Considerations
Joan Woodcock
still could not quite believe this was happening to her, especially not
today. The fifty year old had been
looking forward to this night for weeks now – a chance, now that the divorce
was settled, to get back out and see if she still had what it took to get a
boyfriend.
She had
visited her hairdresser, and had her highlights done as well as a new haircut,
and bought a new dress especially, a blue lace affair that showed just enough
of her to entice any man worth considering.
New stockings – not the all in one affairs, but
proper ones complete with a garter belt, and new black heeled sandals to make
her look taller.
And what had
happened? She was about to leave when
she was stopped by – him. Oh, he had
been polite, apologising for the intrusion as he made her walk back into the
house, but he had been most insistent – and the small handgun he had pointed at
Joan had only served to reinforce that point.
She had been
made to sit in an old armchair, tan leather upholstery on a metal frame, and
then he had produced several lengths of rope form inside his tailored
jacket. One of those had been sued to
secure her wrists behind her back, her red painted fingernails out of reach of
the knot as the rope went between her arms.
A second length had secured her ankles together, and yet another her legs above her knees, before he had politely
insisted she tell him where her valuables were.
She had tried
to put him off, but somehow he had seen through her protests, and eventually
she had pointed him in the right direction.
He had not harmed her – apart from tying her up – and not threatened
her, not as such, but she had felt he meant business, as they say on the police
reconstruction programs.
He had then
produced a roll of white tape, and torn one, then two, then three strips off –
all of them pressed down over her mouth, reducing her protests to a small
whimper as he lifted her legs and made her sit across the chair, her legs over
one arm and her hands hanging over the other, while she watched him stealing
her jewels and cash.
It was what
happened after that was strange – he looked at her, and said quietly “I feel I
may have inadvertently ruined your evening.”
“Udntnsss,” she mumbled as she glared at him.
“My apologies
– but it was necessary,” he said quietly, “perhaps I can make it up to
you. Is there someone you would like me
to call?”
Shaking her
head, she watched as the man said “Well, I did ask,” and then left her. She tried to free herself from her bonds,
with little success, until she heard a voice – a familiar one – saying
“Joan? Are you all right? I had a call at home and...”
She looked to
the door as Marcus, one of her work colleagues came in. “Oh god,” he said as he ran over and peeled
the tape away from her mouth, “are you all right?”
“I am now,”
she said quietly. She had a small crush
on him, and as he looked at her, she wondered if he felt the same way...
“And did he?”
“He did actually – a bit Mills and
Boon for my tastes, but the event did bring them together,” Barry Hammond said
as he sat with Brian Holderness-Carter.
“So we have a Jay Edwards type
character?”
“Something like
that – the next we heard was when he robbed a spinster of the parish, Maggie
Holden...”
Maggie was
working in her home office, typing the latest chapter of her next book. As she stretched up, the sleeves of her light
pink jumper fell down her arms, so much that she had to push them back down
again as she stood up, and brushed some crumbs off her long lilac coloured
skirt.
Walking to
the kitchen, she put on the kettle and waited as it boiled, before she made
herself a coffee. Her long black suede
boots covered her legs to the knees as she walked back – and walked into the
well dressed man who was looking at her work.
“Forgive the
intrusion,” he said quietly, “but please, put your coffee mug down.”
Maggie did
that, before standing with her hands on her hips and saying “And who are you?”
“Me? I’m the man who’s robbing you," he said
quietly as he produced a pistol and pointed it at her. “I trust you have no objections?”
“Would it
matter if I did?”
“Not really no – please, sit in the chair.”
Maggie sat in
her typing chair and looked over her shoulder as the man tied her wrists behind
the chair back, and then to the central support. He was about six foot two, dark hair, very
smartly dressed, but as he wrapped more rope around her stomach and pulled her
against the chair back she knew he meant business.
He then tied
some more rope around her upper arms and chest, taking it under her arms to
tighten it, before he said “Please, push your chair back and cross your
ankles.”
As she did
this, he knelt down and bound her ankles tightly together, and then her legs
below her knees, folding her skirt back to allow him access and then returning
it over the band of rope.
“Now,” he
said as he picked up a scarf, and rolled it into a band, tying a knot in the
middle, “kindly...”
The ring on
the doorbell made Maggie give a gasp, as the man looked at her.
“It’s a
delivery of shopping,” she said quietly, “please...”
“Open your
mouth,” he said, and as he pulled the knot between her teeth she wondered what
he was going to do.
“So what did he do?”
“Answered the door, took in the
groceries, put them away – including the frozen and fresh food – and then
proceeded to rob her,” Barry said. Brian
looked at him, and then burst out laughing.
“All right, so he’s well
mannered. But does he just do the
housework?”
Millie Forbes
was not having a good day, as she watched the vet driving away. Her horse has gone lame while riding that
morning, and the young man had removed a jagged nail from the hoof.
As she closed
the door, she looked at her riding boots sitting by the coat rack, and then
pulled her white riding blouse out of her britches, unbuttoning the bottom few
buttons and then tying the front of her blouse under her chest.
Sitting down,
she ran her hair through her greying blonde hair, and then smiled. “Admit it girl,” she said to herself, “wrong
side of fifty, two kids, loving husband, and you still worry about your
horse? Not too shabby.”
“Oh I agree
entirely.”
Millie looked
up and saw the man standing there, smiling as he pointed a pistol at her. She was unable to speak for a moment, before
she said “oh god, how did you get in?”
“You left
your door open while you talked to the visitor,” he said with a smile, “I have
to ask you to keep nice and quiet, even if the chances of anyone hearing you
are next to zilch.”
Millie
started to shake as she sat there, terrified of what the man may be doing. He could see her fear, as he said “Don’t
worry – I need to make sure you can’t raise the alarm, but that is all I am
going to do. Now, very slowly, put your
hands on your head.”
As Millie
complied, the man produced a length of white cord from his jacket pocket, and
knelt down, binding her ankles tightly together as she started to shake.
“Hey, hey,”
he said as he looked at her, “does it hurt?”
“No,” Millie
whispered, “it’s just...”
He stood up
and looked at her as she said “I’ve been robbed before – forgive me, but the
man then said he would not hurt me, and then...”
She started
sobbing as he sat with her, and said “I promise you, I will not do anything
like that. I want you to turn your back
to me, put your hands behind your back, and trust me.”
“But I’m
scared...”
“I know, but
trust me.”
Millie
nodded, knowing she really didn’t have a choice, as she allowed him to bind her
wrists behind her back, the rope pulled tightly round her arms.
“Now, open
wide,” he said, and as she did so she felt him pulling a rolled black scarf
between her teeth. The previous time,
the masked man had stuffed her mouth, wrapped tape round her head, and...
As she
started crying, the man stood up and placed the telephone on the floor, a few
feet from her. “I already helped myself
to your valuables,” he said, “so I leave you like this. I am sure you will find help soon enough.”
Millie
watched as he walked out of the door, and then pushed herself forward, kneeling
on the floor as she started to shuffle forward on her knees...
“He seems to have a thing for older
women – probably thinks they make easier targets.” Brian sat back and said “this is Great
Britain however, home of the gentleman thief.
Is it so unusual?”
“More unusual than you may think,”
Barry said. “The real exponent in the
past is long retired, and works as a security consultant sometimes. You know just how vicious some of our own
home grown variety can be – but this guy is different. He seems to genuinely desire to make it a
less stressful experience for the women he robs.
“Here – this one may interest you...”
Closing her
front door, Barbara Fenton let out a deep sigh, and set her bag down, taking
off her long black coat and placing it in the wardrobe. She looked at herself in the mirror – brown
hair with grey streaks, and a dark blue dress that had seen better days.
“And they say
it’s an easy job being a headmistress,” she said to herself as she slipped off
her boots and made her way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and
pouring herself a glass of wine. She
then made her way up the stairs and started to run a bath – all she wanted now
was to soak for a while, before she had something to eat and relaxed in front
of the television.
Ten minutes
later, she sighed as she sank into the warm scented water, feeling the tensions
of the day ease off as she relaxed.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a few moments, not hearing the
slight creak on the staircase...
As she
finished drying herself off, and slipped on a bathrobe, Barbara looked at
herself again in the mirror.
“Better,” she
said as she walked out of the bathroom, the water draining away as she entered
her bedroom – and saw a smartly dressed man looking through her chest of
drawers.
“What the...”
He turned and
looked at her, smiling as he said “ah – I had hoped to leave before you go
tout.”
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom.”
“Well,” the
man said with a smile, “I’m a burglar, and I’m a burglar.” He then produced a pistol from inside his
jacket and pointed it at Barbara, saying “now, please, put something on so that
I can tie you up and take your valuables.”
Barbara
looked at him, her head to one side before she said “all right – but if I do
this, you must do me a favour.”
“I will steal
your valuables, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t deny
you will,” she said quietly, “but perhaps you will allow me to indulge in a
little – fantasy.”
He looked at
her, then smiled and nodded as he said “All right – what do you have in mind?”
“Turn your
back – and don’t worry. My mobile is in
my handbag downstairs, and there is no phone in the room.”
Nodding, the
intruder walked to the door and looked out, waiting for a few moments before
Barbara said “I’m ready.” He turned to
see her wearing a white blouse, the top three buttons undone, a red and black
tartan short skirt, and white woollen tights.
“IT appears
the schoolgirl had disturbed the burglar,” he said quietly, “sorry, but I need
to tie you up and make sure you keep out of my way.”
“Oh please,”
Barbara said as she knelt on her bed, her hands clasped together in prayer in
front of her, “don’t do that to me. I
promise I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Then stay
still,” the man said as he put the gun where they could both see it, and
extracted a length of white rope from his jacket pocket. “Be a good girl, and hold that pose...”
Barbara
watched as he tied her wrists tightly together, the rope going between her arms
to tighten the binding, and then helped her to sit down on the bed. She wriggled her toes as he bound her ankles
together in the same way, and then her legs above her knees, the tights
protecting her skin from the rope as it rubbed on them.
“Now then,”
he said as he looked round, and then from another pocket produced a long length
of white cloth, “open wide and keep quiet.”
Barbara had
to stop herself from grinning as the cloth pressed down on her tongue, and he
tied it tightly round her head. She lay
on the bed, her legs behind as she supported herself with her hands, and nodded
as he asked where she kept her jewels and valuables.
In her mind,
she was living a fantasy, a long held one, and hey – her insurance would cover
it, if she said she was forced to dress like a schoolgirl...
“Oh come one – that’s not in the
official report.”
“Of course it’s not – but she’s the
headmistress of my son’s school. She
told me the story at a PTA meeting – in confidence, and I expect you to keep
that.”
“Me, keep secrets,” Brian said with a
laugh.
“Good,” Barry said.
“So when did this paragon of intruders
last strike?”
“A month or so ago – a shop manageress
– and this shows what I was talking about.”
Sheena knew
she should have done the banking before coming home, but that last pair of
customers had insisted on trying on every dress they had selected – at least
twice – and now she had been forced to bring the bags home. As she’d left, she had told her assistant
that she would be in late the next morning, and to open up for her. At least she could trust her to do that
safely.
She was
wearing a royal blue jacket, buttoned up the front, over a matching short
sleeved dress with a round neckline, black tights with a vertical stripe, and
black pumps with a three inch heel. As
she reached down to slip her left shoe off, however, she heard a noise in the
front room.
“Whiskers, is
that you,” she said as she walked into the room – and then stopped dead as she
saw the well dressed man looking at her from the open display cabinet.
“Ah – good
evening,” he said with a smile as he looked at her, and then produced a pistol,
“I must ask you not to raise the alarm in any way. Just very slowly, close the door behind you
and come in.”
“Who.. Who are you,” she stammered as the door shut behind her.
“Not really
important – please, have a seat.” He
walked over to her table, pulled a wooden seat out and indicated with his hand. As Sheena sat down, she let out a little
moan, the man watching as he said “I trust you are comfortable?”
“I get the
feeling I won’t be in a
few minutes,” she said quietly, “but I will cope. Just old age I feel.”
“Nonsense –
you are not that old,” he said as he guided her hands behind her back, and
started to bind them together with rope.
“That’s not
what my doctor says,” Sheena replied, grunting as she felt the rope pulling her
arms together.
“Then he or
she is a fool,” the man said as he knelt behind her, and tied the end of a long
length of rope to the joint of the leg and the seat, before he started to use
it to secure her arms and chest to the chair back.
“I guess
you’re going to take everything – my jewels, my takings, my money...”
“Your
takings,” the man said as he pulled the rope tight, making her gasp as it
pressed on her stomach, “What makes you say that?”
“My bad luck
– I had to bring the takings from my fashion store home tonight.”
He moved
round and knelt in front of her, smiling as he tightly bound her ankles.
“Let us see,
shall we,” he said with a smile as he stood up.
“For now, however, I regret you must be quiet. Please, open your mouth.”
“Must you?”
“I must,” he
said, so as Sheena opened her mouth he pushed a folded cloth in, before tying a
white cloth over her mouth, covering her lips and chin
as he pulled it taut and secured the ends under her hair.
She watched
as he then continued to search the room, before leaving her for a while. It was obvious from what she could hear that
he was searching the bedrooms, and Sheena stamped her feet on the floor in frustration
at her helplessness.
Eventually,
he reappeared in the room, and said “Out of curiosity, I see the name Allyson
in your contact book. Is she your
assistant?”
Sheena nodded
slowly as he smiled. “Good – enjoy your
evening,” he said quietly as he turned the television on, and left her to try
an escape.
An
attempt that lasted for ninety minutes, with the only effect of the ropes
around her upper body slipping down her chest.
As she screamed in frustration, she was surprised to see the door opening
and Allyson come in.
“Oh my god –
he was right,” she said as she came over and removed the gag.
“Who was?”
“The man – he
rang my doorbell, handed me the takings bag, and said you might need some
help...”
Brian laughed out loud. “A touch, a distinct touch, as Holmes once
said. And yet you still don’t know who
it is?”
“Nope – but we have bigger fish to fry
than a modern day Raffles,” Barry said as he stood up. “Come on – we need to go to that meeting
now...”
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