杰米和米西在酒店的豪华套房里踱步，练习着下午两点向投资者进行演讲的要点。这笔钱可能就是启动她们初创企业的七位数交易。但我比她们更需要那份合同。下午1点15分，我把昨天克隆的房卡塞进了她们的房门。我一进门，杰米就瞪大了眼睛；米西则冲过去掏手机。三分钟后，两个女人都脸朝下躺在地毯上，手腕被绳子绑在身后，肘部被尼龙绳勒得生疼，脚踝卷起来固定在手上。口球——专业级的白色硅胶——把她们的抗议闷得只能发出呜咽声。1点30分，我最后一次检查我的杰作，然后让她们在地上扭动，穿着袜子的脚在束缚中无力地弯曲，名牌高跟鞋被踢到一边。等客房服务人员找到她们时，投资者已经离开了。Jayme and Missy pace their deluxe suite at the hotel, rehearsing bullet points for their 2PM pitch to their investors. This could be the seven-figure deal that launches their startup. But I need that contract more than they do. I slip the keycard I cloned yesterday into their door at 1:15PM. Jayme's eyes widen as I enter; Missy lunges for her phone. Three minutes later, both women lie face-down on the carpet, wrists bound with rope behind their backs, elbows cinched painfully together with nylon cord, ankles folded up and secured to their hands. The ball gags—white silicone, professional grade—muffle their protests to mere whimpers. At 1:30, I check my handiwork one last time, then leave them writhing on the floor, their stockinged feet flexing uselessly against their restraints, designer heels kicked aside. By the time housekeeping finds them, the investors will have left the building.Lil Missy UK