Chapter 9

I stood with the noose around my neck, holding both of Grant’s hands, feeling Grant’s buttocks rubbing against mine. We could hear the rising hubbub of conversation through the curtain around us as the club members gathered. My heart was fluttering with excitement. Grant and I had done nine shows in the last three years, but this, our tenth, was special.

The noise level dropped suddenly, and I took a slow, deep breath. The curtain would rise soon. I rubbed the back of my head against Grant’s, and murmured a quick “Love you,” to which he responded, “Love you.”

Outside the curtain, I heard Jackie clear her throat, and begin the introduction. “I want to welcome all of the members here tonight, as our First Year students host their first party.” During the last year, Grant and I had begun appearing at parties for other classes. Our class no longer hosted its own parties, of course: we were graduates. “Later, at the end of the evening, the First Year class will proudly present Tony Cermont, who will be hanged for your entertainment. But now we have an addition to the usual program, one that we present from time to time. I believe all of you know, by now, that this feature will not end in death, but I’m sure you won’t fault the stars of our show for that. Ladies, gentlemen, performing together for the final time...” Jackie gave special emphasis to the word, “ ... the Hanging Academy, and its graduates, are happy to present Ms. Amy Cameron and Mr. Grant Sadler!”

As the curtain was drawn upward, I buried a smile at the honorific applied to my name—as if I were a free woman. I let go of Grant’s hands before they became visible, and crossed my wrists in front of my crotch. My hands were not tied for this performance. My only restraints were two silvery chains, each running from a metal cuff around one wrist to connect to a similar chain around my waist. As I moved, the audience would be able to see that the chains were too short for my hands to reach my neck. Grant and I had some freedom of movement, but it was important that we still couldn’t save ourselves.

The audience took in a collective breath as Grant and I were revealed, our bodies bare and oiled for the spotlights.

I liked to sweep my eyes across the onlookers on my side of the cage, before clearing my mind for the performance. In addition to the club members in attendance, and the First Years who would be hosting them in private sessions after the auction, all the remaining graduates were there. Students in the other classes were not allowed in the party pavilion tonight, but I knew that Melissa and Jana were watching through the small grill overlooking the party room.

I also saw Holden, standing near the front of the crowd, next to Shawna. Holden’s eyes were wide, trying to take in everything at once, and he nodded as Shawna pointed something out to him. Then Holden pointed to something else, leaning toward Shawna with a question. Holden was dressed for the party in a bathrobe-shaped thing of semi-transparent green that ended at the tops of his thighs. It was held up by an elastic band across his chest, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. The top few inches were opaque across his chest, but still thin enough to be dimpled slightly by his nipples. His belly was visible behind the gauzy fabric, already showing taut abs from his workouts in the gym. So were the thong briefs in darker green. His legs were bare, and he stood in green felt slippers. The overall effect was that he appeared ready to surprise his lover with a very intimate evening. Holden had picked out the outfit himself, and I couldn’t imagine improving on it. His reddish hair was mostly swept back behind his ears. He looked both adorable and magnetically sexual.

I was surprised to see Steffi Bloom, also near the front. I hadn’t seen Steffi at any previous parties, even though she’d been a club member for nearly a year—because of buying Larry. Steffi had an odd look on her face—”dumbfounded” was as close as I could come to describing it. I wondered whether it was merely surprise at seeing Grant and me, but her reaction seemed to go beyond that.

The crowd hushed still further now, as the overhead lights were dimmed, leaving only the spotlights from four directions picking out Grant and me in the center of the room.

The crowd disappeared from my perception. There was nothing but the touch of Grant behind me, the feel of the platform under my feet, and the soft caress of the rope around my neck.

I started the script, growling furiously, “It’s your fault we were caught! And now we’re going to be hanged for it!”

Grant, behind me, snapped, “My fault?? You told me the courtyard was clear of guards!”

I replied angrily, “It was! You should have had time. Why were you so slow? It’s your fault for not running faster!”

Grant snarled, “You got me into this. Did you ever really love me?”

“The assassination was your idea! And I did love you! With all my heart!”

“I loved you too—Oh no!” This was the final line of dialogue, our reaction to the platform starting to descend.

I kept breathing steadily and deeply, then I felt myself lifted in the air by the noose. The last bit of nervousness faded away as I snuggled into my comfort zone, suspended by the neck. We had rehearsed this performance many times. My body knew what to do without further thought.

Grant gave me the first bump—suddenly contracting his stomach muscles to force his buttocks back. They banged hard against mine and sent me swinging forward. My pendulum swing brought me back in contact with Grant, and I gave him a hard butt-bump of my own.

The crowd laughed, understanding that two angry lovers, unable to continue fighting in words, were now battling physically with our posteriors.

As Grant swung back again toward me, we interlocked ankles. I pushed downward, tensing my leg muscles to lift myself. The tension in the noose eased, and I took several breaths, then relaxed my legs. That signaled Grant, and he tensed his own leg muscles, pushing upward to take his own turn at breathing. The audience wouldn’t notice this trick, their attention would be caught by each of us slapping the other’s hands away.

Each of us now caught the other’s hands in our own, interlacing fingers, and now things changed. The audience could see the change in our postures, as if each of us was remembering how much the other meant to them.

We now took turns lifting the other by arm strength alone, while the focus of the audience was shifting back to our feet. I let the inside of my right foot brush upward against the back of Grant’s leg, in a very intimate way—only to stop and straighten my leg quickly, as if remembering that I was still angry at him. Grant now mirrored that move, his foot briefly caressing my leg before, again, suddenly stopping, pretending he had meant nothing by it. The audience, again, laughed appreciatively.

During my next turn at breathing, I turned my head to the right, as if trying to look behind me at Grant, and then suddenly faced front again, with a tiny headshake—no, we are not lovers anymore. Grant did the same when it was his turn to breathe. I repeated the head turn, holding it longer this time, and more slowly turning it back to the front, then closing my eyes, and clearly mouthing the words, “I love you.” Then Grant did the same.

And now it was time for our most difficult move. I let go of Grant’s left hand. I lifted my right foot, pressed the sole of it against Grant’s synchronously upraised left, and both of us pushed. This swung us slowly into grand, opposite circles around our joined hands until we were facing each other. The fronts of our bodies came together gently and we looked into each other’s eyes. We had spent more time working on this one move than any we had ever done before. It wasn’t enough just to turn to face each other. It had to be as poetic, as graceful, as it was physically possible for it to be.

I allowed my attention to wander to the audience for a moment. The loud gasps told me it had gone perfectly.

Slowly, each of us raised his right thigh high up into the other’s crotch, feeling it squeezed there. The first part of the program had been very difficult, with several intervals during which neither of us could breathe—it taken all of our aerobic conditioning to make it through. For the next segment, breathing would be easier, relying only on alternate thigh-squeezing and lifting, and one of us would be breathing at a time.

Each of us put their hands on the other’s hips and pulled them closer. We kissed, putting our arms farther around each other. Then we let our hands roam to as many parts of each other’s body as we could reach. We held the kiss, rocking our hips in rhythm.

In previous performances we had always had our hands bound, either behind our backs or around each other’s waist. Now, even with the chains, we were able to make unfettered love to each other in mid-air.

I didn’t need to keep concentrating now. All my movements now were perfectly natural, a combination of my years in the noose and my love for Grant. Surrounding sounds were filtering into my conscious mind; I could hear the mingled moans and gasps of audience members getting excited by our display.

I gave Grant’s thigh a quick double-squeeze, to signal that we should start our final new move of the program. This was the reason we needed our hands free. I grabbed Grant by the waist and he did the same to me. I grabbed his cock between my thighs, and he pushed upward, rubbing it against my pussy. We kept our chests and our lips pressed tightly together. I used my arms to lift myself up to breathe for about 2 seconds, then relaxed while Grant took his turn breathing. To the audience, it must have looked like we were just rubbing my breasts against his. At the same time, we rocked our hips, sliding Grant’s cock in between my thighs. I was in heaven, hanging by my neck while making love to Grant.

I listened to the sounds now, the choked gasps of orgasm from the audience: they brought my own excitement to a higher level. In other circumstances, without hanging, Grant and I could have kept each other at this level for nearly an hour, but even with the lifting trick we weren’t getting enough air; we had to cut our lovemaking short. I felt the pleasure between my legs build into a fire inside me, hotter, hotter ... and explode at last so that I forgot to lift up and breathe for a few seconds. At nearly the same time, a warm wetness spurted against my pussy; Grant had also climaxed.

I let my legs slowly fall, my body go limp My hands slid apart and slipped away from Grant’s waist. Then I caught both of Grant’s hands in my own as our bodies separated, keeping that one contact with my lover after death. My field of vision darkened, and I thought for a moment I was fainting, but it was just the curtain rolling down around us.

I did, in fact, nearly faint just as the platform came up underneath me to touch my feet, but I had enough energy left to support my weight. I could breathe freely now as the pressure from the noose slackened, and I shook my head from side to side to loosen it still further, as Grant did the same. Jackie was with us on the platform now, checking that we were both okay; then she removed the nooses. As Jackie unlocked our handcuffs and waist chains, I heard the sounds from outside again, applause louder than I had ever heard before.

I hugged Grant tightly and kissed him, then we reached for the robes that Jackie was handing us. I was just getting the robe around me as the curtain rose again, and we stepped out of the cage and waved, grinning, at the crowd. We turned slowly to face all sides as the applause increased in volume. We were intentionally slow pulling our robes closed, making sure the audience could see Grant’s semen on my pussy, and the last drops of my juices dripping from between my legs.

I smiled as I walked toward my private room, holding Steffi Bloom’s hand; Steffi had outbid everyone else at the auction, paying the highest price Grant or I had ever fetched. It had gone over eleven thousand by the time the last other bidder dropped out, and it was the first time my sale price had ever topped Grant’s.

Steffi looked very distracted, all the way to the room. I suspected Steffi was wondering how to act in this situation. I kept smiling, reassuring her that it would be fine...

On reaching the room and closing the door, Steffi seemed even more agitated. I was feeling a little uncertain at the vibes I was getting from her, so I sat on the bed, still robed, trying read what she wanted. At last I gave up. “Ms. Bloom...”

Steffi turned and looked at me. “Oh, no. Steffi, please.” She did manage a tiny smile. “I do feel as if we’re old friends, in a way.”

I smiled again. “There is that. Okay then ... Steffi. Would you like...” I frowned. Steffi had resumed pacing. “Steffi, anything you want, we can do that. You own me for the next three hours.”

Steffi sat abruptly in a chair, facing me. “I just needed to get you alone so I could tell you something. It might be important.”

I was completely at sea now. “You just paid all that money because you wanted to ... tell me something? Steffi ... I’m really grateful for whatever it is, but you could have just written to me here, anytime you wanted. For free.”

Steffi waved away my concern. “Don’t worry about the money. It’s nothing. And it’s about something I didn’t know until a few minutes ago. I mean, I knew it, but I just found out it related to you.”

I moved close enough to take both of Steffi’s hands in my own. “Just tell me, okay?”

Steffi looked up, her lips pressed together, her expression saying how-do-I-start-this. “I never knew your last name until tonight, when that boy said it just before your show started. Are you Andrew Cameron’s sister?”