Or so she thought. But the silent, ski-masked member of the rope-bearing team had been enchanted by Zoe's struggles so paid her a midnight visit. Surprised in her bed, Zoe was trussed-up in her pink nighty and tape-gagged, then squirmed apprehensively and kicked up her bare feet while awaiting further attention from the mysterious figure. She didn't have to wait long because after inevitable breast-exposure, Zoe was folded on her hip by a waist-ankle rope-link, an arrangement that neatly positioned her soles for another tickling event.