Lyfftway To Heaven


by Victor Von Doum and animegirlwithagun

Part One



“Heather, hey,” Iza sees the caller ID on the incoming call, greeting her friend. “Glad you called. You won’t believe the dream I had last night.”

“Oooo, do tell. Also, are we still going out tonight?” Heather responds, excitedly, and hearing noise in the background, asks, “Where are you anyway?”

“At the Horseshow. Yes, the famous one on Queen.” Iza replies, mentioning the bar and its street in downtown Toronto. “To answer your question: maybe. First, I needed a drink to calm myself down.”

“OK girl, you barely ever even drink. Now you GOTTA tell me.”

“Of course! Oh, crap, I just got a text that my Lyfft driver is out front. One sec while I pay.”

Iza was feeling tired so she decided to Lyfft it home. She grabs her purse, pulls out a twenty from her wallet for her now-empty Cosmo and grabs the shopping bag of her recent purchases. She walks out the bar door into to early Friday evening cool-ish but humid — remnants of an overnight thunderstorm — summer sun, looks for her driver and still on the line with Heather, to whom she reads aloud, “Text says the driver’s name is Victor…”


Iza Major Knockout

Iza, mid-20s, of mixed Asian descent, cuts a striking figure: lithe and demure, her toned figure manifests her longtime passions of volleyball and dance.  Her mid-back length black hair this evening uncharacteristically pulled back, her high pony tail juts its way through the hole in the back of her Blue Jays baseball cap, and her berry red long sleeve crop top perfectly accentuates her firm-and-perkies, leaving her navel partially exposed just above her tan leggings, themselves poured into knee-high 7cm-heeled black boots, hugging her long legs just tightly enough to leave no gap, but not too tight to leave any indentations. Her wooden heels make clomping sounds on the pavement as her matching berry red nail polished fingertips grab the Aviator sunglasses atop the brim of her cap, placing them over her amber brown eyes to help her adjust from the dark barroom into the now-setting but still strong sunlight. A vague haze hangs in the hair, a residue from the overnight thunderstorms.

A few moments later Victor pulls up in a sky blue 2022 Lucid Air, lowers the passenger side window. Iza asks, “Hi, Victor?”

Sporting a pair of Wayfarers over his eyes, he responds with a chuckle, “Victor is my earthly name, yes. I’ll be your Lyfft driver.”


Iza giggles and replies, “Hi, earthly Victor. I’m Iza. Hope you don’t mind if I keep talking to my friend on the phone. Great car, by the way. But I didn’t even request a Lyfft Lux.”

“Not at all. You’re the boss,” comes the reply. “Oh, and thanks. Don’t sweat the car: regular rate. I was the closest driver to you. Figured you just might want to get home on a Friday, ya know?”


A trash can is blocking the back seat opening at the only available spot in front of the bar, so Iza walks around to the street side, opens the door, sets her bag and purse toward the passenger side of the back seat of the white leather interior, clicking on her Lyfft app to confirm the ride. She notices Victor and pauses for a second to gaze upon his visage. He appears angelically handsome and in his mid-40s; salt-and-pepper long-ish hair and short goatee, sporting dark Wayfarers. She continues the conversation with Heather.



“OK, so I slept like shit last night. Yes, ‘alone.’ Bf still on that business trip…plus, we HAVEN’T yet, you know…and he’s supposed to get back tonight but storms delayed his flight and they’re all backed up to high heaven. Anyway, I get a crazy dream. And I mean CRAZY. It starts out like a film noir, minus the raincoats and fedoras: I’m walking through an alley with steam or smoke partially obscuring the path. Out of the fog comes a male model-gorgeous white guy, around our age, a stereotypical dark-haired, square-jawed, with maybe a two-day stubble kind of guy. I noticed his piercing emerald-green eyes as we walk past each other. A second later — it’s a dream, remember — we are sitting on my bed, about to start making out like horny teenagers. Yes, the one in my apartment. Yes, still fully clothed. So, we’re sitting up, facing each other, about to kiss, and he takes my hands and put them behind my back and holds them there by my wrists. He lets go, and as I start to move my hands to put them around his back, I can’t. ‘Why?’ Get this: because I’ve got a bunch of rope around my wrists! I remember feeling for the knots but I could only feel what appeared to be a loose end or two. With my hands behind my back, boobs are pushing out, and a second later they’ve got some ropes all around them, like a figure-eight going around them and over my shoulders and pressuring my girls from all sides, turning my nipples into pencil erasers. Still wearing my top but somehow, I feel cool forced air hitting my actual nipples and it feels…wow. I remember opening my mouth in awe—yes, ‘still in the dream’—and then I feel a cloth in my mouth, gagging me. Then a tight ball of something flies into it, and I can’t spit it out because a whole mess of thick tape gets wrapped around my head so that I can’t utter a single word. I look down at my legs—wearing my black knee-high leather boots with the heels—and somehow Mr Green Eyes has already got them tied, yeah at the ankles and some other places too because I can’t move them at all, they’re so tied together. And I mean tight because I can feel the ropes through the boots. Then I feel tight ropes around my elbows too, making them touch each other! Then I’m on my stomach and get a rope strung from my wrists, pulled hard to my ankle-ropes so that I can barely budge. I remember feeling the leather of my boots with my fingertips and then boom, I feel something between my legs. No, not ‘that’—a vibrating rope of some kind. Must have been a ‘magic rope,’ yeah. I remember how excited I was and how great it all felt, especially that somehow, I can control that rope and its vibrations. ‘Did I cum?’ That’s just it, and I sure AF could have used it: never been easy for me and also been ages. ‘No, bf and I haven’t done it yet.’ So yeah, there I was, totally about to cum, but that stupid huge thunderstorm rolled in at that very second and woke my ass up! I wake up and had my pillow in my mouth and my legs together practically humping my blanket, and my I’ve got a bedsheet wrapped around my wrists with part of it between my legs. No, I couldn’t ‘get back to sleep,’ not with the thunder rolling all night and the dream I’d just had, are you crazy?

“Well, I go to the bathroom to wash my face, calm down, go back to bed, and finally get SOME sleep. I wake up groggy AF this morning, look into my closet and what do I see already set aside? All the clothes from the dream: berry red long-sleeve crop top, tan leggings, and these killer boots. Must have set them aside before I’d gone to bed, which must have put them in my dream. Check the weather and it’s supposed to be a little chilly but humid, so I figure why not. Plus, it’s casual Friday so I can wear a crop top. So yeah, I get to work and can’t concentrate AT ALL today, but I remember that adult toy store on Queen Street, The Love Shoppe, just a few blocks from my office. I know I have check it out after I’m done for the day. Don’t want anyone to notice me going in there, so when I’m done at work I grab my Blue Jays cap from my desk drawer, pop into the ladies’ room, put my hair in a pony and the cap over it, grab my Aviators, walk out the door, and make a beeline for the place. I get there and fingers crossed, no one I know sees me go in and inside, luckily no one’s there I know, even though I’m in disguise and all. I look around for all the items from the dream, but I have no idea what I’m really looking for. No, I’ve never ‘done that kind of thing before.’ Bf would never go for it. He’s too square. Anyway, saleswomen must have noticed my confusion because they approached me and gave me knowing smiles when they answered my embarrassing questions about the dream. They told me that LOTS of women get these dreams and they’re there to help. So yeah, I described what happened, and they show me a couple ballgags, some wraparound microfoam tape, some extra-long gray bandanas, and a bunch of rope, already cut into 3-meter lengths. They even told me what a strict hogtie was. Oh, and guess what: I bought a vibe too! A Hitachi! They told me to get the factory dust off with a soap-and-water-wash of any item that would hit a sensitive place, put it all in a very discreet brown paper shopping bag, which I have with me now. Was so nervous that I had to grab a drink, so I crossed the street and got one at the first bar I could walk to. Heading home now. Damn I’m exhausted from last night and today but hoping I can rally. Why don’t you come over at 8:00 and let yourself in? We can figure out what we want to do then. ‘Use them all tonight?’ Ha ha, girl, I’m beat. Maybe someday soon, right? Ha! Bye!”

Heard It On the Next

Iza, sitting behind Victor on the driver’s side, looks up at the rearview mirror and see Victor’s sunglass-covered eyes looking back at her. He turns his head to look right, and she notices a huge smile on his face, stifling a chuckle. She instantly realizes that he’d heard her whole conversation and her face turns as berry red as her shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed! I can’t believe I told my friend that whole story in front of you! I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry!”

“WHAT story? I heard no story of any sort.” Victor jokes and continues, “Don’t sweat it. People often think the back seat makes for some kind of soundproof Cone of Silence. You wouldn’t believe some of the conversations I’ve heard.”

“Any as embarrassing as mine?”

“Well…I wouldn’t call your story ‘embarrassing’ as much as…exploratory. Plus, it was just a dream, right? Can’t get embarrassed over your subconscious thoughts that you, by definition, can’t control.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Still…” Iza, still embarrassed, notices a spray air freshener in the door-pocket of the back seat and asks, “Hey Victor? Mind if I spray your air freshener? Your car’s spotless but I kinda need to clear the air, literally and figuratively. Plus, this citrus scent may help perk me up till I get home.”

“Of course, please do. That’s what it’s there for.”

Iza sprays the air freshener, sniffs its scent, starts feeling dizzy. Her vision spins. Reflected in the rearview mirror she sees Victor slightly lowering his sunglasses, his eyes turning neon emerald green. She slumps to her side, unconscious.


Homeward Bound (6:56pm)

Iza wakes up slowly in her own bedroom, on the bed in her apartment. Lying on her back, she quickly realizes her wrists, now tied behind her, will not budge as she attempts to bring them around.  

“Wha…?” Her eyes begin to focus in the dimming sunset light of her bedroom. She looks down toward the foot of the bed and sees coils of rope around the ankles, cross-tied, of her black leather knee-high boots. She pulls her legs toward her, but all movement stops when a rope running from her ankle ropes to around the footboard stretches to its limit, almost no distance later.

“Hello?” Iza calls out, instantly realizing that maybe she should have not uttered a sound. Nervous, she can’t stop herself. “Anybody there? If you are, help me! Please.” Iza uses her bound wrists to push herself up into a sitting position.

Footsteps start from outside the bedroom, slow and deliberate. Iza’s heart beats faster. A man enters appears at the doorway.

“Hi, Iza. It’s Victor, your Lyfft driver. Hope you’re not too uncomfortable.”

“Oh, hey, Victor,” Iza replies nervously. “No, I-I-I’m ok. Just wondering why I’m tied up and all.” Iza looks him more closely and swears he looks familiar.

“You…you look different than you just did in the car. You…you…you look like the man in my dream last night.”

“Oh, that’s an easy one. It’s because I am.”

End of Part One


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