“Did it work?” he asks hopefully.
“It worked,” I confirm. “Now move away from the wall so you don’t hit it.”
“How far?”
“A few feet should be good.”
There’s the scrape of material against the smooth floor as he scoots forward.
“Now what?” he asks.
“I’m going to get in front of you and show you what to do, so if you feel hands, that’s me.”
“Okay.” He blows out a shaky breath. “I’ve seen way too many horror movies,” he says as I reach out to search for his leg or another part of him so I know where he is. “I keep imagining all the things that could be hidden in the dark, and I’m half convinced that some creature or demon is going to grab me, even though I know none of that shit is real.”
My hand bumps against his leg. “That was me,” I tell him. “And I get it.” I use his leg as a guide so I can move in front of him. “I’m not really into horror movies, but my friend keeps convincing me to watch them with him, and being in the dark like this is fucking with my head too.”
“At least you didn’t hyperventilate and almost piss yourself when you woke up,” he says, the self-deprecation in his voice clear. “And you didn’t cry or beg a god you don’t believe in to save you while wishing you’d drop dead so you didn’t have to be here anymore.”
“I also didn’t wake up to silence and think I was alone,” I point out.
I don’t tell him that this isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in a situation like this, and while I’ve never been drugged and abducted and then woken up in a pitch-black room with a stranger, I’ve learned how to deal with this kind of shit.
Carefully, I put both of my hands on his knees, then slide them up until I feel the soft rasp of his sweater sleeves under my palms.
“I’m going to check the tie and see how tight it is,” I tell him as I move my hands down his sleeves. “It’s counterintuitive, but it needs to be as tight as possible for this method to work.”
He stays still while I slip my fingers under the sleeves of his sweater and run them over the tie to make sure it’s tight enough.
“Okay, that seems good. Now bring your arms up over your head. I’m going to keep my hands on you until you’re in the right position, so don’t swing early or you’re going to knock me the fuck out, okay?”
He huffs out a soft laugh. “Okay.”
Keeping a gentle grip on his elbows, I move with him as he lifts his arms over his head.
“Good, now bend your elbows at a ninety-degree angle and keep them as wide as possible.”
He shifts his arms, and I run my hands over his elbows and down to his hands. They’re already in tight fists and facing each other.
“Good, now let me get out of the way. When it’s clear, you’re going to swing your arms down hard and fast, then use that momentum and pull them apart at the bottom of the arc as hard as you can. Make sure it’s a single, smooth motion, and it should work.”
“Why do I have a vision of me punching myself in the dick and not managing to get them off?” he asks wryly.
“I mean, that’s a very real possibility when you’re standing up, but your dick should be safe since you’re sitting.” I move back a few feet. “Ready?
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Do you want a countdown, or are you just going to go?”
“I think I need a countdown.”
“Okay. On three. One, two, three.”
There’s the soft sound of flesh hitting flesh, then the snap of the tie breaking.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims. “That worked.”
“It’s simple but effective.”
