Maria & Andrea: A Chance Beginning (F/F, Part 8 Added)
Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2021 12:55 am
Part 1
Hello, my name is Andrea, and this is about me and my BFF Maria. In case you don’t know, that stands for “Best Friend Forever.”
So about me: I’m a brown-skinned Puerto Rican girl, about 5-feet, 4-inches tall with a somewhat curvy figure. I wear horn-rimmed glasses and my dark brown hair is frizzy, so I usually tie it back in a scrunchy. I’m 20 years old now, but at the time this happened, I was 18, just out of high school.
Maria is the same age. She’s Puerto Rican too, and has the same hair but lighter complexion. She’s always been bigger than me, but in high school she sprouted to 5-feet, 9-inches tall. Though Maria’s busty, she’s more stocky than curvy, and has broad, strong shoulders.
But she’s not self-conscious at all, and people — including me — are drawn in by her energetic, positive personality. She’s a natural leader, and smart, too.
We hung out a lot in high school, at our houses, the park, or wherever. We liked spending time at her house. Her only sibling, Eva, is married with two boys: Stevie and Nickie, Maria’s tow-headed nephews. Her single mother worked, and she also babysat for her grandsons.
So we often had the run of the place. Even then, Maria seemed more grown-up than me, and we often worked on homework together.
After graduation, we both got jobs to pay for college, though Maria was able to enroll part-time right away. Of course she started spending time with her college classmates, which made me a little jealous. I never said anything, but I truly missed her during those early autumn days.
Maybe she started missing me too, because in late September she invited me over to do homework.
“But Maria, I don’t have any homework,” I said over the phone.
She laughed.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Andrea,” she said. “It’ll be like our high school days. Bring a book to read, like one of those romance novels you like so much. Better yet, help me with my homework…that’ll give you an idea of what you’ll be facing when you go to college!”
Encouraged, I started stopping by after my day shift ended at the pet store. Her mom was dating someone, so we usually had the house to ourselves.
Usually…
As I approached one Thursday afternoon, I heard screaming coming from inside Maria’s one-story ranch house. I knocked, and was startled as the door was yanked open by Stevie, Maria’s 6-year old nephew.
“Pow!” Stevie yelled, pointing a toy gun at me. Four-year old Nickie ran up and pointed his toy gun at me, shouting, “Pow-pow-pow!”
Maria’s large profile appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, hi!” I said.
“I see you’ve met Stevie and Nickie,” Maria said. "Boys, say hello to my friend Andrea.”
“Pow-pow!” they shouted before dashing back to the living room.
“Don’t mind them,” Maria said. “My sister is driving her mother-in-law around on errands, so she dropped the boys off for me to watch for a bit. Come on in!”
I stepped in, and saw toys spread all over the living room. The couch was piled with laundry, which Maria was sorting into two laundry baskets.
“Eva also asked me to do some laundry for her.”
“Need a hand?” I asked.
“Nah, just watch this…hey guys, come help me, okay?”
Maria had great qualities of generalship, because her nephews immediately quieted down and pitched in. I made myself comfortable in the easy chair and cracked open my book.
“Yay, we did it, guys!” Maria said after a few minutes. “OK, now just stay here with Andrea and put way your toys. When I come back I’ll put your movie in, and we’ll have popcorn.” Maria stacked one laundry basket on top of the other, and — with apparent ease — picked them both up and lugged them off to the basement.
Her nephews started sticking their toys into Nickie’s little blue backpack. I was able to focus on reading, with the distant sound of the washing machine in the background.
After a few minutes Nickie popped up at the arm of the chair, his eyes wide.
“Oh! You scared me again!” I said, smiling. “What’s up, Nickie?”
“Can we play ‘kidnap’ with you?”
“Ummmm…ok,” I said. With that they both ran off, and I presumed that was part of their ‘kidnap’ game. I was a little apprehensive, but reasoned that they were just little boys and couldn’t do much harm. Besides, Maria would be back soon, and she’d take matters in hand.
I was absolutely right on the first count, and partially right — as well as prophetic — on the second count.
After a few minutes they came back came and stood by my chair.
“Ready?” Nickie said excitedly.
“Sure!” I replied, playing along.
Nickie held up a short powder-blue cord that I recognized as one of the decorative bathroom-curtain sashes. I almost laughed out loud as he bit his lip, clumsily looped the sash around my right arm and secured it with a half-knot.
“There, you’re kidnapped!” he shouted.
“Kidnapped!” Stevie repeated.
“Hey, what’s with all the shouting?” Maria said as she entered the living room.
“She’s kidnapped, Aunt Maria!” Stevie said.
Wordlessly, Maria looked down and stared at my right arm. She blushed slightly, looked at me, then smiled. It was a knowing smile, and her jet-black eyes seemed to bore into me; I felt myself blushing as well.
Then she recovered and became Aunt Maria again.
“It looks like you found a new game, eh?” she said. “Good job on your toys, we have just enough time to watch the movie before your Mom comes for you.”
The boys jumped on the couch and Maria put the “Despicable Me” DVD into the player. As they settled in, Maria quietly lifted my arm, removed the sash, stuck it into the pocket of her blue jeans and headed off to the kitchen to make popcorn.
“Can I help you with that?” I said, trying to recover as well.
“Relax,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s just popcorn.” My awkward feelings vanished at the sound of her bright voice, and we spent the rest of the afternoon snacking and watching the movie with her nephews.
But I occasionally caught Maria looking at me from the couch where she sat with her nephews. We made eye contact a couple of times, and she shot me that same, knowing smile. Later I saw that she’d restored the bathroom curtain sash.
She called me the next morning.
“Hey, can you come over early Saturday morning?” she asked. “I could really use your help with something.”
“Babysitting and laundry again…so soon?” I chuckled, teasing her.
“No,” she laughed, “nothing like that…it’s kind of a project. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Feeling flattered, I agreed to help her.
“Great! Come over early, ok? Say, 8 or 8:30?”
The next day I was full of energy as I walked the four blocks to Maria’s house. I was wearing white canvas sneakers, light-colored blue jeans, and a dark-blue hoodie emblazoned with our high-school emblem — a snarling, bright-orange tiger. “Go Tigers!” it read.
Maria’s house has an attached garage. The garage door was open when I arrived, and I saw that Maria was inside. She was wearing black jeans and Reeboks, a red polo shirt, and her hair was tied back like mine. She spotted me, smiled and waved me into the garage.
Maria was holding onto the garage door handle, and as soon as I stepped in, she pulled the door down and latched it.
The slamming of the door, click of the latch and the sudden dimness — along with Maria herself, towering over my shorter frame — combined to make me feel smaller. She was holding some lengths of black vinyl clothesline, and she grinned at me.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said quickly. “I want to play that kidnapping game with you.”
The ease with which she said those words took me by surprise; she made it sound like “kidnapping game” was a phrase people used every day. An odd, nervous, pleasant excitement — much stronger than my awkwardness from two days before — warmed my chest and put a lump in my throat.
Clearly, Maria intended to tie me up here in her garage — and she was much stronger, and more clever than her nephews.
I shuddered, swallowed a couple of times, and tried to sound casual. But I was already caving.
“Well,” I stammered, “how do we…”
“Here, I’ll show you.”
She grasped my shoulder, turned me around and gently pulled my arms behind my back. I heard smacking sounds as she dropped the other lengths of line to the floor, and a soft slithering noise that I took to be her readying the other cord for my hands.
I was right again. I felt her winding the line around and between my wrists, cinching them firmly together, pinching me slightly. Maria’s mom had always used vinyl clothesline, so there was always some around. I knew it had a tendency to stretch, and then firmly hug anything it was tied around.
Like my wrists. There seemed to be no end to Maria’s winding, tying and tightening. The blood roared in my ears as the taut, ever-thickening coils increased my helplessness, and my mind began to drift. I recalled that the heroines in romance novels always get taken captive and rescued by heroic men, but I never read of one getting tied up…not like this.
My brain snapped back to reality as Maria tightened and finished the knots on my hand bindings, eased my iPhone from my back pocket and turned me around. She got an old metal milk crate from the corner and placed it behind me.
“Now have a seat,” she said, pressing down lightly on my shoulder.
I silently complied. Maria knelt in front of me and proceeded to tie my ankles together with the another piece of clothesline. More rope was closing about my body, but I seemed more spellbound by Maria’s deft hands and efficiency as she finished knotting my ankle bindings.
“Just one more…” she said, picking up the last cord and wrapping it around and between my thighs. Now I got to study her work up close, and I saw how her binding pattern worked like pulleys, adding more power to her cinching. I was thrilled by the constrictions on my limbs, and utterly amazed to see Maria’s knuckles go white as she firmly pulled each loop taut and finally knotted it off.
She patted my knee and stood up.
There, how’s that?” Maria said cheerfully, looking me up and down. “I think that’ll hold you.”
I didn’t know what to say…in fact, I didn’t want to say anything.
She just smiled down at me, winked, turned on her heel and walked through side garage door and into the house. She shut the door and locked it.
A masterful silence descended around me — the sole companion to my captivity.
Hello, my name is Andrea, and this is about me and my BFF Maria. In case you don’t know, that stands for “Best Friend Forever.”
So about me: I’m a brown-skinned Puerto Rican girl, about 5-feet, 4-inches tall with a somewhat curvy figure. I wear horn-rimmed glasses and my dark brown hair is frizzy, so I usually tie it back in a scrunchy. I’m 20 years old now, but at the time this happened, I was 18, just out of high school.
Maria is the same age. She’s Puerto Rican too, and has the same hair but lighter complexion. She’s always been bigger than me, but in high school she sprouted to 5-feet, 9-inches tall. Though Maria’s busty, she’s more stocky than curvy, and has broad, strong shoulders.
But she’s not self-conscious at all, and people — including me — are drawn in by her energetic, positive personality. She’s a natural leader, and smart, too.
We hung out a lot in high school, at our houses, the park, or wherever. We liked spending time at her house. Her only sibling, Eva, is married with two boys: Stevie and Nickie, Maria’s tow-headed nephews. Her single mother worked, and she also babysat for her grandsons.
So we often had the run of the place. Even then, Maria seemed more grown-up than me, and we often worked on homework together.
After graduation, we both got jobs to pay for college, though Maria was able to enroll part-time right away. Of course she started spending time with her college classmates, which made me a little jealous. I never said anything, but I truly missed her during those early autumn days.
Maybe she started missing me too, because in late September she invited me over to do homework.
“But Maria, I don’t have any homework,” I said over the phone.
She laughed.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Andrea,” she said. “It’ll be like our high school days. Bring a book to read, like one of those romance novels you like so much. Better yet, help me with my homework…that’ll give you an idea of what you’ll be facing when you go to college!”
Encouraged, I started stopping by after my day shift ended at the pet store. Her mom was dating someone, so we usually had the house to ourselves.
Usually…
As I approached one Thursday afternoon, I heard screaming coming from inside Maria’s one-story ranch house. I knocked, and was startled as the door was yanked open by Stevie, Maria’s 6-year old nephew.
“Pow!” Stevie yelled, pointing a toy gun at me. Four-year old Nickie ran up and pointed his toy gun at me, shouting, “Pow-pow-pow!”
Maria’s large profile appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, hi!” I said.
“I see you’ve met Stevie and Nickie,” Maria said. "Boys, say hello to my friend Andrea.”
“Pow-pow!” they shouted before dashing back to the living room.
“Don’t mind them,” Maria said. “My sister is driving her mother-in-law around on errands, so she dropped the boys off for me to watch for a bit. Come on in!”
I stepped in, and saw toys spread all over the living room. The couch was piled with laundry, which Maria was sorting into two laundry baskets.
“Eva also asked me to do some laundry for her.”
“Need a hand?” I asked.
“Nah, just watch this…hey guys, come help me, okay?”
Maria had great qualities of generalship, because her nephews immediately quieted down and pitched in. I made myself comfortable in the easy chair and cracked open my book.
“Yay, we did it, guys!” Maria said after a few minutes. “OK, now just stay here with Andrea and put way your toys. When I come back I’ll put your movie in, and we’ll have popcorn.” Maria stacked one laundry basket on top of the other, and — with apparent ease — picked them both up and lugged them off to the basement.
Her nephews started sticking their toys into Nickie’s little blue backpack. I was able to focus on reading, with the distant sound of the washing machine in the background.
After a few minutes Nickie popped up at the arm of the chair, his eyes wide.
“Oh! You scared me again!” I said, smiling. “What’s up, Nickie?”
“Can we play ‘kidnap’ with you?”
“Ummmm…ok,” I said. With that they both ran off, and I presumed that was part of their ‘kidnap’ game. I was a little apprehensive, but reasoned that they were just little boys and couldn’t do much harm. Besides, Maria would be back soon, and she’d take matters in hand.
I was absolutely right on the first count, and partially right — as well as prophetic — on the second count.
After a few minutes they came back came and stood by my chair.
“Ready?” Nickie said excitedly.
“Sure!” I replied, playing along.
Nickie held up a short powder-blue cord that I recognized as one of the decorative bathroom-curtain sashes. I almost laughed out loud as he bit his lip, clumsily looped the sash around my right arm and secured it with a half-knot.
“There, you’re kidnapped!” he shouted.
“Kidnapped!” Stevie repeated.
“Hey, what’s with all the shouting?” Maria said as she entered the living room.
“She’s kidnapped, Aunt Maria!” Stevie said.
Wordlessly, Maria looked down and stared at my right arm. She blushed slightly, looked at me, then smiled. It was a knowing smile, and her jet-black eyes seemed to bore into me; I felt myself blushing as well.
Then she recovered and became Aunt Maria again.
“It looks like you found a new game, eh?” she said. “Good job on your toys, we have just enough time to watch the movie before your Mom comes for you.”
The boys jumped on the couch and Maria put the “Despicable Me” DVD into the player. As they settled in, Maria quietly lifted my arm, removed the sash, stuck it into the pocket of her blue jeans and headed off to the kitchen to make popcorn.
“Can I help you with that?” I said, trying to recover as well.
“Relax,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s just popcorn.” My awkward feelings vanished at the sound of her bright voice, and we spent the rest of the afternoon snacking and watching the movie with her nephews.
But I occasionally caught Maria looking at me from the couch where she sat with her nephews. We made eye contact a couple of times, and she shot me that same, knowing smile. Later I saw that she’d restored the bathroom curtain sash.
She called me the next morning.
“Hey, can you come over early Saturday morning?” she asked. “I could really use your help with something.”
“Babysitting and laundry again…so soon?” I chuckled, teasing her.
“No,” she laughed, “nothing like that…it’s kind of a project. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Feeling flattered, I agreed to help her.
“Great! Come over early, ok? Say, 8 or 8:30?”
The next day I was full of energy as I walked the four blocks to Maria’s house. I was wearing white canvas sneakers, light-colored blue jeans, and a dark-blue hoodie emblazoned with our high-school emblem — a snarling, bright-orange tiger. “Go Tigers!” it read.
Maria’s house has an attached garage. The garage door was open when I arrived, and I saw that Maria was inside. She was wearing black jeans and Reeboks, a red polo shirt, and her hair was tied back like mine. She spotted me, smiled and waved me into the garage.
Maria was holding onto the garage door handle, and as soon as I stepped in, she pulled the door down and latched it.
The slamming of the door, click of the latch and the sudden dimness — along with Maria herself, towering over my shorter frame — combined to make me feel smaller. She was holding some lengths of black vinyl clothesline, and she grinned at me.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said quickly. “I want to play that kidnapping game with you.”
The ease with which she said those words took me by surprise; she made it sound like “kidnapping game” was a phrase people used every day. An odd, nervous, pleasant excitement — much stronger than my awkwardness from two days before — warmed my chest and put a lump in my throat.
Clearly, Maria intended to tie me up here in her garage — and she was much stronger, and more clever than her nephews.
I shuddered, swallowed a couple of times, and tried to sound casual. But I was already caving.
“Well,” I stammered, “how do we…”
“Here, I’ll show you.”
She grasped my shoulder, turned me around and gently pulled my arms behind my back. I heard smacking sounds as she dropped the other lengths of line to the floor, and a soft slithering noise that I took to be her readying the other cord for my hands.
I was right again. I felt her winding the line around and between my wrists, cinching them firmly together, pinching me slightly. Maria’s mom had always used vinyl clothesline, so there was always some around. I knew it had a tendency to stretch, and then firmly hug anything it was tied around.
Like my wrists. There seemed to be no end to Maria’s winding, tying and tightening. The blood roared in my ears as the taut, ever-thickening coils increased my helplessness, and my mind began to drift. I recalled that the heroines in romance novels always get taken captive and rescued by heroic men, but I never read of one getting tied up…not like this.
My brain snapped back to reality as Maria tightened and finished the knots on my hand bindings, eased my iPhone from my back pocket and turned me around. She got an old metal milk crate from the corner and placed it behind me.
“Now have a seat,” she said, pressing down lightly on my shoulder.
I silently complied. Maria knelt in front of me and proceeded to tie my ankles together with the another piece of clothesline. More rope was closing about my body, but I seemed more spellbound by Maria’s deft hands and efficiency as she finished knotting my ankle bindings.
“Just one more…” she said, picking up the last cord and wrapping it around and between my thighs. Now I got to study her work up close, and I saw how her binding pattern worked like pulleys, adding more power to her cinching. I was thrilled by the constrictions on my limbs, and utterly amazed to see Maria’s knuckles go white as she firmly pulled each loop taut and finally knotted it off.
She patted my knee and stood up.
There, how’s that?” Maria said cheerfully, looking me up and down. “I think that’ll hold you.”
I didn’t know what to say…in fact, I didn’t want to say anything.
She just smiled down at me, winked, turned on her heel and walked through side garage door and into the house. She shut the door and locked it.
A masterful silence descended around me — the sole companion to my captivity.