The Prop Room free porn video

The Prop Room

Another yawn escaped despite her best efforts. Darlene shook her head, tryingto stay awake. A glance at the clock showed 3pm. Two hours to go on a Fridayafternoon before a long holiday weekend. She was the last one in the smallaccounting office, covering for everyone else who had left early. Not eventhe phone was ringing, and she couldn't hear any activity out in the warehouse.

She had been on the job for about three months. As the junior member of theback office staff she had volunteered to stay till closing time when the buildinghad emptied out at noon. This was the exciting world of making movies, or asclose as she had ever come to it. The company rented props to television, movie,and theater productions. Their small but highly profitable sideline was sellingmovie memorabilia. Items were guaranteed to be authentic because the ownerinsisted on meticulous computer records whenever some of their props were used.That was part of her job, updating the inventory history database from invoices.

Darlene loved movies, new and old. She never had the desire to be in frontof the camera. Her attraction was the story and how it was presented. The scripts,the costumes, the art direction defined the quality of a movie by her standards.Landing the job at the prop company had been a dream come true. The pay wasn'tspectacular but as long as she had enough to live on she didn't care. Her hopewas to one day learn enough to work her way up to assistant art director, planningsets, checking continuity, researching period sets for authenticity, all thesmall details that made a movie believable and realistic.

At the moment her problem was too little sleep. She knew better but had startedto watch one of her favorites on TV late last night, Radarmen FromThe Moon , an edited version of one of the old matinee serialsmade for kids before the days of television. The individual episodes had beenedited into a feature length movie full of non-stop action. She was fascinatedat how the directors were able to use a tiny budget to produce such a lengthyfeature. Then there were the "damsel in distress" cliffhangers she so dearlyloved to see, the hero's assistant who always seemed to get captured by thevillains and left to some horrible fate, be it locked in the closet of theburning building or tied to a chair with a ticking bomb next to her. One cameraangle would seem to show her certain doom, but at the last minute another anglewould reveal how the hero rescues her.

If she had thought about it she would have taped the movie on the VCR andgone to bed at a decent hour. Instead she had stayed up two hours past hernormal bedtime, glued to the screen. Two hours of sleep she sorely missed now.Pushing aside the stack of paper on her desk she folded her arms, put her headdown, and closed her eyes, intending to rest for just a moment.

When she opened her eyes the window showed it was night outside. The clocksaid 9pm, six hours later. In a panic, she dialed time on the phone, hopingher clock was somehow wrong. Her heart fell as the voice on the phone agreed.She had fallen asleep and missed the last bus of the day. The warehouse waslocated in the industrial section of town, miles from her apartment building.Too far and too dangerous to walk home, and she didn't have enough money tocall a taxi. She hadn't been in town long enough to make friends, so therewas no one to call for a ride either. The next bus wouldn't come by until 7amSaturday morning.

Hoping someone might still be in the building she left her office and wentout into the warehouse proper. Only the security lights were on, casting longshadows between the aisles. Walking up to the front she could tell all thelights were off in the reception area and executive offices. Now she had anotherproblem. The windows and doors were wired to an alarm. If she tried to leaveshe would set the burglar alarm off. She could see the blinking indicator onthe alarm panel indicating it was set, but she didn't have the code to turnit off. She had no doubt the boss would understand if she did trigger the alarm,but he would have to come out in the middle of the night.

Darlene turned and started walking back to her office in the rear of thewarehouse. She could simply stay the night and leave in the morning. She knewfrom a "will call" order she put in the computer that there was a customerpickup scheduled for late on Saturday morning so someone would be showing upto open the warehouse by then. The break room had a couch she could sleep on,a TV to pass the time, and there was some food left in the refrigerator. Itwould be embarrassing when the crew found her in the morning, but after somegood-natured jokes everyone would forget about it. In any case she would befar safer inside than walking home on dark deserted streets late at night,in a neighborhood known for its rough character.

The first problem was the television. It only got local broadcast channels,and the shows on were among the worst she had ever seen. Finally she turnedit off in disgust. Then came the second problem, boredom. She wasn't tirednow, but she had nothing to do. The TV did have a VCR, but no one had leftany tapes to watch. She went into her office, hoping to find something to read.

It was a forlorn hope. She knew there wasn't anything worth reading. A fewmanuals and a dull computer book were the sum total of her library. She satdown in her chair, staring at the unprocessed invoices on her desk. She reallydidn't want to do any more work either. Picking up the next invoice she startedto read it. It came from an outdoor shoot a week ago for a new TV movie, miscellaneousprops and a couple of specialty costumes. At the bottom was a note that thereturned box contained a copy of some of the unedited footage, the "rushes",on a VHS tape.

Darlene had forgotten about the tapes. As part of the memorabilia operationthe company kept excerpts, or in some cases copies of the entire movie or TVshow where the props appeared. Provenance , her bosshad called it, documented proof the items were authentic. Sometimes the companywould store old boxes from a movie for twenty years or more, hoping what startedas a bad B movie would become a cult classic when it reached late night weekendTV. Those were the rare cases, a goldmine where the props sold for exorbitantprices. If the movie remained a flop there were still a few dedicated collectorswho bought items if the price was right. Either way the company made moneyoff what would otherwise be junk. That was her job, to keep up the inventorylist of items waiting to "age" as her boss put it, like a fine wine. Insideall those boxes in the section they laughingly called the "wine cellar" weresome tapes of the movies.

Darlene turned to her computer and brought up the database. Grabbing a pieceof paper she noted down the bin and box numbers where tapes were listed aspart of the contents. She didn't need anything to read; she had an entire libraryof one of her favorite genres, the low budget movie. Scanning the records shesaw titles going back to the 1940s, even some familiar classic serials fromRepublic Studios. Eagerly she made a list of their locations.

Out in the warehouse the dim lights made it difficult to read box codes,but a flashlight on the shipping desk solved that problem. It took her abouthalf an hour to figure out how the aisles, shelves and boxes were organized.Most of the space was set aside for props still in use, but she managed tolocate the section set aside for old memorabilia. She had to stop and lookfor a rag to wipe the dust from some of the boxes, an indication of how longthey had been sitting unopened on the shelves.

Most of the boxes were too high for her to reach, and she didn't want touse the ladder. The writing had begun to fade on some of the boxes too, makingit hard to locate any of the ones on her makeshift list. After several triesshe found what looked to be a match, though the handwriting was difficult tomake out. Pulling it off the shelf she carried it over to the shipping deskby the loading dock. After wiping the rest of the dust off the top she openedit up.

The contents were inside a plastic bag to protect them against dirt and moths.Opening the inner bag she immediately realized she had made a mistake. Insteadof a stirring tale of the government agent battling enemy saboteurs in WorldWar II she had wound up with one of those exploitation women's prison moviesfrom the 1960's. Right on top were two copies of the movie. The garish movieposter slipcover announcing the shocking story of Babes In Cages leftno doubt as to what the movie was really about. The list of actors did notinclude a single recognizable name, and reading the synopsis on the back ofthe cover left Darlene laughing. Pure trash, the kind of movie no one wouldever admit to seeing, much less appearing in it.

Setting the tapes to one side, she began to take out the contents. On thetop were three costumes from the movie, by the looks and the stenciled letteringthe "uniform" for the female inmates. A short sleeveless dress, tight and lowcut in the front, with "State Prison" stamped across the back. The clothingwas old but clean, well-preserved and still in good shape. Next was a copyof the script in a loose leaf notebook; several still photos from the sets;what looked like the belt for a guard, brown leather with a heavy ring sewnin the back; a small box with several badges all marked with the words "PrisonGuard"; and in the bottom were two small heavy cardboard boxes. Removing thetop of the smaller one revealed a set of steel handcuffs wrapped in some kindof brown preservative paper. The other box contained a larger version of handcuffswith a longer connecting chain, obviously meant to fit ankles. There was aset of two keys in each box, plus a handwritten note in the smaller handcuffbox.

Curious, Darlene unfolded the note and began to look it over. The first paragraphwas a note that the leg irons were too long and had to be shortened to fitin the camera frame for the close up. The director wanted the length cut inhalf but since it was a close shot the appearance had to match the previousfootage. The prop man had added a penciled notation that it was cut to eightinches and the weld made inside the swivel so it wouldn't show if filmed fromthe left side.

She burst out laughing as she read the second paragraph in the scrawled handwriting.It warned Bob the prop man to leave one set of keys in the prop box becausethe actress who was to play the prison matron "never met a bottle of vodkashe didn't fall in love with." The director was concerned she would lose thekeys and he didn't want to have to use a hacksaw to cut open the handcuffsafter the scene was finished. For a collector some day in the future this notewould undoubtedly be worth the cost of the whole box of items. She carefullyfolded it and put it back.

Remembering a picture she picked up the tape and looked at the cover. Thereit was, the young actress in the revealing inmate costume, being led into prisonin the very same set of shackles. She had never seen this particular moviebut she had no doubts it would use a common variation of the "damsel in distress" plot.There would be a good looking male lawyer, warden, or boyfriend who ultimatelysaves her from the living hell of prison, just as the psychopathic gang leaderis about to do her in. Darlene shook her head, thinking the rescue would probablybe in a shower scene if the movie was really sleazy.

She debated whether to continue looking for her original choices or startwith the tape she had inadvertently picked out. Studying the inventory numberson the box while wiping away some more dust, she saw her error in the transposeddigits that almost matched her list. It was an easy mistake to make, especiallyin the dark. It was going to be a long night, and she had time to search forthe items on her list later. It might not be the best of movies, but it wouldbe fun.

Picking up the tape she headed for the lunch room in the back, next to theaccounting offices. Taking a bag of popcorn out of the cupboard she threw itin the microwave and started it up. Bad movies weren't nearly as enjoyablewithout hot buttered popcorn. While it was popping she pushed the tape intothe VCR and turned on the TV. Scrounging in the fridge she found one of herbottles of iced tea. The opening credits rolled to an end just as the popcornfinished. Curling up on the couch she settled down to watch the movie, snacksat the ready.

The movie proved to be every bit as second rate as the lurid cover promised.The lead actress was framed for embezzlement, sent to a maximum security prison,defied the prison gang and the corrupt guards, and is saved at the last minuteby her boyfriend, who conveniently worked for the governor as an undercoverinvestigator. Every possible plot stereotype was used, including the gratuitousshower scene. Supposedly high drama, Darlene burst out laughing at the ineptacting, tedious dialog and amateur camera work. Several times she spotted continuityerrors between scenes, without even looking for them. Knowing what to watchfor from the note to the prop man, she saw how unsteady the prison matron characterwas on her feet. The director was right, barely sober at best.

While waiting for the tape to rewind she looked at the cover again. On awhim she stopped the tape to watch the scene near the beginning where the starwas lead off the bus into the prison gates. There were the inmate uniforms,the same handcuffs and shackles, and now she saw how the leather belt worked.Rather than being a prop for a guard it was a restraint device, holding theprisoner's handcuffs close to the waist. She noticed how the other two inmatesbehind the star were head shots, a camera angle trick to cut costs. Only themain actress needed the full outfit; the other two wore the same uniforms butsimulated handcuffs by holding their hands together out of camera view. Thosewere the tricks she hoped to learn. She finished rewinding the tape and ejectedit.

The clock showed the time as close to midnight. Darlene wasn't tired so shedecided to look for another movie. First she would have to put the one in herhand back in place. The collector and movie fan sales were not large but didcarry high profit margins. She didn't want to damage or in any way deprivethe company of a possible sale, though she was sure she wouldn't want to meetanyone who collected movies like the one she had just seen. Turning off theTV she went back out to the warehouse and walked back to the desk at the loadingdock.

She couldn't get that one scene at the prison gate out of her mind. The directormay have had little talent but in a single short sequence he had managed tocapture all the fear and terror of someone facing a certain and dire fate.Even the actress, and already Darlene had forgotten her name, had a look ofhopeless resignation as the matron virtually dragged her inside.

The contents of the storage box were still spread out on the shipping desk.Darlene opened the plastic inner bag and picked up the two boxes holding thechains. She started to replace them but stopped on an impulse. She put themback on the desk top and opened the handcuff box again to look at the restraints.Other than pictures on TV she had never actually seen handcuffs close up. Earliershe hadn't noticed the instructions printed inside the top cover; now she pickedit up and read through the procedures.

Following the diagram printed on the instruction sheet she tried to openthe cuffs. The keys still worked. The bows on the cuffs opened and closed smoothly.Darlene put a hand on the uniforms, the glimmer of an idea forming. Unfoldingthem, she quickly determined the first one was too small, but the second onewas her size. Could she do it? With a guilty feeling she looked around theempty warehouse. No one would be showing up for the next eight hours so shehad plenty of time. Reaching behind her back she unzipped her dress and droppedit to the floor. Then she put on the inmate costume. It was tight, likely intentional,but it did fit. She picked up her own office dress and laid it over the chairnext to the shipping desk.

The leather belt was stiff with age but didn't crack as she put it aroundher waist. The buckle was different from ones she had seen before. There wasa narrow rectangular button on top with a slot in it. When she pushed in thebutton the buckle locked shut and wouldn't open. Attached to the ring witha piece of string were two thin metal keys. Darlene inserted one in the slotand the button popped open. She tried it several times to make sure the latchwould open properly. Satisfied, she placed the belt around her waist, pulledit snug but not too tight, and closed the locking buckle. She pushed down thebutton, verified it was secure then slid it around so the ring was in frontand the belt buckle behind her back. One of the publicity pictures in the boxwas from the gate scene. She studied it, noting how the belt was positioned.The still showed the handcuffs in the ring centered on her waist, in front.

Taking a deep breath, Darlene sat down in the chair and reached for the legchains. Looking carefully she could see where one end of the chain had beenshortened and welded back, just as the note described. One last time she checkedto make sure the keys worked. Positive she could get them off again she closedthe large leg cuffs around her ankles leaving just enough slack to ensure theywouldn't cut off circulation, as the instructions warned. She stood up andtook a few tentative steps. The unfamiliar weight was a distraction but shewas able to walk. She sat down again, using the small end of the cuff key toengage the double lock so the cuffs wouldn't close further. Stretching outher legs she looked at the shackles. They really didn't restrict her movementall that much, no worse than high heels and a long tight skirt, or so she thought.Walking would be slow but not impossible.

Only one item left to go, and she would be a close match to the actress inthe scene. Picking up the handcuffs she examined them again. From the brightuntarnished finish she guessed the prop man had purchased the cuffs new allthose years ago. There were no scratches or worn spots, and no rust. Darlenefelt confident they were in good working order. Opening one cuff she slowlyclosed it over her right wrist, careful not to over tighten it. Following theillustration in the instructions she kept enough slack to slip a finger betweenher wrist and the cuff. The weight was more than a regular bracelet but seemedto be tolerable.

Holding the keys in her left hand she opened the left side cuff and slippedit through the ring in the belt around her waist. She laid the open cuff overher left wrist but didn't close it. First she wanted to make sure she couldreach the key hole while wearing them. A quick test showed she could easilyinsert and turn the key. A moment of hesitation, then she closed the cuff onher left wrist till it matched the number of notches on her right wrist. Oncemore she checked to make sure she could slip a finger between the cuff andher skin. Transferring the keys in her right hand she pushed in the doublelock pin. A tug on the belt verified both her hands were secured against herwaist.

Unlike the chains on her ankles the handcuff and belt combination provedto be very restrictive. The box containing the second set of keys was too farback on the shipping desk, beyond her now severely limited reach. She hadn'tthought to move them closer, but she still had the set in her hand. Holdingonto those keys she took a few steps, walking back and forth. Being unableto move her arms left her with an unbalanced feeling but she could stand upand walk around without much difficulty.

Darlene realized she didn't quite equal the scene in the movie. The actressdidn't have the keys in her hand. It was a small but crucial detail, the differencebetween freedom and captivity. Darlene looked around, wondering where she couldput the keys. She settled for dropping them on the edge of the shipping desk,making sure she could reach them easily. One last glance to make sure theydidn't fall off, then she stepped back and turned around. Looking down shecould see the steel rings surrounding her wrists and ankles. She spread herlegs apart, to the full limit of the connecting chain between her ankles.

Darlene closed her eyes, feeling the bonds confining her. Now she was thedamsel in distress. All she needed was the handsome love interest rescuer tocome to her aid. And how would she look to her would-be Prince Charming? Therewas a large mirror in the women's washroom. She frowned; it would be a longwalk all the way across the length of the warehouse to where the toilets werelocated, along the back wall but at the end opposite her office. What betterway to determine just how well those leg shackles worked? She glanced overher shoulder at the keys. Should she take them with her? Darlene grinned; theoriginal prisoner didn't have them in the movie, so if she were to play thepart she would go without as well.

Walking along the aisle she became the federal agent's intrepid and sometimescareless assistant trying to escape from the Nazi spy ring. She had to getto that back door before they discovered she was missing. What would it be?Maybe a fire, or poison gas slowly leaking into the building? Whatever thethreat, she was sure she wouldn't be able to get to the door in time, at leastnot till next week's exciting episode.

Meanwhile she began to appreciate how well the leg chains did slow her down.Constantly jerking the chain taut was bruising her ankles. She tried to measureher stride, keeping it to just less than the length of the chain. That helpedbut slowed her down even more. The awkward gait was putting a strain on herlegs too. Stopping to rest she looked back, intending to go back and take themoff.

But she was already more than half way to the ladies room. Darlene decidedto keep going for now but she would take these things off as soon as she satisfiedher curiosity with a look in the mirror. As for the fleeing assistant, shedecided in her version it would be just too bad and the next assistant wouldn'tget caught so easily.

It seemed like hours had passed as she finally reached the door. She pushedit open then stopped as she saw the lights were off. From the dim aisle lightsshe made out a switch on the wall. It was too high to reach with her boundhands but by holding the door open with one leg she was able to nudge it onwith her shoulder. The overhead fluorescents flickered into life. Darlene letthe door close as she shuffled toward the mirror next to the sinks.

The uniform revealed more than it concealed, just as she suspected. If itwas based on a real prison uniform then Victoria's Secret must have gottenthe design contract. Her low heeled office shoes definitely were not colorcoordinated with the rest of her outfit. The other accessories, the steel jewelry,did seem to go with the overall theme especially with the prison logo on theback of the dress. As a fashion statement it would make anyone stand out ina crowd, though Darlene doubted she would ever make the list of best dressedmodels in this particular casual wear. There was plenty of skin in all theright places though, suitable for a distressed damsel still neatly tied upwhile being carried to safety by the hero of the hour. And in her current conditionif some guy wanted to carry her off there wasn't much she could do about it.

She didn't look forward to the long slow walk back to the shipping desk butshe didn't have much choice in the matter, unless she wanted to stand therein front of the mirror all night long. Getting the restroom door open againproved a challenge. She had to stand on tip toe to reach the handle but shemanaged to grab hold and pull on it. Rather than perform some more gymnasticsto turn off the light she left it on, figuring a return trip would be easieronce she removed the chains.

The aisle seemed to stretch for miles. Darlene knew it wasn't really thatbad. She did have sympathy for the poor actress who must have spent hours inthe same get up while the cameras and lighting were moved around for the scenes.Idly she wondered if the prop man ever had to use the spare set of keys.

Due to her slow progress she was only a few feet from the restroom door whenshe heard the front doors open. She froze as the regular lights came on. Therewere voices, at least two men, coming from the front.

"…really want to thank you for coming out in the middle of the nightJoe. Forecast says rain on Sunday and Monday. We have to do all the shootingSaturday or it'll cost a fortune to hold over the crew. We'll be working allnight to get ready for the sunrise shots."

"No problem, Cal. You guys are good customers. I know how it is. Usual deal,sneak me a copy of the script when you finish, signed if you can, and somepublicity stills if you can spare them. I had the picking list run on Fridayso everything should be ready. You can take a quick look to make sure you haveit all."

Darlene recognized the second voice. Joe Riordan, the current owner and grandsonof the company founder. He must have gotten an emergency call from a producerand came in to open up for their props. She had to hide somewhere. They weresure to see her sooner or later if she stood in the middle of the aisle. Thequestion was, where to go?

As fast as she could, without making a sound, she headed back to the restroom.It was the closest place and one they weren't likely to visit. FortunatelyJoe and the other man seemed to be involved with something at the other endof the building. She had enough time to make it through the door.

Breathing heavily, more from surprise than from exertion, she leaned againstthe wall next to the closed door. Darlene closed her eyes for a moment, gratefulshe hadn't been in the middle of the warehouse when they walked in. She hadno idea what Joe would say but she could never live down the embarrassment.Opening her eyes she looked around. There was only the one door in and out.She was trapped for the moment but if she waited they would leave after thecustomer checked and loaded his order. Clenching her fists in anger she mentallykicked herself for leaving the keys on the desk. In desperation she grabbedthe belt with her manacled hands and tried to pull it down. No luck, she hadtightened it around her waist and now it wouldn't slip over her hips.

She had no idea how to pick a lock. Not that it made any difference becauseshe didn't have anything to make into a lock pick anyway. She tried to slipher wrists out of the cuffs but it took only a few seconds of effort to provethat was impossible. Trying not to panic she stared at the handcuffs holdingher prisoner, trying to figure out some way to get them off. Wracking her brainshe had to admit there were only two options: walk out and reveal her predicamentwith whatever consequences might happen; or wait until they left and then retrievethe keys. Darlene chose to wait. If she went out now sooner or later word wouldleak out and everyone would know. The whispers and laughter behind her backwould be too much. She loved her job and didn't want to jeopardize it.

There was a chair in one corner. Being careful to keep her ankles apart sothe chain wouldn't rattle on the tile floor she crossed the room and sat down.There was a fleeting concern about the lights but she didn't think they wouldbe visible from outside the door. It felt good to give her legs a rest. Darleneclosed her eyes again and leaned her head back against the wall. She triedto visualize what the men were doing out in the warehouse. Double check theshipping manifest, open the loading dock doors, load the truck, sign a fewpapers, then as men usually do stand around drinking beer for an hour talkingabout ten minutes worth of work. Two hours at most before they left, then shewould be safe.

There was still the question of how she would get out of the warehouse. Comparedto her current situation it wasn't as important, but she would have to thinkabout it sooner or later. Her best bet was to wait till some other employeescame back in during the day, and then try to slip out a side door when no onewas looking.

Silently she banged her head against the wall. This had been a dumb stunt.Now she was paying the price, hiding in the restroom all night long while trussedup in chains. Just like a night in jail, she realized, only worse. She triedto pass the time by making up scripts. She had been kidnapped by a drug cartel.They hadn't discovered she was loose in the building, but neither could sheget away. Her undercover police boyfriend would sneak in and find a way out.She looked down at the handcuffs. He'd have a key too.

No, that wouldn't explain the inmate uniform. Continuity, she had to incorporateit into the story somehow. She was an undercover policewoman, sent to prisonto infiltrate the drug gang. They had broken her out along with the leader'sgirlfriend, but a gang member recognized her. Her cop boyfriend was franticallytrying to find her even as she hid out.

Darlene opened her eyes and shook her head. She had to concentrate on themoment and tone down the fantasy. That's what had gotten her into so much trouble.Idly she played with the handcuffs, moving her wrists around, trying to pullthem open. If only she had some way to get them off. She had to smile at thethought. The express purpose of handcuffs was to make sure the wearer didn'thave the means to easily remove them. She was truly the damsel in distress.All that was missing was someone to save her.

There weren't any sounds from the warehouse but the door cut most sound off.Without a watch she had no idea how much time had passed. They might have finishedalready. If she could open the door a crack she might be able to tell if theyhad left. Standing up she carefully made her way to the door. She tried tobe as quiet as possible, walking softly so her heels wouldn't make a sound,and keeping her ankles apart so the connecting chain wouldn't drag or rattle.At the door she used her shoulder to switch off the lights first.

This time she tried to work the restraint belt up as high as she could inorder to reach the door handle. By sliding it back and forth she was able topull it up just enough to grasp the handle in one hand. Slowly she pulled thedoor open so she could see out. The main overhead lights were out, a good sign,and she didn't hear any talking. Carefully she closed the door again. In thedark she stood next to the doorway, debating what to do next. They could bein the front office, talking or filling out paperwork. She nudged the lightswitch back on before shuffling back to the chair. Her plan would be to waita little longer.

The worst part was not being able to do anything. Barely able to walk andher hands all but useless, it was beginning to get to her as she sat waiting.Try as she might to keep it back, a black cloud of panic was creeping up onher. She might not be feeling the despair of being sent to prison, but thefear of being discovered, ridiculed, even having to face the police were alladding together to make her nervous and scared. Darlene felt she had to dosomething. The longer she sat the worse it would get. She walked back to thedoor and switched off the lights one more time. She pulled open the door. Thelights were still dimmed. Standing still, listening, she couldn't hear anyone.

Slowly she ventured out into the warehouse aisle, ready to dash back to theillusory safety of her hiding place at any sign someone else was in the building.Not that she could dash anywhere, more like a crawl. After every step she stoppedto listen for the slightest sound. She crouched down to try to see throughthe stacked shelves. No lights from the front offices. She did see the burglaralarm light blinking. At that point she relaxed. If it was armed everyone musthave left. As fast as she was able she headed toward the shipping desk andfreedom.

Turning the corner she stopped dead. The shipping desk was cleared off, thebox gone. So was her dress on the back of the chair. The keys were nowhereto be found. In shock she stood in the middle of the aisle, staring at theempty desktop. All the boxes that had been stacked by the loading dock doorwere gone too. Her shoulders slumped in gloom. They must have repacked the BabesIn Cages box and taken it along with the other props. The keys,the only way she had to free herself, were gone and weren't coming back anytime soon.

She sat down in the chair by the desk, at a loss as to what to do next. Therewas a telephone on the wall, beyond her reach but she could find some way toget to it. The shelves in the warehouse seemed to loom ominously in the dimlight from the few overheads left on. Waiting wasn't an option any more. Betweenthe three day weekend and the fact that the one customer due for a pickup onSaturday had already come by, it was entirely possible she would be left alonefor three days. There was no way she could go that long locked in chains. Ifonly they hadn't taken the keys.

She stared at the rows of labeled boxes on the shelving. What were the chancesanother one had items from some police show, or even another one of those sleazywomen's prison movies? Darlene sat up, thinking furiously. What were the chances?She had a way of finding out. It wouldn't take much to query the database forhandcuffs. There might even be something in current stock too.

There was a terminal on the shipping desk, but she knew it was set up onlyto enter receiving documents or print picking lists. The guy from the computercompany that maintained their system had told her about it one afternoon whilehe was hanging around trying to flirt with her. Each location could only runcertain programs. Her terminal could enter or search inventory but not generatechecks or payroll reports. She would have to print out every box that matched,and then hope she could reach one.

Standing up she headed for her office. More than ever she cursed the legchains that slowed her down. She shook her head, remembering how she thoughtit was no worse than a tight skirt. It wasn't going to be easy to use her keyboardeither but she was determined to get it done. Turning a corner she saw heroffice door and headed for it, step by hobbled step. In her mind she was tryingto compose the search string, what keywords someone else might have used, orpossible misspelled words. She had to cover every possibility. The last thingshe wanted now was to make several arduous trips back and forth to her desk.

A sense of desperation added urgency but she could move no faster than thelimits of her restraints. Ever so slowly she approached the office door untilshe was finally in reach of the door knob. Like the washroom door she wouldhave to push it open with her knee, so she stood to one side as she reachedout.

The door knob wouldn't turn. The owner must have locked it before he left.She grabbed it with both hands, trying to turn it with all her strength. Sheyanked on the door, hoping it wasn't completely shut. The stout wooden doordidn't budge. Her last hope gone she leaned against the wall, tears flowingdown her cheeks as she cried.

Never in her life had Darlene felt so helpless or been so terrified. Shewould have to use the telephone to call someone. If she could find a numberin the shipping desk she could call the owner or someone else who worked atthe company. It would be humiliating but she had no choice now. And if shecouldn't find a number then it would have to be the police. She didn't wantto think about that. They might decide she was trying to rob the place.

Knowing she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer she started making herway back to the shipping area one last time. How many trips across the warehousehad she made now? Was it three, maybe four? She had lost count. All becauseof a stupid stunt; she had no one to blame but herself.

Shuffling along toward the desk she could see the phone on the wall behindthe desk. Her next problem would be to figure out a way to get to it. She certainlycouldn't reach it. Halting in front of the desk she held onto the top of thechair with her bound hands. There was a broom nearby; she could knock the phoneoff the hook but it would be a challenge to dial with a broomstick. Fortunewas with her on one small matter. Underneath the phone was a list of emergencynumbers, including the owner's home. At least she wouldn't have to call thecops after all. Darlene eyed the desk top. It was low enough that she mightbe able to get on it. If she knelt by the phone she should be able to reachthe dial pad.

"I'd say this would be good material for one of those dumb crook stories." Darlenejumped as she heard the voice behind her. Turning around she saw Joe Riordon,the owner. Startled she backed against the desk, stumbling as the leg chainsgrabbed at her ankles. He quickly lunged forward and caught her as she wasabout to fall.

"I…this isn't what it looks like. Please, I can explain…" Darlenestammered, not knowing what to say. She hung her head, unable to even lookhim in the face.

He pulled the chair out into the aisle and held onto her arm as he led herover to it. "You sit down here and tell me. I'm in no hurry. It doesn't looklike you will be going anywhere either." He leaned back against the desk, foldedhis arms and looked down at her. "Darlene, isn't it? In accounting? You canstart by explaining to me how you got in here. I wasn't aware that we gaveout building keys to everyone."

Still upset at being discovered she had to hold her hands together to keepthem from shaking. His stern expression as he towered over her only added toher nervousness. She began with Friday afternoon, how she had fallen asleepand found herself locked in the warehouse after hours, and her plan to waittill Saturday morning when someone would come in for the scheduled pickup.Then how she had been bored and went looking for a movie. And finally to theunexpected arrival in middle of the night which led to her current condition.

Joe held up a hand to stop her. "So you didn't break in? You could have calledme. That's why my home number is next to all the telephones. You aren't thefirst one to get stuck here. I think I've been called out two or three timesfor the same thing."

Darlene shook her head. "No sir, I didn't want to inconvenience you. I thoughtI'd be okay. I was going to sleep on the lunchroom couch and go home on Saturdaymorning." She went on to tell him how she turned on the TV but couldn't findanything to watch.

He nodded. "That explains why the lights were on in your office, and yourterminal was still active. I saw your database search. You were looking fora movie to watch? Very resourceful, but how did you get to this," he gesturedat her restraints, "from a query on old matinee serials?"

"I, uh, I thought I found the right box but when I opened it I found somethingelse. I copied the numbers down wrong. In the box was an old prison movie,called Babes In Cages ." Darlene was almost too embarrassedto even pronounce the title.

Joe started laughing. "I remember that movie. My uncle Bob was the prop manfor it. He was out of work and didn't care where the money came from. Darn,I'd forgotten all about it." He thought for a moment. "Is that where the costumeand the handcuffs came from? You watched it?"

"Yes. I like B movies. That one wasn't on my list but the cover caught myinterest. It was after I finished, and I was repacking the box that I got thiscrazy impulse. The one scene in the movie, where she gets off the prison bus,it was so well done. Really out of place in a movie like that. I guess thedirector just got lucky.

"Anyway, I was putting the stuff back in the box, when I started wondering.Was it the setting that made her acting seem so realistic, or something else?Well, I decided to put myself in that scene, at least to the extent I could.I know it was a foolish thing to do, and I'm really sorry. I know I shouldn'teven have been out here. I didn't mean any harm, and I certainly wasn't goingto take anything." She stopped, afraid of what he might do next.

At first he said nothing in response. She looked up at him hesitantly, hopinghe wouldn't call the police. His expression was neutral, giving no indicationof what he was thinking. His eyes were fixed on her though, staring intently.Darlene remembered the image in the washroom mirror. Her uniform wasn't hidingmuch. Self-conscious, she tried to reach the hem of the dress to pull it furtherdown. Between the restraint belt and the handcuffs she could just brush theedge with her fingers. All she succeeded in doing was to draw his attentionto just how short it was.

"Your story is so far-fetched that it has to be true. We've had people breakin before, even try to hide after hours, but not once has a single one beenfound neatly tied up early the next morning and already dressed for jail. Idon't think it will be necessary to call in the authorities."

Relief flooded through Darlene. "Oh thank you Mr. Riordon! I love workinghere. I'd never do anything to hurt the company. You and every one else areso nice. It's been my ambition to get some kind of job in the movie industry,something to do with art direction. I never hoped to find a real job with aprop company so soon."

"Not many people want your job. Cataloging dusty relics isn't very exciting.We have a hard time keeping your position filled. I want you to know that theevents tonight won't affect your job here. No one else needs to know either;we'll keep it as our little secret. That way I can blackmail you for yearsto come."

Darlene sat up, caught off guard by his last comment. "Blackmail?" What didhe want? She barely made enough to pay her bills.

He laughed out loud. "Don't worry, just wanted to make sure you were payingattention." He opened one of the drawers at the desk. "Now where did I leavethat camera…?"

"You wouldn't…" She stopped, seeing the grin on his face. "You'reteasing me!"

"I'm making sure you learn your lesson. What if I had been a real burglar?You'd be in substantial danger right now instead of sitting in that chair." Hepaused, frowning. "Wait a minute. You were looking for serials, those old cliffhangers.Damsels in distress. That's what was in the back of my mind. Well you did yourselfproud. I'd say you qualify as being in distress," his head went up and down,looking her over, "and I can safely say you are without any doubt whatsoevera damsel. Is that what really triggered all this?"

Darlene had to look down at the floor as she felt her face blush red. Standingover her he had an excellent view down the front of her dress. Not that thedress covered much in front. She had to sit very still to keep what littlemodesty she had left. Almost as an automatic reaction she crossed her anklesand tried to tuck her legs under the chair. She grimaced as the cuffs on herankles clicked together and the chain scraped on the floor.

It hadn't taken him very long to figure out what she had been doing. Shehad to say something. "I…yes I do like those kinds of plots. Ever sinceI was a little girl they've always appealed to me. I can't explain it; maybeit's the thrill of being so helpless and vulnerable then saved at the lastmoment by the strong handsome hero."

"I can understand that." He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. "Wouldyou like to go home now?"

"I'd love to, but what about these?" She jerked on the handcuffs.

"Hmm, yes, well that would be difficult to explain to the neighbors. Whereare the keys?"

"I don't know. I put them on the desk when I went to, um, when I tried towalk around. My dress was on this chair. I was headed back to the desk whenI heard voices, you and someone else. I hid, thinking I'd wait till you left.When I came back they were all gone. I was trying to figure out how to callon the phone when you showed up." She didn't want to admit she was admiringherself in the mirror.

"They were on the desk? The box too? Cal must have picked them up with therest of his order. I told him to take everything on the loading dock. Thosekeys are probably sitting in the back of his truck out at their location.

"Okay, I know there's a hacksaw in the tool chest. I can cut you loose, butit will take some time and you're going to get a few gashes from it. Thosehandcuffs are made of tempered steel, hard to cut with a regular saw. The otheroption, we go out to Cal's location and I get the box back from him. It's upto you, saw or drive?"

Neither sounded very attractive. There was a third possibility. "Mr. Riordon,what if we search the inventory to see if there are more handcuffs here inthe warehouse. Maybe the keys would fit the ones I have on? I can do it frommy office. I'd hate to have you ruin your investment by cutting them up."

He nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. I wouldn't have thought of it.Okay, you know more about the computer than me, what do we need to do?"

"Can you take me to my office? I can run a query from there. It will onlytake a few minutes."

"Okay." He took her arm and helped her stand up. "Back in accounting, right?"

"Yes sir." For what seemed the hundredth time she began her shambling walkacross the warehouse floor. This time his hand was holding on to her arm tokeep her steady. Progress was slow. After only a moment he stopped her.

"You shouldn't be walking like that," he stated. "I have a better idea." Bendingdown he scooped her up in his arms, one behind her back, and the other underher knees. He carried her the rest of the way to the door. Darlene startedto protest but had to concede they were moving quite a bit faster.

At the office door he put her down. After making sure she was steady on herfeet he took out a keychain and unlocked the door. Holding it open he helpedher inside. "Now, your desk is over there?" Carefully he walked beside her,always holding onto her arm to make sure she didn't trip and fall. "Take yourtime", he warned her, "I don't want you to get hurt."

When she reached her chair she sat down and spun around to the terminal.Fortunately her chair was high enough, and the keyboard low enough, that shecould reach it once she scooted her chair up close. Working the keyboard withhands chained to waist wasn't recommended procedure but she could manage.

"Would it be easier if I loosened the back of your belt?"

"It locks. I don't think you can unfasten it." She leaned forward as he examinedthe restraint belt.

"Too bad. I don't see how to get it off. Okay, can you use the terminal ordo you want me to help?"

She looked up at him as he stood next to her. He bent over to look at thescreen, a position that again gave him ample opportunity and an excellent vantagepoint to look down her dress. "I think I can do it," she answered. Typing wasslow and awkward but she was able to enter the query string and started itrunning. In the reflection on the screen she could see he was just as interestedin her built-in display as the one on the screen. Somehow it didn't botherher. It wasn't fair to blame him when she was the one who chose to put on somethingso enticing.

The query finished, with one result. She read the description, "goth typecostume with handcuffs. What do you think Mr. Riordon?"

"I'm afraid you're out of luck. I know where that item came from." He shookhis head. "It's fake, made of plastic. There won't be any keys. And call meJoe, Mr. Riordan is my father."

"Alright, Joe. I guess that means we take a drive? I'm so sorry to put youto all this trouble. If you'd rather, the hacksaw is okay with me. Cuts canheal." Darlene had to totally depend on a stranger now. She knew the databasesearch had been grasping at non-existent straws.

"Let's drive. I'm not all that confidant about cutting those things off.I'm parked out front. First thing, we have to get you into the car." He rubbedhis chin, lost in thought.

"I can walk. You don't have to carry me all that way. It will take me a whilebut I can get there." She stood up.

"I'm sure you can, but there's a better way. Sit down. I have an idea."

Unsure as to what he had in mind she sat back down in her chair. He tookhold of the back and began pushing her out the office door. He paused at theaccounting office door to close and lock it before rolling her down the warehouseaisle. She had to hold up her legs but he had her at the front office doorin seconds. Looking back she estimated it would have taken her five minutesor more.

He opened the front hallway door and helped her stand up. "The chair willbe okay where it is. No one's going to be here over the weekend. Cal's pickupwas the one scheduled for later in the morning. That would have been a problemfor you, by the way. No one else was scheduled to come in this weekend. Youwould have had to call eventually."

He held onto her arms as she made her way to the front entrance. "Stay herewhile I pull the car up to the door. That way no one will see you." He wentout to the parking lot.

Standing to one side and peering out the glass door Darlene couldn't seeanyone on the street. No traffic went by either. Still, it was a nice gestureon his part. With the way her luck was running tonight, a police car wouldgo by while she was in the middle of the parking lot. She could only imaginethe expression on an officer's face when confronted by a man dragging a womanin handcuffs into his car in the middle of the night.

Joe pulled up and stopped in front of the door with the passenger door facingthe entrance. He got out and went to Darlene. Holding the door open for herhe steadied her with a hand on her arm as she walked to the car. He openedher door and put a hand over head as she sat down on the car seat. She heldher breath as the uniform rode up her legs but she was able to slide back inthe seat and regain some measure of modesty. Joe fastened her seat belt andclosed the car door. She watched him lock up the company entrance and walkback to the driver's side. He got in and started the engine.

Still embarrassed Darlene hesitated to say anything. He had been the perfectgentleman, except for the lapses when he stared a little too long. In a waythat had been flattering too. She had to grant if there was a way to dressthat guaranteed a man's attention she qualified.

Joe broke the silence first. "How about a bite to eat? There's a 24 hourfast food place coming up. Food isn't that bad. Would you like something toeat or drink?"

"That would be wonderful, thanks." She wasn't sure how she would be ableto eat but they'd solve that problem. He drove a few blocks before turninginto the order lane of a fast food restaurant.

He pulled up to the drive through window to place their order. Darlene heldher hands over the cuffs on her wrists and glanced down to make sure the chainson her ankles were hidden in the shadows. Joe nodded in approval when he sawwhat she had done. He rolled down the window and took the bags from the cashier.Without thinking he started to hand them to Darlene, but caught himself onrealizing she couldn't hold them.

Joe pulled away from the drive in window and drove along the street tillhe found a secluded place to park. A row of trees shielded them from the streetand passers by while the parking lot lights gave them light to see. She didn'twant to tell him but Darlene was glad he had stopped for some food. The handfulsof popcorn had not been a proper meal. She was hungry and thirsty.

"Now for our gourmet feast. First course will be hot French fries, freshout of the fryer. Is Madame ready?" Joe placed the fries and her sandwich onthe top of the dashboard in front of her. She looked at the food, tantalizinglyclose just beyond her reach.

Darlene turned her head toward Joe and held out her hands, to the limit ofthe belt and cuffs. "I seem to be in some difficulty at the moment. Perhapsyou could help me?" She gave him her best precocious little girl smile.

Joe put his half-eaten sandwich on the dash and turned to look at her. "Oh!I forgot. Yeah, I guess you do have a problem. Okay, let's try this." He pickedup her container of fries and held one out to her. Leaning forward she tookit out of his hand with her teeth while looking up at him. From the grin onhis face he seemed to find feeding her by hand a pleasurable experience.

"I was going to apologize for not being able to feed myself but I can seeit isn't necessary. You're enjoying this aren't you?" She took a bite out ofher sandwich as he held it out to her.

"Immensely. How often does a guy have the girl eating out of his hand ontheir first date? And we haven even gotten to the movie yet."

Darlene nearly choked as she started to laugh with a mouth full of food.Joe wiped her face with a paper napkin. "Here, wash that down." He put a strawin the top of her cold drink so she could sip on it.

While she ate he told her about the company, how his grandfather had workedbehind the scenes at the studios before starting the company, and how he hadtaken it over when his father retired. Darlene could have listened for hoursto his stories about the scandalous antics of old studio moguls and the hilariousanecdotes about the ways small production companies would skimp on productionscosts. She was disappointed when he stopped to clean up the trash from theirmeal.

"The location is a ranch house that's been rigged for cameras and lights.A lot of directors use it when they need a house in the country. I think it'shad about two hundred coats of cheap paint in the last ten years. I'm not surewhat they are filming tonight. It's outside of cell phone range, mountainsI think, but Cal has to be there. It should take us about an hour. Will yoube okay for that long?" He started the car.

"Yes, I'm all right. I really want to thank you again Joe, for all you aredoing for me." Darlene had been so engrossed in his stories she had forgottenwhy she was in his car. She studied his face as he accelerated out into themain street from the parking lot. Tucked away in her office she hadn't seenhim very often, and never had talked to him. The other employees all spokehighly of him. She could see why. He seemed to be a decent and caring man.

She leaned back in the seat and turned to watch the scenery go by. Conversationlagged but it was a comfortable silence. She leaned her head to one side andclosed her eyes, feeling tired. Joe had a way of making her feel safe, to thepoint where she could relax. The way he had easily picked her up and carriedher around gave her a warm feeling. As she drifted off to sleep a smile crossedher lips. It was a fleeting thought, one she would never admit, but sittingnext to Joe she didn't mind being tied up in the handcuffs.

Joe stole a glance at Darlene as he drove down the deserted road. She hadher eyes closed and head turned to one side, resting or sleeping. Her skimpycostume served only to accentuate the fact she was an attractive woman. Undernormal circumstances his lecherous side would be tempting him to take advantageof her. These weren't normal circumstances. In a way it was ironic. If shewasn't so helpless he'd feel free to be more aggressive, but all he could thinkabout as he looked at her was sheltering and protecting her.

When he pulled up to the location and stopped the car she roused, turningto him to see what was happening. "I fell asleep. Is this where the movie isbeing filmed?" She blinked a few times. He noticed one of her wrists jerkedagainst the cuffs. "Oh, I forgot." She sat up in the car seat. "What shouldI do?"

"You stay right here. No one should bother you. If anyone does come up tothe car ignore them. I'll go find Cal." He opened his door and got out.

She watched him walk through the parked cars and trucks toward the cameralights. He had left her seat belt and shoulder strap on so she couldn't movearound much. Curious, she tried to reach the seat belt latch. She was ableto touch it but couldn't get to the release button. There was no reason toopen it anyway; she had nowhere to go.

She couldn't see much of what was going on from inside the car, but therewas a lot of noise and activity. Looking around she couldn't see anyone inthe parking area. She hoped Joe came back before anyone noticed her. She triedto slouch down in the seat.

He must have found Cal right away because she saw Joe heading back to thecar after waiting for only a few minutes. He opened her door and crouched downnext to Darlene. "Good news. The box was in the back of Cal's truck, and thekeys were in the box. Hold still for just a moment." He took hold of one ofher wrists to steady the handcuff while he inserted the key. He turned it acouple times, back and forth, before the cuff fell open. "Okay, I see how itworks now." A moment later both her hands were free.

Darlene immediately stretched before scratching her nose. "Oh thank you Joe.I don't know what I would have done without your help. It feels so good justto be able to lift up my arms again."

"I have to give Cal his flashlight back and let him know I found the box." Hehanded the keys to Darlene. "Can you get the rest of those things off? Here'syour dress too." He handed her the clothes she had left by the desk. "You canchange while I go see Cal. Everyone's working; no one's back here so you'llhave some privacy."

"Okay. And thanks again. Joe," she reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Ireally mean it. I was about to break down in panic when you showed up. Thedistress was real; you rescued me."

"You're okay now. I'll be back in a few. I might have to wait if they'refilming." He stood up and headed toward the lights. She watched him go, a wistful,thoughtful expression on her face. At last she had the keys in her hand. Lookingdown at the shackles on her ankles she realized if it was possible to hatean inanimate object those things would be high on her list.

The director was at the end of a scene as Joe came back to the set. He pausedquietly till they finished, and then waited for Cal to collect the props asthe scene was broken down. Joe walked over and handed him the flashlight. "Ifound it. Here's your flashlight. Thanks Cal, I needed that box. Couldn't waitsort of thing."

"No problemo amigo" Cal answered. "Looks like we'll be done by late afternoon.Do you need the rest of the junk, errr, props back right away? I can drop themoff on the way home."

"Take your time, nothing scheduled for the weekend. Tuesday is good enough.It's late for me so I'll be hitting the road. Take it easy, see ya then." Joewalked back toward his car.

From the camera lights at his back Joe could see her head through the windshieldas he made his way through the makeshift parking lot. She was sitting up sohe figured she must be finished. He opened his door and immediately haltedin surprise as the interior light came on.

She still had the inmate uniform on. But what stopped him was the gleam oflight from the handcuffs on her wrists, still held against her waist by therestraint belt. A glance told him her ankles were bound together as well. Puzzled,he sat down but left his door ajar to keep the light on.

Before he could say anything she lifted one hand, as far as the cuffs allowed,keys dangling from her fingers. "Could I ask one more favor Joe? Would youhold onto these? I know I can trust you not to lose them."

He hesitated a moment before taking them out of her hand. "Are you sure aboutthis? You understand what you're doing?"

She stared at him, any pretense of joking replaced by an intent, seriousexpression. "I know exactly what I've just done. There is no doubt in my mindas to what those keys in your hand signify. I'm sure.

"And do I know what I'll be doing next? No, I have no idea. That's entirelyup to you. I assume at some point I'll find out."

Joe had been propositioned by women before, but never quite like this. Hedropped the keys in his shirt pocket. The gallant thing to do would be to graciouslydecline and then remove her chains. His problem was a certain reluctance tolet her go.

"Maybe I better just take you home." In truth it was the last thing he wantedto do, but the moment was turning from a rescue to something more. "What'syour address?"

Silence. She looked at him but said nothing. "What? You can't remember whereyou live?" It seemed to him the conversation was headed to bad movie scriptterritory.

"It's a secret. I'll never tell." She turned her head away from him, eyesforward, staring directly out the front windshield.

Joe shook his head. This was a rerun of some absurd spy movie. Still, hecouldn't resist. "Ve haf ways to make you talk." He grinned as she laughed.

"Is that a promise or an idle boast?"

"From now on you answer questions instead of asking them." He started thecar. "If I can't take you to your home, then I guess it'll have to be my house."

Darlene smiled at him. "Sure Joe," she said in a soft seductive voice, "whateveryou want."