Tyson scooped me up in his arms, carried me back outside. Soon I hung in midair, but not upside down or with my legs spread wide. I hung facing the planked floor, one leg pulled up way behind me, my toes almost touching the roof, the other folded and tied tight against itself. My arms were pulled up behind me, like a strappado, but I didn’t feel any strain, probably because the diamond patterned ropes on my torso bore all the weight. The only part not supported was my head. It hung down, my carrot top hair loose all around my face.
Tyson stood back and took in his handiwork. “You look hot.”
I was shaking, but not through any strain on my body. “Oh, sir,” I rasped. “I could hang here all night.”
A tiny smile crooked Tyson’s mouth. “Yes, you could, couldn’t you? And just hanging here all
