Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2224575-Tape-Sales
Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #2224575
Becky tries to help a girl who's selling duct tape, but her attempt backfires
Becky Carter was not a morning person. She was a true night owl, often staying up very late to do research or watch a movie, or whatever. Getting up in the morning, that was another story. Take now for instance, 8:00 a.m. and she had to be at work by nine. It didn't help that she'd been up till three in the morning. If she could start at twelve and work till eight P.M instead of this morning business she figured she'd die from pure ecstasy.

At least there was coffee. She sipped her warm mug in appreciation. That definitely helped. Her mother had to go down to NYC for a business trip and would be gone for two days. Her fifteen year old sister Dakota had already left for school for the day. Which was fine with her. This particular morning she barely felt conscious. Becky sat down at her keyboard, wanting to look a couple of things up real quick before she had to leave for work. She was dressed in a charcoal mini skirt that just covered her knees, with a white button up shirt concealing her white tank top underneath. No shoes on yet, just long, charcoal colored dress socks. She wore her black leather banded wristwatch with gold trim. Her soft, long, slightly curly hair was partly in a bun, with the rest of it cascading around her shoulders framing her grey eyes, small nose, and light splash of freckles cutely on her still slightly sleepy face. Becky wore no makeup. She went for more of a natural look. She wore it to parties and such, but saw no reason to constantly have to worry about it. Besides, her mom and sister always told her she looked better without it.

"Wow, do I wish I could go back to bed," she said to herself, yawning. She talks to herself sometimes, a habit she's trying to break.

Knock, knock, knock. Three rapid knocks on the door.

Who in the H E double hockey sticks is that? Becky got up from her rolling chair. It was eight freaking o'clock in the morning!

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! The knocks sounded like rapid gunfire now.

"Hold on! I'm coming!" Becky yelled. She opened the door, ready to yell at whoever was disturbing her peace. She stopped when she saw who it was. Certainly not what I was expecting. A diminutive Japanese girl stood in the doorway, timidly holding a suitcase.

"Hiyee! Mi called Amaya! Would you like buy some duct tape?" Amaya began, speaking with a heavy accent. She had silky black hair that was cut about an inch off her shoulders. Brown, puppy dog eyes looked up at Becky with such innocence that she felt the angry words die away in her throat.

"Well," Becky said kindly, "I'm not really looking to buy tape right now."

"Pleez, I need money fa college. I have many kind of color. Different strength fa different need," Amaya begged her.

Becky sympathized with her. College cost a lot of money, and if you couldn't get a loan or scholarship you were sunk. She relented, "Ok, come in. Let me see what you have for sale. My name is Becky, by the way" Becky smiled at her. Becky turned to go into the house when she felt something prick her neck. She whirled around, feeling with her hand a tiny dart in her neck. She saw Amaya holding a very small blowgun to her lips. She smiled at Becky.

"Whaaaasss, whaaa." Becky's vision began to blur and the last she heard before she passed out was "Hiyee! I got you!" Strange, thought Becky. She slumped to the floor, unconscious.


Becky jerked awake, someone was lightly slapping her cheek. Dakota? No, she was at school. Opening her eyes, she saw she was in the dining room. Amaya was bending over her, trying to wake her up. A suitcase loaded with different brands and colors of duct tape rested on the table.

"Wakey, wakey, little snakey!" Amaya taunted her. She had changed into all black and a black balaclava concealed her features, leaving only a slot for her eyes. Her English sounded perfectly fine.

"Whaaat? You.. your English is…."

"Is perfectly fine! All part of the disguise. A poor girl new to your country trying to make ends meet!" Amaya interrupted her.

Becky tried to get up, but couldn't. She looked down. She was seated on a dining room chair with armrests. A plethora of colors met her eyes. There was tape everywhere. Her long, thin socks were off her feet and there was pink tape wrapped around them. Lime green on her ankles, black around her calves, orange around her thighs, red wrapped around her waist pinning her to the chair, her wrists had brown parcel tape arresting them to the arms of the chair, her hands had been wrapped into pink fists, blue around her forearms, grey tape restrained her biceps, and finishing it up purple tape above and below her breasts. Essentially, Becky was welded to the chair. At least she wasn't gagged. Not yet anyway.

"Come on, I would have gladly bought your tape." Becky tried to reason with her. She tested her restraints. The Japanese girl had done her job well.

"I don't do this for money. I do this because I get bored," Amaya said, "If you were like me, you would understand."

"Well, tell me and maybe I can help you. Anyway, going around duct taping people to chairs isn't helping anybody. What say you cut me loose and we'll have a heart to heart? I promise I won't call the police," Becky finished kindly.

Amaya laughed, "Police? I'm not worried about the police. I cover my tracks well. No fingerprints, you barely saw my face, and I won't take anything so there's not much the police will do."

"I never forget a face," Becky countered, which was true. She had a knack for remembering faces.

Amaya shrugged, "My dad has enough money to buy a whole police force. Besides, they wouldn't care."

Becky could make an educated guess on what Amaya's issue was. "I know what your problem is. You're trying to get your parent's attention. You're wealthy, pretty,smart, you probably ace all your classes. Yet dad and mom are too busy getting rich to pay attention to their daughter."

Amaya jerked a little, a small giveaway that Becky was right, at least partly. Amaya's eyes softened for a moment, like she might open up. Then they hardened. She picked up Becky's pair of socks she'd pulled off her feet earlier. Amaya balled them up, "Don't presume to know me!" Amaya said, irritated. "Now open up."

"Not a chance," Becky said through clenched teeth. No way was she gonna open her mouth for this rich brat. In a way, Becky felt sorry for her, but still, she was the one taped to the chair.

"Fine," Amaya ripped off a few short pieces of black duct tape, then began walking around the room.

Becky's eyes narrowed as she watched her. "What are you doing?" she asked, teeth still clenched shut.

"How many is in your family?" Amaya asked.

"Three. Mom and my sister aren't here."

"Obviously not. You think because I'm Japanese I am stupid?" Amaya asked.

"What? No, that's not what I was implying I was…..ffrrrfmmmgggg!" Becky had forgotten to clench her teeth when Amaya accused her of being racist. Now as the Japanese girl finished stuffing the socks in her mouth Becky realized that's exactly what Amaya wanted to happen.

"Gggggefrfffffrrrrrggrrrrmmmm!" Becky growled.

Amaya laughed as she plastered four or five strips of black duct tape over her mouth, sealing the socks inside. She then picked up a roll of yellow tape that said "CAUTION" on it and tightly wrapped it around Becky's head a number of times.


"Yes, I know." Amaya said, giggling.


Amaya pulled out her phone and took several pics, much to Becky's disgust. She shook her head and squirmed, but Amaya only giggled and continued to snap pictures. Amaya put her phone away, "That's to show my friends. We like to get into all kinds of trouble. So if you ever want me to show you another good time, it can be arranged."

"MMMMPPPPPHHHH!" Becky could not believe this rich kid. The audacity. Coming into her house, taping her up, then offering an encore? She imagined Amaya taped to the chair and really liked that idea. Becky briefly wondered how Amaya got a blowgun with knockout darts. Who gives their kid those kind of things? She'd ask Amaya, but there was all this tape on her mouth. Plus the socks. At least the socks were clean this time. She had not always been so lucky. Listen to yourself, she thought. Lucky to have clean socks shoved in my mouth? Becky lost her temper a little.

"MMMMRRRRRGGGHFFFPPPU!" Becky screamed into her gag. "VRGMGFRD!"

Amaya closed her suitcase, apparently getting ready to leave. "Since you look all nice and comfortable, I think I'll leave you to it. I have at least one other stop to make, so take care Becky!" she finished cheerfully.

Becky yelled, albeit a muted one, after her. Amaya closed the front door, locking it behind her.


Becky's watch wasn't covered in duct tape. The hands read 8:21. Dakota wouldn't be home until three at least. It would be a long day stuck to this chair.


Margaret Swift, also known as Maggie, loved mornings. Why, morning was the best part of the day. Everything was fresh, on sunny days she could watch the sunrise, on rainy days she could watch a grey dawn. After jogging and a shower, she usually watched cartoons until eight o' clock. Yes, intrepid journalist Maggie Swift watched old cartoon reruns. It was something she never told anybody. Maggie sipped her Red Bull, contemplating her plans for the day. She had an interview at 10:00am and she still had to prepare her list of questions. Maggie liked lists. She liked things neat. It was almost narcissistic how she kept her apartment clean. Not a speck of dust. Another thing she didn't share with people.
This morning she has on a black tee shirt with a long sleeve denim jacket covering it. Her sleeves are rolled midway on her forearms. She's wearing blue jeans from Hollister and black & white Converse shoes. Tiny diamond earrings adorn each ear. Natural lip gloss enhances her full lips. Maggie's raven black hair is pulled back in a ponytail. A few strands of hair sweep down the left side of her face.

She busily wrote notes on her IPad, preparing for her meeting.

The doorbell rang. Immediately Maggie got up, making her way to the door, she needed a diversion from her note taking. She opened it. A slender Japanese girl stood there, holding a suitcase. At least, Maggie thought she was Japanese, she wasn't very good at recognizing different nationalities.

"Hi! My name is Amaya! I'm selling duct tape! Have a busted pipe? Flex Tape will fix it! Have a broken broom handle? Gorilla tape's the best! Have a noisy mother in law? Industrial tape will shut her up! Having a party? I have A-Z on colors. In fact I just got done selling quite a few different colors to a customer. She is very stuck on buying from me!" Amaya paused for breath.

"Wow. That's quite the sales pitch. I usually tell salespeople to leave or I'll call the cops." Maggie said.

Amaya's eyes got saucer big, "You wouldn't do that to me, would you? I'm selling tape to support my family. I am the only one in my family that can speak English."

"No, of course I'm not going to call the cops on you. Especially since you have a family to support. Come inside and show me what you have." Maggie checked her watch, "I've got time."

It was against her policy to let strangers in her house, but Amaya hardly looked like the type to menace her. Maggie prided herself that after years of being a damsel in distress she knew a threat when she saw one. She'd had enough of getting trussed up and gagged. And Amaya, she decided, certainly did not look like a threat. Besides, the girl looked like she weighed less than a hundred pounds. Maggie could twist her around her little finger.

They sat down together on her couch, suitcase between them. Amaya opened it and began showing Maggie the different colors.

"This pink camo tape is pretty cool. Oh and this neon green. I think I'll buy both rolls," Maggie didn't honestly think she'd ever use them, but hey, the best time to ask her for a favor was in the morning.

"Allright, that's a hundred bucks." Amaya said proudly.

"A hundred bucks?" Maggie repeated in disbelief. "I can't afford that, I'm sorry but this was a mistake."

"Only mistake is yours," Amaya said.

It was then that Maggie realized something was off. Amaya opened a false bottom in the suitcase revealing a bottle of liquid, rag, and a…..blowgun?
Maggie quickly tried to pin the girl to the couch, but Amaya broke her hold with some elegant move, somehow dived through Maggie's arms, and jumped on her back, riding her piggyback style. Maggie tried to pull the brat off but Amaya dug her heels into Maggie's stomach, driving the breath from her. Amaya pulled a cloth over her mouth and nose. Maggie thrashed around helplessly, knowing the smell of chloroform. She also knew it would take a few minutes. Out of breath and feeling weak, Maggie sank to her knees, seeing colors that weren't natural. Finally she passed out.

Sometime later

"mmmpppphhhh" Maggie moaned.

She had just woken up and discovered her predicament. The first feeling that coursed through her was frustration. Frustrated she had been bested so easily. The next emotion was denial. Not her! It had been almost a year since she'd been in an inescapable tie. She tested her bonds, examining them. Maggie was taped to one of her high back chairs. Her hands were taped to the sides of the chair, fists wrapped in tape. Feet, ankles, calves, thighs, waist, stomach, chest, biceps. Even her forehead was taped to the back of her chair, which was head level. Her jaw was immobile, making it impossible to make any noise other than "mph".

Amaya saw Maggie moving her eyes, since she couldn't move her head.

"You are not going anywhere unless I say so," Amaya declared.

Maggie tried to shake her head but couldn't, "mmmmmmpppphhhhhh" she thought her mouth would burst with all the cloth in it.

"You know, you have a big mouth. I was able to get a pair of panties plus four socks packed in. I admit your cheeks really bulged. I covered that with ten turns of grey duct tape, then tied a large blue cloth tightly over that. Next I took neon green and used about twenty turns of that. One more thing." Amaya pulled out a marker and wrote 'Sshh' on Maggie's taped mouth.

"mmmmmppppppphhhhhhh," Maggie still was not ready to believe she was truly trapped. She strained with all her might, pushing against the tape around her forehead, wrists, ankles. Nothing budged. Maggie grew more and more frustrated as she refused to accept it.

"I think I should go now. Enjoy the tape!" Amaya called cheerfully. She left, vanishing into the hallway out of the apartment.

"mmmmppppphhhhh," Maggie finally gave up, exhausted. She had invited her friend, Isabella Rodriguez over tonight. It would be a long wait till then.



Becky jerked awake. Somehow she had dozed off. It sounded like the door had opened and been slammed shut. She was still taped to this chair, thoroughly unable to move. Dakota Carter, Becky's fifteen year old sister, walked through the door into the dining room, barely giving Becky a second glance as she texted on her phone.

Becky couldn't believe her sister, "Mrrfgcsgggerrrrmmmmfff!"

Dakota looked up from the bowl of cereal she was pouring. "Oh, hi Beck," she looked down again.

Becky stared, "mmmrff, mmrrfg, drmg, ggrrmff, MMMRRRRRGGGGGVVVFFFFCMMM!" she finished, trying to yell but not accomplishing much.

"Are you and Maggie up to those escape challenges she likes to put you and Cass through?" Dakota queried.

Becky shook her head, as her cheeks started getting red.

"Yeah right," Dakota laughed, "I see you blushing, you just don't want to admit Maggie bested you again."

Becky's cheeks were red allright, but it was from anger and boy oh boy! Would her sister ever get payback!

Becky realized something then, she looked down at her watch. 11:03am. Dakota must have skipped school. Dakota saw Becky looking at her watch. "About that, uh, since Mom is gone for a couple days and I thought you'd be working late I invited a few friends over for a party."

"Frffrrmmffgrggrrppp!" Becky shook her head again, wishing Dakota would take this stupid gag off.

"Yeah well, I like totally know you wouldn't let me have the party if I untied you so….you are gonna have to like totally stay tied up. I mean, oh my gosh, it's not my fault like you can't get out of Maggie's traps."

Becky tried to stay calm, to count to ten, breathe deeply through her nose. Instead she just lost it, "FFFRFRRRMGGGGRRDEZMFRGGGGRRMMMMMFFGDSRRRMFFGFDSWQARMMMRGGGGERRRRRMMMMMM!!!!" she did her level best to get her sister to take the gag off so she can explain IT WAS NOT MAGGIE!

Dakota looked none too pleased at Becky's outburst. "I like, totally know what you said, and Mom would be totally upset, you using that language, o my gosh!"

Becky raised an eyebrow, really sis? She realized Dakota must be a little nervous about leaving her tied up, because whenever Dakota got nervous she used the words "like" and "totally" as many times as she could in a sentence. Still, Becky reflected, Dakota must really want to have this party, leaving her bound and gagged. Becky figured Dakota's boyfriend, Grant, was coming. Dakota described him as a "five foot six version of Brad Pitt."
Becky thought he looked less than desirable. She once again tried to get Dakota to listen to reason.

"ggggrrffmmmmmmrrrggg" she growled, low and threatening.

Suddenly Dakota's phone beeped, "Oh my gosh, my friends are here.

Two of her friends rushed through the front door. They all screamed at each other in excitement.

One of them looked at Becky. "What are we gonna do with her?"

"Let's take her to my mom's bedroom," Dakota suggested.

Becky screamed and struggled, but in the end there was nothing she could do. She was moved without incident into the bedroom. Her angry glare followed her sister as she left, "Mmrrfffhhpp!" she threatened.

"Sorry sis, if you were my age you'd understand. Like, don't worry, I'll totally let you out when they're gone."


The door slammed shut.

Twenty minutes later the door opened, revealing a husky kid kissing a spiky haired girl.

"Whoa, who's that?" Husky kid asked.


"Oh, that's Dakota's sister. She's cool with what is happening, right?" Spiky said.

"Ffrgggmmm!" Becky shook her head venomously.

"See? Totally fine." Spiky grinned

"Whatever, weird house. It's like Beetlejuice or somethin'." They closed the door.


Rebecca Lillian Carter, also known as Becky, was in for a long, long afternoon.
© Copyright 2020 ScottGrisham (scottgrisham at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2224575-Tape-Sales