01 - Zoe and I
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By theseeker
by theseeker » Sun Jan 24, 2010 4:54 am
My name's Matt, and this is the story of how a girl named Zoe Day changed my life.
Zoe Day is an interesting girl, to say the least. I mean, right off the bat, even before you meet her, her NAME is already captivating! She has a combined total of six letters in the entire thing. Two syllables. And a Z. Z's are always intriguing, because you just never see them. It's like spotting a yetti. Zoe Day was like my yetti. No, that doesn't sound right. That sounds terrible. Zoe Day was my... first true fascination. Yeah. That's better.
I was the ripe old age of seventeen, and in the closing days of my junior year of high school when Zoe Day was thrust into my world unexpectedly - and quite abruptly, I might add. My grade had a combined lunch with the freshmen, and when I met Zoe, that's where everyone was, and where I SHOULD have been. But as the fates would have it, I was not. Instead, I was at my locker putting away books, and running late because of a terribly boring conversation my 4th period English teacher insisted on having after I graded poorly on a writing exam. A 'C' was only bad if you were used to reeling in 'A's' all the time, which I was – sorry, had to brag.
So as I stood at my locker, angrily rushing myself to cram every last book into every last available space, I met Zoe Day. She rounded the corner, struggling to keep her grasp on a stack of text books and tablets. My initial reaction upon seeing Zoe? 'Oh, God. That weird girl is going to ask me for help!'. Yep. That was it, and in hind sight, I do think that was a rather harsh first thought, but at least I'm honest about it.
I had thought she was 'weird' because of the way she was dressed. First thing I noticed was that she was wearing a skirt. A long, black skirt that twirled down her thin figure all the way to her ankles, where she wore a pair of tough-looking, black boots. I would have thought she was a Goth, but her T-Shirt was in stark contrast: A bright, yellow one with a pattern of flowers around the arms. So as this mish-mash of a girl came strolling down the hall, spilling books over her arms left and right, my only thought was, 'Oh, God. That weird girl is going to ask me for help!'.
I was right. She came right up to me asking, “Is this Mr. Marsh's homeroom?”
I pointed to the name sign sticking out from the nearest doorway that read 'Mr. Marsh'. She followed my finger, read, and looked back to me. “A 'yes' would have done the trick you know,” she said as another book almost tipped over her arm.
“Yes,” I said, closed my locker, and proceeded to head to my much-anticipated lunch.
“Well, thanks,” she said, trying to be polite against my rudeness. I WAS rude. I realize it now! No need for name-calling!
As I approached the corner that the weird girl had emerged from, I glanced back over my shoulder. She was standing there, looking like a deer in headlights, simultaneously looking over lockers, trying to read a piece of paper in her hand, and playing the dangerous 'book-balancing' game on her arms. If my prediction was correct, she would soon be losing that game.
She did. One book slipped through her hold, and the rest followed like dominoes. No one ever wins the book-balancing game. The girl stomped her foot and let a frustrated noise push through her clenched teeth.
This is where I get you readers back on my side.
I—being the swell guy that I am—couldn't leave her like that. I mean, she was obviously a new student in a tough spot, and I'd been there before. Even if she did dress stranger than anyone else in the school, I had to help. I sighed and headed back down the hall.
“What's your locker number?” I asked when I was near.
She turned her head, saw me, but didn't look thrilled. “I'll manage,” she said and bent to pick up her books.
“Come on, just tell me it. I'll help.”
“You didn't seem to want to help before,” she said, busily scooping books off the floor. “Why the sudden changed of heart? Couldn't bear the sight of the little new girl picking up her little books?”
She was right, of course, but I didn't say that. “Look, I was just in a rush before. Let me help. Please?”
She stood and squinted at me as if she was studying some new species. “What's your name?”
“Matt.”
She looked me over for another moment before, I guess, deciding I wasn't a TOTAL jerk. “Zoe Day,” she told me and handed me her piece of paper.
“Actually, it's Tuesday,” I said, grinning like a fool at my own joke. She gave me a dry stare as if she'd heard that one a hundred times before. Which, on second thought, she probably had. “Sorry.”
It was at that moment I really took notice of Zoe Day. She had satin-blonde hair that fell down only a little past her chin, and the most piercing green eyes I think I'd ever seen. Her nose was small, her lips only a bit bigger, and her complexion was bordering on pale, but it had enough color in it, I suppose. I realized in that moment that Zoe Day was pretty.
“So do you actually help, or do you kind of just stand around and stare at me while I crack under the pressure of my first day?” She asked, cutting into my trance.
“Wha? Oh. Yeah.” I looked down at her paper. “233. You're right over here.”
And that was my first encounter with Zoe Day. After a bit more conversation, I learned her and her mother had moved to our little town from Seattle because her mom had some sort of position shift at her company. They'd only been in town for a week, and Zoe was so late for her first day at our school because she actually couldn't find it. I found that amusing, being that our school is a giant building amongst hundreds of smaller ones. Of course, I didn't say that, because I was starting to become intrigued with the girl. She had a different way of talking, of dressing, of acting... I didn't know anything about Seattle, but if everyone from there was like her, it was a place I'd have to visit.
It turned out we had English class together. And in it, I decided to pursue my curiosity on Zoe Day. When we would get some free time, I would make it a habit to hang around her desk and start conversation. At first, she was quiet—cautious—but after a few days, I had broken through her wall, and started getting to know her. Her favorite color? Silver. Her favorite food? Bananas with peanut butter and mayonnaise. Yuck. Her favorite month? October, because it had Halloween in it. Every little piece of information was like unwrapping a strange little package, in the middle of which was Zoe Day.
Time went on, and I had successfully developed a little friendship with her. On the week before school was over, Mr. Marsh handed out his infamous 'end of the year project' which consisted of a long essay on ways to improve school life. I took the opportunity to get closer to Zoe, and offered my help on the project. She regarded me suspiciously, as if I was waiting to pull some mean prank on her, but eventually accepted.
“Maybe I should come over after school. You know. For academic purposes, of course,” I said, leaning on her desk.
“Oh yeah?” She replied with a sly grin. “You want to come over my house, huh?”
“Yeah. I think it would be a good idea.”
“You know, when someone is overeager to help someone else, it's usually because they want something, Matt.”
“No catch. I just want to help,” I said and put three fingers to my chest. “Scout's honor.” I had no idea if scouts did that or not, but it seemed right.
She let out a short laugh. “I have a feeling you're no boy scout. But OK.” She took my English tablet from my hand and wrote down her address as the bell sounded. She gave me one last suspicious look before standing and heading out with everyone else. I looked down at my book, where she had written her address, and beneath it the words 'Come as your are'. I smiled and left the classroom myself.
Later that day, as I walked along to her house, which was only a few blocks from mine, I wondered what I really WAS doing. I had spent an awful lot of time in the last two weeks getting to know Zoe Day. I had never been so fascinated with a girl. Did I want to date her? I wasn't even sure. But that was Zoe for you. She left you in a state of confusion. Wonderful confusion.
I arrived at her house—a double block apartment complex—and strolled up to the door, English books in hand, and knocked. She opened the door shortly after, and laughed upon seeing me. “So you actually showed up. And with actual English books! I'm impressed!” She laughed and motioned for me to come in.
Zoe Day's house wasn't nearly as interesting as her. It was on the small side, and a few boxes of marked moving stuff were still littered about. “Slow mover, huh?” I commented, glancing around.
“My mom's been working all the time, and I've been so busy trying to get a hold of your school, there just hasn't been any time,” She told me. “On the bright side, we have a lot of places to sit,” she joked and sat down on a nearby box.
I smirked and nodded. “That's true.”
After a quick tour of the downstairs, she led me upstairs to her room. Inside, the place had Zoe Day written all over it. A poster of Jim Morrison was the first thing I saw, gripping the microphone in a music-lovers grip. A dresser decorated with stickers was the current table for Zoe's impressively large stack of books. I glanced over some Stephen King, Harry Potter, and an assortment of other books, most I'd never heard of. A laptop was resting on a desk, and beside it were a few more books. She had a large stereo system laying on the floor, seemingly without a place yet in her newly furnished room. Her closet was plastered over with another poster, this one of a nighttime sky with a large moon in the background. Her bed was up against the back wall, the sheets a mixed pattern of black and silver.
“Yep. This is my room,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking around with me. “Still a little messy, but messy is alright sometimes. I think it shows character.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I teased, walked over to her bed and took a seat. “Oh yeah. This bed will be PERFECT... for English studying.”
Zoe grinned and closed her door. “Funny. Are you actually going to help me with this project, or are you going to crack jokes and make fun of my messy room the entire time?”
“Come on. I'll behave. I promise.”
We worked on our projects then for awhile, the boring details of which I'll spare you. It was a good twenty minutes before Zoe caught me by surprise again in that way only she could. I was growing a bit bored with the project, and began to study HER instead. She did this cute thing with her nose when she was reading something, kind of like a little twitch. Her hair was pulled back behind her ears, and she liked to chew on the bottoms of pencils. She was wearing another dress, this was an off-white in color. Her legs were stretched out in front of her as she sat across from me on the bed, putting her feet right in front of me. She was barefoot, and I couldn't help but notice she had a silver toe ring on her left foot, and a small tattoo of a bird down near her heel. I squinted at them, amused by another Zoe Day finding. Suddenly, her toes scrunched up and down twice. I looked up at her, and saw her smiling at me.
“Caught you!” She said, pointing.
“What?”
“You were checking out my feet!”
“I was not!”
“You were SO checking out my feet!”
I felt myself go a little red. I was doing that, wasn't I. I kept my lie going though. “I was deep in thought.”
Zoe laughed and took the pencil out of her mouth. “It's OK, Matt. Lot's of guys have a foot fetish. You just don't have to be so creepy about it!” She teased and laughed again.
I felt myself growing redder, so I decided to just ignore the subject, and go back to my project. After a few seconds, she gave my knee a gently push with her foot.
“Oh my God!” I said. “I don't like your stupid feet!”
She made an over-exaggerated shocked face and pulled her legs in towards her stomach. “Well you don't have to be MEAN about it!”
Even I had to laugh at that.
We went on working, and a few minutes later, Zoe was going to get a drink, and asked if I wanted one. I said yes, and she headed off to the task. Left alone in Zoe Day's room, my curiosity grew again. I closed my work, stood up, and took a stroll around the room to get some circulation back into my legs. She had a stuffed gorilla leaning up against a stack of magazines that I picked up and smirked at as I thought up a joke about it. That's when they caught my eye.
There, on the desk, and tucked out of the way were a pair of shining steel handcuffs, leaning casually up against a stack of CD's. I frowned in intrigue, and put the gorilla down. I felt my hand reaching for them, unwanting—unABLE--to stop. Zoe Day's surprises just never stopped coming, did they. I lifted them and, judging by the weight, figured them to be real handcuffs. Like REAL ones. I'd never held real ones before. They were heavier than expected.
Zoe came back into the room with drinks and spotted the cuffs in my hands. I figured either she would tell some strange story about how she got them as a joke, or maybe go a little red in the face and take them from me, but all she did was casually hand me my drink and sit back down on her bed. “A bit kinky, are we?” I asked and jingled the cuffs back and forth in front of her.
“Yeah, I guess,” she answered nonchalantly and grinned. “What's it to ya?”
I was speechless. I hadn't expected her to say that at all. “Wait, you actually use these things?” I asked, looking them over.
“Uh, yeah. Why else would I have them, Matt?”
“Like... on people? Or on yourself?”
Zoe smirked. “Depends on the mood I guess.”
“Huh,” was my response. I jingled them again. “Handcuffs. Ha!”
Zoe looked at me and tilted her head. “If you want to try them on, go ahead.”
“Uh, no thanks,” I said, caught off-guard by the questions, and placed them on her desk.
“Oh, come on! I think you'd look cute in them,” she teased.
“Yeah? I think you'd look cuter,” I shot back, and now the thought of her in the cuffs was actually something that was running through my mind.
“Oh no, mister,” she replied. “You're the one who wanted to come over to my house, so YOU have the creepy, stalker, psycho-killer initiative.”
“What!?” I barked in shock.
Zoe laughed and lifted her leg. “Come on, put them on and you can touch my feet for 5 seconds!”
“That's not funny,” I said dryly. “Back to work for you!”
I plopped back down on her bed and promptly opened my book up again. We sat in silence for a total of half a minute before Zoe said, “I thought you were too chicken, anyway,” under her breath, and stole a peek up at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
“Alright,” I said and closed the book, stood up, and snatched the cuffs off her desk. “I just hope YOUR not the creepy, stalker, psycho-killer!” I tossed her the cuffs, sat on the edge of the bed, and stuck my wrists out in front of me.
Zoe was looking at me with a playful twinkle in her eye. “You really want to do this?”
“Well I'm not going to sit here and be called a chicken for NOT doing it. So cuff me, mam,” I said and waved my wrists around.
“Well if you REALLY don't want to be a chicken, your hand have to be behind you,” Zoe explained and watched me carefully for my reaction.
I swallowed. Hands in front were one thing, hands behind was a whole nother. I didn't particularly like the idea of being at Zoe's mercy, regardless of how much she fascinated me. “Uh... I don't know.”
“Chicken!” She said and pointed.
“What am I five? That won't work.”
“Chiiiiiiiicken,” she teased.
“That's funny. Really.”
“Chicken-chicken?” She tried.
“Alright!” I snapped, tired of it. “For thirty seconds. That's it!”
“Fine!” She answered with a grin and locked one cuff down over my wrist. I grumbled, gave her a cautious look, and turned around to cross my wrists. She locked the other cuff down and then I was in. No going back.
I pulled at them a little bit, finding the cold steel against my wrists wasn't giving any slack. I tugged again before giving up. “So why do you have these again?” I asked curiously, turning to face her.
“You don't find the lack of control you have... exciting at all?” She asked, seemingly just as curious.
“I... I don't think so.”
“Just think about it, you can't lift your arms right now. You can't open a door. You can't even itch your nose!” As she said that, my nose began to itch a bit. “It's the letting go of control that's the real draw, I guess.”
I pulled at the cuffs again, wanting to scratch my nose. “So what does the other person get out of it?”
Zoe smirked and lifted the handcuff key up to her face. “The CONTROL of course!” She answered, laughing.
I felt a rush through my body as she said that. “That's not funny. Come on, let me out,” I said nervously.
Zoe stood, went to my back, and unlocked me. I pulled my wrists around as soon as I could and itched my nose, thankful for the freedom. “See. I bet the best moment for you was that one LITTLE second when you thought maybe I wasn't going to let you out. That's because you had no control.”
“The BEST? It was the scariest!”
“Only because you don't trust me, obviously,” Zoe said and took her seat back on the bed.
I thought about it, and decided she was right. I nodded my head and looked over at her. “I'd trust you more if I could put them on you too.”
Zoe lifted her head and gave me that familiar suspicious look, only this time, it faded away and she nodded her head. “Alright.” She put the cuffs and key on the bed between us, and turned so her back was to me. She crossed her wrists and waited. I felt my heart pick up pace as I took the cuffs and carefully slipped them around each of her slender wrists.
“OK,” I said when I was done, as if she needed to be told. She turned back around and sat there cuffed, and grinning. “Now who's the one with the control?” I said triumphantly and dangled the key.
“You,” Zoe answered and shifted around on the bed. “I'm stuck like this until you decide to free me. How does that make you feel?”
I thought about it. It made me feel... good. I didn't want to sound TOO excited though, so I replied with “Alright” instead.
“Well, there you go,” Zoe said. “That's why I have the handcuffs. Now do you understand me a little better?”
“Sure,” I said, “but that doesn't mean I'm letting you go.”
Zoe grinned. “Then what are you going to do with me?”
I thought for a moment. “Well, according to you, I'm in love with your feet, so...” I grinned a devilish grin myself.
Zoe squinted at me for a moment before coming to the realization. “No!” She cried out, but it was too late. I pounced, snatching up her ankles in my hands. She squirmed and wound up rolling onto her stomach, already laughing. I pulled her ankles up and held them together with one hand while I began to mercilessly run my fingers along the soles of her feet. Zoe began shrieking in fits of laughter.
“Hmm, you know. I think I do like your feet,” I teased and traced lines along the wrinkles of her feet. I saw tears forming in her eyes as she laughed and laughed. “Yep, I could spend all day with these babies.” I tickled up and down the arch of her foot.
“Ple-please...” she managed through gasps of air. “S-Stop!”
I stopped and let her legs drop. She laid on the bed, red and panting. I felt GREAT, and this time I didn't try to hide it. “Well that was fun. I think I do understand a little better now. Thanks Zoe!” I exclaimed and gave her a pat on the back. She was still too out of breath to speak, so I took the cuffs off her.
“I'm getting you back for that someday you know,” she said when her breath was finally caught.
“Maybe,” I replied, excited at the prospect. “But it won't be today. It's getting late.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
We said our goodbyes, and I left Zoe Day's house a partially changed man. I was semi-into this whole bondage thing, I thought. I didn't know the half of it. Not yet.
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theseeker's stories
- 01 - Zoe and I (f/m, m/f)
- 02 - Rachel's Situation (mm/f)
- 03 - The Ex's Revenge (f/m, ff/m, m/f)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section