up with a clever and sexy solution to force Jeff to act on his attraction to her.
My Hands Are Tied
Jeff pov-
"Does anyone have any interesting plans for this weekend?" Shirley asks, curiously. She clearly wants to tell everyone else her plans, but doesn't want to make it too obvious. It's transparent to me, but everyone answers her with their usual canned responses of "Not much" or "Nothing special".
Despite everyone's chorus of ambivalent intentions for the two day respite from Greendale, I notice immediately that Annie doesn't respond at all. Instead, she looks slightly flushed in her permanently rosy cheeks, something which warrants a little extra attention from me since she's clearly hiding something interesting.
"Are you doing something… special this weekend, Annie?" I ask with a coquettish tone to match her equally shy expression.
"Well, I have a date on Saturday… with Vaughn actually. He's back in town to see his sister and wanted to take me out before he leaves again. I wasn't sure if I should mention it since I know how you all feel about him." I hide the scowl that is threatening to destroy my bored look by watching the group react to the return of the shirtless buffoon.
"Nonsense, Annie. We're cool with it. We resolved those issues last year and you deserve to have a little fun," Britta responds quickly, trying to hide her slight discomfort with the prospect of Annie fooling around with her ex again.
After Annie's ultimatum in the men's room, I made a promise to myself not to interfere with her dating choices anymore, but Micro-nipples still irritates me. I hate the idea of his grubby, hippie hands touching her beautiful porcelain skin, getting her all dirty with his Patchouli smell and homemade deodorant stink. 'Damn it! Quit it, Winger. You can't think of Annie like that, it's just not right,' I chastise myself.
Trying to compensate for my own mental creepiness, I quickly join the others with encouraging words for her about Vaughn's visit even though I'm trying not to listen and fairly certain my comments are less than convincing.
Having heard enough nausea-inducing praise of Vaughn to last a lifetime, I grab my books quickly and leave the room after yelling over my shoulder while already halfway out the door, "Have a good weekend everybody". Not wanting to think about that hackey-sack playing goon anywhere near Annie, I try to distract myself by making some plans of my own - possibly to get very, very drunk.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~* Saturday Night *~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Annie pov-
As I get out of my long, hot shower, I cannot help but think that my afternoon date with Vaughn certainly could have gone better. My whole purpose in changing our dinner plans was to go out during the day to avoid the temptation to invite Vaughn back to my apartment and alleviate some of the sexual frustration Jeff and Rich have created for me over the course of the last few months.
I had no idea that Vaughn would just have me tag-along doing the things he had already planned doing before our date. He took me on a hike up a dusty mountain trail through the woods where we ended up eating organic granola and raisins on a tree stump. Not that I'd mind doing those kinds of things ordinarily, but I didn't dress for the occasion and ended up filthy from falling out of my flats coming down the mountain after "lunch". The whole outing was weird, but very helpful in firmly cementing Vaughn in my friend zone from now on.
After taking a moment to secure my light pink robe around my waist, I go about finding some food because I'm starving following my impromptu exercise session earlier. I am just about to start making myself some dinner when an abrupt knock on the front door startles me so much I actually drop the plate I'm holding. The loud crashing sound as the dish breaks against the cheap linoleum floor momentarily precedes the tiny shriek that escapes my mouth as the broken shards spread across the ground. The clatter inside only seems to intensify the attempt made by the person knocking to gain entry, as the forceful banging increases.
A moment later, I hear the man's voice from the other side of the door brusquely start yelling my name and saying something about saving me. After instantly recognizing the voice, I am slightly more terrified now and not because of the sudden intrusion, but the identity of the person banging erratically for entry. The revelation that Jeff Winger is clearly drunk and about to breakdown my front door on the pretense of rescuing me from the dangers of broken dishes is certainly not a direction I thought this night would lead.
Since there is no need to check the peephole, I quickly remove the many deadbolts and locks to throw the door open before Jeff succeeds in removing it from its hinges. Unfortunate timing for Jeff, however, as he was charging at the obstacle in his path with all his strength at the very same time I removed the hindrance. Looking like a linebacker, Jeff proceeds to tackle my center island instead, the resulting stumble he takes from colliding with the immovable object lands him firmly on his butt in my kitchen/living room.
I re-latch the security bolts quickly and steady my expression before going to tend to my friend, worried he has fractured his giant ego… and maybe a bone from the way he tried to tackle the door. I cannot help but giggle inwardly at Jeff's valiant effort to save me, his chivalry landing him in a humbling position looking up at me from the floor as a result. "Jeff, are you okay? Why were you banging like that anyway?" I ask my would-be rescuer who stares at me with a mixture of shock and wounded pride.
"It sounded like you were being attacked in here. I thought you might need me to protect you, Annie." Jeff is slurring his words a bit, but has a serious expression on his stubbly, handsome face. "This is a very dangerous neighborhood and I didn't think the shirtless wonder would be able to defend you properly… seems I was right since I heard all that racket and he's nowhere to be found."
Suddenly serious, Jeff quickly looks me over for injuries before questioning, "Hey, are you okay, Annie? I heard you scream. Where's Vaughn anyway?" From his limited vantage point on the floor, Jeff starts looking around the room for either Vaughn or the source of the commotion in my apartment, finding neither and looking confused. "Changed your mind about fooling around with the hippie I see," Jeff surmises, his voice dripping with bitterness and relief.
"Not that it is your business, but we had an early date. And before you start checking under the furniture, no, he's not here and before you ask, no, nothing happened."
Jeff strains to stand, not being able to get to his unsteady feet before deciding to accept defeat for the moment. "Good. If I could stand, I'd hug you for not letting that man-child touch you."
"Let me give you a hand with that, Jeff, um… the standing I mean, not necessarily the hugging." Not wanting Jeff to stumble and hurt himself further, I place a hand under each of his well-developed arms, pulling with all my strength before deciding to employ a different strategy, as I don't seem to be able to create much of an impact with the circumstances we find ourselves.
After several minutes and many different configurations, I realize that helping him to his feet is proving impossible because of our drastic size differences. I tug on his shirt and arms to pull him up but every time I get a little leverage and need some assistance to lift him the rest of the way, his hand will touch me too apprehensively to be of any real help. I can feel his reluctance to grab on to my body, causing me to lose my grip, sending him crashing back down to the floor. This is aggravating on so many levels because I truly don't know how I'll ever get him to see me as something other than spun glass that could be easily broken by his manly hands, let alone help him up.
"Please, Jeff, help me out a little. I can't do this all on my own. Grab onto me and pull yourself up because this is getting ridiculous," I squeal after our fourth failed attempt.
"I don't want to hurt you, Annie," Jeff whispers to me, confirming what I already suspected. Similar to what happened after our debate kiss, he isn't sure where to put his hands, as he fumbles with my back or shoulders before pulling his hands away, clearly conflicted. Jeff is obviously uncomfortable with touching me in any capacity because I ride an ill-defined line he has specifically designated just for me, lost somewhere in limbo between girl and woman.
I acquiesce to give him a moment before we resume this futile endeavor, instead deciding to kneel next to Jeff on the floor. My new position makes him visibly relax a bit, I suppose because he isn't used to looking up at anyone.
Studying his hands, somewhat defeated, Jeff mumbles, "I can't touch you, you're just so fragile. I care about you too much… to touch you."
I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that, but his proclamation about caring for me might overshadow my resentment about that "fragile" comment. I decide to reassure him, "You aren't going to hurt me, Jeff. You are too nice a person for that."
"No, Annie," Jeff corrects forcefully, "I'm not. You're the only one who thinks I'm not irreparably damaged. I'm a horrible, jaded person and you are too incredible to be tarnished by me. I can't be that guy… the kind you deserve. None of us can, well, maybe Rich, but certainly not Vaughn. Though, I guess you already know that since he isn't spending the night with you, huh?" His wry smile dampens his sentiments as he looks at me with a smug expression.
"I'm not spending the night with him because I didn't want to. Vaughn would have been more than happy to spend the night, but…" Jeff practically throws his hands over his ears like a petulant child trying to avoid reality by screaming, 'La La La, I can't hear you'.
"No. No, I can't listen to this. I hate the idea of him… getting to touch you," Jeff says disgustedly.
The 'getting to' part of his statement makes me positively giddy, but I need to steady the butterflies in my stomach long enough to make my point while he is willing to listen. "So, Jeff, am I supposed to spend the rest of my life celibate or something because the guy I really want to touch me lacks the courage?" I am trying to be indignant, but his hurt bunny face surprises me a little.
"Way to challenge my manhood, Annie. I already feel like a jackass since I can't seem to stand up," he says, slurring slightly less than when he first arrived. He puts his head on his knees, chuckling a little before I abruptly stand up in front of him.
"Well, then let's try again Jeff, but this time just pretend I'm somebody else. It's either that or you're sleeping this off on the floor because you are even too drunk to take a cab alone. In fact, I'm surprised you even made it here."
"Yeah, it's lucky my cab driver was such a perv and knew every shortcut in town to get to Dildopolis. I only figured out which apartment was yours because no one else who lived in this building besides you would have a butterfly doormat," Jeff says with a smirk.
"That was the first thing I bought when I moved in actually. Now, do what I said so we can get you up off the floor," I suggest to him as nicely as possible given my irritation with this seemingly impossible task.
After immediately closing his eyes, he reaches up to firmly grasp my arms. I shiver slightly as his hand accidentally grazes my breast, hoping he doesn't realize what he just did because that would only feed into the awkwardness. I can't help my jealous mind from wondering who he is imagining when he grasps my shoulders, pulling himself up to his impressive height. I feel victorious for my part in lifting this well-developed man for the fact that he is finally on his feet, wobbly, but standing nonetheless.
"Wow! Picturing you were somebody else actually worked… Huh, I usually do that the other way around… oh… ah, I really shouldn't have said that out loud." Jeff stammers and I giggle at his intoxicated slip-up, completely flattered and still a little resentful of the idea of him with other women - even if he is imagining me.
Determining quickly how pointless my tiny sofa will work in supporting his extra-large frame, I manage to steer his stumbling forward momentum towards the bed because he looks very tired and I don't think I could dead lift a drunken Jeff Winger if he happens to fall on the floor again. He lands unceremoniously in the middle of my pink and white flowery bedspread, bouncing slightly from the impact of his hard body on my soft mattress. Even though there is very little room left for me, I hop on the bed next to him, sitting crossed legged close to his chest.
"We shouldn't be left alone… this close to each other or on your bed and…oh no Annie… you only have a robe on. This is so wrong. I'm so bad for wanting this… just not a good idea." I can't tell if he's talking to me or himself anymore as he stares at the ceiling, eyes half open and mumbling.
"Why can't we be alone, Jeff? We're alone all the time in the study room and that never bothers you." I say demurely, purposely hiding my evil smirk by turning away from him for a moment. I know I am being devious for baiting him this way, but I can't help but exploit the opportunity that has presented itself in my apartment tonight. He's always so guarded, but his lips seem to be a little loose from the alcohol and I have some questions I need answered before he rebuilds the fortress where he locks away his feelings.
I ask with sincerity, "What do you think is going to happen, Jeff? It might not seem like it sometimes, but I can control myself, you know."
"I can't though. I mean, I can, but it is torture for me. I have to try so hard every day when you come bouncing in all sweet and tempting, smelling like all those decadent desserts I have avoided for years because of the calories," Jeff replies quickly, licking his lips hungrily, no doubt thinking of all of the sweets he never allows himself to indulge in.
"Aww, Jeff. That's very sweet, but it isn't easy for me watching you texting some random woman you just met either, making plans to… do other things with them. I hate it, but I can't say anything because it just isn't my place," I bashfully admit.
"Those women don't matter to me at all. Hell, I don't even like them most of the time, but I also don't have to think about anything with them, so it's just… easy."
"Easy can be boring, Jeff. Easy doesn't last long enough to actually matter." My response sounds more annoyed than I intended, probably because I hate the idea of him killing time with these arbitrary women.
"It's good enough since I can't have what I really want," Jeff retorts quickly with a similar air of irritation in his voice.
My frustration begins to turn into outrage at Jeff's claim. "Geez! What do I have to do? I can't wait around for you for another year or even longer for you to come to your senses. In a year the age difference will still be the same, but suddenly it will all be okay? I don't think so. If you want me, then you want me. It is just that simple."
"It is not that simple, Annie. I can't… it makes me feel evil and I never would have cared about that before meeting you, but I do now. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror, something we both know I love to do, if I felt like I took advantage of you. Don't you understand that? I want you so badly, but there's nothing I can do. My hands are tied."
With that statement, Jeff defiantly shuts his eyes, refusing to continue our conversation any longer. While I try to think of a way to respond, a few minutes pass by and Jeff's small snore pulls me back to the reality of this torturous situation.
As I look over the sleeping form of the difficult man in my bed, an epiphany strikes as suddenly as Jeff's surprise knocking attack on my front door. I can't help but think that there might be something I can do to fix this problem for both of us because this is clearly not healthy. I can show Jeff that I'm not as fragile or innocent as he thinks and I can confront him sober about everything he just said, something I highly doubt he'll remember or even admit to tomorrow.
For the first time since moving to this apartment over Dildopolis, living on top of a marital aid store might finally be a good thing. Without wasting any time, I throw on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt because I have some very important shopping to do before Mr. Winger wakes up.
*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*Sunday Morning*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*
Jeff pov-
Before I even wake to greet the hangover that surely awaits me today, I already know I am not in my own apartment. My bedroom has thick curtains for just this reason, as sunlight is my worst enemy on mornings like this. Opening my eyes is a frightening notion though, but one I must attempt in the first stage of figuring out what the hell I did last night. The last thing I remember clearly was leaving the bar and grabbing a cab. I can also recall the faintest trace of something warm and delicious hanging in my mind, the sweet smell of a beautiful woman nearby just before I passed out.
After sitting up slowly, I assess my surroundings to find no one else in the small studio apartment. After I recognize that I've never been here before, it makes the circumstances even more mysterious as to how I ended up in this bed in the first place since I am positive I left the bar alone. I didn't even feel like hooking up with anyone after thoughts of Annie fooling around with Vaughn tormented me all night. Though there is little doubt left in my mind that I did hook up with someone last night, as I now notice that I am only in my underwear.
Despite being alone in some strange woman's apartment without any idea of her identity or the manner in which things unfolded, I am surprisingly comforted by the thoughtfulness of the apartment's normal resident. She left a glass of water and some Tylenol on the bedside table with a note that says, "I'll be right back". Though the handwriting looks oddly familiar, I still can't recall what she looks like. Whoever she is, I have to assume we had a good time together or she wouldn't have been so considerate of the after effects of my alcohol fueled behavior.
Nevertheless, Jeff Winger is not one to overstay his welcome, so I jump out of the bed to use the bathroom quickly. Hopefully I can leave before my hook-up returns and avoid dealing with the discomfort of not knowing her name because that can get really unpleasant.
After stumbling back out of the tiniest bathroom I have ever seen, I quickly realize that I can't seem to locate my clothes. Wondering if this is this some kind of ploy to ensure I would be trapped here until she got back, I am suddenly concerned that the woman's bedside note could be construed as more of a threat than a kind sentiment I first perceived it to be. Haunting scenes of Kathy Bates from 'Misery' begin replaying in my mind, having watched the film with Abed during his Stephen King marathon just a few weeks ago.
As if by some kind of cosmic retribution for all the one-night stands I was able to avoid by slipping out in the wee hours of the morning, I hear several locks turning in the front door. Knowing I am about to be in the company of the mysterious woman that had effectively detained me by hiding my clothes, I decide to pretend to be asleep to better gauge the situation before trying to talk my way out of here - half-naked if need be.
I slide back under the sheets quickly and take a position with my arm over my face to shield my eyes while allowing a discreet vantage point to see the woman as she walks in. An unfamiliar sense of anxiety takes hold of me when a small brunette woman walks into the room; her face mostly obscured from view by a basket of laundry. There is something comforting about the smell of her that I now distinctly remember from last night and something very familiar in the way the mystery woman's shiny dark hair bounces as she proceeds through the kitchen to set the basket of clothes on the table. There is an almost beguiling similarity of her sweet humming sounds to something else that I just cannot seem to pinpoint in this moment.
With her back to me, I continue to watch her as she dances around while folding her clothes at the table, noticing the shirt I had on last night is sitting in the basket, intermingling with her washed items. I bite my lip, gazing intently at the taut lines of her legs that lead up to her short dress, making me want to throw her down on the bed for a morning encore. I don't make a habit of doing a repeat performance with a one-night stand to avoid them from getting the wrong idea, but I would love to make the exception in this case.
I desperately want to see more of her, more of the lithe little body I no doubt was intimately privy to only a few hours ago. I am thankful that not a moment later she drops a sock and bends at the hips to retrieve it from the floor. I cannot help but compromise my secret viewpoint by leaning up slightly to get a good look at her with her short dress inching up her delicious thighs as she reaches for what I now realize are stockings, not a sock. Dark leggings, actually. Hmm, dark leggings with a very distinctive argyle pattern that is only worn by one person I have ever met.
The sudden impact of the earth-shattering realization as to who the woman is would have made me stumble at least a step had I been standing. Annie Edison and I spent the night together.
I can't tell if this is my worst fear or greatest fantasy come true. Scratch that… this is the stuff Greek tragedies are made of because I will have to deal with the fall-out of this event without being able to recall any of the pleasure that I am positive was involved. This situation freaking sucks and now I have to handle my delicate friend carefully or the repercussions could be endless and painful.
Before I can formulate a plan, Annie hops into the bed next to me and I cannot stop the reflex to move my arm from my face by the sudden bounce in the mattress. Kneeling next to my chest, she looks at me with a bright smile on her pretty face, obviously completely content with whatever went on between us last night.
"Good morning, Jeff. Sleep well?" Her typically bubbly personality is a little scary in this situation where I feel ambushed for no other reason than my own alcohol-induced amnesia.
"Yeah, I guess… Annie? Ah, what exactly happened here last night?" I hesitantly ask with an uncharacteristically timid sound to my voice, looking under the sheets to confirm that I am indeed in my underwear, wishfully hoping I imagined at least some of this. I watch in horror as Annie leans over my chest a bit, close enough where I actually feel slightly intimidated that she is so comfortable with the gesture.
Annie begins lightly brushing her fingertips over my arm before responding coyly, "What, you don't remember? Well, Jeff, first we had the most amazing sex right on the kitchen table and then for at least an hour in the shower and after that we… wait, is something wrong, Jeff? You look a little uncomfortable." She doesn't know the half of it, as I feel frozen by the magnitude of this revelation.
More than anything, I am deeply regretful that I won't remember what must have been some of my most extraordinary work. I mean, come on, we did it on the table and in the shower and she wasn't even finished naming places yet. I always figured it would be like that with Annie though, relentless and explosive after finally releasing all of that pent-up sexual frustration. Her gleeful expression turns bitter and insulted in a fraction of a second while I had momentarily been considering her words, making me feel like I just kicked a tiny puppy on Christmas morning.
"I, um… I can't believe we… I really never meant to… I'm so sorry if… wow, I think this is the first time in my life that I am at a complete loss for words." I look at her pensively, studying her sad features until I see a bright smile spread across her face, something that suddenly leaves me feeling like the victim of a very cruel joke.
"Jeff, I'm kidding. You came over a drunken mess, scared the heck out of me when you tried to break down my door, and then passed out after we… talked about some things." Her voice gets squeaky towards the end, seeming to allude to a conversation having transpired that I would probably like to get expunged from my record.
"That was mean, Annie. You are far more devious than I would have ever suspected," I say with a smirk, settling my hands behind my head to appear casual even though Annie just about gave me a heart attack with her diabolical trickery.
She giggles before patting my chest in her normal friendly way. "Thanks, I guess. I suppose coming from you that actually is a compliment."
I smile at her comment, but become distracted suddenly by the twinge of disappointment I feel nagging inside my brain. I never would have guessed I would regret not having made a drunken mistake, especially when dodging the very dangerous bullet that is this situation with Annie. Deciding things are probably better this way, I reaffirm, "So nothing happened between us last night."
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly. You said some things that gave me an idea or two in how to fix this… predicament we constantly find ourselves stuck in." Her sly smile has me curious and even more nervous for her to reveal whatever information I may have divulged in my inebriated state.
"As noteworthy as some of my ideas are, I can't imagine what I could have said to you when I was drunk like that to inspire any great revelations. Though, I have to say that I am very intrigued by the possibility that I am just that good." She rolls her eyes at my assertions, but looks satisfied with my agreement to deal with this recurring theme of close-call moments between us.
"Well, it's a surprise… so close your eyes and promise to keep them shut," Annie says in a whimsical voice that makes me more excited than I could have ever anticipated.
"Okay," I respond curiously and comply instantly despite my reluctance to believe that my obstructed vision has anything to do with a possible solution for our 'situation'.
I feel her weight shift on the bed as the sweet, cookie smell of Annie's body spray wafts directly in front of my nose, giving me every indication that her chest is hovering just inches above my face. With the temptation too great to resist, I am just about to sneak a peek when I hear Annie's sing-song voice, "You promised, Jeff. Keep them shut."
Her hands graze my arms as she reaches above my head, fumbling for a moment with something behind the wrought-iron rails. Captivated by the closeness of her body practically on top of me, I barely register the metallic clinking sound before I have the sense to enquire further about her odd request not to look at whatever it is she is doing.
"Annie?" I question hesitantly, hearing an unmistakable cling-clang sound next to my ear, definitely feeling cold metal brush against my skin. My eyes spring open as I simultaneously hear a distinctive click, confirming my suspicions immediately as I struggle helplessly after finding my left hand completely immobilized. "Annie, what… handcuffs? What the hell are you doing, Edison?" I yell, tugging in a futile attempt to dislodge my shackle from her metal bedframe.
Annie smirks with a devilish grin before backing away slightly, I assume to revel in her handiwork. Instead of looking embarrassed by her stunt, she replies with confidence, "Jeff, the very last thing you said before you passed out was about how your hands are tied in this situation between us. I couldn't help but think that actually might be the best possible solution to our problem."
"By literally tying my hand to your bed?" I ask, frustrated and tugging on my captivated left hand with my free right one for added dramatic effect. "I'm sorry, but is this supposed to be a lesson in irony that I am failing to see the humor in?" I ask heatedly, unable to decide if this whole thing is incredibly sexy or frightening - more like both. I cannot help but wonder briefly what happened between us last night that made her think to chain me up the way she does in some of my sickest fantasies of her, though even drunk I highly doubt that I would have admitted to some of that stuff.
Annie doesn't back down, instead looking adamant about the reason behind her actions. "Just confess your feelings for me and I'll let you go. Admit once and for all that you want me because I'm sick of you indirectly and/or accidentally insulting me by pretending I'm not good enough for you, not mature enough, or too inexperienced. You know darn well that I'm at least cute and plenty of guys find me sexy enough, so why not you?" She asks resentfully.
I almost feel bad for Annie if those are her perceptions of how she believes I view her. In fact, my compulsion to apologize is so overwhelming at the sight of her damsel-in-distress look that I have to keep reminding myself that as sweet and innocent as this little minx appears to be, she did just chain me to her bed. Regardless, I know that Annie does deserve to hear the truth once and for all.
"What do you want me to say?" I ask rhetorically, wanting to throw both of my hands up in defeat, but with only half the ability to do so. Rallying my resolve to tell her what I have been denying to myself for a very long time, I continue hastily, "Fine, sometimes I think about you when I'm with other women. If I'm going to be honest with you, I haven't stopped thinking about you since the debate really. You are haunting me and it makes me feel very dirty and not in the good way. I feel like some kind of sick pervert to even admit it to you now. Happy?"
"Jeff, you don't need to be embarrassed… because I want you too, but you already knew that. I just wanted you to admit it when you were sober, to say that you felt the same way because it was kind of starting to give me a complex. You give it up to every girl around, but not me. You have me on some pedestal and won't let me down." Some of her earlier forcefulness now seems subdued, I suppose since having finally heard the truth from me. She mumbles quietly, "I want you… at least once."
"First of all, I am not some man-whore who 'gives it up to every girl around'. I do have some standards. But you're right, I do think of you that way… untouchable. I can't help but put you on a pedestal though. You're… special, like a standard of measurement for all women to be compared to and you should know better than to get jealous of women who are so far beneath you. While I don't appreciate you suggesting I'm a slut, I understand that I do put you in another category… an off-limits one."
"Well, the way I see this problem is that you want me just as much as I want you, but you don't want to be vilified for taking advantage of me. Therefore, I will be the one to take advantage… of you. No one has to know anyway and I think that it might be good therapy for both of us. Maybe the draw will lose its power if we get rid of the sexual tension like you did with Britta. What do you think about that?" She has a hopeful, yet wicked glint in her eyes that has me desperate to do anything she wants just to see what will happen next.
Unable to resist given the clever tactics she has employed to take the decision out of my hands, I can easily admit how much I really want this now that it seems less like of a choice for me to have to make. Giving her my best sexy smile, I reply quickly, "I think that sounds like an awful idea, but we should try it anyway because chaining me to the bed has already stepped over the lines of normal friendship behavior." I forcefully jiggle the handcuff for emphasis, subsequently knocking the blanket off of my stomach and hips in the process.
"Yeah, sorry about that, I just didn't want you to run away before we had a real chance to talk and I could never physically restrain you without some deception. I figured this way your conscience could be clear and we could both get what we really want."
Her eyes take on a lust-filled haze as I can feel the heat of her stare all over my exposed chest, roaming my entire body, daring to look further down. Biting her pouty bottom lip, she quickly looks up from my lower stomach and directly into my eyes. Though she knows I caught her staring, she doesn't look away with her usually scandalized blush on her cheeks, instead focusing her attentions on my mouth before licking her lips.
With an eyebrow raised, I reply hoping to sound convincing, "I have to say that I am quite surprised by your ingenious problem-solving techniques, but aren't you going to let me go now? I think you would be much happier if I had full use of both of my hands." I give her my best suggestive eyebrow wiggle to entice her to free me, but she shakes her head disapprovingly.
Ever the temptress, she moves a little closer to me, but stays just out of reach of my free hand like she's taunting me to lunge at her, believing she's in no real danger. She couldn't be more incorrect with that assumption, but she'll find that out soon enough.
"Not just yet, I kind of like having you at my mercy." She giggles at me as I start to struggle in the restraint. I am not going to complain and kill the mood, but the metal is digging deep into my wrist. However, given Annie's uncharacteristic expression of confident sexual intent, I think it might be worth it.
"I never would have thought you to be so… deviant," I chuckle, but the tone of my voice is more sexual than humorous. Reaching out with my free hand, I attempt to grope the only part of her skin I can without tremendous difficulty, touching her supple legs lightly causing Annie to practically purr. I have been looking at her legs with adoration for so long now that I cannot help but sigh slightly at the feeling of satisfaction that I no longer just have to stare.
Inching closer, she runs both her hands over my shoulders and along my chest before tracing a single finger around the etched lines of my abs. As the single exploratory digit teases my waistband, her eyes dart to mine again, this time filled with a mixture of longing and an almost desperate need for approval. I smile gently at her as she starts working her hands back up my stomach and chest, pulling herself closer to me by a rough grip on my upper arms.
She leans down with her hair tantalizing every nerve ending in my body as it brushes tauntingly against my stomach. Soft, languid kisses begin peppering my torso along an invisible line from below my navel up to my chest. Teasingly, she draws my nipple into her mouth and playfully chuckles at the look of desperation that must be plastered on my face, releasing the sensitive nub quickly, leaving me practically twitching. Before placing sensual, open-mouth kisses on my neck and jaw, she whispers in my ear with a breathy quality, "Yeah, well, there's no reason to hold back if this is the only time we're going to do this."
As uncomfortable as the handcuff is clamped tightly around my wrist, it is more painful to realize after all this time of struggling to keep away from exactly this situation, this will not even be a difficult transition for me to make. She is obviously not the same little innocent Annie that I first met and I have definitely not given her enough credit.
Surprising me even more, I hear soft, sultry music begin to play in the room. Realizing instantly that Annie already cued a CD and left the remote next to me on the bed, proving the amazing lengths she had gone in methodically planning all of this with her usual attention to detail. She had ensnared me in her sexual attack like a stealthy predator claiming her prize, something which has me more turned on than I can ever remember, having never been pursued like this and by such a worthy opponent.
This new confident side of her is so alluring that I could easily have seen past her Disney princess qualities to the sexy woman underneath if I hadn't fought it so hard. "Annie, I think you and I both know that there's too much between us for this not to be more than that… more than just once."
Her breathy chuckle is like an awakening in my mind as she seems to have become a completely different person. I realize my mistake a moment later because she is the same person she was when I drunkenly barged in here last night. I am only just seeing this other side of her because I let myself look.
She whispers softly in my ear, "Jeez, Jeff, you're smothering me." Without moving away, she sucks on the lobe of my ear, causing me to groan loudly. I easily pull her small frame on my lap with my free hand, grinding against her as best I can with my limited ability to move.
I grin while she starts taking full advantage of my confined position, kissing me sweetly as her hands explore my arms and chest. She pulls away slightly so I can look in her beautiful doe eyes, immediately noticing a smug little smirk on her lips at my completely enraptured condition. Deciding to show her she is not as in control as she believes, I weave my fingers into her hair, pushing her lips hard into mine without giving her the option to pull away as I kiss her breathless.
Captivated by the intensity of our long kisses, we both reluctantly pull back feeling light-headed. Without warning, however, she moves away completely, momentarily scaring me that I might have miscalculated her intent. My disappointed sigh gives my desire away entirely, handing Annie the absolute upper-hand, something which is not really debatable since I am handcuffed to the bed and she is hovering above my body like a sweet temptation threatening to shatter my world if I don't give into the desire.
She surprises me by moving just out of reach to kneel on the bed above me, straddling my upper thighs instead of my hips which are now longing for her to return. My little enchantress starts to slowly peel off her cardigan with all of the expertise of a stripper, to an extent that actually makes me wonder if she's been secretly moonlighting. Her slinky movements combined with her slender legs pressed against the sides of my body are almost too much as I look up at her, completely taken in by her seductive spell.
After expertly removing her dress in a single, sensuous motion, I am mesmerized as her body snakes around in time with the music. I watch in awe as she undoes her bra clasp behind her back, eager to finally see what has been hiding underneath all of her modest clothing. My eyes widen in anticipation as she places her thumbs under the straps, shrugging them off her shoulders before firmly grasping her breasts as the garment slips down around her tiny waist.
I cannot help the growl that comes out of my mouth as I watch her hands massage her breasts, slowly falling to her stomach, revealing a sight of pure perfection that I will not soon forget. Her fingers begin to tease the upper edge of her panties, taunting me with my overwhelming want to see all of her… finally.
Feeling overcome by my primal urges, I reach forward as far as I can in one quick motion, surprising Annie by the abruptness of my movement as I firmly attach my hand to her soft, pink panties. Completely disregarding the fact that I am cutting my wrist on the unforgiving metal restraint, I savagely pull away the small amount of material left keeping her body from my view. She shrieks a little as the sound of the ripped satiny cloth tears from the thin side straps, the noise of my triumph resounding in the room over the beat of the music, eliciting a small moan from Annie as a result.
She smiles wickedly at my sudden roughness before urgently gripping the back of my head, crashing my lips into hers with such force our teeth scrape together. Unlike before, this kiss is dominated by her mouth as she urgently parts my lips with her tongue. After teasing me mercilessly with an onslaught of feverish kisses, she starts to grind herself hard into my lap, the friction only relieving part of the ache she has created while instigating an entirely more substantial one.
I savor the deliciousness that is this moment, knowing this is all thanks to the ingenuity of the tiny vixen shamelessly rubbing herself up and down against my body. Despite being completely enthralled by her, I cannot help but notice the fact that her fiery kisses are a perfect match to her personality: eager, clever, and calculating – so very Annie.
I am now completely at her mercy and enjoying every moment of it, praising her in my mind for finding such a surprisingly simple solution to our problem. A surreal moment consumes me as I realize what is about to happen, as she slides her nimble fingers tortuously slow past the elastic waistband of my briefs. Her action completely removes the little control I still have in this situation given the fact that I am chained to her metal bed frame like her own personal sex slave, a title I would love to occupy from now on.
*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*Monday Morning*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~*
Annie pov-
Everyone is talking about what they did over the weekend and I can barely contain my blush with my mind reeling from sexy memories of me and Jeff naked and rolling all over every inch of my apartment. He thought it necessary to have sex on the kitchen table and in the shower like I had originally fooled him into believing we had. Joke's on me though because now I find myself staring at the Classified Section of the newspaper, searching for a replacement table because mine is completely unsalvageable due to our after-dinner treat.
Lost in thoughts over everything that happened yesterday, I barely notice Chang slide into the unclaimed seat next to me, having opted for one of his creepy, silent entrances. I feel the ex-Spanish teacher's scrutinizing eyes trying to look over the corner of my newspaper to see what I am in the market to purchase; no doubt wanting to sell me something horrifying he got stuck with in his separation from his wife.
"What are you doing here?" Shirley asks him with suspicion, taking the words out of my mouth.
Chang answers flippantly, practically doing a Jeff impersonation by looking at his phone without glancing up, "Unless you've Chang-ed your minds about letting me into this elitist study group, I won't be staying long. Just wanted to… ah… um… talk to Senor Winger about roommate stuff," Chang insists with little conviction, pulling the roommate card as a last resort before he is booted from the room for the third time this month.
Thankfully Jeff arrives to the study group a few minutes later, breezing into the room with his special brand of aloof confidence which typically demands no explanation for his lateness. Challenging my ability to handle our new "situation" discreetly, just before he takes his seat he gives me a quick sizzling look that makes me want to throw him down right here, rip off his button-up shirt, and break this table too.
Trying to stay in character for the rest of the group, however, I scold Jeff, "We have been waiting here for you to show up for almost half an hour. What happened that you couldn't call and tell us you'd be late?"
"Would you believe that I was held against my will?" He looks around the table with his eyes settling on me last, leering at me for a second before turning his attention back to the group of curious on-lookers. A crimson blush creeps over my cheeks, heating my skin so much that I have to fan myself a little. I'm certain the rest of the study group thinks it's just at his suggestive tone and not that I'm actually responsible for his captivity. Come to think of it, I did have him chained to my bed for hours, so maybe I should cut him some slack.
Chang states with skepticism, "You were with the same woman for the entire weekend. That is hard to believe. I thought you were the kind of guy that would rather chew your own arm off than spend another minute with a one-night stand."
Jeff looks around the room with his unaffected demeanor and promptly retorts, "Like I said, I was a little tied up with some very pressing matters that required my undivided attention." Abed looks suspicious at Jeff's choice of words, but doesn't say anything.
"Come on, Jeff. You didn't call to tell me you weren't coming home and I was worried sick all weekend."
"We're not in a relationship, Chang. I can come and go as I please. Besides, she took my pants so I couldn't leave. She's a crafty one. I couldn't call even if wanted to because my phone was on the other side of the room and like I said, I was otherwise detained. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"
Pierce looks way too excited by Jeff's explanation and starts to tell a story about a party he attended in the 80's that involved buttless leather pants, but is thankfully cut off by Abed before we can all fully form the mental image that will undoubtedly haunt our collective dreams.
"I feel a new plot dynamic coming on. Almost as if Jeff will suddenly be much more mysterious about his personal life, something that will greatly interest all of us, but without proof we will simply remain confused until a hilarious turn of events brings the truth to light."
"Okay guys, maybe we should study instead of prying into Jeff's weekend activities. It really is none of our business if Jeff got himself handcuffed to a bed, don't you all agree?" As soon as the words fall from my lips, Jeff looks startled. He had never mentioned the details about handcuffs or the location and now I fear that we are completely busted. As I turn to the group, I notice that only Abed seems to have recognized my slip of the tongue and our flustered reactions, though he looks oddly accepting of the prospect of Jeff and I together.
Abed speaks while looking directly at me, almost as if he is gazing right through me in his unique style of critical analysis. "This is an interesting character development for Jeff. Turning over control to… someone else is a big deal for somebody like him. Whoever this girl is, she could be the one to bring out the protagonist's catharsis for the resolution to the main story."
Jeff replies quickly, "Abed, you make it sound like I'm living out some tragic play and I'm going to die in the last act."
"Well, at least you're safe until then, that is unless your new little playmate kills you first," Britta interjects happily.
"Yes, Jeffrey, I don't like this. It seems dangerous. What kind of woman would chain a man up?" Shirley asks almost mumbling to herself with her saccharin sweet tone.
"Did she make you wear an outfit?" Troy asks, clearly imagining Jeff in various kinky costumes and shaking his head no until landing on one mental image that causes him to make a face that would coincide with the expression "not bad". Jeff's eyes widen at whatever Troy is mulling over, before he glances at me briefly, almost apologetically.
"It's not like that, you guys. We just got a little… carried away," Jeff responds defensively before smirking while clearly paused on a memory, probably the one that ended with my table in splinters.
Chang, still playing the aggrieved roommate, whines, "Well, Annie's right, you could have at least called us this morning. Does your watch even work or do you just wear it to look cool like those uncomfortable things you call underwear."
"Damn it, man, stay the hell out of my stuff!" Jeff yells slightly.
"I bet it's a fake watch anyway," Chang says, quickly reaching for Jeff's wrist to inspect his timepiece. Jeff winces a little while withdrawing his hand from Chang's tight grasp as the watchband slides up his arm exposing the handcuff mark on his wrist to everyone. I cannot stop my audible gasp along with the others, mine having more to do with remorse for how tightly I initially clicked the cuff around his arm in my hasty excitement. In my defense, however, he was the one who kept forgetting about it and trying to use his hand anyway, no doubt making the bruises much worse.
Britta can hardly contain her evil smirk before commenting, "It is crazy that you let some psycho woman do that to you, Jeff. Did she force you to do any other weird stuff too? Maybe you should see a counselor and talk about things since you were clearly brutalized by some sexually depraved girl." I try to stifle the little embarrassing snort, but it slips out and I put my head down slightly, too scared to make eye contact for fear that they will see all the dirty things I did with Jeff written like a blinking neon guilty sign on my face.
Surprising me completely, Jeff looks at the group and says seriously, "You know, Britta, you might be right. I might need a counselor because I will definitely be going back for more of that kind of abuse very soon – as soon as possible actually." He gives me an almost imperceptible head nod which I promptly return, trying hard to steel my resolve to wait until after classes are over for the day so I am not tempted to drag Jeff into a supply closet to have my way with him again.
I pull out a notebook and a purple pen to make a list of things I need to get before Jeff's next visit. I smile a smug, knowing grin, already planning to stop by the marital aid store underneath my apartment again on my way home from school because Jeff clearly likes my surprises and I am never one to disappoint.