He promised me it would work. He'd be able to get me out of the tank before I ran out of breath.
Each move, each second, carefully planned for months in advance. I'd practice both still and swimming like mad, holding my breath for longer and longer periods of time. I was up to three lengths of the pool.
All the while the wife watched from a shrinking distance, suspicion crowding out any remnant of sanity in her eyes. How was she to know I was more attracted to her sister than to the husband.
I'd warned him to not treat me with such friendly affection, not compliment me on my lithe body, or mention how bouyancy made my breasts all the more attractive. Itw
What he didn't know then would change everything. She was there, gun in hand, between he and the emergency lever, the one that would release oxygen into the tube running down the back of my costume.

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ganymeder over 11 years ago

Interesting take on the prompt. Great idea!

SelahWrites (joined over 11 years ago)

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act escape artist tank

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