I first met Rani in a combined Graduate/Undergraduate Seminar on Computative Algorithms (my introduction to computing; before that, I was a Math Major and only biding my time in school until I was a Junior to join ROTC and work towards a commission). This was about 6 or 8 months after my New Yorker decided that she could no longer stand the Left Coast and had to return to the hustle of New York. Rani was about as different from my New Yorker as any woman could be. Although she was tall for an Indian (almost 5’7”), she was still much shorter than me. Her hair was long and black, and it always hung silkily down her back to her waist. Her figure was full, almost Rubenesque. Her eyes were dark pools that sucked your soul into them to drown in their depths. Her complexion was the most beautiful shade of olive that I had ever seen. Her lips were perfect, neither too full nor too thin. Her nose suited her face like it was made for it. In short, she was perfect. Unfortunately, she was a graduate student and probably wouldn’t have a thought of even talking to some lowly undergrad ... Well, I wouldn’t have mentioned her if that was the case. The class was one of those ‘consent of the instructor,’ which translated to ‘by invitation only’ for undergrads and to ‘you will take it’ for graduate students. It was used as a filter for those undergrads that the Powers-That-Be thought would make good grad students. Anyway, Rani and I ended up on the same project (something relatively trivial for an accomplished programmer but a fairly big deal for both of us, as I was just learning how to program, and she just didn’t have the mindset to really be a programmer). What with one thing and another, we ended up basically living in each other’s pockets for several weeks and eventually, without either one of us trying very hard, in bed together.

Well, we hit it off like a pair of minks. My GPA dropped at least a point, hers even more (and you know what that means to a graduate student). Eventually, she moved in with me (but kept her dorm room too, for appearances’ sake). At one point, I actually asked her to marry me, but she pointed out that I was totally unacceptable to her parents and that while I was quite good enough for her, it wouldn’t really work in the long run. Ah well, it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

One game that we liked to play, and the one that probably ate deepest into our communal GPA, was a sort of ‘quid pro quo’ or I tie you, you tie me. She was the limberest person that I ever met in my life. I’d bet dollars to donuts that she could out-escape Harry Houdini (at least on one of his off nights). I’d tie her up, and I’m no slouch with knots, and turn my back and poof she’d be free. So every time that I’d tie her up, if she escaped, she’d return the favour. If she didn’t, I couldn’t use that particular tie again. Naturally, she wouldn’t escape while I was watching her, but would wait until I left the room or turned my back. So I would bind her tightly and then play with her wobbly bits until she was exhausted. That at least would slow her down somewhat.

One night she seemed a bit pensive over dinner, and after we had cleaned up the kitchen, she said to me, “Now it is time for some fun with ropes”. So I proceeded to try out my latest idea for securing her. I placed her in the formal dining room chair (the only one in that totally mismatched house), high back, arms, heavy, dark wood. I tied her arms around the back of the chair, each arm to the opposite side, then her elbows to the slats on the back. Her ankles were tied to the back legs and her knees to the arms. Carefully, I opened her blouse and pulled up her skirt (oh, I forgot to mention, she never wore pants, ever) and down her panties. Several minutes of nuzzling, licking, and sucking on her nipples soon produced the desired result; more manipulation of the other wobbly bit finished her off (I thought ). I left her post-orgasming and went to wash up and make a little snack for us both. Before I even finished washing my hands, her arms wrapped around my waist. “Got you” was all that she said. Ah well, I thought, my turn again (little did I know).

She led me back to the chair, all the ropes were still attached to it, and sat me down. Quickly she tied me in almost exactly the same way that I had tied her. Then she said, “Now you will be attempting to escape”, and walked into the bedroom. As I struggled unsuccessfully with my bindings I heard her opening and closing drawers, the closet, and a suitcase. I wondered, idly, what she was up to. After about 15 minutes she returned from the bedroom wearing a red and gold sari. Brother, was she a sight! She had made up her face fairly heavily, with very dark eye-pencil all around her eyes. A dark red cast mark was between her eyebrows with a small golden star above it dangling from three golden chains to her hair. From an earring a thin chain crossed her face to a golden ring that pierced her left nostril. Golden chains by the dozens hung around her neck over a dark red, almost maroon blouse. Her sari was a bright red with a golden scroll pattern along the border. To put it simply, she was breathtaking. In her hand was a long pale yellow scarf. She had a very serious expression on her face.

She started to tell me about her astrologer back in India, how sometimes she would call her and say things like, “Be very careful getting on the train at Rajnipoor” or “watch for cars tomorrow” and there would almost be an accident. And how one day she had called her and said, “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but your brother will die this afternoon”, and that evening an officer from her brother’s regiment came by and told her and her mother that her brother had been shot by a sniper, up in Kashmir, and that he was dead. All the while she’s walking around me, dragging the scarf across my body, wrapping it around my head and slipping it off, sliding it around my neck, and fiddling with it. Eventually she fiddled with it so much that there were two large knots in it, about 6 inches apart.

Then she says, “You know, nobody at school knows that we are living together, but she called me here this afternoon and told me something very strange. She said that ‘This evening you will strangle a man, hang a woman, and then hang yourself.’”. With that, she whipped the scarf around my neck and pulled it tight. “I wonder which woman I will be hanging? Good-bye, my love, it has been fun.” And with that, she pulled on the ends of the scarf.

“Gaa...”. Silence, not a sound from my gasping mouth as the heavy silk cut off all air. The knots pressed on the side of my neck. In seconds, my vision tunnelled in, and I faded away with the thought “Oh shit”...

And then faded back awake. I was still bound to the chair. Rani was kissing me and saying “Oh, do wake up, dear”.

“Gack cough”, I choked, “What was that all about?”

“Well, my astrologer said that ‘there would be no deaths unless I tried’, to avoid the actions that she had foreseen. So I chose you to be the man. Now I must find a willing woman, and well ... I was looking into your other footlocker (figures she’s an escape artist, what price a cheap Master combination padlock). And I know that you have women’s clothing in your size there. Do you sometimes dress as a woman?”

“Well, sometimes I do, for special occasions”.

“I thought as much. Will you be my next victim too? Please? I can think of no other person to use”. Well, to make a long story short, after not a whole lot of wheedling, she talked me into it.

She smiled very widely, “I had something made for you as a special surprise. Now it will come in handy”. With that, she began to untie me.

“What was with that scarf that you used on me?”