Who Bagged the Girl Downstairs?

by Daniel Guy

Rick sits out in the garden at the back of his girlfriend’s apartment, enjoying a late afternoon joint in the sun. He’s in his twenties, lean, good-looking, with long blond hair, a goofy smile, and this young man hasn’t a care in the world. That’s because for the past six months he’s been blissfully happy, living with his rich and beautiful Sicilian girlfriend called Frankie, who’s tall, olive skinned and very slim and loves him enough to keep him in her luxurious apartment. She earns more than enough as a model, so he doesn’t have to work, and can lounge around her flat, playing his guitar and sunbathing in the garden outside whenever he wants.  Last week he spent a week with her on her father’s luxury yacht, sailing around the Greek Islands and that was great, only he was a little nervous about her dad. The guy was a large and imposing man, with gold teeth and piercing eyes and Rick sensed he was not someone who’d take shit from anyone. During the trip, Rick overhead him one morning on the phone whispering something like ‘That fucker is going to talk so I need you to make him disappear…’  Rick decided the guy had mafia connections. That would explain the luxury yacht, and lavish lifestyle, and the three black suited bodyguards who accompanied them on the trip. 

But right now, Big Daddy is a long way away and Rick doesn’t care a fuck. He looks at his watch, finishes his joint and strolls up the wooden steps into the apartment. Frankie had said she would be back by six, so he starts to prepare a meal. Frankie loves it when he cooks.  She’s taught him how to make a great spaghetti carbonara. He opens a bottle of wine. He puts on some music. He opens a drawer and fetches out the cocaine.

When Frankie arrives, the meal is ready.  He opens wine, they chat about the photo shoot she’d done and the clothes she had to wear. When she asks him about his day he decides to have some fun. 

‘Well, this morning I met the new girl who’s just moved into the basement flat’ he says, as casually as he can.

Frankie looks up from her spaghetti. 

‘What’s she like?’

‘Her name’s Lisa. She’s cute. Around twenty-seven I guess, five foot five, slim, red hair, nice breasts…’

Frankie is silent. 

Rick looks up and grins. He’s discovered Frankie is a very jealous 

woman.  He loves to wind her up. 

She points her fork at him and says,

‘You lay one finger on her, Rick and I’ll have your dick cut off, you know that, don’t you, honey,’ 

Rick leans over, kisses Frankie gently on the lips.

‘Hey, I’m joking.  She’s weird. She has a ring in her nose. Not my type at all.’

A few days later the sun is hot again and Rick is back in the garden. He hears the gate squeaking at the front of the house. He gets up, thinking it might be Frankie coming home early, but when he turns the corner he sees Lisa walking into her apartment. He waits a few minutes before going upstairs and fetching a heavy brown parcel that had been delivered earlier in the day.  He walks down the steps to the door of the basement, rings the bell and waits. He rings again and finally the door opens, but only about six inches. Holding out a large and heavy parcel, he says, 

‘Hi there, Lisa. How’s it going?’

‘Is that for me?’

‘Yeah. It arrived today. You weren’t in so the postman left it with me.’

‘Oh. Thanks. I’m very grateful. Thank you.’ 

She opens the door a little more so she can take the parcel. 

‘It’s pretty heavy. Can you manage it? I can bring it into the apartment if you want…’

‘No. It’s OK.’

Rick wants to make more conversation, but Lisa takes her parcel and starts to close the door.

‘Hey, so… like… how are you settling in?’ he says.

Lisa looks up. 

‘Fine. Everything is fine, thanks.’ 

‘You know - you can use the garden whenever you want.’

‘Great. I’ll bear that in mind.’

Rick runs out of ideas. 

‘OK. Well, I’ll see you around. If you need anything you just come upstairs. I hang out there most days.’

She stares at him, maybe a few moments longer than she needs to, and then nods. 

‘I think I’ll be fine. Bye now.’

She smiles politely and shuts the door. 

A couple of weeks later, he’s slumped on the couch, watching tv in the early hours of a Sunday morning. Frankie is fast asleep in the bedroom, and Rick decides it is time for him to turn in too, but then the moment he switches off the TV he hears a faint groan coming from the apartment downstairs. He listens for a while. Lisa is clearly still awake. The groan continues for about ten seconds and then there is silence. Sounds like she’s having sex, so he peers out of the window to see if there are any cars parked outside but there’s just Frankie’s Mercedes. He’s not seen her take in any visitors since she arrived so he assumes she’s just having a bit of fun alone. He smiles and while brushing his teeth, he wonders if he should introduce her to his mate Glen, who’s just split from his girl, and needs a bit of company, but then by the time he’s slipping into bed, he’s forgotten about Lisa completely. 

He doesn’t see Lisa for weeks and then one morning there comes another parcel addressed to her, identical to the first. Rick leaves it on the kitchen table, and decides he’ll go sit in the garden and wait for her to return.  But as he’s making coffee he keeps glancing at it, wandering what might be inside.  Finally his curiosity wins out. He finds a knife and a roll of parcel tape identical to the stuff used round the package. Carefully he cuts around the edge, lifts up the flaps, peers through a tiny gap. 

Thick, clear giant-sized plastic garbage bags. That’s all. Nothing more exciting. He reseals the box and and leaves it on Lisa’s front door mat before going into the back garden to smoke. All afternoon he’s wondering why she needs so many garbage bags.  He never sees them filled up, lying out beside her bins.  Why does she need so many? There must be a hundred in each box. 

Rick and Frankie spend the next day on the beach, and in the evening they go out to visit friends. They come back to Frankie’s flat, and Frankie settles down to watch a movie on TV  Rick sits beside her on the couch then gets up to roll a joint. 

Since Frankie hates him smoking in the flat he goes out to the garden, lies down on the bench to look up at the night sky. It’s a hot and humid night and since there’s no moon, the sky glitters with stars.  

He glances down to basement and the French windows opening out onto the garden. The curtains are not completely drawn and a shaft of pink light glows between them. Rick looks at his watch. It’s one am. Lisa is awake. He thinks about her for a while and when he finishes his joint, he can’t resist creeping silently down the grassy slope to the window. He peeks through the tiny gap in the curtains and into the bedroom, and the first thing he notices is a large white bed covered with the same clear plastic sacks that were in the parcels. Just as he is trying to figure out what it’s all about, Lisa wanders into the room. She’s naked. She walks around to the end of the bed and sits down, facing a large mirror. She reaches down and gently strokes the bags lying around her. She seems lost in her own world. Then she picks up a bag and starts to caress her breasts with it and at once her back arches with pleasure. Though he’s just getting a side view, he can still can see her large rounded breasts now wrapped in shiny clear plastic and her nipples becoming so erect he can see them poking out like bullets. She continues to massage her breasts, her cheeks and thighs with the soft plastic and then to Ricks’s amazement she opens up one of the sacks and slowly pulls it over her head.  All the time she is watching herself in the mirror and there are moments when he can hear her faint groans through the glass doors. Rick is transfixed. He’s seen this kind of weird shit on line but not like this, not real. She picks up a second bag and having opened it up, she leans forward and slips her feet inside.Then she stands up and pulls up the sack till it’s over her bum and then sits back down on the bed. Each sack is about metre wide and two metres long, so now the two sacks envelope her completely. She writhes and groans, her hands between her legs, like she’s having a really horny time of it.

He finds his dick is getting hard. Reaching down to unzip his fly, he taps his knuckle accidentally against the window and she stops and turns. Rick backs away at once, scampers up the grassy slope to hide behind a tree. 

He peers out and sees her at the window. She’s climbed out of the bags. She’s pulled the curtains open and she’s looking out. It’s very dark outside and Rick knows he cannot be seen. Moments later the curtains are drawn closed, and this time there’s no gap. Rick waits a few moments and then creeps silently up the stairs to Frankie’s apartment, amazed, amused and still very aroused.

The following morning Frankie is packing a suitcase and preparing to leave for a five day photo shoot in Monte Carlo. Rick carries her case to the car and loads it into the trunk, hugs her tight before she climbs in, and then stands on the kerb, waving at her till the car is out of sight. It’s another fine day and he has no plans, other than to smoke weed and drink beer and listen to music in the back garden. That night he creeps back out there, waiting for the bedroom light to go on, but the room stays dark. The next night however, he’s in luck. Pink light seeps through the gap in the curtains and this time the gap is a little wider.

He cannot resist edging slowly towards the French window. She’s there again, lying naked on her bed this time, with the box of plastic sacks beside her. She is texting on her phone. Rick is determined this time not to make a noise. He stands about a foot away from the window. She leans over to the bedside table to put the phone down and then she sits up, reaches into the box and starts to pull out more large clear plastic sacks. Again she unfolds each bag slowly and lovingly, like they are delicate, beautiful things. She slips each arm inside a bag and caresses her body, slowly, ritualistically, arching her back again, closing her eyes, her face an expression of irresistible delight.

Now she is kneeling on the bed and she’s facing the window. 

She picks up a sack, opens it out and then lifts it up above her head, then slides it slowly down. She lifts her head up, opens her mouth wide, closes her eyes and moans in a state of deep pleasure and satisfaction. 

Rick’s cock is hard again. He unzips his fly, not knowing why the sight of her, naked inside the shiny bag makes him harder still. His dick is out. She turns to the window and smiles. She rubs her shiny breasts, then reaches down between her legs and opens them up so he can see her stroking her cunt. 

She reaches for a red silk scarf that hangs over the edge of the bed. She ties it round her neck, so the plastic billows out into a tight balloon when she breathes out, and when she sucks it sticks tight to her face. Her mouth is open and he can hear her groaning again. She suffocates, rubs herself, rocks her body back and forth, and this goes on till Rick is close to jerking off. 

Then her body clenches and she sucks in air and freezes, falls back onto the bed and lies there still, sprawled out and lifeless. Rick jerks off, and his spunk splashes up the window. 

He stares through the gap, afraid, transfixed, unable to respond, till suddenly she rouses, sits up, pulls off the bag and then looking straight at the window, she laughs. He pulls away, not sure if she saw him.

Rick’s a lucky guy.  Lisa gives him a show like that twice a week for the next three weeks. He becomes obsessed. He sneaks out to the garden every night and watches her though the gap in the curtain, perform the same ritual. Each night she pulls out fresh bags from the box and plays with them like a child with toys, before slipping inside them and masturbating. Each night the ritual ends with her sealing a bag over her head with the red silk scarf and groaning with intense desire and pleasure. Each time the ritual ends with her collapsing onto the bed lifeless, and Rick left in suspense, waiting for her to spring back into life and pull off the bag. Each time Rick ends up jerking off and then having to wipe the spunk off the window with a tissue. 

After a month of this Frankie starts to act like she suspects something isn’t right with Rick. He’s less inclined to fuck her every night. She’s hungry for him always, so she gets annoyed. He seems a little cool with her too, and distant. 

Saturday night there’s a big pool party at a hotel near the beach about a mile from the apartment and both Frankie and Rick are due to attend. Rick feigns a cough all day and then while Frankie is in the bathroom, putting on her eyeliner, he stands in the doorway and in a wimpish voice he confesses that he doesn’t feel well enough to go. 

She stops, puts the eyeliner down and turns to him. 

‘No, Rick. Tonight you have to come with me to the party. You cannot stay here. They are good friends of mine. I don’t care how fucking sick you are, you’re coming with me, OK? I’ve ordered a cab for eight pm so you have twenty minutes to get yourself ready.’

Rick has never seen her quite as adamant and he realises he’s going to have to go.  

So they arrive at the party. It’s huge, extravagant and sparkly, with about a hundred people all beautifully dressed, drinking cocktails, and a band, and sumptuous buffet laid out, and everyone is having fun. Except Rick. Most of the people are friends of Frankie, the sort of people he can only tolerate for an hour or so before he’s bored. Added to which the host is the wife of a politician and as a result there are no drugs anywhere to be had. The only person he vaguely knows is the bass player in the band, and when the band stop for a break, Rick asks him if he had anything nice to smoke. The guy says no. Rick cannot believe it. So he wanders back into the crowd to look for Frankie, hoping she will agree to going home. Frankie however is having a great time, dancing with her girlfriends and getting tiny on champagne. 

‘No Rick. We’re staying here.’

She glances at her watch and adds, 

‘We’re staying here till two am. Then we can go home.’

Rick senses she cannot be persuaded so he nods miserably and walks away. He grabs another beer and ambles round to the front of the hotel. He sees the line of cabs parked outside and has an idea. He jumps into a taxi driver and gives his address. The plan is to go back to the apartment, hoof up a line of cocaine, collect some weed, and be back before Frankie realises he’s gone. This, he decides is the only way that’s going to make the night bearable. 

The cab stops outside the apartment and he tells the driver to wait. Next to Frankie’s Mercedes there’s a black transit van. Rick is curious. Has Lisa finally got a visitor? He goes into his apartment and as he’s cutting up a line of cocaine he hears a faint squealing from downstairs. Fuck, she’s at it again, he thinks. After snorting a line, and rolling a joint, he leaves the apartment, but can’t resist creeping down the stairs to the garden at the back. The lights are on but the curtains are closed. He tip-toes up to the window. He can hear faint squeals and starts to feel aroused again, imagining what she’s getting up to. He hears the sound of Lisa’s front door open, and male voices. He creeps back to the side of the apartment building, peers round the corner and sees two guys walking away to the black van and climbing in. The cab driver is still there, waiting. He watches the van drive off slowly. 

He returns to the garden. He presses his ear to the window and can hear her squealing, this time louder and with more intensity. Moments later he hears a vehicle moving slowly along the gravel path that runs along the back of the garden. He turns, sees headlights illuminating the tress and bushes at the end of the garden. Then he sees it’s the same black van. 

Suddenly the curtains fling open and light floods out onto the garden. He steps back in panic and darts back behind the tree. 

Now this time he can see clearly into the entire bedroom and there is a guy in the room standing by the bed. On the bed is Lisa, completely wrapped up in several layers of the clear plastic sacks but this time they’re strapped tight around her with silver tape and the guy is watching her writhing about helplessly. It’s obvious she’s suffocating and is desperate to get out. Her whole body twists and writhes frantically on the bed and the guy holding the roll of silver tape is just looking down and watching. He leans over the plastic cocoon, grabs Lisa’s head and starts to wrap more tape around it. Like a worm on a hook, she bends and squirms violently, unable to breathe or free herself from the layers of plastic wrapped tight around her entire body. When he’s finished he steps back and just stands there, arms crossed, waiting for her to suffocate. Rick panics. He has no idea what to do, but before he can make up his mind, he hears a noise behind him. A rustling of the bushes. He steps back. The guys in the van have walked through the gate and are making their way through the bushes to the back of the apartment. Rick kneels down behind a bush. One carries a large rectangular cardboard box under his arm.They pass close by him and go up to the French window. One taps the glass and the guy inside walks round the bed to let them in. Now all three guys are in the bedroom, standing around the bed. The wrapped naked body of Lisa is still bending and contorting on the bed but now less frantically. 

The men stand perfectly still and watch, hands in their pockets, waiting. Rick can see her face through the plastic layers, her desperate eyes, her head jerking from side to side. He can see her body bouncing and twisting helplessly on the bed in front of them. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just watches her suffocate.  Her movements slowly become less frantic and desperate, and then finally she gives up and the shiny cocoon sags to a final stillness.  The guys keep watching for a few moments longer and then one drops the cardboard box onto the bed beside her and takes off the lid. They reach over to the mummified body, lifts it into the box and then slip the lid back on. One guy raises the box enough for another to seal the lid on with the silver tape. Moments later all three guys are carrying the box out like a coffin, through the open glass doors of the bedroom into the garden. They walk past Rick, close enough for him to recognise one of them. They make their way through the overgrown bushes to the lane at the back. He hears the back doors of the van slide open and the box slipped inside. The doors are closed. The engine starts, the van backs up slowly and then drives off. Rick stands in silence behind the tree, half shocked, half aroused. 

He sits down on the grass. He tries to roll a joint, but his hands are shaking. He’s trying to remember where he’s seen the guy he recognised. Then it dawns on him. It was one of the bodyguards on the yacht. Moments later he hears another engine. Another car has pulled up round the front. He doesn’t know what to do. He hears someone coming round the side of the apartment. He doesn’t know whether to shout or hide. He looks up and out of the shadow comes  Frankie. She walks over to him. 

‘I thought you’d be here. What’s up. Didn’t like the party, Rick?’

Before he can reply, she says, 

‘She’s gone, Rick. Packed up and gone forever.’

‘Frankie, what the fuck is going on?’

Frankie says nothing and walks past him, into Lisa’s bedroom. She picks up a plastic sack lying on the floor. 

‘Look, Rick. She left one behind.’

She steps back out into the garden and walks over to him, opens up the bag and as he stands frozen, she pulls it down over his head. 

‘Gotcha’ she says, smiling. 

He doesn’t try to stop her. He stands quite still and stares at her though the plastic. She takes his face in her hands, leans forward, plants a gentle kiss on his plastic covered lips. 

‘Come to bed, Rick. She’s gone forever now. I’m bagging you tonight.’

Daniel Guy