So mesmerised by her own image was she, that she failed to realise immediately what Angela was preparing to do.

Straight Jacket by Marcus Skinner | Goodreads Straight Jacket by Marcus Skinner | Goodreads

She also – normally - welcomed its stifling, sensory depriving qualities into her strange little tie-up scenarios. Notices telling the public to keep out, and explaining that security guards frequently patrolled the site, were posted at regular intervals around the perimeter. Once daylight arrived, she rose and pottered about her flat, going over her plans what seemed like a thousand times in her mind, checking and rechecking that she hadn’t missed some crucial detail which could scupper her scheme before it had even begun. With Angela prepared - slightly reluctantly but with good grace - to humour her friend’s desire to stay incarcerated, even going so far as to hold the wine glass up to her mouth whenever she asked, or to feed her slices of the delicious pizza, there was no need to be released for several hours.But she still had to work out just how, when the time came, she was going to broach a delicate subject that, quite probably, would be an alien concept to her long time buddy.

Straitjacket Stories - Modern Award-winning Straitjacket Straitjacket Stories - Modern Award-winning Straitjacket

It was Saturday, after all, and people didn’t always appreciate being disturbed that early on a non-working day. As a Social Purpose Corporation and 100% employee-owned company, we pursue both social and financial goals in the for-profit context, even if those social goals may at times conflict with the corporation’s financial interests. Angela picked the straitjacket up and examined it thoroughly for a minute or more, while Sally bit her lip and wondered what her friend was going to say. Even Sally was slightly taken aback at the ferocity with which her none-too-willing assistant yanked the strap upwards, making it bite deeply into her crotch. Slipping her arms into the thin sleeves and pulling the heavy garment around her shoulders and up to her neck, Amy found that she could take things no further.

Down ill-lit corridors she led her perplexed colleague in silence; their footsteps on the concrete flooring and metal stairways being the only soundtrack to this strange procession. When she looked across at her rigger, she noticed that she was standing a few feet away, a bemused smile on her face. The package, bearing only her name, address and postage stamps on an otherwise bare, manila surface, gave no clues as to the goods contained therein.