The Cat's Pyjamas
How’s the tea? Not too strong I hope?
Anyway, I’m glad you called around – I was thinking about you the other day. I know you like my stories, so I was hoping you’d pop in again.
The reason really is I was sorting out some old clothes the other day, and I found a load of old pyjamas that I don’t wear any more. Why this got me thinking about this topic I don’t know, but I remembered that you asked what happened if I disturbed people when I was paying them a night visit, and that got me thinking through some of the times that had happened. Over my long career, you’ve seen and dealt with just about everything that a person would wear to bed, after all.
To tell the truth, however, the first person I ever saw tied up in nightclothes wasn’t a person I paid a visit to – it was my own mother. Let me explain.
It must have been the early 60’s, for I was 10 and coming home late from a friend’s house. In those days it wasn’t uncommon for kids of my age to be walking the streets at that time of night, so I didn’t stop until I got home. It also wasn’t uncommon for us to leave our doors unlocked at night, so I just opened the door and went in.
Well, I knew something was wrong the moment I got in. My father was working a night shift that day, but my mother wasn’t known fro going to bed early. Even so, the mess there was on the living room floor told me that someone had been visiting that should not have been there.
I called out for my mother, and heard a muffled cry coming from upstairs. I made my way up cautiously, and pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom.
My mother was lying on her side on the bed, wearing a white teddy nightdress – the sort that came only down to just below the crotch. Her wrists were behind her back, and as I looked I could see that they had been tied together with string which had then been used to tie her ankles together as well. A strip of plaster was stuck over her mouth, and she was trying desperately to call out to me as she raised her head from the pillow it was lying on.
I found a pair of scissors, cut the string between her ankles and wrists and peeled away the tape, at which point she started crying and thanking me. She told me a couple of lads had just walked in, pushed her upstairs and tied her up before ransacking the place, then just left her there.
Not very mannerly, was it? This was before my career choice had been made, but even then I knew to treat a lady with respect, and this was not the case here.
Now, once I started out on my own as a cat burglar, I knew I would have possibly to tie people up in their nightclothes. My training had prepared me for that, but even then some of the things that I had to deal with….
There was a fad in the early to mid-seventies for clothes made of nylon. It was cheap, and didn’t need ironing, but my god the static electricity that could be built up when you wore those clothes was incredible.
This one time, I had entered this flat to see what I could find. It would have been about one in the morning, and I was being my usual quiet self, but a car decided to roar down the street at that point at some ridiculous speed and it managed to wake the occupant up.
I hid in the bathroom, and watched this blonde haired girl walking from her bedroom to the kitchen, then heard the tap running. She was wearing a long sleeved white nightdress, and from the sound it made as she moved I could tell it was made from some sort of nylon.
She left the kitchen, and then rather than returning to the bedroom she made her way to the bathroom. As soon as she opened the door and turned the light on, she saw me standing there, and I had to try and grab to stop her getting away. The most almighty shock ran through my arm – static electricity from the nightdress – and I yelped out in surprise, only to see her try to get past me.
I grabbed her, quietly told her to stop struggling as she would only hurt herself, and asked her where her valuables were kept. She was strong, but I was stronger, and eventually she led me to her bedroom and opened a set of drawers. I asked her to lie down on the bed, and taking some cords out of my pocket I bound her wrists together behind her back, and then her ankles with a second length. I managed to find a scarf in another drawer, rolled it into a band and tied into her mouth to keep her quiet. As I continued to search her flat, I could hear her squirming around on the nylon sheets on her bed, so I at least knew she was alright in that respect. Looking in to see if she was alright, I closed the door and made my way out sharpies.
You would think that the younger a woman is, the skimpier the outfit she is likely to wear to bed, but my experience is that is most certainly not the case. I have seen women in their fifties and sixties in short nightdresses and women in their late teens in full nightdresses. The most extreme example of that would be the time I robbed a house in the suburbs.
This was in a quiet leafy street, and it was an early autumn evening when dusk was falling at about nine. I had seen the older woman in town that day, purchasing some very nice pieces of jewellery, so I felt I could drop in and see what I could find.
The rear door was no problem to open when I forced it at midnight, and I quietly made my way through the ground floor of the house and up the stairs. No lights were on, but I could hear the sounds of sleeping, so I made certain not to make any unnecessary noise as I opened what I thought was the main bedroom door.
On the bed, on top of the covers, was a woman in her late fifties, with greying brown hair cut into a short bob. She was wearing a short blue silk slip, with a matching band tied into her hair, and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I started to search through a set of drawers in the room, finding tights, panties and other personal items, but at that point no jewellery.
That was when the light went on, and I turned to see the woman sitting up in bed staring at me. I was dressed in my usual attire – black sweater and trousers, and a woollen hat over my hair, but no masks or stockings over my head.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked me, so I sat on the edge of the bed and politely told her that I was looking for her valuables. She looked at me with a quizzical look in her eye, and then asked where I came from.
Well, it is unusual to get such pleasant conversation, so I chatted with her for a little while. I then ventured the fact that as she had disturbed me, I had to make sure she wasn’t able to stop me at my work, and she nodded in understanding.
It was at that point that the door opened, and a young woman who was obviously her daughter came in and asked who her mother was talking to. She was a total contrast to her mother – not a short nightdress for her, but flannelette pyjamas – white with a blue stripe.
Rubbing her eyes, she then saw me standing there, and I’m sure she would have screamed if her mother hadn’t stopped her. She told her to calm down, and as she did so I repeated what I had said to her mother. The daughter looked frightened, but her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, and that she would go first.
The problem I had now was what to use to tie them up with, so I took a pile of stockings from the drawer I had searched earlier. The daughter sat down on a chair at the dressing table in the room, and watched as I gently tied her mother’s hands behind her back with a stocking, and then crossed and tied her ankles together. I asked her if she was uncomfortable, and after twisting her wrists and ankles around she said she was all right.
I then went over to the daughter, and asked her to stand up and put her hands behind her back. She did this, and I crossed and tied her ankles in the same way I had her mothers. She walked over to the bed, and lay down on her side facing her mother while I bound her ankles as well.
The two of them lay there chatting while I completed the search of both their rooms, and collected what valuables I could find. I then faced the problem of how to keep them quiet. I pulled the phone out of the wall, and untied the band from around the mother’s head. Opening her mouth for me, I had no problem using it to hold a stacking as a simple gag. For the daughter, I took a pair of stockings, put one in her mouth and tied the other into her mouth to keep it in place. Kissing them both lightly on the cheek, I left them to the rest of their night’s activities. As I closed the door, they were trying to talk to each other through the gags.
I have to admit to certain …. Liking for seeing women in nightwear and lingerie. It adds a certain level of sophistication, particularly when the nightwear is made from silk or satin. It shows class, and even the most sophisticated of ladies have an allure of their own in that way.
In the early 90’s I visited a flat in one of my favourite areas of the city, Belgravia. This would have been just before the so-called “Black Wednesday” and money was rife. As it was on the third floor, I entered by climbing onto the roof at the end of the terrace the house was in, making my way along the tiles and then lowering myself onto the balcony before prising open the window and climbing in.
The bedroom was tastefully attired, and I wasted no time in locating the strongbox and beginning to empty the contents into my rucksack. Whoever lived there had plenty of nice pieces, as well as a nice large wad of cash, so I decided to see what else the flat had to offer. Before I left the room however, I noticed that not only was the bed empty, someone had obviously been sleeping in it. I therefore stopped in a wardrobe to pick up a few things that may be of use, put them in my rucksack and slipped into the corridor.
There was a light on further down the hallway, and looking through the crack between the door and the sill I saw a young auburn haired woman sat in a chair, peering at a book through her glasses. She had a drink at her side, and was wearing a blue satin dressing gown which was tied around her waist with a sash.
Her attention was deep in the book, so I opened the door and slipped in. She did not even notice I was there until I coughed softly, and apologised for interrupting her reading. She looked up, stared at me and started to scream, so I had to clamp my hand over her mouth and tell her to stop struggling or I would be forced to hurt her – something I did not want to do.
As she calmed down, I took her by the arm and led her to a long settee, which I sat down on beside her with her drink in my hand. I offered her it, and she downed it in one before asking what I intended to do. I reassured her that it was not my intention to molest or attack her, merely to relieve of some things she could replace another time. She then asked me if I was going to tie her up, and I simply nodded.
She then said “Good”, and in my shock /I looked down to see what she was reading. It turned out to be a collected edition of a magazine called “Bizarre”, which I had heard of – a fetish magazine from the forties and fifties, and quite interesting reading. “I want to know what it feels like to be helpless myself,” she said. Well, when made an offer like that, what am I supposed to do?
She undid the sash around her waist, and let her dressing gown fall to the floor to reveal a full length sleeveless blue silk nightgown. I picked up the sash, and she turned around and crossed her hands behind her back. To her surprise, I uncrossed them, put them together palm to palm, and quickly tied her wrists together with the sash.
“You will find this more comfortable,” I said as I sat her down and helped her to lay full length on the settee. From my rucksack, I produced one of the long chiffon scarves that I had found, and used it to tie her ankles together, then another to tie her legs together above her knees and over her nightdress.
She lay there, smiling and wriggling around, as I rolled up a small scarf in my hand. Asking her to open her mouth, she offered no resistance as I pushed the square into her open mouth, then tied a rolled up scarf around it to keep it in place.
She mmphed “blndfld m” and I removed her glasses before tying a further scarf over her closed eyes. I left her there, rolling around on the seats, and vacated the flat through the front door.
What’s that you say – have I ever had to tie up any men? Well, I have a confession to make – I tried in my career to avoid targets where there were men present. Much too likely to cause a scene and lead to problems. I found that, with women, so long as you were polite but firm there would be no problem. Sometimes you get strange requests like that previous tale, and sometimes you end up tying them up in the nude because, well, because they have nothing on when you surprise them. Sometimes, however, you have to do things which you did not intend to do.
This one time, towards the end of my career, I was robbing a flat when the owners came home unexpectedly. I had to jump out of the window to get away, but found there was no easy way out of the back yard, so the only option I had was to go in through the kitchen of the ground floor flat and try to make my escape that way.
Well, my luck really was bad that night – as soon as I walked in, there was a young female student standing there, in a Winnie the Pooh nightdress, staring at this man sweating and dressed in black. I was in no mood to argue, so I grabbed her, gagged her with my hand, and asked if she had any duct tape in the flat. She indicated with her eyes the cupboard under the sink, and I told her to take it out.
She did so, and I told her to take me to her bedroom. There was a wide eyed look about her as if there was something she wanted to hide, but I insisted and she led the way.
When we got there, I saw what she was trying to hide. Another young girl, this time in a t-shirt and panties, was lying face down on the bed, her wrists tied to the headboard with a scarf. I had obviously interrupted a game of some type, but the girl on the bed just looked up and gasped.
I told both of them to be quiet and they wouldn’t be hurt, and then told the one in the nightshirt to climb over her friend and lie down behind her, resting her wrists on the other ones forearms. Once she had done this, I used the tape to bind the wrist and forearms, and then wound it around the waists of both girls so that they were bound together. I then made the two girls wrap their legs around each other, and taped their ankles together, before gently placing tape over their lips.
“Sorry girls,” I said as I left them struggling, “this was just a flying visit. Please don’t feel too bad about it.” The last thing I saw was the girl underneath trying to turn her head around, and the girl on top reaching down to kiss her.
At any rate, such tales pass the time, but I have business to attend to. Forgive me – and do stay to finish your drink.