CHAPTER ONE - The New Appointment

The story continues on from 'The Caretaker' … The same day … Friday 7th January …

11:00 am

The Managing Director of Madam Troudeau's, Mr. Alfred Harrison, put down the telephone and placed his head in his hands. He needed time to think. He was seated at his large desk in his London office. From his window behind him the skyline showed views of St Paul's Cathedral and the tower blocks of the financial centre. He was the man in charge of the world famous Waxworks and Leisure Company and he needed to be clear in his mind as to what course of action he should take.
The phone call he had just received had been from the police. An Inspector Hawkins from the South Coast Constabulary had called to say that an employee of Madame Troudeau's had been found dead. He had been the Company's Caretaker at their Littlesea branch on the south coast of England. His body had just been removed from the catacombs below Littlesea Castle and had been officially identified by his mother. Apparently he had been crushed to death in a rock fall.
Mr. Harrison took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. The telephone conversation was not the principal reason for his concern. He already knew of Malcolm Smith's exploits and the bizarre manner of his demise. The headlines in the daily newspaper spread out on his desk told him everything. It read: 'Torturer found crushed to death in Old Castle Dungeon', and these were the headlines in what he considered to be a more conservative broadsheet. The tabloids themselves had really gone to town on the story. The telephone conversation with Inspector Hawkins was merely the official confirmation he had been waiting for before facing the great mass of photographers and reporters gathered outside the building. They were waiting with baited breath for an official statement from the Company.
There was also another more important aspect to consider. One that would no doubt prove very beneficial to the Company. The interest generated by the media had already set their switchboard into meltdown mode. The public just wanted to know when the new exhibition at Littlesea was going to open. They wanted to see for themselves the torture chamber where all these alleged atrocities took place. At that precise moment in time, the mock dungeon created in the basement of their amusement park at Littlesea on the south coast of England was red hot property. It was a gold mine just waiting to be exploited.
Mr. Harrison smiled a broad grin and leaned forward across his desk. A finger depressed a button on the intercom that connected his office to one on the other side of the door.
"Miss Elkington, I want you to try and contact Mr. McTavish in Australia. I need to speak to him urgently," he said and holding his finger firmly down on the button.
Mr. Harrison's secretary looked to the clock on her office wall. The time was eleven o'clock in the morning. Australia was on the other side of the world and had a twelve hour time difference. It would be eleven o'clock at night over there right now.
She told her boss her fears: "It'll be eleven o'clock at night over there now sir, it might not be possible to contact Mr. McTavish straightaway," she explained.
"I don't care, just keep on trying. He left a phone number to call in case of emergency… well this is one… just get it and keep on trying until someone answers," Mr. Harrison rebuked her sternly.
"Yes sir," responded Miss Elkington. "I'll keep trying until I get him."
"Oh, and one more thing Miss Elkington, find out who the assistant researcher for the Littlesea Dungeon Project was, and then send him to me immediately."
"Yes sir," responded Miss Elkington.
Mr. Harrison was in one of those moods and it looked like it was going to be a busy day ahead. There was also the rat-pack of reporters outside to be dealt with.
Five minutes later the intercom in Mr. Harrison's office buzzed loudly. At the time the Managing Director was stood gazing out of the window, looking down on the massed group of reporters and photographers gathered in the street below. He had already worked out what to say. The opening of the Littlesea Dungeon Exhibition was to be brought forward by one month. It would now open on the first Saturday in March and not the first Saturday in April as originally planned. But before he could announce the new date to the press gathering outside he urgently wanted to speak to Mr. McTavish, and there also needed to be a new caretaker installed immediately at Littlesea to replace the unfortunate Malcolm Smith.
Mr. Harrison rubbed his hands together with glee. He could feel a cash bonanza coming on. Shares in the Company would most certainly rocket once news of his fresh plans for Littlesea hit the Stock Market. If he played his cards right it would most probably add a further ten million pounds to his own existing shares in the Company. He would sell off a portion of them when at their peak and deposit the money in one of his off-shore accounts. It was a happy man that crossed from the window and held a finger down on the intercom button.
"Yes, what is it Miss Elkington?" he said.
"I've got Mr. McTavish on the line for you Mr. Harrison," she announced with a noticeable little chirp of success to her voice, and then added. "And I've also got Roger Downton from the Research Department with me. He was the one that assisted Mr. McTavish on the Littlesea Dungeon Project in the early stages. He also helped liaise with the 'Old Castle Trust', so he knows a fair bit about what's going on down there."
"Thank you Miss Elkington, I'll take the call from Mr. McTavish, then send Roger Downton in to see me as soon as I'm finished," Mr. Harrison instructed his secretary.
"Yes sir," replied Miss Elkington, "I'm putting the call to Australia through to you now."
Mr. Harrison raised his finger from the intercom button and the telephone on his desk rang simultaneously. He lifted up the receiver.
"Hamish," he said, "sorry to bother you at this time of night, but we've got a problem back here."
The two men were on first name terms. It was always Hamish and Alfred between them. Hamish McTavish was also on the Board of Directors and a senior member of the Company, so it was important that he be consulted on the matter first.
"Och! It's all right Alfred," said the Scotsman, "I was just having a wee dram with my brother. It's noo bother. What's the problem then Alfred, that needs a call to the other side of the world to put right?"
"It's your caretaker at Littlesea, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you Hamish," said Alfred trying to break the news gently to his far away colleague in Australia.
"What? Noo wee Malcolm?" responded Hamish.
"Yes Malcolm Smith,… I'm afraid he's dead," announced Mr. Harrison. He could think of no other way of putting it.
For a moment there was silence, then Hamish spoke: "What happened then Alfred?"
"I've not got all the details yet Hamish, I've just put the phone down from the police. But it appears somehow he managed to get into the catacombs below the old castle and was killed by a roof fall in one of the tunnels," explained Alfred.
"Och noo!" responded Hamish. "What was he doing doon there? He knew it to be dangerous."
"Can't really say Hamish, and the police aren't saying much at this stage either," answered Alfred and trying to be conservative with the truth. He wanted to keep all the gory details out of this conversation and stick strictly to business.
"Och! That's sad!" replied Hamish and obviously a little distraught at the news.
"Yes sad," replied Alfred somewhat sombrely.
"So sad!… Poor Malcolm… What are yee planning to do then Alfred?" asked Hamish after a while.
"Well Hamish, I've got a replacement lined up. I'm waiting to interview him as soon as I put the phone down. Do you remember Roger Downton from the Research Department who assisted you on the initial stages of the Littlesea Dungeon Project? I'm hoping to get him installed down there as soon as possible," explained Alfred.
"Och Alfred, he's a nice laddie, very bright and quite capable, but a bit of a high flyer for the job of caretaker doon yar think?" responded Hamish honestly.
"There's a little more to it than just that Hamish," explained Alfred. "The death of Malcolm Smith has sparked off a lot of interest back here. I've got the press on the doorstep hounding me for a statement, and the public just want to get inside our Littlesea complex to see our exciting new dungeon display. The response has been overwhelming, so I've decided to bring the opening date forward by one month if that is at all possible. But first I need to consult you Hamish. I need to know whether that's feasible or not? What do you think? Can we bring the date forward? I'd like to open the exhibition on the first Saturday in March and not April."
There was a long pause whilst Hamish considered all the pitfalls. His intended flight back was not scheduled until the middle of February. That would leave only two weeks to get everything ready.
"Och Alfred! I'll need to fly back earlier," responded Hamish after much thought.
"Why Hamish? What's to be done? Just tell me and I'll get it organised. I'm sure we can handle it until you get back," Alfred told him.
Hamish thought for a little while longer, then gave his fellow director his considered list: "Well there's all the exhibits and dummies to be transferred from London and set up," he told him.
"Yes, but they're all done and waiting to be transported aren't they Hamish? They're all in the warehouse waiting… I'm sure we can organise everything from this end," responded Alfred.
Hamish thought for a littler while longer. Most of the work had been completed before he left for Australia, that was true. There was no way he would have departed without having everything organised. There was one outstanding item to consider however. He had planned to use the artistic talents of Malcolm Smith to produce the exhibition brochures and advertising literature.
"Och Alfred, I guess yee can do the exhibition hall without me being there. Yee've got ma plans, that's noo problem, but we've noo done anything about the brochures and posters. That'll need sorting straightaway," explained the Scotsman.
"Tell me what's needed Hamish and I'll organise it," responded Alfred.
"Och Alfred, I was going to organise an artist to do me a few sketches to go with ma write-ups, but I guess a photographer would be best now considering the wee time scale," Hamish explained.
"Okay Hamish, leave it all with me. It's Friday today, I can have a professional photographer on the site by Monday morning. I'll get Roger Downton to speak to you then and you can explain what's needed. Is that all right?" replied Alfred.
Hamish thought again. He was not a gentleman of haste like his fellow director and needed time to think things over. A call on Monday would probably be ideal. What he needed right now was time to think about all the implications involved in bringing the project forward by one month, and something further complicated by the fact that he was half way around the world.
"Yee do that then Alfred. Get Roger Downton to phone me a little earlier though. Say nine o'clock, I'll be here and waiting," said Hamish, then he had one final thought. "Och, and Alfred, tell the photographer to bring along a couple of models. Yee'll need young lassies willing to take off their clothes."
"That's fine Hamish, I'll organise that. Let's get the show on the road then shall we?" assured a jubilant Alfred.
"Okay Alfred, I'll be waiting by the phone on Monday at nine o'clock, and I'll have ma bonnie wee thoughts put together by then. Och, and Alfred, send a wreath and a message of condolence to Malcolm's mother. He was a grand laddie, and would noo do harm to a fly," said Hamish.
Alfred refrained from saying anything about that last remark. "Will do Hamish, I'll see that the lad gets a decent send off," he agreed.
"Bye then Alfred," said Hamish and the line went dead.
Alfred put his own phone down and smiled. A lavish funeral paid for by the Company was a good idea. Why had he not thought of that before? It would all add to the publicity and add fuel to the fire. He could see the queues now, building up outside the Littlesea premises and all waiting to get in and see the new exhibition. Everything was going well and fitting in nicely with his plans. Now all he had to do was get Roger Downton installed down there by Monday morning. It would mean enticing the man with a fat pay rise and a few perks, but with a ten million personal gain plus a bumper year in the Company's annual report, he was prepared to go a long way in ensuring the project became a financial success.
There came a knock on the door.
"Come on in," called Mr. Harrison.
Roger Downton entered. He was a tall clean shaven lad in his mid-twenties. He was quite tall and muscular in build with short parted black hair. He was wearing a navy-blue suit and matching tie and looked every bit the image of an up-and-coming young executive.
"Good morning sir, you wanted to see me?" said Roger Downton as he crossed the office floor.
They shook hands briefly across Mr. Harrison's desk.
"Take a seat please Roger," said Mr. Harrison offering the young man a thickly padded leather chair in front of his desk.
The office was big, the desk ornate, and all the seats were made of expensive leather.
Roger Downton sat down and waited for the big boss man to explain the reason for this unexpected call. It was not everyday that someone from the humble Research Department on the ground floor was summonsed to the Managing Director's office high up on the top floor of the ageing office block. However he had read the morning newspapers and had an inkling as to what this was all about. It just had to be something to do with the demise of one of their employees combined with the Littlesea Dungeon Project.
"Roger," said Mr. Harrison, "I'm told that you were directly involved in the original research into the Littlesea Dungeon Project... Is that correct?"
Roger Downton nodded his head: "Yes sir, that was last year's project and I was assigned to researching the origins of the real dungeons below the old castle that overlooks Littlesea Bay," he informed his boss.
"Then Roger, you know the area well and are aware of everything we are trying to achieve down there?" stated Mr. Harrison.
Roger nodded his head once again. He could see what was coming. He was going to be asked to return to Littlesea. Yet somehow this pleased him. He had spent many a happy hour down on the south coast of England last summer and made quite a number of friends. It would also be a chance to look up his old lodgings. He had turned down the offer of staying at the complex. It was far too noisy at that time of the year, what with all the joyrides and the vast crowds milling about in the grounds. Instead he had found a quiet place to stay at a farmhouse about five miles out from Littlesea. If he remembered rightly the farmer's daughter Marion was due to get married in a few weeks time. It would be nice to look her up again. But first he had to have the offer.
Roger collected his rambling thoughts and answered his boss's question: "I know a fair bit about what's going on sir. I spent most of last summer researching down there," he said.
Mr. Harrison put his hands together and composed himself. His next statement was important.
"Roger, we need someone on site in Littlesea straightaway... You've probably heard that we've lost our caretaker down there, and Mr. McTavish is away on holiday in Australia... so it's important that we install someone who knows a little bit about what is going on… Roger, I'm offering you the job with an increased rise in salary… I want you to go down there as the New Caretaker, and remain for as long as it takes to get the Dungeon Project off the ground… It's also a bit of a rush job… We're hoping to bring the opening of the new Dungeon Exhibition forward by one month… So Roger, what do you think?.. Do you want the job?" asked Mr. Harrison and laying down his offer.
Roger Downton thought for a moment. He was an intelligent lad and was wondering what was in it for him. More money was okay, but perhaps there was a chance of getting even more out of the Company. Somewhere along the line he was thinking of a company car.
He nodded his head. "I guess a return to Littlesea for a while would be acceptable sir, but what about transport? I would need to be mobile, and from what I remember there was only an old company van to use when I was down there last, and it wasn't always available," he replied.
"Don't worry about transport Roger. We'll fix you up with a decent car," agreed Mr. Harrison.
Roger was a bit stunned by the ease of the response.
"That's fine then sir!" he replied brightly and trying not to sound shocked.
Mr. Harrison thought for a moment. Dishing out company cars was not a great problem, and this was a matter that could be dealt with pretty quickly. The Financial Director was having a new car. In fact, if he remember rightly, it was being delivered today.
"Excuse me Roger," he said and picked up the phone on his desk.
He dialled an internal three digit number.
"Hello garage," came the answer.
"Harrison here," he snapped with authority, "has the new Mercedes been delivered?"
"Yes sir, it's just arrived this minute," answered the man.
"When will it be ready?" asked Mr. Harrison.
"We can have it checked out and ready by five o'clock tonight sir," came the reply.
"Thank you," said Mr. Harrison and put the phone down.
Mr. Harrison leaned back in his chair and put his hands together.
"Would you like a Mercedes Roger?" he asked.
Roger nodded his head: "Yes sir!" he replied and hopefully still maintaining the outward appearance of a confident young man.
But to be truthful he was stunned by Mr. Harrison's speed of response. If he got a car at all, he was not expecting anything more than a Ford Sierra or a Vauxhall Cavalier.
"Our Financial Director is away on a skiing trip for the next two weeks. Just before he went away he ordered a new car for when he gets back. It's just been delivered and down in the garage now. You can have that one and I'll get another one ordered for when he gets back," explained Mr. Harrison.
"Why thank you sir," answered Roger.
"And what about a pay rise Roger? What sort of increase do you think the new job's worth?" asked Mr. Harrison.
Roger had not got a clue what to ask for. He had already got a car out of the company and was totally befuddled by the speed at which everything was happening. However he collected his wits about him and decided to pitch in high. After all he had nothing to lose.
 "With all the extra work involved I would think ten thousand a year extra would be acceptable sir?" he suggested and trying to make the figure sound reasonable.
 "Done," said Mr. Harrison without batting an eyelid. "Ten thousand a year rise and a company car thrown in, and the job is yours Roger. Do you accept?"
Roger Downton nodded his head. He was a bit startled by the suddenness of everything. He had not expected it to be so easy. He was wondering if he should have pitched in even higher.
Trying hard to conceal his true inner feelings, he answered quickly and positively: "Yes sir, I'll take it. When do I start?"
 "With immediate effect Roger. You are now the Company's 'New Caretaker' for the Littlesea Branch. I'll notify the Research Manager of your new position as soon as you leave here," Mr. Harrison informed him.
"And I take up my duties at Littlesea on Monday morning?" asked Roger. He needed to know a little more about what was involved.
"No Roger, I said with immediate effect," reminded Mr. Harrison. "I've just put the phone down… Just before you came in I was speaking to Mr. McTavish in Australia about bringing the opening date for the Dungeon Exhibition forward by one month… Your first assignment is to organise a professional photographer for our brochures and advertising literature… I've promised Mr. McTavish that you would call him back at nine o'clock on Monday morning with the photographer on site and waiting... I'm also informed that you'll need a couple of models willing to take their clothes off... Organise that first, then collect your new car from the garage at five o'clock tonight… I'm told it will be ready by then... In the meantime, if you need transport, I'll arrange for my chauffeur to take you wherever you need to go... I don't need the car today… I've got the media reporters outside to deal with next."
"Okay Mr. Harrison. I see no difficulties in that. With immediate effect I'm the Company's 'New Caretaker' for the Littlesea Branch. My first assignment is to organise a photographer to be at Littlesea on Monday morning. I'll do that straightaway," agreed Roger.
"And with a couple of models with him," reminded Mr. Harrison.
"Oh, and yes the models. I'll make sure they're there too Mr. Harrison," confirmed Roger.
And with that Mr. Harrison stood up and offered Roger his hand across the desk.
They shook hands.
Roger remained a bit befuddled at the speed of it all but shook on the deal. He had arrived at work that morning as a lowly Project Researcher. Two hours later he was the person in charge of a complete branch. The title of 'New Caretaker' did not particularly sound appealing, but for an extra ten thousand a year and with a top of the range company car thrown in for good measure, they could call him anything they liked.

1:00 pm

Roger Downton sat at the desk of the Financial Director. The office was just down the corridor from Mr. Harrison's and on the top floor of the building. The room was big and expensively furnished. He had been told that the office was free and could be used to make all the necessary telephone calls from there.
He thumbed through the London directory of 'Yellow Pages' looking for professional photographers. He found the first one in the book starting with the letter 'A' and dialled the number.
After a few short rings a female voice answered: "Abbey Court Galleries, how can I help?"
"Ah! I was wondering if you could help me?" said Roger. "I'm looking for a professional photographer willing to take some dungeon scenes. I also need a couple of models for the shoot, I was wondering if you could help me?" explained Roger.
There came a little stifled giggle over the line.
"I'm sorry sir, but I think you've got the wrong number," answered the woman who was obviously trying not to laugh. "We do family portraits, weddings, christenings and social functions, but I'm afraid dungeon scenes are a bit out of our league. I'm sorry sir!"
At least the woman on the other end of the line had a sense of humour and could see the funny side of things. But it was still a little bit embarrassing and Roger held his head in a hand. He should have guessed. The sort of thing he was looking for would not be in the 'Yellow Pages' at all. How stupid he had been.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll try somewhere else," he apologised to the woman and put the receiver down.
Roger closed up the 'Yellow Pages' and had a rethink. His mind was still in a whirl from his interview with the Managing Director. The last thing he wanted to do now was foul everything up from the start. Somehow he had to have a photographer and two models installed at Littlesea by first thing on Monday morning, otherwise he could see no fat pay rise or company car coming his way.
He had an idea. The sort of photographer he needed would more likely be advertised in one of the 'top shelf' magazines in the local book shop. He got up and left the office. A walk down the road would do the trick. There was a newsagent's down there with a top shelf full of 'porno-books' and 'girlie magazines'. One of them was bound to have the name and telephone number of a suitable photographer.
Ten minutes later Roger entered the newsagent's. He looked around. There was nobody else in the shop except himself and the man behind the counter. Idly he sauntered across to the magazine racks and viewed the assortment of covers on display. He had not got a clue which ones were likely to have the names and telephone numbers of people offering photographic services. He took the first one down and thumbed through the pages. Apart from seeing the expected page after page of naked women, he could see no reference to photographic agencies.
He slid the magazine back on the shelf and turned his head towards the man behind the counter. There were some thirty to forty copies to look through and that was going to take a lot of time. He was not embarrassed to ask. He had purchased these sorts of magazines many times before. After all he was a single man with no commitments and living in a bachelor flat. Any girls that did come his way had been picked up at a night club and were usually just one night stands. His biggest relationship with any girl was probably about three weeks, and that only lasted because he was having trouble trying to get rid her. Somehow, whatever he tried, she just would not go away. In the end it took a twenty foot boa constrictor to do the trick after discovering that she had a phobia about snakes.
The man behind the counter returned a knowing smile. He had all sorts of customers that went through the top shelf, including smartly dressed men in expensive executive suits.
"Is there anything in particular you are looking for sir?" he asked.
Roger answered straightaway. There was no embarrassment.
"I'm looking for something with dungeon scenes," he told the man. "Preferably something with contact names and models. I'm interested in photographing such scenes."
The man smiled. "I think the sort of magazines you require are not up on that shelf sir… I think these are more like what you want," he said and bent down to collect a number of items from beneath the counter.
He laid out half a dozen magazines on the counter. All the covers depicted bondage scenes in one form or another.
"I'll take the lot," said Roger.
He would just buy them and go. He could then look through them at his leisure. He felt sure there had to be something about taking discreet photographs in one of them.
The man gathered them all up and placed them in a large brown paper bag.
"That'll be thirty-six pounds sir," said the man.
Roger frowned at the price. But it was something that just had to be paid. He then spotted the headlines in the daily newspapers stacked on the counter. They were all about the 'Torturing Caretaker of Littlesea' or headlines to that effect. It was a strange feeling knowing that this was his new job.
"And I'll take a daily newspaper," he added and selecting one from the tabloid pile. He would read all about it later.
"That'll be an extra thirty pence sir," said the man.
Roger paid him the money. He felt like asking for a receipt so that he could claim all the money back on expenses, but refrained from doing so. He was not sure how Miss Elkington would take it. He had been told to channel all expenses through her, and he doubted whether this particular expenditure would go down well in certain quarters. Miss Elkington by the way, was an aged spinster not far from retirement age. And besides, he wanted the magazines for himself anyway.
Ten minutes later Roger was back in the Financial Director's office and thumbing through the pages of the magazines. He had deliberately locked the door so as not to be disturbed. To be truthful he found some of the pictures in the magazines quite arousing. He had never been into bondage as a form of sexual pleasure before, but after seeing some of the scenes depicted he was thinking that he might take it up. The trouble was he knew of no such girl that might help him out. He wondered what sort of chat-up lines were needed to get the right response? Things like; 'can I show you the ropes?' immediately sprung to mind. But he was still not convinced that this was the right way to go about it. He decided that he would work on it. But not for the time being, he had for more important matters to deal with right now.
Roger ploughed on through the magazines, drooling a little as he turned the pages. Eventually he came across a magazine that had 'Personal Ads' at the back. Most were for woman offering their services. 'Miss Cat Lash' was one of them. He moved on down the columns and suddenly his finger stopped. A short advert read: 'FotoPix Studios. Models available. Fully fitted dungeon. Bondage and discipline our speciality.' This was followed by a London address and phone number.
He smiled. At last he had found something.
Roger picked up the phone and dialled the number.
"FotoPix Studios, Judi speaking," came the reply after several rings. The female voice sounded very sexy.
"Ah! I was wondering if you could help me? I'm looking for someone willing to take pictures of dungeon scenes and also provide me with a couple of models," he said.
"That's us sweetheart! You've found us! Exactly what sort of dungeon scenes are you looking for?" asked the woman.
"I've got a dungeon on the south coast, and I need a photographer down there with two models first thing on Monday morning. Can you do that?" he asked.
There was a pause. "We don't usually go out from our studio sweetheart. We've got a very nice dungeon here of our own. Why don't you pop in and see it? You're welcome to call in anytime to see what we've got on offer and discuss terms. Our rates are quite reasonable," she informed him.
Roger could see that he was going to have difficulty explaining everything to the girl. What he needed was to speak directly to the photographer.
"Your dungeon may be very nice, but the shots have got to be taken on my own premises I'm afraid," explained Roger. "Is it possible that I can talk to the photographer in person? I want to put a deal together that I'm sure will be very beneficial to both him and the girls."
"He's busy at the moment. He's on a shoot. Can I get him to call you back?" asked the woman.
Roger thought for a moment. Any call to the company would have to be directed through to the Financial Director's office. He figured that may prove to be embarrassing all round.
"Tell you what," he said, "can I come round and see you?"
"Sure sweetheart, we're here till six o'clock most nights and willing to stay over," answered Judi.
"Okay, I've got your address from a magazine. I'll be there in an hour," said Roger.
"We'll be here sweetheart," answered Judi, "who shall we be expecting then? What's your name?"
"Roger," he answered, "just Roger."
"Right Roger, we'll be expecting you in about an hour's time then. We're right on the top floor. You can't miss us. Just ask for me, Judi," she informed him.
"Okay Judi, see you then," confirmed Roger and put the phone down.
He smiled.
At last he was getting somewhere.

2:00 pm

Roger Downton was seated in the back of a Rolls Royce gliding silently down a side street of London when he told the chauffeur to pull over to one side.
"That's the place there James… Over on the right... You can pull up right outside… in that space there," he told the driver.
The big car slid quietly into a gap made for two cars and came to halt. James moved to the back door and opened it so that Roger could step out onto the pavement.
Roger got out of the car and straightened out his jacket. Stood besides the Rolls Royce in posh suit and a briefcase in his hands, he looked every bit an up-and-coming young executive.
"That will be all James… Wait for me here," he told the chauffeur as he watched the man silently close the rear door to the car.
Roger was enjoying this. He was thinking of going somewhere expensive for a meal and a drink before returning James and the Rolls Royce to his Managing Director. After all, he had been told that he was on full expenses and to make a note of everything he spent on the Company's behalf.
Roger stood on the pavement and looked up the face of the tall building. It looked like the place had once been an old warehouse that had survived the blitz. But only just, and nothing had been done about it since. But Roger was not surprised. This was a seedy part of London and only two sorts of people ever came near here: Those that were lost and those who had a genuine reason for coming here. At least he put himself into the second category, and that made him feel a little bit easier. But not a lot.
The address in the magazine was right on the very top floor. He entered the main doors and looked around for a lift. There were only stairs. A sign on the wall told him that 'FotoPix Studios' was on the sixth floor. There was also an arrow pointing upwards to the top of the first flight of stairs. He shrugged his shoulders and began the long ascent.
At the top he found a door with a sign saying 'FotoPix Studios' fixed to it by only one screw, and it was slanting at an angle. Panting a little from the long climb, he knocked on the door and waited. He tried to straighten up the sign but it only dropped back to its original position. He decided to leave it. If anything he had made it worse.
The door eventually opened and Roger found himself taken a little by surprise. The person answering the door was a policewoman. At least at first glance he considered the big-busted, long blonde-headed girl to be a policewoman. But on further inspection, the way her tie was loosely knotted about her neck, and the jaunty way her hat was placed on the back of her head, he started to have second thoughts. But most of all, it was probably the way she was chewing gum and spinning a pair of handcuffs around on one finger that gave it all away.
"Judi?" he asked.
"Yup! That's me sweetheart, and I suppose you're Roger," she answered.
"Yes, I'm Roger, and I'd like to speak to your photographer please," he informed her.
She opened the door wide. "Come on in Roger," said Judi, "we're just finishing a shoot now, and Lenny will see you afterwards."
Roger followed Judi into the room. It seemed to be just one large attic room lit mainly by skylights. But it was difficult to tell as everywhere had been partitioned off by large draping sheets.
With Judi leading the way, they passed an area designed to be a bedroom. At least there was a large four-poster there, and the dividing backdrop was coloured a pale shade of yellow with the occasional flower motif dotted about the screen.
They moved on. Judi pushing the canvas sheeting to one side to let them through. The next area had to be the dungeon. The backdrop was now painted with big grey stone blocks and in the centre of the area stood an X-frame and a sort of 'pillory-come-stocks' device that was obviously intended to lock both hands and feet into the structure. There was also an assortment of whips and chains lying scattered about the floor.
But they did not stop here. Judi crossed the dungeon area and pulled back the drape over on the other side. Tip-toeing over the piles of chains and equipment Roger moved across the floor. Judi waited for him to go first through the open gap held in the screen before following on behind.
On the other side Roger stopped immediately and for a brief second he felt Judi's tits squash flat against the middle of his back.
He turned around and whispered: "Sorry!" Then swung back again to face the centre of the partitioned off area.
There were bright glaring spotlights stood on stands in this area, and there was also a man leaping about with a camera in his hands. He was of medium build with wavy brown hair. He wore a shirt that was open at the front all the way down to his belt and exposing a very hairy chest. Round his neck hung a couple more cameras and a light meter. Beneath all that there also hung a large medallion.
Roger looked around. He had arrived in the corner of what must have been the limits to the real sixth-floor room. At least he surmised this to be the case since two of the walls were made of solid brick whilst the two canvas sides had been painted to match the natural brickwork of the other two sides. Using the corner of the real walls to form a cell, two iron-grilled screens had been placed in front to form a square. Inside stood another girl. She was aged somewhere in her mid-twenties with large breasts and shoulder length black hair. And that was about all she did have. Apart from a pair of handcuffs about her wrists that was. Otherwise the young woman was stark naked.
"That's Lenny," whispered Judi into an ear. "And that's Mimi in the cell. They're just coming to an end now."
Roger said nothing. He was happy enough just to stand and ogle at the sight of a naked Mimi performing in the corner. She was taking up several rather weird poses in the cell, whilst at the same time Lenny had been moving about and taking snapshots from as many equally unimaginable angles as were humanly possible. He even took one or two lying down and looking up between the bars at Mimi's open legs.
Eventually Lenny stopped and looked at the indictor on his camera. The film had finally come to an end. He set the camera into rewind and looked up. He saw Roger and smiled.
"You're Roger are you?" he asked and walked towards him with one hand held out to greet him.
Roger nodded. "I'm Roger,… Roger Downton," he confirmed.
They shook hands.
"And I'm Lenny,… Lenny Blackmore,… and what can we do for you Roger?" asked the smiling photographer. "Judi tells me you were inquiring into dungeon scenes… Is that right?"
"Sort of," said Roger, then qualified his remark by adding: "But these are a bit special, and I want to negotiate a deal."
Lenny gave a knowing wink. "A bit special hey!" he said, "and you want to negotiate a deal. That's fine by me. We specialise in the unusual and cater for all tastes. So what sort of deal are you looking for Roger?"
Roger looked around. Judi was unlocking the handcuffs from about Mimi's wrists. He thought for a moment. He would prefer to speak to Lenny alone. He did not want to have the girls around whilst he was trying to negotiate a deal. For one thing these two girls might not be the models he required, and for another, Lenny might also want to keep the deal a secret from them.
As he glanced across the room Mimi looked back at him, their eyes met for the first time, and she smiled. Roger smiled back. Mimi looked like the sort of girl he would choose to chat up at a night club. He had certain tastes and Mimi seemed to fit the bill in all departments. She certainly had a nice figure anyway.
Roger collected his thoughts and turned back to Lenny.
"Is there anywhere we can talk privately?" he asked.
Lenny pulled a face.
"Yeh, come into my office," he told him.
He then swung around to the girls and added: "Girls, get yourselves ready for the Lesbian bedroom bondage scenes next. Get the lighting moved too. I'm going to have a little chat with Roger."
They set off with Lenny leading the way. They crossed back through the dungeon area and then the bedroom area, and then through something Roger considered to be an hospital ward. There was a sort of patient trolley in the area with a number of surgical type instruments lying haphazardly on the surface.
Finally they arrived in an area that was not particularly anything at all. It was simply littered with lights and stands and the sort of things one would expect to see in a photographic studio. Over on the far side was another door. They crossed the area towards it. Lenny opened the door and they entered.
This was not exactly the sort of office Roger was expecting. But at least it was lit by a window looking down upon the street below. The room was small and there were two washing lines spread across the room. Both had rows of photographs pegged to them. On the photographs that were facing him, he could see that everyone was of a bondage scene of one sort or another.
On the other side of the small room stood another door. On it was a sign that said: 'Dark Room. Do not enter if light is on'. Above the door he could see a red bulb. It was unlit.
Inside the room were two ordinary looking chairs and a small wooden table. There was also a filing cabinet in one corner. A telephone rested on the top. The surface of the table was covered with bondage photographs. Roger had a chance to take a better look at these. The girls in the pictures were mainly of Judi or Mimi, but there was also a third girl present in a few of them. She was equally as pretty and well proportioned in all departments, but looked a lot younger. Probably still a teenager.
Lenny cleared the photos to one side with a brush of an arm and leaving about three-quarters of the surface exposed. He then dumped his cameras and light meter down on the cleared area.
"Sit down Roger," said Lenny and parking himself down on one of the chairs.
Roger sat down on the chair opposite and placed his briefcase down on the table. He had to push the cameras slightly out of the way to make room. He opened up the briefcase.
Lenny could not see what was inside the case from where he was seated. But even if he did want to see inside: Which he did not: Then he would not have found very much at all. Its total contents were: Six bondage magazines; a daily newspaper; and a single sheet of typed up A4 stationery. Earlier that day the brief case did hold some ham and salad sandwiches, and a can of diet coke. But Roger had already consumed these whilst studying the pictures in the bondage magazines in the Financial Director's office.
Roger took out the sheet of paper and closed the lid to his briefcase. This was the only thing that mattered, but he wanted to give the impression of an important business deal in the offing. He considered the presence of the briefcase would make him look the part.
Roger turned the sheet around so that Lenny could read the contents and passed it across the table. It was a contract of sorts. At least it was written on Madame Troudeau's officially headed stationery and spelt out exactly what was wanted for the exhibition brochures and advertising literature. Roger had quickly typed this up himself before leaving. He had hoped that he had included everything.
Lenny read the contents and frowned: "Is this some sort of wind-up?" he asked.
Roger shook his head. "No, it's all genuine. I'm here representing Madame Troudeau's, and it's like the contract says, we need someone on site in Littlesea on Monday morning to carry out the work," he told Lenny.
Lenny read the contents again. "It says here, photographs will be taken in the dungeon under instructions from a third person, and we must agree to whatever he says. Who's this other chap then?" asked Lenny.
"It's a man called Mr. McTavish. He's a director of the company. The exact requirements will not be known until you are on site. You will be instructed by telephone. The man is at present in Australia. That's all I can tell you," answered Roger.
Lenny looked even more bemused. He still thought this to be some sort of wind-up.
"And you need two models for the shoot?" asked Lenny.
Roger nodded his head once more. "That's what I'm informed," he replied.
"Will Judi and Mimi do?" he asked.
Roger could see no reason why not. They were both well stacked and beautifully proportioned girls. They would both go down well on the brochures and advertising literature.
"They'll do just fine Lenny," confirmed Roger.
"What about payment? What sort of sum were you looking to pay for these services?" asked Lenny, and finally coming round to the nitty-gritty part of the negotiations.
This time Roger was at a bit of a loss. But he had been given a budget to work with. Mr. Harrison had decided that the new brochures should be sold at one pound each rather than just be given away as previously envisaged. Multiply that by the one million visitors forecast in the first year alone, then the total income for the summer would come close on one million pounds. He had been told by Mr. Harrison that the company expected to make at least half that amount in profit. He was not a greedy man. The new five pound entrance fee, instead of two pounds was where he expected to make the biggest killing. But it still gave Roger a budget of half a million pounds to play with. Of course some of that had to go against printing and advertising, but Roger was prepared to go as high as one-hundred thousand pounds for FotoPix services.
"What sort of money do you normally charge for this type of service?" asked Roger.
Now Lenny was also being a bit cagey. Normal charges for his own dungeon varied between two and three hundred pounds for an hour's work. On average two-hundred and fifty pounds was the going rate. He decided to double this figure, and then double it again for outside work.
"For dungeon work and two models we normally charge five hundred pounds an hour," he informed Roger. "But that's for here on these premises. We don't usually work away. But I guess one thousand pounds an hour would do the trick."
"Done," said Roger without batting a eyelid. "One thousand pounds an hour for you and your two models to work on site in Littlesea."
Roger had that warm glowing feeling inside. Mr. Harrison had done the same thing to him that morning and he was learning very quickly how to behave like a top executive. At a thousand pounds an hour the man was talking peanuts compared with the total income expected.
Lenny however reckoned that he had pitched too low and decided to try another devious move. It was a three hour drive down to Littlesea and then a three hour drive back. He could see another six thousand pounds in the deal if he played his cards right.
"That's a thousand pounds an hour from the time we start out to the time we arrive back. Time is money to us and travelling time must be included in the deal otherwise we're going to be loosing money here," said Lenny.
"Done," said Roger again, "consider yourself to be on one thousand pounds an hour from the time you set out to the time you arrive back in London."
  Lenny smiled uneasily. Everything was going too smoothly. A possible eight hour photo-shoot plus six hours travelling would make fourteen thousand pounds for a single day's work. On a normal day he would be lucky to make five hundred pounds. He still could not believe the deal to be a genuine offer, and was thinking that this was most definitely a massive wind-up. He wondered which one of his drinking mates had set this up. He was going to kill someone down the pub tonight.
"You sure this is all for real?" asked Lenny. "You're not winding me up at all?"
Roger could understand the man's feelings. He had felt the same way in Mr. Harrison's presence. He thought of a way to convince the man. He stood up and went to the window.
"Look down there," he told Lenny.
Lenny got up and moved to stand by Roger's side.
"That's my Rolls Royce down there, and that's my chauffeur cleaning the windscreen. Do you think with that kind of money around I'm going to bother to haggle over a few extra pounds here and there. The deal is genuine and above board. The money's there… that's no problem… and the offer is most definitely for real," explained Roger.
"So it's one thousand pounds an hour from the time we set out to the time we get back? That's the deal on offer then?" asked Lenny still standing by the window and staring down at the Rolls Royce and chauffeur in the street below. He still could not believe what he was seeing.
"That's the deal Lenny," reiterated Roger.
Lenny stood up and turned to Roger. He held out his hand. "You've got yourself a deal then Roger," he confirmed.
They shook hands and Roger breathed a sigh of relief. At last he had the deal he wanted. He could now return to his office and collect his brand new Mercedes with his head held high.
"So you can be in Littlesea at eight o'clock on Monday morning. Our man in Australia is expecting a call at nine o'clock and I want you to be there ready and waiting," asked Roger.
Lenny nodded his head. For one thousand pounds an hour he would go to meet the guy in Australia in person, and let him kiss his arse.
"Yes! We'll be there Roger, just give us the details on how to get there and we'll be on the doorstep at eight o'clock," he confirmed.
"Then just sign the contract and we have a deal," said Roger removing a pen from inside his jacket pocket.
They returned to sit at the table. Roger wrote on the contract 'At one thousand pounds an hour (including travelling time)' above a line of dots and handed the document back to Lenny.
Lenny took the pen and added his signature to the bottom.
Roger took the contract, checked the signature, then locked the document away in his briefcase.
"Shall we have a little drink to celebrate?" asked Lenny as the locks on the briefcase clicked shut.
Roger nodded: "Why not Lenny?" he said.
He was in a happy mood too.
Lenny rose and went to the filing cabinet in the corner. Here he took out a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses. He placed the two glasses on the table and poured the whisky into them both. His own glass was noticeably fuller and almost to the top.
"Here's to FotoPix Studios and Madame Troudeau's," he said raising his glass.
Roger, not wanting to upset the man, took his own half filled glass and had a sip: "And here's to a successful photo-shoot on Monday morning then," he toasted.
Lenny knocked the contents of his glass down his throat in one go and poured himself another one. Roger declined to have any more. He was normally a lager man and not a whisky drinker.
Just then there came a knock on the door and Judi poked her head into the room.
"We're ready for the lesbian shoot now Lenny," she told him.
Roger stood goggle-eyed at the voluptuous figure stood in the doorway. Judi had stripped off her policeman's uniform and was now standing in only her bra and panties.
Lenny turned to Roger. "Do you want to stay and see a shoot Roger?" he asked.
Roger looked to his watch and then to the semi-naked smiling Judi. It was about two-thirty in the afternoon. He had achieved all he wanted, and he had not got to be back at work until five o'clock to collect his new car.
"I've got some time to spare," he told Lenny, "so why not?"
Lenny downed his second glass of whisky and wiped his mouth dry with the back of a hand.
"Tell you what Roger, you go with Judi and make yourself comfortable. I'm just going to unload my cameras and change the films and I'll be with you in a minute," said Lenny.
Roger got up, collected his briefcase, and joined Judi at the door.
"I've got about an hour Lenny," Roger informed Lenny whilst standing in the doorway with Judi holding the door open.
"Fine Roger, stay as long as you want," responded Lenny.
He was busy removing a film from a camera and did not seem particularly bothered how long Roger remained on the premises.
Roger walked outside the office and Judi closed the door behind him.
"Follow me then sweetheart," said Judi. "Mimi and me are working in the bedroom for this shoot. Just stand at the back and keep out of the way, and you might learn a thing or two about what goes on here."
Roger followed Judi back to the sheeted off area that contained the double four-poster bed. Mimi was already here. She had not bothered to get dressed and had remained stark naked throughout. She was trying to untangle several lengths of white rope from a matted mass resting on the bed. She seemed to be getting into more of a mess rather than actually separating the intertwined strands.
Roger put down his briefcase and folded his arms. He had been told to stand at the back and just look at what was going on. Judi had taken to moving around the many spotlights and focusing the light towards the bed. He looked to Mimi again. She was still struggling with the ropes and he decided to do something about it.
"Here, let me help you," he said.
"Oh please, thanks," said Mimi, "we need about four three-foot lengths for this scene and I can't seem to get them undone."
Roger took the pile of tangled of ropes from Mimi and started to unravel the strands.
"I'm Roger by the way," he said to the naked Mimi stood by his side.
Somehow he liked the look of Mimi. He had done so from the very first time he had laid eyes upon her. She was a very beautiful young woman and it was probably something to do with body chemistry that made her look attractive to him. Judi was about the same age and probably just as pretty, but she had that certain brashness about her mannerisms that made him not fancy her in the same way.
Mimi smiled coyly: "And I'm Mimi," she told him holding out her hand.
They shook hands. He wondered what a nice girl like this was doing in a place like this.
Just then Lenny appeared with a whole stack of cameras. Some were around his neck, others he held in his hands.
"Right, let's get the show on the road," he informed the two girls.
Roger had just managed to untangle the ropes and he handed them back to Mimi.
"Thank you Roger," she said and gave him a warm smile.
Roger returned the smile and got out of the way. He wondered what Mimi would look like with clothes on. He then thought that to be very strange. Normally he would be thinking the other way round. But Mimi was a nice girl and he could fall for her in a big way.
"What's the plan then Lenny?" asked Judi.
"I want shots of you tying Mimi to the bed… Then I want plenty of vibrator shots afterwards… These are for a couple of lesbian magazines,… so look like you're both in love and enjoying this," Lenny explained to the two girls.
Judi removed her bra and panties and joined Mimi at the side of the bed. The two naked girls embraced and kissed, and a camera clicked. Roger guessed that the shoot had begun and he stepped back to stand against the canvas backdrop. He crossed his arms and watched the scene unfold. He was a very happy man.
The two girls got lower and lower to the bed, still kissing and hugging as they sank down onto the sheets. All the time a camera was clicking. Then Judi took hold of a length of rope and knotted one end about Mimi's left wrist. Mimi lay back and spread herself out on the bed. Judi knotted the rope to the corner post and gathered up another one.
Roger was fascinated to see the two girls at work. They were professionals and knew exactly what to do without instructions. Lenny was saying very little and just moving about the bed and taking shots from as many angles as possible.
Soon Mimi was tied completely to the bed. Both her arms and legs spreadeagled across the mattress. Judi kissed her on the lips then ran a protruding tongue around her nipples. Eventually she got off the bed and went to a handbag placed against a screen. She fumbled around the contents and removed a rather large vibrator from inside. She switched it on and a faint buzzing noise echoed around the partitioned off area.
Judi returned to the bed and the love-play continued.
Lenny was continually saying things like: "Good… that's good girls… I like it." But in general he was giving out very little instructions. The girls seemed to know what they were doing.
Roger could only stand and admire everything that was going on. He thought that he was in heaven. What a lucky day this had been all round. He had arrived at work that morning expecting to plough through a whole load of totally uninteresting research books, and had ended up here in these studios watching all this.
Mimi moaned with delight as the vibrator played on her clitoris.
Roger was enjoying this too. He had never seen bondage play in action before. But if this was an example, then give him a whole lot more.
He dropped his hands to shield his stiffening penis.
The show was really getting hot now.

4:00 pm

Mr. Harrison walked out from the main doors of the building. A great number of microphones had been placed on the top step and he sidled over to stand directly in front of them. He looked for the television cameras that would bring this event to the nightly news and made sure that they had a clear view of his face. He had a piece of paper in his hands with a prepared statement written on it. Behind him stood the Company's solicitor who had helped prepare the statement.
The Managing Director put on his reading glasses and began to read from the prepared statement:
"Madame Troudeau's is very sorry to hear the sad news surrounding the death of one of its employees... Malcolm Smith was a trusted employee, and whatever the allegations are against him, we are still committed to looking after his family and close relatives... We therefore announce that all funeral costs and expenses will be met by the Company.
"As regards to our Dungeon Exhibition at our premises in Littlesea, the Company also announces that the opening date for the site will be brought forward by one month… It is our intention to do all in our power to ensure that Littlesea Dungeon will now be open to the public from Saturday the fourth of March.
"That gentlemen is all that I have to say on the matter at this moment in time. Thank you all for attending."
And with that Mr. Harrison folded up his statement and returned inside the building. He considered that he had just said enough to wet the public's appetite. But he would keep the news trickling out. There was a lavish funeral to come, and the release of a few dungeon photos after Monday's photo-shoot would not go amiss.

4:30 pm

Roger was sat in the rear seat of the Rolls Royce and heading back to Madame Troudeau's to collect his brand new Mercedes. He had just put away a bondage magazine and had switched to reading the newspaper he had purchased that morning from the paper shop. He turned over a page and came to the astrology column. He looked for his own star sign. He was Aries the ram. It read:
'Jupiter is now entering Capricorn and a new phase in your life will begin. Offers may be made today that will directly affect your future. Think carefully before accepting them. Things may not be what they seem. Your lucky number for today is six.'
Roger wished that he had not read that. But it was too late now, he had already accepted the offer. Then he wondered why he had ever bothered to read the silly fortune anyway. It was something he never did.
He read the last bit again. At least the last sentence sounded a little bit better. His lucky number for today was meant to be six. He tried to think whether six had played any part in his activities during the day. Well for starters, he had purchased six bondage magazines, and had climbed to a sixth floor to find 'FotoPix Studios'. So maybe there was some relevance there.
But as for being lucky? Well there was every chance that he might be! He had come away from the studio with Mimi's telephone number. So maybe he could get lucky in that direction?
At least he hoped so!
Mimi was such a nice girl.

End of Chapter One