Chapter 4: The All-Nighter

Chapter 4: The All-Nighter

One positive point that emerged from out little test was that being truly alone was much more intense than just being in a closed room but not really alone. That affected my thinking for a long time after that test. I was only two days later that Mom was scheduled to drive off to Las Vegas for a weekend of drinking and fucking. At least she wasn’t addicted to gambling.

Ways of experiencing this increased intensity became my main concern. What Tom had done was nice, and I would probably scheme to have things like that done again. But we would continue my adventures at his house. That was partly because I knew he enjoyed tying me and teasing me and even hurting me some. If I insisted the only adventure would be his leaving me alone at my house, it might ruin our relationship. I had to accept that being truly alone would happen only occasionally.

I also wondered what it would be like to be abandoned. I mean left alone with no intent of ever being untied. As if Tom would tie me and then leave me someplace where I would never be discovered. And where he would never come back for me. Abandoned.

Now that was one scary thought. I wasn’t sure that there would be any way to make it happen, and then decided that I would not want it. Hell, I’m not stupid! To do something like that would be idiotic, to say the least. I consigned such thoughts to the category of fantasies not to be turned into reality. Still, it was such a wonderfully scary fantasy that sent shivers down my spine.

Friday evening came and Mom packed a small suitcase. I told her to have fun and watched as she drove off. I had decided to wait for at least a couple hours to make sure she wasn’t coming back for any reason. There was also the fact that Tom would have to get away from his wife long enough to come over and tie me down to my bed. Then he would return home and leave me to suffer/enjoy a long, lonely night.

I had to wait for Tom to have the opportunity to escape. What worried me was that he might have trouble getting away from Denise. It probably wouldn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to get over here, tie me and then make it back to his house. But what would he say to his wife to explain his absence?

The idea of his not being able to make it was depressing. After all the planning and testing and fantasizing, a failure to launch would be terrible. Of course, we could always plan for another time, but there were not many weekends when Mom wasn’t home. Besides, I was all tingly excited and wanted it that night

I kept looking out my bedroom window over to Tom’s. The lights were on in several rooms and I could only wonder what was going on. What if this was one of those rare nights when Denise wanted to have sex with him? What a horrible idea!

When the phone rang, I jumped. Gingerly, I answered it. It was Tom and I feared that he was going to say that he couldn’t make it.

“Vicky,” he said, “I’m having trouble getting away.”

Oh, crap!

“I may have to wait until Denise goes to bed.”

With him? I wondered. Damn her.

“I’ll call when that happens.”

“How late would that be?” I asked.

“Maybe nine-thirty, ten o’clock latest. She said she had a busy day and might go to bed early.”

I had the unreasonable urge to complain that he was taking away precious time from my adventure. Only with an effort did I say, “Call when you can. I’ll be waiting.”

At least he had the decency to let me know he would be late. Not that it made me any less unhappy.