Adam Adamant had thought he had become immune to his enemies’ attempts to humiliate him. After being knocked out by evil henchmen, he’d frequently found himself dangling by his wrists from sturdy chains. However, this was the first time he had woken to find himself naked, except for his cape, covered in cake and manacled to a wall. Adam shook the chains he was suspended from aggressively in frustration, rather than in the expectation of freeing himself.
“Ow! Be careful! My wrist was sprained by the heavy mob,” complained Georgie, who was chained to Adam. She was wearing a bikini, as she had followed Adam to a stately home in the countryside, where notorious pool parties were held. Their attempt to stop any more events that could be used to blackmail a number of high-profile party-goers had failed and they were the only people left in the now deserted mansion. They were captive on the third floor of the house, which was to Adam’s mind a strange place to keep a set of manacles when there was a perfectly good dungeon in the cellar, but it never pays to underestimate evil.
“I apologise for adding to your distress. Along with your injury, it is deplorable that you have to see me in this state of undress as well,” said Adam.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before: close up and in detail,” said Georgie, breezily.
“My dear child-” began Adam, alarmed. No doubt Miss Jones had suffered a degradation that this age had duped her into thinking wasn’t an exploitation of her sex.
Georgie interrupted him. “I took part in a life drawing course last year. That’s where a class of students paint a portrait of a naked model.”
“Yes, I am quite aware what life modelling entails.”
“I know you probably think if I must draw naked people I should stick to women, but I couldn’t truly call myself an artist if I studied one half of the human population could I? You don’t have anything to worry about, by the way…”
Adam took a deep breath to protest as Georgie carried on speaking.
“I mean, compared to me in my bikini you’re positively overdressed in your cape. Funny how it survived the blast from the cake bomb and your other clothes didn’t. It must be made from the same material as my two-piece. Did they have nylon in 1902?”
“I don’t see how it matters what material our respective clothes are made from if we’re unable to free ourselves.”
“How about now?” asked Georgie and slipped out of her chains with ease. “The whipped cream greased my wrists up something wonderful.”
“I don’t wish to cast aspersions, but I suspect you didn’t discover you could free yourself just this moment.”
“Well, I wanted to enjoy the view,” said Georgie, cheekily, hopping in front of Adam and not averting her gaze, unlike Adam who was keeping his gaze firmly on Georgie’s face.
“You may have found it amusing to dangle in this state for several minutes, but if the cream had melted, as it surely would have done, we would have starved to death chained to this wall,” reprimanded Adam.
“I don’t know, we could have lasted a couple of weeks if we licked the cake off each other. I knew it wouldn’t have come to that though.” Georgie sounded almost sorrowful.
“How could you have possibly predicted we wouldn’t have wasted away? The true owners of this mansion aren’t due back from abroad for two years at least.”
“As I said, I was enjoying the view. When you were squinting at your chains, I was looking through the windows at the driveway outside. I spotted a scooter coming down the drive and I thought ‘That’s odd’ and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The scooter stopped next to the fountain and a man got off it. Thanks to my art classes, I’m a whiz at spotting people by their posture and I recognised Simms.”
“I am impressed by your powers of observation,” said Adam.
“And I remembered you'd left your swordstick behind. Simms knows just as well as I do how inseparable the two of you are. Obviously, being such a good butler, I knew Simms would rush to reunite you with your swordstick. I’m glad you made Simms confiscate my scooter. I had an idea he might use it to travel here.”
Georgie bounced away from Adam to a sash window and pushed it open. “Simms, we‘re up here!” she called and waved down at Adam's manservant. “I wonder how long it’ll take him to compose a limerick about what’s being going on?” mused Georgie, as she walked over to the door.
“Miss Jones, what are you doing now?”
“Going to get Simms, of course! It’ll take him ages to find his way up here on his own. I won’t be long.”
“Miss Jones!” exclaimed Adam, unused to being the one who was left behind, for once.