Danger! Naked Woman

Danger! Naked Woman

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Copyright Oggbashan June 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Chapter 01

It was dark and raining, the light rain that doesn’t seem much but soaks through everything in minutes. I was driving carefully along a side road on Romney Marsh watching carefully for the sudden right-hand corners that marked the edge of a water-filled dyke. I had been to a committee meeting about a re-enactment event. The meeting had adjourned to a friend’s house and we had been chatting for hours. I was thinking hard about a plot for Nude Day that is National in the US but is celebrated as Bastille Day in Europe. I was more successful in the driving than plot construction. So far I hadn’t made any sudden stops or violent swerves. The plot was more elusive than the twists in the road.

‘Wouldn’t it be nice,’ I thought ‘if an attractive naked woman could appear in my headlights, flagging me down for help.’

That was unlikely as a plot and even more unlikely in real life. At two a.m. on a Saturday morning, in the rain, I was more likely to have an accident. If a naked woman occurred it would probably be a trap, a carjacking or something. But who would want my car? It is old, reliable, but had no real value to anyone but me. I’d probably have to scrap it when it finally started to become uneconomic to repair. And if a naked woman did appear she would probably be some ancient crone suffering from senile dementia who had escaped from her care home. She’d probably pee all over my car’s worn upholstery as I drove her to the nearest Police station.

Where was the nearest Police Station open at this time of night? Folkestone might be open or Dover perhaps, but Ashford, although in the wrong direction was most likely.

Thinking about naked women reminded me of my ex-wife Emma. Even though we had been divorced for more than two years we still made love once in a while, only when she wanted me. I never forced myself on her but if she wanted sex I was always willing. I had the feeling that this stage in our lives was coming to an end. I think she had found a new man and didn’t need me for sex. If that were true it would be good news for both of us. We needed to move on and rebuild our lives. I would be sad because making love to Emma was almost always great. She was passionate and noisy, always totally naked, and I managed to satisfy her almost every time. I could almost see her naked body lying against my shoulder, her hair spread over my chest…

Blast! I had to brake hard to avoid a sheep in the road. Where had she escaped from? Should I try to find out and put her back in her field? No. I didn’t know which field, it was pitch black under the low cloud, and I didn’t fancy trying to persuade a soggy sheep to go anywhere. Sheep are remarkably awkward when they want to be.

As I edged the car past the started sheep I thought that was it. I had met the naked female. The sheep was female, she wasn’t wearing any clothes, she was soaking wet, but she didn’t need my help. She was enjoying the usually inaccessible roadside grass.

Around the next bend, a car’s reflector caught my headlight as it passed. An abandoned car, I thought, as the light passed on. Then I braked. The shape of the reflector was modern, too modern for a wreck. I reversed carefully. There were tyre tracks across the grass verge and the car was nose down in a dyke. This looked bad. I climbed out of the car and put on the key-ring torch. The car’s number plate showed that the car was only a year or so old. I went back to my car and reversed so that the headlights shone on the wreck. I had to leave my ignition on, so I detached the torch from my car keys.

I through the wrecked fence and scrambled down beside the ditched car. I shone the torch inside, expecting a mangled body or two. There was a body resting on the deflated airbag but it didn’t look mangled. It was female, her blonde hair splayed across the airbag, with her face away from me. I wrenched at the door handle. It opened easily but upwards because the car was tilted away from me. I gently touched the bare shoulder. It was cool to the touch, not dead but chilled.

The woman moaned and stirred. Her head lifted from the airbag. She turned towards me. Her eyes squinted against the feeble light of my tiny torch. She didn’t look like attractive at present, her make up smeared on her face; red lines where she had been resting on the creases of the airbag.

“Who’s there?” She asked.

“I’m Paul,” I said. “A passing driver. How are you?”

She lifted her head further.

“I don’t know... Paul. Where am I?”

“In a wrecked car on Romney Marsh. It looks as if you ran off the road into a ditch. Was anyone else with you?”

“Anyone else? No. I was alone.”

She unfastened her seat belt and tried to get out of the car. That was when I saw that she was naked, nude, devoid of clothes, not even a G-string. I couldn’t see any obvious injury so I helped her out into my arms. I carried her up the bank through the stinging nettles and brambles. I opened my passenger door and lowered her to the seat. Her arms were clasped around my neck. As the car’s interior light shone over her I was very aware that she had an attractive body and that she was naturally blonde. I looked carefully. I couldn’t see any injuries apart from a couple of grazes to her knees.

She became aware of my scrutiny. Her hands covered her pussy. I reached past her to pull the car rug from the back seat. She accepted it gravely and covered herself from the neck downwards.

I remembered enough first aid to check for concussion. I asked the usual questions. The answers that mattered: Her name is Julia; she lives alone in Canterbury; she had come to the Marsh to spend a weekend with a man she wouldn’t name but she had changed her mind and fled in HIS car which she had crashed. She knew the date, who was the Prime Minister, she could see my fingers – all that sort of thing. She had been drinking too much before she drove away.

I asked what she wanted to do now.

“Paul,” she answered, “HE will be looking for me. I don’t want HIM to find me today.”

“Does he know where you live?”

“Yes.”

“But if you have crashed his car, surely he is stuck – wherever he is?”

“No. He still has his four-wheel drive. I took his Porsche – and wrecked it.”

Julia started crying. I pulled her to my shoulder. She rested against it, burying her face and sobbing convulsively. I let her cry, stroking her damp blonde hair.

I was thinking furiously. An imaginary plot about a naked woman was one thing. A real distressed naked woman crying against my shoulder was different. I could see many problems for me. Julia might look attractive but what was she like? She could accuse me of attempted **** and I’d have little defence. She was still naked under that rug. How could I get her somewhere where she could get clothes if she didn’t want to go home? What did I do about the wrecked Porsche? Where exactly was I?

I scrabbled for a map. I knew where I was coming from and where I was heading when I stopped. Could I find the exact position on the map? I opened it and peered, using my key ring torch again.

Julia stirred from my shoulder. She wiped her tears with the edge of the rug inadvertently flashing an appealing nipple. I looked away. I didn’t want more trouble. She smiled at me.

“Sorry, Paul, did I reveal something? It doesn’t matter. You’ve seen all of me, haven’t you? Getting worried about being the knight in shining armour?”

I nodded.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked.

“Find out exactly where you crashed so that the car can be recovered.”

“Oh. The Porsche has GPS. Would that help? I don’t know how to use it but Jo…” She cut his name off. “…he was proud of it. He demonstrated it as we drove down but switched it off when we got to the Marsh.”

“If it is still working it would be useful.” I started to climb out of the car. Julia caught my arm. I looked back at her.

“There’s a torch in the Porsche. Much more useful than that tiny thing.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to find it.”

The torch was in a clip under the dashboard. It was expensive and powerful. I turned the ignition on and the GPS. I wrote the position down on the back of a credit card slip before turning everything off again. I took the torch and climbed around the car. Julia must have been travelling slowly. The ‘fence’ she had hit was two hurdles tied together with binding twine. They were under the front wheels. As far as I could tell the Porsche wasn’t even scratched. The front had slid down against soft mud. “Jo…” whoever he was, might have to pay for a new airbag but that might be all. I checked the interior and luggage compartment. They were totally empty. There wasn’t even a scrap of paper to give a clue to the owner’s identity. I wrote the car’s registration on the credit card slip, replaced the torch in the Porsche, hid the ignition keys under the passenger seat, and returned to Julia.

“The Porsche looks undamaged, Julia. How fast were you going?”

“Very slow. I was drunk, lost, and I didn’t know the road. I swerved to avoid a sheep and then the road wasn’t there. I think the airbag knocked me out. Silly, isn’t it?”

“OK. Now we need to talk. What do we do about the car? Tell him?”

“No!” She nearly screamed. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to see him again – ever.”

“OK. How about if I tell the police, anonymously, where the car is?”

“Maybe… If we are nowhere near it. I don’t want to meet a police car and answer questions, especially dressed in a rug.”

“OK, Julia. Let’s get to a main road first. Before we start one last question. Would you rather be dressed very conspicuously but demurely, or stay wrapped in that rug?”

“Dressed, please. What do you mean, conspicuous?”

“As Catherine of Aragon.”

“What!”

“As Catherine of Aragon. I’ve got my costume as Henry VIII in the car, and I have Catherine’s costume as well. The lady who used to wear it has moved and I’m to store it until we find the new Catherine. It should fit you, I think.”

“OK. I think I’d rather be Catherine than a naked floozy in a rug. Where is it?”

“In the back.”

I reached over and grabbed the large plastic carrier bag.

“Here you are. Want any help?”

“I think you have helped enough, Paul. I’ll get out and put this on in the headlights. Can you try not to look, please?”

“OK.”

I studied the map assiduously until Julia swept back into the car in her long dress. This time I looked. The sweeping cloth of gold dress accentuated her trim waist and breasts, yet the neckline was high. She looked regal except for the rain spangled and tangled hair or her smeared make up. I passed her a comb and tissue box and tipped the sunvisor down to reveal the illuminated mirror. Julia grabbed the comb gratefully. She used it to reduce her hair to a manageable condition before combing it with long steady strokes. She removed the wreck of her make-up with the tissues before settling down in the seat.

“I feel more like myself now,” she announced, “even dressed as a queen. I left her tiara in the bag. I thought that was too much.”

“Perhaps not,” I said. A tidied up Julia was attractive without makeup. With it she would be stunning.

“Let’s go.” She said.

“Where?” I asked as I started the car and drove off. “You don’t want to go home. We’ll go to a main road and report the Porsche, but what then?”

“I don’t know. We’ll think of something. Is your wife waiting for you?”

“What wife? I’m not married. I was but she left me for someone else. I’ve been divorced for two years. We’re still friends but nothing else. The bastard left her two months before the divorce was final.”

“That sounded like real venom, Paul. Are you sure you still don’t love her?”

“No. She doesn’t love me, either. We liked each other, we were young, we were great in bed, we got married. Only then did we find out that we didn’t love each other. He was the catalyst to end something that shouldn’t have happened. He treated her badly. How? She never said but I knew it must have been traumatic because she changed suddenly as if I was far better than him. She stopped treating me as an opponent and became much friendlier towards me. She still is. We went through with the divorce even after he had left because although we like each other there is nothing else. We are happier apart and respect each other more.”

“Sounds a sad ending…”

“Maybe, but better that we found out before we had c***dren. What about you? How…”

“How did I end up crashing a car while driving naked? It’s a long story.”

“We have time. It’ll take at least twenty minutes to get to a main road and then…”

“OK. He, I won’t give his name, had been chasing me for weeks before I accepted a couple of his invitations for a meal out, the theatre, that sort of thing. We were beginning to become a couple, I thought. He had been pleasant and hadn’t pushed me too far. A couple of my friends had dropped subtle hints but I thought I could handle myself. One friend was insistent but I diagnosed jealousy. Eventually…”

I kept quiet. I didn’t think Julia wanted a comment.

“…he invited me to his cottage for a weekend. I couldn’t invite him to my flat. It is far too small and the bed takes up most of the space. I could make love there, but it isn’t the place for a romantic dinner first. I stalled for a few weeks until I agreed to let him collect me yesterday evening. Mary, the friend I though was jealous, tried hard to put me off going. She said a lot but only now do I know what she was trying to say that he wasn’t safe to be with. I wish I’d listened to her, but I thought it was sour g****s because she had been his girlfriend for a few months.

We went to a pub in Dymchurch for a few drinks and finally arrived at his cottage about nine o’clock. He had told me to bring the absolute minimum because apart from the village pub there is nowhere to go and there isn’t much space in the Porsche for luggage. I wore a plain black jersey dress, ankle length, over a full slip. I had a long narrow golden belt that went twice round my waist and hung down the front like a medieval woman’s girdle. I took a couple of pairs of panties, a spare bra, a basic make-up kit, and a pair of slacks and a blouse. Oh, and a T-shirt nightie. He said that the cottage was basic and old clothes would be best.”

Julia stopped.

“I think that remembering my clothes is important to me. I chose them. They defined my identity and I think getting me out of them was his way of depersonalising me. He tried to turn me into any woman, or perhaps a particular woman he had a grudge against. Once I was naked he never said my name, only endearments such as ‘darling’. I suppose I’ve lost those clothes. They don’t really matter. What does matter is that I am me, not just any woman. I had taken nothing I really valued except my flat keys. I’ll miss the golden belt. I liked that but it is replaceable. I have a similar dress and I was wearing the older one. I didn’t take any money or credit cards. He told me not to because I wouldn’t need money. I don’t need to go back. That’s a relief.”

“Are you sure? What about the flat keys?” I asked.

“The block has a coded entry system. He doesn’t know the code because he has never been inside. The flat key? I can change the lock. I can get in because several of my neighbours have spare keys. We keep each other’s keys for deliveries and cat-sitting – that sort of thing.”

“Any cat waiting despairingly for you?”

“No. There’s no room in my flat. It’s the smallest in the block.”

I didn’t comment. It struck me that Julia had been incredibly trusting. She had taken no identification, no money or means of getting money. “Jo…” whoever he was, had isolated her with no means of escape from him, except by something very drastic and relying on the kindness of strangers.

“Did anyone know where you were going?” I asked.

“Not exactly where. Some of my friends knew I was going with him to his cottage. One or two even suggested I was foolish. Mary was much more emphatic. I wish I’d listened. No one knew, not even I, where his cottage actually is except that it is on Romney Marsh. I alone knew that it was somewhere near Newchurch.”

“Could you find it again?”

Julia shuddered.

“I could. I wouldn’t want to. I have a very good sense of direction usually. I was watching where we went and I’m sure he took a long way round on purpose. Now I’m sure he did. Yesterday evening I was just slightly puzzled that he didn’t drive the easiest way from Newchurch. When I drove away I was in Newchurch in a couple of minutes. I turned away from the main route in case he was following and took a few random junctions. I was drunk, I still am slightly woozy, and I got myself lost. I was aiming for Ashford and the A28 when I met the sheep.”

“You were going the wrong way, back towards Hythe.”

“Was I? It doesn’t matter now, does it? I want a day to let him calm down. If I can stay away from home until Sunday no one will know how stupid I’ve been.”

“I’ll know.”

“Yes, Paul, but you are a stranger, not someone who warned me and I wouldn’t listen to them. I’d be embarrassed to go back and admit they were right.”

“More embarrassed than being found naked by a stranger, or dressing as Catherine of Aragon because you have nothing else to wear?”

Julia giggled. That was a heartening sound. I took it to mean that she was feeling better about herself.

“I feel very comfortable as Catherine of Aragon, thank you. I feel queenly and cosseted. The lining of this dress is slinky and sensuous. What is it? Silk? It feels like it.”

“I wouldn’t know. Until tonight I had only seen the dress in use, gliding along graciously beside me. I was a last minute substitute as Henry VIII. Until the dress rehearsal I’d never met the lady who played Catherine, and now she’s moved away. I was concentrating on my part, knowing that she knew hers.”

Julia crossed and uncrossed her legs. The dress swished as she moved, distracting me from the road for a second or two. I moved my eyes back to the road hurriedly. I couldn’t have seen anything of her because the reflection from the headlights wasn’t strong and the dress swept well beyond her feet. Her hands plucked at the skirt.

“It’s got built-in petticoats as well. Taffeta, I think.”

We reached the main road. I pulled off the road across a farm track and reached for my mobile phone.

“I’ll tell the police where the Porsche is. OK?”

The main road’s lights illuminated Julia’s nod. I rang the anonymous Crimestoppers number and reported finding the Porsche. I gave its registration number, its exact position, and the fact that the ignition keys were under the passenger seat. I said that the car was empty when I left it, with no trace of a driver nearby.

“You lied,” said Julia.

“Did I?”

“You said there was no trace of a driver.”

“There wasn’t. You were sitting in my passenger seat when I ‘left’ the Porsche. If I had said that there was no trace when I found the car I would have lied. There wasn’t a trace of a driver when I left the Porsche. That wasn’t a lie.”

“Semantics!”

“Can be useful sometimes. Anyway, I was anonymous. They might be able to trace this mobile phone but so what? I had reason to be on Romney Marsh and I have no connection with the car’s owner. I have done what a good citizen should do. If the police act promptly your friend can have his Porsche back in the morning. He might have to use his four wheel drive to pull it out, but I’m sure the Porsche is still roadworthy and almost undamaged.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For sorting out the problem of the Porsche.”

“That problem was easy. The real problem is Julia. What do I do with you?”

“What do you want to do?”

“What I’d want to do, I’m too much of a gentleman to suggest. I’d like to meet Julia when she is in her own clothes, not recovering from alcohol, and not feeling grateful.”

“I think I’d like to meet Paul then. If you want to meet me.”

“I do. But gathering up a naked woman from a roadside is not a good way to start a relationship of equals. We have to get you decent, and since you want it that way, look after you tomorrow and tomorrow night. How?”

“I haven’t any idea. Have you, Paul?”

“Yes. But you might not like the suggestion.”

“Why not?”

“I think I need help with you. The only person who might help and understand is…” I paused.

Julia looked at me. One of those looks.

“…my ex-wife.”

Julia’s eyes opened wide.

“You’d take a naked woman to your ex-wife?”

“Yes. It’s the best solution I can think of.”

“It doesn’t sound a good idea to me, but even if you think it is, surely she wouldn’t welcome us at…” Julia peered at the dashboard clock “…four o’clock in the morning.”

“No. That might strain our remaining relationship too far. We’ll have to wait until a reasonable time, perhaps nine, before I ring her. She can say ‘No’ but I think she is worth a try. I have helped her since we divorced. I even helped her move out away from her ex-lover and told him where to go when he tried to stop her. I nearly had to resort to v******e but I am much larger and heavier than he is so he backed off. She might see this as clearing a debt.”

“So what do we do until then?”

I looked at her.

“…and NOT that!” she added.

“Honestly, I wasn’t suggesting…”

“You were thinking it, weren’t you?” She accused.

“I can’t help my thoughts. I can control my actions. I think we should find somewhere quiet and have a few hours sleep, and I mean sleep.”

Julia found my hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you, Paul, for the thought and for the control. I feel safer in this dress than naked in your arms, but I’m also aware that I am alone with you and wholly dependent on you – until I get home.”

“Yet you don’t want to go home until tomorrow. Isn’t that trusting a stranger too much?”

“I don’t think of you as a stranger anymore. I think, no, I’m sure that I can trust you. I thought I could trust him but…”

“What happened to make you run away? You went to his cottage willingly. What changed?”

“I might as well tell you. I was prepared to have sex, and to enjoy it with him but several things began to niggle at me through the alcohol. I had drunk too much and I think he intended that I should. We had sherry while the meal was warming, wine with it – he kept topping my glass up even when I protested – and then more wine with the dessert and we were to have champagne afterwards. He then suggested that we play strip poker. By that time I was so drunk that I thought it was a good idea but…”

“But what…?”

“He made a real production of it. He set the rules. There was a large antique chest in the room. He said that every time we lost, the clothes we lost should go into the chest. He put my overnight bag in it before we started. He said that was to make sure I didn’t cheat by using more clothes than I was wearing. I had no intention of cheating. I came to have sex with him, so shedding my clothes was what I expected to do. The chest’s key was attached to the handle. We started playing while the champagne cooled in an ice bucket in the kitchen. I lost badly. I know I was drunk but I’m usually adequate at poker. I remember arguing that my pantyhose were equivalent to a pair of his socks and he couldn’t count each sock separately. Within a few hands all my clothes were in that chest. The chest was shut…”

Julia closed her eyes and shuddered. This time I held her hand.

“I needed the bathroom in a hurry so I went there. He went to get the champagne. When I returned he was still in the kitchen. I felt slightly cold so I thought I would wrap my T-shirt around me at least until he came back. I tried to open the chest. The key didn’t fit. There was a keyhole but it was full of old polish. I tried to open the chest. It wouldn’t open. Why? And why the charade of putting the clothes into the chest anyway? I was getting suspicious. I picked up the pack of cards and flipped them. They were marked. This seemed too much effort just to get me naked. If he had taken me to the bedroom, kissed me and asked me to strip, I would have. Why the elaborate arrangements? All I could think was that he wanted me not just naked but deprived of all clothing. I didn’t like the implications. My actions and thoughts had only taken a few seconds but seem much longer thinking back. I went towards the kitchen, thinking to ask him for something to settle my stomach. Because I was concerned about his actions I peered past the door first. He had poured the champagne into two glasses but he was adding a liquid from a small bottle to one of them. That really sobered me up. I rushed to the hall, grabbing his car keys as I fled. I hoped that there would be something I could wear in the hall. There wasn’t. I remembered there hadn’t even been a towel in the bathroom. I opened the front door, sliding back the bolts quietly, and pulled it to, but not shut. I got into the Porsche. There was nothing to wear in it. He appeared at the front door, shouting for me. I started the Porsche and drove off in a hurry. He ran a few yards after me but I was away. Then I drove until I saw the sheep and crashed.”

“Have you any idea what he intended?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Whatever it was, I’m certain I would have objected. He wouldn’t have planned everything if it were something I would be happy to do. I don’t think he wanted normal sex. He had taken me to a place that none of my friends knew, he had ensured I had nothing to identify me, not even my clothes, and he had made me drunk. What the liquid was I don’t know but I wasn’t going to try it.”

Julia shuddered again. I pulled her head to my shoulder. She cried against it. She stroked my chest. I liked that.

“I can’t say that he actually did anything. I can’t prove anything against him. I’m happy that I got away safely. I think he had tried whatever he wanted to do before. He was too organised for it to be his first time.”

Julia turned so her breasts were pressed against me. I hugged her and tried to distract myself from her hard nipples.

“Well,” she said, “Where are we going for sleeping? Any ideas?”

“Yes. There is a quiet car park on the beach near New Romney. We should be there in five minutes.”

I drove to New Romney, past the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Railway station and to the sea. We reclined the seats and spread the car rug over us. Julia settled on my shoulder, her blonde hair spread over my chest, as we dozed.

I woke with a stiff neck. I eased myself out from under Julia and left the car for a short walk to look at the sea. When I returned Julia had raised the car seats and was watching me. I got back into the car. It was eight thirty in the morning.

“Want some breakfast?” I asked.

“Yes, but I can’t go anywhere like this,” Julia said plucking at the splayed cloth of gold skirt.

“There’s a convenience store in New Romney. They should have some sandwiches and coffee. That do?”

“Coffee? Yes please. Black and strong if possible. I’m too aware how much I drank last night. A washroom would be nice. But how?”

“No problem. We are parked next to the toilet block. A council workman opened it half an hour ago. The block is between us and the road so no one will see you.”

Julia was out of the car and into the toilet block like a frightened rabbit bolting for its burrow. She held up her flowing skirt as she ran across the tarmac. Ten minutes later she emerged fresh-faced and smiling.

“Led me to the coffee,” she ordered as she fastened her seat belt.

In New Romney I parked in a corner of the car park while I got the food and coffee and a few other things. Julia drank the coffee as if her life depended on it. I went back to the shop for a refill. As I left the shop I saw that a charity shop opposite was just opening. I handed the coffee to Julia and asked:

“What dress size are you?”

Julia spluttered.

“What dress size are you?” I repeated.

“14, sometimes 12. Depends on the store. Why?”

“There’s a charity shop open. If I could get you something to wear…”

“Please. This dress is great but not suitable for a Saturday morning.”

I found a plain denim skirt, a light blue cotton top, and a pair of sandals that seemed the right size. The bill was three pounds. Julia received them as if they were her best presents ever. I cut the price tags off with my penknife. Five minutes later Catherine of Aragon’s dress was back in its plastic bag and Julia was conventionally dressed if still without bra and panties.

“Can we go to the shop and get some more?” she asked.

“As long as you don’t mind a few odd looks. They’ll recognise what I bought.”

“Odd looks I can stand. They would be really staring if I was still naked.”

“OK. Do you want to go alone, or with me?”

“With you. You are paying.”

We went back to the charity shop. Julia bought another cotton skirt, a couple of bras, a handful of panties, a lightweight jacket, a pair of shoes, a small suitcase and a small plain handbag. I found a pair of Ladies jeans, size 14, on the reduced rail. Julia examined them carefully for holes and flaws before adding them to the heap. On the counter there was a basket of odd items of cosmetics at ten pence each. Julia sorted out a few items and a small plastic hand mirror. The assistant who served us was different. The lady who had served me before had retreated to the stock room so there were no ‘odd looks’ for us. This time the bill was seven pounds. Everything went into the suitcase.

Back at the car I carefully removed the labels. Julia wriggled seductively beside me as she fitted herself with bra and panties. I produced the brush and comb, ponytail holder, hairpins and pack of tights I had bought in the convenience store. She used the car’s vanity mirror to apply the make-up. Finally she turned to me.

“What do you think?”

I couldn’t answer at first. Her hair was shining in a loose ponytail. This morning’s fresh-scrubbed look had gone. The imperfections I had seen last night were history. Apart from slightly redder lips Julia didn’t appear to be wearing make up yet there had been a transformation to a beautiful woman. How? I have no idea.

“Wow!” I said.

Julia kissed me.

“Wow is good.” She said. “Now I can face the world. Perhaps I could even face your ex-wife. Does she have a name?”

“Emma. Shall I call her?”

“If you think it is a good idea. Up to you. I haven’t got another suggestion.”

“OK. Do you mind if I call from outside the car? I might have to explain.”

“I’m sure you will have to. Go on. I’ll be here.”

I rang Emma. She wasn’t too surprised to hear from me but as soon as I started to explain about Julia she cut me short.

“Paul! You, and she, are in deep shit. There’s been a report on the local radio. A man was found dead in his cottage near Newchurch. A blonde was seen driving his car through the village about one o’clock. The police want her to come forward. Is she your Julia?”

“It certainly sounds like her. Oh hell! What do I do?”

“Go to the police…”

“Not without a solicitor. Your solicitor lives in Hythe, doesn’t he?”

“Yes…”

“Have you got his home number?”

“Maybe.”

I heard Emma flipping through pages.

“Yes. Got a pen?”

“No. Hang on.”

I went back to the car, opened the door and took a pen from the glove box. Julia looked at me. I held my finger to my lips. She nodded. She didn’t look like a murderess but how could I tell?

“OK, Emma. I have a pen.”

She gave me the number.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“OK. Please ring me. I might know something about it…”

That puzzled me. How could Emma, in Hastings, know something about last night in Romney Marsh? I dismissed it as irrelevant.

“…And Paul…”

“Yes.”

“Look after yourself. We may not be married any more but you still mean a lot to me. I wouldn’t want you hurt.”

“Nor would I want you hurt either, Emma. See you.”

I switched the phone off. When I got back to the car Julia looked at me.

“Not as simple as you thought?” she said.

“No. We’re in trouble.”

“We?”

“Yes. We. The police are looking for a blonde who drove through Newchurch last night in someone else’s Porsche.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think it can be a coincidence. He… is dead.”

“Dead! He was very much alive when I left him.”

“I believe you. Will the police?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to him. Once I was away I couldn’t have cared. Someone else found him perhaps? What do I do?”

“What do WE do is the question. Emma gave me the home number of her solicitor in Hythe. We could ring him, go to see him, and get advice. He will probably advise you to surrender to the police but if you have a solicitor, and me with you, you should be treated reasonably.”

“Ring him! Now! Please! This is enough of a nightmare. I haven’t done anything. How could I kill him barehanded and naked? Did Emma say how he died?”

“No. I don’t think the radio report can have done either. If Emma thought I was with a murderess she would have been more worried. She was concerned but not worried, if you see what I mean.”

“I do. She trusts your judgement. If you think I’m not a murderess, she’d accept that. That’s nice and is the only nice thing about this situation. We need that solicitor. Please?”


Chapter 02


I rang Emma’s solicitor. He wasn’t too pleased at being disturbed on a Saturday morning. I suspected that his displeasure would be reflected in the size of his account. He arranged to meet us in a car park near Ashford Police Station in an hour. We left the car park and headed for Ashford. I turned the car radio to the local station. The travel news reported congestion because of a fatal accident near Hythe. I checked that we would be avoiding that area. The news item was repeated every quarter of an hour. The man had been found ‘dead’. The woman was asked to contact the police. Everything else was waffle.

I had met the solicitor once or twice. He had been on Emma’s side, so our contact hadn’t always been cordial, but professional. He had seemed competent. He was standing beside his Bentley in the car park. The Bentley worried me. If he could afford a Bentley, his fees must be high. He greeted me as if we were old acquaintances. I suppose we were.

We sat on the car park wall while Julia and I explained everything that had happened last night and this morning. He asked a few questions. Then he rang the police station fifty yards away. He told them that the woman they were seeking was coming voluntarily to the Police Station.

We entered the normal public entrance. A sergeant opened a door for us and we were shown to an interview room. An inspector and a woman sergeant entered the room. I was asked to wait in another interview room. I left Julia and the solicitor. Her look as I left wrenched my heart. Until then I hadn’t realised how much she had come to mean to me in a few short hours.

I waited in that bare room for about three-quarters of an hour before the two police officers entered. They taped the interview. I told them everything from the meeting on Friday evening until my arrival at the police station. I was slightly annoyed that the solicitor wasn’t with me, but Julia needed him more than I did.

They asked a couple of questions about the Porsche, and a few others, presumably to check that I was telling them the truth. They referred to the dead man as ‘Mr Smith’ or ‘the deceased’. I had the feeling they were trying to trap me into saying his first name. They didn’t get anywhere because I didn’t know it. Julia hadn’t mentioned his name. The woman sergeant helped me to write a statement that I checked and signed. At the end the inspector said:

“Thank you, sir. I think we have enough information. We may be in touch again. You may be called to give evidence at the inquest but probably not.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“It looks like suicide so far. There is still a possibility that we may be wrong but everything points that way. We have been concerned about that man for some time. Your young lady seems to have made a fortunate escape. We have your address. Please don’t leave the country without telling us.”

“Is she free to go?”

“Yes. She’s waiting for you.”

I collected Julia and we left. Once round the corner of the building she threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.

“What was that for?” I asked as we climbed into my car and started towards Canterbury.

“For being here for me. The interview was unpleasant. They seemed to think I had something to do with Joshua’s death. The details were upsetting…”

“Joshua?” I interrupted. “Joshua Smith?”

“Yes. Didn’t I mention his name?”

“No,” I said grimly. “Just as well you didn’t. I think I know him. I certainly know of a Joshua Smith. What did he look like?”

“He had light brown hair, short for a man - about my height but more muscular… The obvious visible identification was a small tattoo of a dragon breathing fire on the back of his right hand. He had a couple of other tattoos but normally they would be under his clothing.”

“A swallow on his left shoulder, and an eagle on his lower back?”

“Yes, Paul. How did YOU know him?”

“He was the man that Emma left me for. No wonder the police wanted me to say his name. I haven’t seen him for two years. I understood that he had moved away. I had better tell Emma before the police go to her. They will. I think I need a solicitor as well as you. I may be a suspect if Joshua was murdered.”

“The police think it was suicide.”

“That’s what they have told us. The post-mortem hasn’t been finished yet. Who knows what they might find? We don’t know because I haven’t seen him for two years and when you left him he was alive. What happened later? We don’t know.”

“OK. You should ring Emma. You promised to let her know what happened.”

“I’ll ring her from the next lay-by. Then I’ll ring my solicitor.”

There was a bay for a bus stop. I pulled over and rang Emma.

“Emma?”

“Yes, Paul.”

“The dead man was Joshua Smith.”

I heard her gasp.

“Paul. Listen carefully. I thought it might be Joshua. Mary, you don’t know her but we were friends at university, rang me from Canterbury yesterday afternoon. She wanted Joshua’s new address because she wanted to prevent a friend falling for his bag of tricks. What she told me was worrying. He was bad enough with me but according to Mary he has progressed to more serious games. I gave her the address. Joshua sends me an e-mail every week or so, inviting me to visit him. I have been ignoring them but for some reason I kept a note of where he lives – mainly to avoid going anywhere near. It is near Newchurch. Mary thanked me and rang off in a hurry. She gave me the impression that she was going to confront Joshua before he started his games.”

“Oh.” What else could I say?

“I think you two should come here. I can tell you what Mary told me, and what I know about Joshua. If the police are interested in you two, you should be aware what might come out. Will you come?”

“Hang on, Emma. I’ll ask Julia.”

I muted the phone and explained. Julia agreed that it would be a good idea to talk to Emma. I told Emma we were on the way.

The A28 was its usual congested self. It took us three hours from Ashford to Emma’s house. I rang her after two hours. She promised to give us lunch, checking that Julia didn’t have any special dietary needs. She didn’t. I wouldn’t have known. I knew so little about Julia. Julia had borrowed my mobile phone and tried to ring Mary twice. Mary’s mobile was switched off. Julia left two messages and my mobile number.

Julia and I used the delays on the A28 to learn about each other. The detail doesn’t matter. We were attracted to each other and found each other fascinating. I was falling in love. I think Julia was as well. Julia was recovering from last night’s alcohol and sometimes obviously suffering yet she remained bright and amusing.

At Emma’s house we were both welcomed with a hug. That was a good start. After using the bathroom we sat down to a meal. It wasn’t exotic, just good plain food. Afterwards we sat on the settee in the living room with cups of coffee. It could have been awkward but Emma treated us as if we were a couple, and her friends. I was grateful.

Emma started the explanations.

“I never told Paul what Joshua did to me. I told him some of it, but not the gory details. Paul was angry enough with what I did tell him. Now Joshua is dead and you two are involved, Paul at least deserves to know what Joshua was like. I’m glad he’s dead. I shouldn’t say that because the police may make me one of their suspects. However I have a complete alibi. Paul shouldn’t object because we have been divorced for years, but I spent last night in a man’s bed. His bed. Not here.”

I raised my eyebrows but made no comment. Emma kissed me.

“We were good together for a while, Paul, but…”

“I know.” I said. “We just weren’t right. Is he?”

“I think so. He has proposed twice. I haven’t accepted yet. I probably will. If I do…”

She looked at me carefully.

“…would you give me away?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “You are not mine to give away, but if you want me at your wedding, I’ll be there to help in any way I can.”

I was kissed again. Julia joined in this time.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Emma,” Julia said. “Is Paul that important to you?”

“His opinion is,” Emma replied. “He’s usually right about the things that matter. He told me that Joshua wasn’t good for me. I just wasn’t ready to listen. I wish I had but at that stage in our lives communication between us wasn’t good. It is much better now. We feel responsible for each other’s happiness. I am sure Paul will approve of my choice of man…”

“Will I?”

“Yes. He is George.”

“You spent the night in George’s bed?” I was astonished.

“Yes. It has taken me three months of hard effort but last night was worth it.”

“Three months?” Julia interrupted. “What is George? A statue? I can’t imagine you taking three months to seduce anyone.”

I was inclined to agree with Julia but I knew George. Emma was and is an attractive and sensuous woman but George is a great guy but seemed to be a cold fish. He has been our friend since schooldays but always seemed uninterested in women. Perhaps that is why he always had two or three chasing him. He didn’t mind escorting them but they never got anywhere beyond a goodnight kiss.

“Congratulations – if you get him.” I said. “But we ought to discuss the unpleasant Joshua before the police catch up with us again.”

“I know,” said Emma. “He was unpleasant. He was into bondage but in a weird way. I didn’t mind playing games but he was too serious and there was always a hard edge. He used to get me completely naked, and then I had to wear some special clothes and a brunette wig before he was ready. The clothes and wig were bad enough but he was trying to turn me into someone else before he made love. At first he would persuade me to wear the clothes and wig, and he would apply make up to my face. He never let me see myself in a mirror when I was dressed up.

I got tired of being turned into someone else and I objected. He forced me to dress up, even beating me until I did. Then he would tie me up and leave me bound all night, fucking me several times. I was trying not to let him overpower me but he started using a date **** d**g on me. Any contact with him would end with me coming to, dressed as he wanted, and tied to his bed.

At the end he had virtually k**napped me. He reported me sick to my employers and I was tied to his bed for three days. I managed to struggle off the bed when he went to the shops and I used his phone to call Paul. Paul was there in minutes and took me home. I was still dressed as Joshua wanted. Paul didn’t ask questions. For that I was grateful.

As soon as I was home I washed off the make up, removed the clothes and wig, and put them in an old suitcase. I knew they were very important to Joshua and he wouldn’t rest until he had them back. I was right. He was hammering on my door ten minutes after I had changed. Paul saw him and sent him away – with the suitcase full of clothes.

Paul stayed the night, on the settee, and nothing happened. In the morning Joshua was back. Paul sent him away again. Paul didn’t say anything much but he had frightened Joshua. Joshua stayed away for a while but kept trying to contact me. I used Paul as a threat to deter Joshua even after Paul had left Hastings. Eventually Joshua moved away but he kept sending me emails, begging me to see him again. I ignored them but noted where he lived, just to avoid it. I was still afraid of him.”

I was fuming. If Emma had told me what Joshua had done, I’d have… killed him.

That brought me up short, like a cold shower. Perhaps someone else had felt the same way about Joshua. I remembered how Emma had been dressed when I collected her. She was wearing a pink gingham fifties dress with a fitted bodice, tight waist and full skirt over multiple net petticoats, stockings attached to the suspenders of a body length corset, enormous white cotton panties with a pocket on one leg, and pink high-heeled shoes. The brunette wig of shoulder length hair was pulled back into a high ponytail tied with a matching pink gingham scarf and her face was plastered thick with make up including blue eyeshadow. When I reached Joshua’s house her ankles and knees were tied together and her hands were tied behind her back with three similar scarves. She had spat out another scarf from her mouth that was around her neck held by the last scarf worn normally around her head.

Emma had been shaking like a leaf as I untied her, desperate to get away before Joshua returned. I had only freed her legs before I bundled her into my car with her hands still tied and the scarves around her head. A few hundred yards away I stopped to remove her remaining bonds. The scarf holding her hands had been threaded through a strong loop sewn to the back of the waist. Even after I had freed her she had been panicking in case Joshua saw us. Once back at her house I had to undress her and dress her again in her own clothes. I did it in her darkened bedroom to give her some semblance of modesty. Her hands were shaking too much for her to help. I had thought that she and Joshua had been playing sexual games that had gone slightly too far. At the time Emma had made light of what she had been through and went along with the idea that she and Joshua had been playing. I should have known that Emma wasn’t telling the whole truth but at the time she and I were still defining our new roles as ex-partners. I hadn’t queried her story. I just made sure that she knew that she was safe from Joshua, and from me. I held her, hugged her, but didn’t make a single advance. I hadn’t known that she had been bound for three days. If I had undressed her in the light I would have seen her bruises. If I had…

Emma continued:

“Last night when Mary rang me she said she was worried about a friend, I assume she meant Julia, who was going away for the weekend with Joshua. Mary thought that Julia might need rescuing and she intended to go to Joshua’s house, and if necessary, confront him. I didn’t want to give Mary the address because she was so worked up but eventually she persuaded me. I understood that Mary was taking some friends with her because she didn’t want to face Joshua alone. I had the impression that the friends would be women. Does she know some athletic types?”

Julia nodded. “Yes. Mary is involved with a Ladies’ Gym. Some of her friends are into martial arts.”

“I thought so. Julia. Mary rang off about eight o’clock. I don’t know how long it would take her to get to Newchurch but surely not until midnight? I gave her basic directions but…”

I said: “Depends whether Mary or any of her friends know their way around Romney Marsh. If they didn’t, it could take hours to find Joshua’s cottage, even with a map. Julia, what time was it when you left?”

“The police kept asking me that. I’m not sure. I think it was before midnight but I was too drunk and scared to care. What was the time when you found me, Paul?”

“Just before 2 a.m. The Porsche’s engine was cold. So were you. You must have been there some time.”

“I don’t think the car had much time to warm up before I crashed it. Perhaps it did. I was at least five miles away from the cottage according to your GPS notes. I remember coming to in the dark at least once before you arrived but I had drunk so much…”

“You might have had hypothermia if you had been there much longer. Alcohol doesn’t help.”

“I know. I didn’t think I’d drunk that much. I think Joshua had been putting vodka in my drinks at the pub. I was woozy even when we reached the cottage. By the end of the meal I was swaying when I stood up. When I went to the bathroom I nearly threw my meal down the toilet. That doesn’t matter now. From what the police told me, Mary and her friends must have visited Joshua.”

“Why do you say that?” Emma asked.

“It is how he was found. I didn’t know about his fetishes. I was just frightened and ran away. The police told me about a pink gingham dress laid out on his bed. I didn’t know anything about it. I think they believed me because I was telling the truth. But…”

Julia shuddered. I put my arms around her. Emma moved to the other side of her and hugged her too.

Julia continued: “He had been dressed in my clothes. He was wearing a pair of my panties. The long slip was used normally but his hands were tied behind his back with one of my bras. My other bra tied his ankles. His mouth was stuffed with panties. My long dress had been forced down his body outside his bound arms and my belt was fastened tight twice around his chest. The weird thing was his head. It was inside a hood that was tightly laced at the back and had a very good plastic impression of a woman’s face at the front. The wig had been fitted over the hood. For the first few seconds the police had thought Joshua was a woman. The hood had nostril holes but it held the panties tightly in his mouth. My blouse was knotted around his knees under the dress’s skirt. He was hanging by my pantyhose from a hook in the kitchen ceiling. A chair had been on the table but had been kicked away. The police say that he could have done it to himself but that I doubt. If I accept what Emma and Mary have said, he did it to women, not to himself. He was too much of an egoist to commit suicide.”

“I agree,” said Emma. “He thought too much of himself. Did Mary and her friends do it to him?”

“I can’t see Mary or her friends committing murder,” said Julia. “It isn’t something you do as a group event. I can see them tying him up in my clothes, gagging him, and fitting his own hood. But hanging him? No. That they wouldn’t do. I wish I could get Mary on the phone.”

“Why don’t you try again?” I suggested.

“Where’s your mobile?”

“Here. Last number redial…”

“Still turned off.”

“Julia, why don’t you try her landline?” said Emma. “I’ve got her number.”

Emma went to the hall for privacy. She tried and was straight through to Mary. She shut the door to the sitting room. Emma and I looked at each other.

Emma was back soon.

“They did it. Tied him up in my clothes but in the sitting room. They had hidden their cars and had just begun watching him through the kitchen window when I took off like a bat out of hell to use Mary’s phrase. They grabbed him before he got back to his front door. They wanted to follow me as well but their cars were too far away and they would have no chance of catching a Porsche. Mary said something I didn’t understand about the clothes drier in the kitchen. Apparently that made her really mad. Why? I don’t know. She was not very coherent at that point. She found the gingham dress, scarves and laid out in the bedroom ready for me and that was the final straw for her. When they were together he had forced her to wear it, including the hood, a couple of times when she was helplessly drunk or under the influence of a date **** d**g. The last time he tried Mary had pretended to drink. She got away from him by kicking him in the balls before he could tie her hands. She had tried to forget him but couldn’t let me be his victim even though I didn’t listen to her advice.

They found my clothes in the chest. Mary had seen him use the trick catch of the old chest so she knew how to open it.

Mary wanted to humiliate him so she and her friends forced him to wear my panties and slip. They tied him up with my bras. Mary herself fitted the hood and wig to him but left it loose. He could breathe through his mouth or nose and he might have been able to shake the hood off. They left him tied in a deep armchair in the sitting room. They intended to leave him like that all-night and then ring a woman called Sophie, apparently one of his near neighbours, whose address and telephone number was beside his phone. If they couldn’t raise Sophie they intended to return this afternoon but they heard the news on the radio.

They had left about one thirty in the morning. Oh, yes. I forgot. They made him drink both glasses of champagne. One of them was laced with a date **** d**g. He was very co-operative at first as they tied him up. Mary insists that he was fine when they left. He was wearing my underwear, NOT my dress. He certainly wasn’t hung up in the kitchen. They had used my pantyhose to tie his feet to the armchair. They had threaded my long belt around the chair and around his waist.”

“Are they going to tell the police?” I asked.

“They were discussing it when I rang. I think they will. Taking revenge on an abuser is one thing. Murder is another. There is no way Joshua could have got out of that armchair and into the kitchen to hang himself. The way they had left him he could shout or breathe through the hood but that was all he could do. They hadn’t gagged him. He had been swearing and struggling as they left but it was obvious that they had made him completely helpless. There is a faint possibility that he might have been able to free himself but Mary thinks it very unlikely. Someone else must have found him after they left.”

“I think all three of us need to talk to the solicitor. It can wait until Monday morning. His fees will be expensive enough without adding more weekend working. The police are unlikely to find us here, at Emma’s house, when they think we are going to Canterbury.”

They agreed. Emma offered Julia the use of the shower. Julia accepted. While she was gone Emma and I caught up with news of mutual friends. Our conversation was unusually stilted and strained. We knew that we were coming to an end of one phase of our relationship with each other. Emma would probably marry George. She might shock him in some ways but I thought they would be good foils for each other. She would shake him out of his complacency but he would be a solid rock for her to rely on. I had tried to be that for her while we were married but Emma and I were too alike.

Emma knew that I found Julia attractive. She pressed me about it.

“What are you going to do about Julia?” Emma asked bluntly.

“Take her home tomorrow, that is if you’ll let us stay the night here.”

“You can stay. But aren’t you going to ask her out?”

“I don’t think I can, yet. She’s relying on me to get her out of this mess. I don’t want to start a relationship on gratitude. That doesn’t work.”

“Paul, you are as impossible as ever. Don’t you realise that Julia likes you?”

“I hope she does. I like her.”

“Then do something! Stop being the perfect gentleman.”

“When she’s back home. Not before.”

I could feel Emma simmering beside me. It is disconcerting, knowing someone so well that you can read their thoughts. Emma wanted to box my ears. She thought I was being unnecessarily chivalrous. I changed the subject and we talked until Julia returned. I used the shower next. When I returned Emma and Julia had their heads close together, whispering. They stopped when I sat down.

We talked for some time about what we should do but we were lacking information. Eventually we decided to wait until we had spoken to the solicitor.

“Paul,” Emma said, “I don’t think I, Mary and Julia were Joshua’s only victims. When he dressed me up in that gingham dress I saw that he had several similar dresses in a wardrobe, in different sizes. I was two years ago; Mary started with him about six months ago and ended three months ago. He started going out with Julia what? A month ago?”

Julia nodded.

“Then there was probably a woman or two between Mary and I. What if one of those women found him tied up and helpless? Mary had her friends with her. They would help her to humiliate him but they wouldn’t have let Mary murder him. But a woman on her own…”

Julia and I saw the point. If I had known everything about Joshua when I rescued Emma, I might have been tempted to kill him. I’d have done it in hot blood and I was strong enough to overpower Joshua on my own. If a woman that Joshua had tortured, and it seemed from reading between the lines of Mary’s story that torture was what he did, found him helpless she might have killed him in revenge. But who? How would we, or the police, find out?

“What I can’t understand,” said Julia, “is the attraction of tying women up, or the attraction for women of being tied up.”

Emma and I looked at each other. We had played mild bondage games in the bedroom and enjoyed them. Julia saw our exchanged glance.

“You don’t mean…?”

“We did,” Emma admitted. Why she came out with it like that I don’t know. Perhaps she was irritated by Julia’s innocence.

Julia looked at me for confirmation. I couldn’t lie.

“If it is a game, with set rules, and is only a game… it can be enjoyable. It needs trust between the two people and preferably love in a stable relationship. If you don’t know or don’t trust the other person it can be dangerous. It isn’t only women that get tied up. It can be either way round.”

Julia looked shocked.

“You mean Emma might have tied you up? You are bigger and stronger than her.”

“As a game, consent is essential,” Emma added. “If you are playing, the resistance is part of the role playing. Once you are tied up, if it is done properly, it doesn’t matter how strong you are, or how much stronger you are than the person who tied you up. Once bound, you are helpless. It is a form of power exchange. The one who submits allows the other complete control. It can be very arousing to be unable to resist hands wandering over your body…”

Julia looked interested but unconvinced.

“I’m not sure how you, Emma, could tie Paul up so that he couldn’t get free. I think he would have to pretend he was tied, not be really helpless.”

“She could, and did.” I interrupted.

“How?” asked Julia.

“There is only one way to convince you,” said Emma. “I’ll show you. Paul. Take your shirt off please.”

“What!”

“Take your shirt off,” Emma repeated. “It’s only fair. You have seen enough of Julia to know she’s a natural blonde…”

Julia blushed.

“…and taking your shirt off is no big deal by comparison. Please?”

I took my shirt off.

Emma went upstairs and came back holding her hands behind her back.

“Please stand up with your back to Julia and I. Julia, come and stand beside me, please.”

We obeyed.

“Hands behind your back, Paul, wrists crossed.” Emma ordered.

She wound something silky, presumably a silk scarf, around them and knotted it.

“See, Julia, that is a simple knot. He could wriggle out of that in seconds. But if I tie the ends in the opposite direction and pull hard…”

She did. The loops around my wrists tightened.

“…now he can’t get free. You can’t, can you, Paul?”

I tried as hard as I could. My wrists were completely fixed.

Emma led me back to the settee and pushed me to sit down on it. She dropped to her knees and tied my ankles with another silk scarf. She untied it again.

“You do his ankles, Julia. You saw how I did it.”

Julia tied my ankles.

“Now he can’t walk, nor unfasten his hands.” Emma said emphatically. “I’m off to the kitchen to prepare our evening meal. Julia – he’s all yours.”

Emma left the room. What did she mean by her last remark?

Julia sat down beside me.

“We need to talk,” she said. “But first…”

She kissed me; not a peck but a proper lingering kiss. Her arms wound around my neck and her tongue insinuated itself into my mouth. I couldn’t help responding. She straddled my legs, her knees either side of me. Her blonde hair fell against both of my cheeks as her kiss forced my head backwards. When the kiss ended both of us were short of breath. Julia leant her covered breasts against my naked shoulders. Her erect nipples were obvious. I had to look up to see her face.

“I’m not letting you go that easily. You are not going to drive me home and walk out of my life. I want you. Thanks to Emma I have you where I want you.”

I might have answered but she pulled up her T-shirt and pressed my head into her cleavage. My face sank into soft perfumed flesh. The perfume was Emma’s. The cleavage certainly wasn’t. It had a totally different texture and feel and excited me more than I wanted to admit.

Julia peeled her T-shirt over her head, wriggled out of her bra and replaced my head between her naked breasts.

“That’s better,” she purred. I could barely hear her as her breasts were pressing against my ears. “Now we are on equal terms. Perhaps we’re not. You are tied up. I’m not. I’m beginning to see the advantages of mild bondage. Now to try something else.”

She pulled back from my face. I opened my mouth to speak. Her hand stuffed a warm pair of panties between my lips. She wound her bra over my mouth and tied it behind my head.

“That’s better.” She said. “Now you can’t interrupt. Emma said that you had seen that I’m a natural blonde. I don’t think you saw too much last night in the light of your minuscule torch. I’ll prove it.”

She stood up, unzipped her skirt and dropped it. My eyes were drawn to her exposed bush. She was a true blonde. An excited blonde. Her pussy moved closer to my face and then she dropped to her knees. She removed my shoes and socks. Her hands lifted to my trousers, unzipped them and started to pull. My weight stopped them moving.

“You’ll have to co-operate. Lift your hips.”

I thought about refusing but my erection and excitement overcame my reservations. I lifted my hips. Julia pulled my trousers and boxers down to my tied ankles. My erection sprang up to salute her. She dropped her lips to kiss it. I groaned into my gag. Julia glanced up at my strained face.

“Sorry,” She smiled at me. “I’ll let you use your mouth as long as you know what to do with it. You do, don’t you?”

She climbed up my body. Her legs straddled my shoulders, dangling behind the settee. She untied her bra and pulled her panties out of my mouth. She settled herself so that my lips were pressed against her soft silky blonde bush. I knew what to do. My lips pressed against hers and my tongue sought the warm cleft. I licked and explored, tasting her natural flavour. I was slightly worried that the settee might overturn as she thrust her bush harder against me. I soon forgot those worries as I lost myself in my task of satisfying Julia’s need.

Her legs clamped around me as soon as I found the place that really worked for her. I snorted through my nose whenever I could. After several settee-shaking spasms Julia slid down my body to impale herself on my impatient erection. Almost as soon as she had covered me I shuddered into action. Her arms held me into a passionate kiss as she pulsed around me. We were perfectly matched for height, able to couple and kiss at the same time.

I relaxed into her embrace, spent. I scarcely felt her untied my wrists and feed my arms around her. I pulled her against me and we lay there for the short time before I recovered. Her pussy tightened around my rising tool and caressed it to a slow crescendo. This time I had the orgasm. She didn’t. She was giving me the attention I had given to her earlier. She brought me to a climax without thought of having one of her own.

She rested her head on my shoulder, her breasts snuggling against my side.

“See, Paul,” she said. “You wanted me. I wanted you. Now we know. Isn’t that much better than waiting until you had taken me home and asked politely for a date?”

“Mmm!” I replied as she claimed my lips again.

“You will ask me for a date, won’t you?”

“Yes, Julia… if you let me speak. Can I ask now?”

Apparently not. She kissed me again.

“You don’t need to ask. Whenever you want me, I’m available.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight? But we are staying here.”

“Exactly. I would love us to stay here… together.”

“Is that fair on Emma?”

“Fair?” I snorted. “Do you think Emma and you were fair to me? That bondage was set up between you, wasn’t it?”

Julia smiled.

“Then I think Emma has already decided how you and I are spending tonight, hasn’t she? And you plotted it with her, didn’t you?”

She nodded, still smiling.

“I’ll have to surrender. With two women against me, one of them a naked true blonde, I have no choice, have I? Not that I want a choice. I would be delighted to stay with you tonight.”

Julia answered me with another kiss.

“Now that is settled I think we should dress.” She said. “Emma can’t delay the meal much longer. We have tonight to see what else we can do. Who knows what might happen?”

There was a glint in Julia’s eyes that hinted that something might happen. I hoped I’d enjoy it. I thought I would.

We dressed. Julia was right. The meal was ready.

We shared a bottle of wine between us. Julia drank the least. I think she was still thinking about how drunk she had been last night.

As we were sitting down with the coffee Emma startled me by announcing:

“The taxi will collect me in quarter of an hour. You have the house to yourselves tonight. You know where things are, don’t you, Paul. You’ll have to make the breakfast. I’ll be back mid-morning.”

“Wha…”

“Don’t be silly, Paul,” Julia cut in. “She’s going to be with George, aren’t you, Emma?”

“Yes. I told him that I didn’t want to play gooseberry and told him I was feeling fruity. For an old bachelor he caught on fast. There’s one last thing. I need to be sure Julia is protected. She’s taken one of my pills. We use the same brand, but I need to be sure she is in control so she and I are going to tie you, Paul, to the bed.”

“What!”

“You heard. Any objections? If you object I stay here. You wouldn’t want me to miss my first night with George would you?”

I subsided. I allowed them to take me upstairs and tie me spread-eagled to the double bed. I was naked. Emma made a production of kissing me good night. I think it was a farewell kiss in more senses than one. Emma left. Julia stripped slowly in front of me. We made love, or she made love to me, slowly and gently all night. Julia had untied me after the first half-hour because the bonds were impeding what she wanted to do.

I brought her breakfast in bed. We were still in bed when Emma returned. She brought us coffee and sent me off for a shower while she and Julia compared notes, at least that was what I assumed they were doing. Even through the shower I could hear that they were enjoying themselves.

After lunch Julia and I were preparing to leave when my mobile phone rang. It was the Ashford police. They wanted all three of us at the police station this afternoon. I asked whether we needed solicitors. The reply was that we didn’t. They wouldn’t tell me why Emma had to come too. They told me that they would explain when we arrived.

Emma rang George to tell him where we were going. He arranged to collect her from Ashford. All three of us got into my car and on a Sunday the A28 wasn’t too bad. We were in Ashford within an hour and a half.

At the police station we met Mary and her friends. We were all taken into a large room. It looked as if it was used as a lecture hall, set up with a projector and screen. A police inspector took the podium.

“I hope that all of you can clear up the loose ends about Josiah Smith’s death. There will be no charges for anyone, not even for the assault on the deceased by Mary and her friends. What I assume none of you knew was that Mr Smith had installed a high quality closed circuit TV system in his house. Everything that happened on Friday night was recorded. We have roughly edited it together and cut it so that it will take about an hour to watch. Then we will have some questions for you. I hope that will not take long and then we can close the case. OK?”

Most of us nodded. There were some apprehensive looks between Mary and her friends.

“The video starts with something recorded about two months ago. Mr Smith made copies of this as DVDs. It shows what he did with a woman I think none of you know, Sophie Jackson, his closest neighbour.”

The lights dimmed. All the footage had time and date clearly displayed.

The projector started by showing Ms Jackson having a meal with Joshua. They were drinking heavily but I noticed that he was drinking much less than she was. The strip poker game ran as Julia had described. The champagne seemed to have a significant effect on a naked Sophie. Joshua half carried her into the bedroom. There he dressed her in a pink gingham dress, tying her wrists behind her, her ankles and knees together, and then pushing her panties into her mouth before lashing the hood over her head. By that time she was struggling violently but uselessly. He seemed to be calling her Jane and abusing her for leaving him.

He brought a large tray trolley from the dining room and rolled Sophie’s bound body on to it. He wheeled it through into the kitchen. In there he lowered a drying frame from the high ceiling and d****d her body across it, securing her shoulders, arms and waist to it so that her hips and legs were dangling. He hauled the drying frame upwards until Sophie’s hips were at the level of his eyes.

Joshua pulled the cotton panties down to her lashed knees and then buried his head inside her layers of petticoats and skirt. Sophie was struggling and the frame was swaying as he busied himself between her legs. One hand unfastened his zip and he masturbated himself one handed. Once he had ejaculated his head withdrew from under the petticoats.

He opened a kitchen drawer and took out a rolling pin. He pushed it up under the skirt. Sophie’s reactions showed what wasn’t visible on camera. The muffled sounds coming through her gag were horrible. When he took out the rolling pin it was streaked with blood. He started again, this time with the end of a baseball bat. We could hear Sophie’s extreme distress. Blood was running down Sophie’s legs in small rivulets when he had finished. He fitted a large panty liner to the white cotton panties and then settled the panties around Sophie’s hips. He lowered her back to the tray trolley, untied her from the drying frame and wheeled her back to the bed. He tied her to the bed and then straddled her. At that point the video stopped.

The lights were turned on. The inspector said:

“That was one incident. There are several similar scenes on the DVD over a period of a couple of weeks. We have only shown you the milder scene. Have any of you had such an experience with Mr Smith? I don’t want to know the details. Just raise your hand briefly.”

I had expected Mary to raise her hand. To my horror Emma did as well. Her other hand reached for mine and squeezed it. I squeezed back. I saw Mary’s friends hug her.

“OK. That is enough. I won’t ask for any more. Now I want to show you what happened on Friday evening and Saturday morning. There will be no sound. Where it was similar we have cut out the scene so it starts with a naked Julia seeing Joshua spike her drink…”

The lights went down. There was no sound at all on this video. Julia’s back view was seen peering through into the kitchen. The video switched to a view of the kitchen and clearly showed Joshua spiking the champagne. Julia was seen flashing through the hall and there was a blurred image of the Porsche driving away. Joshua ran after her and stopped about twenty feet from the front door. From either side of the house a group of women rushed him and overpowered him. He was seen being carried back into the hall and struggling violently.

The scene switched to the living room. Mary opened the old chest and pulled out Julia’s clothes. She obviously swore. She went out of the room and the shot switched to the bedroom. The gingham dress was carefully laid out on the bed. Mary grabbed the hood and ran back to the living room shouting. She punched Joshua in the stomach. The long slip was forced over his head. Julia’s panties were hauled up his legs. He was tied hand and foot with Julia’s bras. The women forced him into an armchair and tied him to it with Julia’s long golden belt and pantyhose. Julia’s remaining clothing was strewn across the floor. Finally Mary pulled the hood over his head and tied it loosely before attaching the wig. She shouted soundlessly at him and tried to punch him again but was prevented by her friends who dragged her away and out of the house, leaving the front door wide open.

The video switched back to Joshua. He was struggling and obviously shouting. This went on for a few minutes before the video jumped forward about a quarter of an hour. He was still and slumped in the chair. The view changed to the hall. Sophie was seen cautiously approaching the door. Back to Joshua. He was shouting again. Sophie entered the room and approached him. She removed the wig and untied the hood before taking it off. Joshua was shouting violently at her. She recoiled, tripping slightly on some of Julia’s clothes. She looked down.

She reached down and picked up Julia’s spare panties. She looked at them carefully, totally ignoring Joshua’s frantic yelling. She walked slowly out of the living room to the bedroom and picked up the large cotton panties laid beside the dress. She rummaged in a dressing table drawer to find a box of large panty-liners. She walked back to the living room with the panties and the liners. Joshua was struggling violently and still shouting. Sophie opened the panty-liner box and took one out. She put it down on the tray table. Joshua was frantic. Sophie calmly stuffed his mouth with the large panties, held them in place with one hand and peeled the backing off the panty-liner with her teeth. She pressed the panty-liner across his stuffed mouth and smoothed it in place. She was moving slowly and deliberately as if she had all the time in the world.

She picked up the hood and pulled it down over Joshua’s grimacing face. She tightened it hard, easing the lacing through each hole to force it as small as possible before she added the wig.

Sophie tied his legs with Julia’s blouse before untying the long golden belt. She helped Joshua to struggle to his feet but his ankles were still tied to the chair. As he wobbled blindly she threw Julia’s long black dress over Joshua’s head and dragged it down beyond his knees. She lashed the golden belt around him once.

She left him swaying as she pushed the tray table towards the chair. Sophie pushed him forward so that he fell across the table. She lashed him to it with the rest of the golden belt before transferring the pantyhose from the chair to the legs of the tray table.

She wheeled him from the living room to the kitchen. She lowered the drying frame to a level below the top of the tray table. Until now everything had been done with little effort. Transferring him from the tray table to the drying frame took all her effort. She lashed his upper body to it with Julia’s slacks and the golden belt. She removed the pantyhose from his ankles and tied a noose around his neck. At that point it seemed that Joshua realised what she intended. The frame was shaking violently as she hauled it up towards the ceiling.

Sophie stood a chair on the kitchen table and climbed on to it. She hooked the pantyhose noose over the hook in the ceiling. She untied and removed the slacks and then repositioned the golden belt so that it was twice around the outside of the long black dress. Joshua was held on the drying frame by his own weight and friction. Any slight movement and he would slide off, to be brought up short by the pantyhose noose.

Sophie got down from the chair, lifted it down and threw it sideways on to the kitchen floor. Joshua started but stilled himself.

Sophie took the pulley system and lowered the drying frame inch by inch. Finally Joshua started to slip off and was presumably caught by the pantyhose noose. The video stopped just before his weight was transferred. The lights came on again.

The inspector cleared his throat.

“Sophie pulled the drying frame back up to the ceiling and left the house. Joshua did not die quickly. We have cut that part off the video. We might show it to the coroner but you don’t need to see it. You know he is dead.”

We all started to ask questions but the inspector held up his hands.

“In a minute, perhaps. What you don’t know is that Sophie is also dead. She crashed her car near Hythe yesterday morning. We think it was suicide but… She left a note for us. She said that what Joshua had done to her had made her barren and some of the other damage was not repairable. She wrote that she would have died soon anyway. Whether that is true or not is irrelevant. Sophie believed it. The coroner thinks she may have been right. So we have a murder, and the person who did it is dead. If the case had come to court Sophie might have been able to plead provocation…

There are two things the police would like to know. First, do any of you know any others who might have been victims of Mr. Smith? The second thing is: Do any of you know if he had any close relatives? He left a will, which is very unusual. If there are close relatives they may wish to challenge the will. Can you let me, or one of the sergeants, know before you leave if you can help.”

Emma asked: “Why did you show us that video?” Several heads nodded in agreement to the question.

The inspector replied: “Three reasons. One, we want answers to the two questions. Two, we wanted you to see and remember the actions of a brave woman. Three, we want to deter those who assaulted Mr Smith from ever doing something like that again. I don’t think you will. Next time – please take your grievances to the police. You might have saved Sophie. You did save Julia, after she had saved herself, but there might be others who are still suffering.”

We left it at that. We were all very subdued. Mary and Emma thought of a couple of names of women who might have been Joshua’s victims. No one knew of any relatives. Joshua had never mentioned any.

A few weeks later a solicitor contacted Emma. She rang me. Joshua had left all his property to her provided that she attended his solicitor’s office dressed in the pink gingham dress. Eventually she did, escorted by George, Julia and I. She changed into the dress in the solicitor’s washroom, listened to the reading of the will and then changed back to her street clothes. George hugged her to stop her shaking.

We had a joint wedding. I gave Emma away. George gave Julia away. George and I also acted as each other’s best man. Mary and her friends were bridesmaids for both brides. I think it was the first time for years that some of the bridesmaids had worn dresses. Whether that was true or not, they looked nearly as wonderful as the brides. Fitness can be beautiful.

George asked Julia and I to remove all the pink gingham dresses and the accessories from Joshua’s former house. We did. Sometimes Julia and I play with them. We have destroyed the spare hoods but one night she might be a frilly gingham girl tied hand and foot; another night I might be. I don’t think Emma would approve. She and Julia normally prefer to be naked and dangerous.