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Ah, home sweet home, Richard thought as he stood on the stoop, stamping his feet to get rid of the excess snow. It had been a long and profitable week, but now he was going to get some well-earned rest and relaxation. As he shrugged off his overcoat, he couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the coup that he had managed to pull off this week. Snatching away the Jamison account from that loser Jones had just been the icing on the cake. Icing that was going to bring in big bucks and big kudos. Yes, there was definitely going to be a promotion in store for Richard Stephenson. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the look on Jones’s face when he realized what had happened. It had been priceless. Hmm, it was a bit chilly in here – there was a distinct draught blowing around his ankles. Once he had hung up his coat in the closet he would..
 "SURPRISE!"
Richard had no time to react before a figure leaped out of the closet, tackling him, XXXXing him to the floor. He XXXXd as his necktie was grabbed and wrapped around his throat, throttling him. It felt as if his eyes were going to pop out of his head as his supply of oxygen was cut off. Not content with strangling him, his assailant was banging Richard’s head against the floor.
"Take that, you smug, cheating bastard. I hope it fucking hurts!"
 Even with roaring sound in his ears, the voice sounded familiar to Richard. Just before he passed out the pressure on his throat eased. As he tried to drag air into his empty lungs, he was flipped onto his stomach, and his arms were dragged behind his back. Gasping for breath like a landed fish, he couldn’t stop his attacker from wrapping rope around his wrists.
"Stand up, you slime ball. Oh, you have a problem getting up? Here, let me help you."
"OOOOOWWWWWW!" Richard shrieked in pain as a hand grabbed his hair and dragged him to his feet. He was sobbing as he was dragged into his living room and thrown into a chair. It was only then that he got a good luck at the man from the closet.
"Jones" he wheezed "what do you want?"
 "Shut the fuck up you two-faced piece of shit. I don’t want to hear a word out of you. This’ll help you to keep quiet."
"No, don’t …GMMMMMPPHHHHHH!"
Richard thought he was going to puke as a piece of cloth was shoved into his mouth, halfway down his throat. A couple of pieces of tape sealed in the cloth, effectively silencing him.
"MMMPHHHNOOMMMOUCHOHHHNNOOOOSHTOP!"
Hmmm, Jones does seem really pissed, Richard observed to himself as his business rival wound rope tightly around his body. He didn’t care one little bit for the manic gleam in Jones’s eyes. The guy had always seemed a bit edgy, but this was ridiculous. Talk about overkill! So what if he had lost the account? Something equally juicy would turn up. Eventually.
 "How does that feel? You don’t look quite so smug now, you smarmy turd. Ha, if they could see you now. All roped and gagged and mussed up. What should I do with you now? Let me think about it. Gee whiz, I’m all out of ideas. What do you think, Richy baby? Hmmm? Speak up, I can’t hear you."
"GGGGGMMMMWHYMMDONMMWEGGTALKBOUTMTHIS? HMMMM?"
"HAHAHA! Talk? I’m sick and tired of listening to you, you glib ass kisser. You really did a fucking number on me with Jamieson, didn’t you? I am surprised you could still talk, your head was so far up his ass. No, no talking from you, babe."
 Hmmmph, what a sore loser. Jones was just jealous. If he wanted to succeed in this business, he had to smooth away his rough edges, and learn to talk about the things that counted. Good wine, fine dining, boating, travel, things like that. Richard rolled his eyes as Jones ranted and raved. He would just let the poor idiot run out of steam. The schmuck would eventually come to his senses and realize what a big mistake he had made. Of course, Richard hoped that he didn’t realize quite how badly he had erred when he broke into the house and abused and bound him. Oh, this big blond was going to jail for a long, long time – plus, he would lose his business. There were still a few choice tidbits that Richard hadn’t managed to pry loose from him. The thought of the vengeance he was going to wreak almost made him forgot his discomfort.
"And all of that fancy talk about wine. Who the fuck wants to drink wine that tastes like earth and blueberries and chocolate all rolled into one? You wouldn’t stop boasting about your wine cellar and all the pricey vintages that you had collected. Why don’t I go and look and see what I can find? Hmmm? Does that sound good to you, Richy Rich?"
 Richard’s musings came to an abrupt end. His wine cellar? No, even Jones wouldn’t dare touch his wine! It was monstrous! As Jones would off in search of the wine, Richard began a frantic struggle to get free. He wriggled and squirmed trying to reach the knots around his wrists. As he heard the distant sound of glass shattering, he threw himself to the floor, thinking that he might get wriggle room if he was lying down instead of sitting in the chair. As he heard more crashes, he gave up on freeing his wrists, and concentrated on trying to undo the ropes around his ankles. If he could free his feet, he could make a dash for it and summon help before this madman inflicted any more damage.
 "Where do you think you’re going, tricky Dicky? It’s not polite trying to leave just as the party is about to begin. I’ve got to fix you. Now, no kicking! That is even ruder. Tsk, tsk, trying to kick your guest. What would Mumsie think? There, that should keep you in one place. Now it’s time for a little drink. All of this work is making me thirsty. What should it be? This Chateau Petrus, or this Chateua…whaddya call it? Yquem? Or how about this Screaming Eagle. Yeah, I think the bird wine. At least its made in the good old US of A.
 "MMMMNNNOOO!!!GGGMGMPPHNOTMMTHESHREAMINGMEAGLE!"
Richard wept in impotent fury as the philistine calmly sat down in a chair, turned on the TV and opened the precious bottle.
"Hey, it’s not too bad. It will taste better with a little Coke or something like that added to it. Lemme see what I can find. Don’t you go anywhere."
Richard nearly had a stroke. It was bad enough that he would have to lie here and watch that prick drink his wine, but to XXXX to watch its desecration with pop…no, he couldn’t bear it. He made a titanic effort to free himself, grunting in pain as he strained every muscle in his body. Alas, it was futile. He couldn’t loosen the ropes one little bit.
 "Mmm, this is yummy. I could get used to it. No wonder you like this shit so much. Just a little more Coke….delish!"
Richard lay on the floor in sullen silence, as he unwelcome guest sucked back the bottle. He was fuming, plotting how to get even. Jones was going to regret the day that his mother met his father. Why the fuck couldn’t he shut up. Richard tried to block out the sound of Jones’s rambling, but it was impossible. Even the sound of the cartoons on the TV couldn’t drown out the sound of the increasingly inebriated Jones.
"Well, hick, that wasn’t too bad. You know, Dicky, I’m feeling better already. Now, this one is almost a dead soldier. What do you say that I try this Quemy stuff, no that’s not right…Y-Quem. That how you say it?"
"MMMMNNOOOOO! GGMUGOTTAMMSTOPNOW!"
"Stop, why should I stop? I’ve just started. You know, this stuff makes even a sack of shit like you look kinda good. Yeah this hooch here is making me feel all soft and gooey, romantic even. What do you think, Richy? You want to be pals, huh? Come on, talk to me."
Richard gulped as Jones grabbed his hair and XXXX him to look up. Seeing the bulge in Jones’s jeans made him gasp. Jones couldn’t , he wouldn’t. Would he? But…Richard would do almost anything to save the rest of his wine. He gulped through his gag and attempted to look inviting.
 "MMMERRMMMURR….SURE! GGROMANTIC!"
"Thats a boy. Just one more lil drink, or maybe a couple more, and then we’ll get down to business."