CHAPTER NINETEEN - Back Down South

The following day … Tuesday 4th April …

8:00 am

Tracy and Wendy made an early start. They breakfasted early and set off from the Coach and Horses at about eight o'clock the next morning. It was time to return south. Sam stood in the doorway to wave them off.
"Bye Sam," called Tracy through the wound down window of her car, "see you soon… we'll keep popping back whenever we've got the chance."
"Yes, see you soon Tracy, and you too Wendy… keep in touch," replied Sam as the car moved away to the car park entrance.
"Yes, we must come back soon," said Wendy to Tracy inside the car.
The thing was, Wendy really meant it. Last night the extended three in a bed session had been absolutely marvellous and she craved for more.
With a final wave from everyone, Tracy pulled out of the car park and set off for the nearest motorway junction. With a bit of luck, and with a couple of breaks in the journey, they hoped to be in north London sometime around three o'clock that afternoon.
The two girls were sad to say goodbye to Sam so quickly, but they had plenty of other things to do. They needed to get to London by mid-afternoon, settle into their new residence, then go in search of the Dom Domingo Club before it got too late to go visiting.
Tracy and Wendy were two girls on a mission. The rescue of Gayle Jackson being the most important thing on their minds at this point in time.

9:00 am

Gayle Jackson was not aware of any of these goings on. In fact she knew nothing at all. Time had stood still since being attacked in the park. The fact that it was now nine o'clock on the Tuesday morning following that abduction meant very little to her. It could be morning or evening, day or night out there in the real world, but the thing was, she had no means of telling. A tight band of tape remained about her head, covering her eyes and blocking out any light.
As it happened, this was to be the start of Gayle's sixth day in captivity, but it felt more like six months. All she knew was, that she was alone, very frightened, and suffering at the hands of a man that kept appearing from time to time, sometimes to give her food and water, but mostly to come and abuse her. She had tried on many occasions to communicate with him, in an attempt to get him to answer her back, but on every occasion she had been greeted with silence. Not once did he speak to her, and this was probably the most nerve racking thing of all. At first she had thought her abductor to be her boyfriend Tim, in fact she was absolutely certain it was, but as time crept on she became less and less sure. Now she did not know what to think, and until she got a response from him, she had very little means of telling.
Gayle sat with her back to a cold stone wall. She remained naked; a condition she had been in since awaking to find herself hogtied and lying face down on a bed an eternity ago. Since her incarceration she had been moved around several times, and this was her most comfortable position yet. At least she had the freedom to move, to stand up or sit down of her own free will. None of these comforts had been afforded her before. A steel collar had been placed about her neck, and a chain, about six feet in length, joined the collar to a ring on the wall. However, it was not all luxury. Whilst being marched across the echoing chamber, from what appeared to be one wall to another, her hands had been handcuffed behind her back, and she had been gagged. Once more that foul tasting rag had been forced into her mouth and sealed with a broad band of tape across her lips.
Of all the many inconveniences bestowed upon her - blindfold, collar, handcuffs and gag - it was the blindfold that Gayle hated the most. And this in turn led to the second inconvenience - the handcuffs. She did so much want to be able to use her hands to work her blindfold free, at least enough to be able to peek out from beneath, to look around the echoing cavern and find out more about the hostile environment she found herself in.
Gayle listened intently. At least she still had her hearing, even though the tape around her head also covered her ears she had always been able to pick up the sound of her abductor's approaching footsteps. She could tell whenever he was coming. She listened intently now, and all was silent, nothing moved or stirred. She decided to go for it. After all she had nothing to lose. She had long since decided that she had suffered enough and had a plan to loosen the blindfold. She listened one final time just to make certain. All was quiet. She steeled herself. She had never had a better chance to do it than now, and with the little bit of freedom afforded her, it may at least be possible.
 Gayle rose awkwardly from her seated position and dropped to her knees. Something very difficult to do with your hands cuffed behind your back, and doubly hampered by a collar about the neck. She turned on her knees to face the wall. The ring imbedded into the wall that held the chain attached to her collar was set at about shoulder height. By kneeling and facing the wall, and stretching upwards a little, it was possible to place the ring below the many layers of tape swathed about her head. With the ring pressed against a cheek and just below one eye, she began to work the tape upwards, just a fraction at a time, but hopefully enough to eventually be able to peek out from underneath.
After a while, and with constant rubbing, the portion of the tape that adhered to skin just below the eye came lose. She felt it peel away like removing a sticking plaster. Encouraged by this success, she worked the tape some more, pushing it further upwards until it formed a concertina pattern about the eye. Feeling the ring of cold steel touch her lower eyelid, she moved away, to turn and look down through the newly created gap. But even though she knew the gap to be there - she could feel the cold air against her eyeball - she could see nothing. She was in total darkness. Utterly dejected she turned and slumped down to sit against the wall. All that effort and all that hard work had been in vain.
If she could have sighed she would have done, but the tape across her mouth prevented any passage of air. Instead a snort issued from her nostrils.
What was the point in caring anymore? She was in total despair.
Then all of a sudden something happened to change all that - a light appeared. She did not hear a click or anything, the light just came on. Perhaps it had been there all along and she just had not noticed. It was nothing much really, just a thin chink of light reflecting up from her cheekbone, but it was enough to raise up her hopes. She tilted her head backwards as far as it would go, then peered down through the gap. Through such a small opening it was difficult to make out much at all, just light and shades. What was needed was to ruffle the tape about her eyes up even further. With fresh hope she got to her knees and turned around to face the wall once more. Using the chain about her neck as a guide she located the ring set into the wall, then carefully edged her face in closer towards it. Her cheek made contact with the ring and she proceeded to move up and down in attempt to loosen the blindfold even more.
Then suddenly, the one thing she was dreading happened.
From somewhere behind her a man's voice called: "Hey!… What d'you think you're doing?"
Gayle froze. She had not heard any footsteps approaching. She had not heard a solitary thing. But then again, she had not been listening. She had been far too engrossed in her own little project to concern herself with listening. She cursed herself for not being extra careful, and immediately she recognised that the game was up. Now a new dread welled up inside of her. What was he going to do to her now that she was caught?
The answer was not long in coming. Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ground. It hurt, with arms behind the back, and no means of breaking the fall, all you can do was land and hope for the best. Gayle's shoulder jarred against her body and an excruciating pain shot through her arm from elbow up to neck. She wanted to cry out, but the wad in her mouth, and the tape across her face, prevented her from doing so.
"You bastard!" the man exclaimed the moment he saw what Gayle had been doing.
Then perhaps he saw the funny side of what had happened and he started to laugh. It was a hideous, horrible cackling sort of laugh that would spook anybody.
Gayle, lying on her side on the ground, heard the tearing of tape. She knew straightaway what was going to happen next. She had heard this sound several times before, and always just after a foul tasting rag had being forced into her mouth. She knew that the man had a roll of tape in his hands and he was preparing to use it on her.
Suddenly rough hands lifted up her head. One end of the tape was adhered firmly to a point somewhere close to her left ear, and then the roll began to be unwound about the head. Soon many layers of fresh tap covered the eyes, and this time in an even wider and thicker band than before.
Gayle began to cry. That small chink of light she had laboured so hard to see was now gone, perhaps forever. An eerie blackness had returned, and with it all hope of getting out of here.
If Gayle had thought there and then that her torment was over, then she was to be proved utterly wrong. Even more tape was to follow. This time to be wrapped about her ankles and binding them closely together.
Gayle's shoulder throbbed, and the lifting and dropping of the feet only managed to intensify the pain. She hoped that this would be the end to it, that he would leave her now and go just away, but alas, that was not to be. The collar about her neck was unlocked. She felt the heavy steel ring disappear, and, no longer being supported by any means, she rolled slowly over to lie face downwards on the ground.
Once the collar was gone, two rough hands grabbed hold of Gayle's taped together feet. Suddenly she found herself being dragged along over an uneven floor. Now, not only did her one arm ache badly, but her face, breasts and stomach were becoming grazed and sore. The only thing she could be thankful for, was that the distance was not very far. Soon she was brought to a halt and her feet released, to drop and thump hard against the ground. She tried to squeal as he toes stubbed against the floor, but the tape across her mouth prevented it. Now, suddenly, every part of her body throbbed and ached unmercifully.
From a position of lying on her stomach, Gayle was rolled over and made first to sit up, and then to stand. With feet now taped together it proved awkward to maintain a balance, and she teetered unsteadily.
A chain rattled behind her and a winch began to turn. It was the sort of noise you heard from a block and tackle being lowered. She had a brother who loved to take engines out of a car, so she knew the sound only too well. She waited, rocking on the spot. The noise was coming from behind. Despite being blindfolded she could tell everything what was happening. A chain was being lowered behind her back.
After what seemed like eternity, the rattle and movement of chains stopped abruptly. Immediately a hand grabbed Gayle's handcuffed wrists and raised them up behind her back. The leverage forced her to bend forward. It was the natural thing to do, and to do otherwise would only have made the situation a whole lot worse. A hook attached to the end of the chain was placed between the hands, to pass between the short chain that linked the bracelets of the cuffs. For a second or two she felt a lot more comfortable as the man's grasp disappeared. The handcuffs dropped nicely into the bend of the hook and she was able to straighten up a little and steady herself. It was strange that having something to hold on to, even as loose and as tentative as a chain, could make one feel so stable and secure.
As Gayle stood motionless, with arms raised slightly behind her back, the rattling and winding resumed. This time in reverse motion with the chain moving steadily upwards. Gayle knew this to be a fact even before the hook between her wrists began to move. She could tell by the noise of the rattle. It sounded a whole lot different from before. As her arms moved upwards she lowered her body to compensate. Soon her entire frame was crouched forward. Much more and her feet would be off the ground. It was also starting to hurt badly. This was something much worse than anything she had ever experienced before. This was real pain, the sort that made you want to scream and scream, and never stop.
As the chain rose even higher, Gayle's feet dragged backwards across the floor in order to maintain equilibrium. Then, when the feet had nowhere else to go but upwards, the heels departed the ground, and the only contact that remained was with her toes.
It was at this point the winding stopped - abruptly and swiftly. Gayle was not expecting it, but all the same she was extremely grateful that it did so. At least some of her body weight was being shared by her toes instead of all being taken up by her wrists. Strangely she felt grateful for the man having stopped when he did.
Gayle listened to the man's padding feet. There was not a lot else she could do. He had moved away from her, and now he appeared to be busying himself doing other things about the chamber. She heard chains rattle, boxes move, lids open and close, and all she could do was wait helplessly, dangling from the hook, and living in the hope that nothing he was preparing was meant for her.
A little while later the footsteps moved away, to finally fade and disappear into the distance.
Gayle breathed a sigh of relief through her nostrils, since this was about the only thing she could do. The relief however was massive, and on two fronts. Firstly the man had gone to leave her in peace for a while; and secondly, and far more importantly, she had heard his voice. At least now she knew for certain that it was not Tim that had abducted her.
And strangely, for just knowing that, she was truly grateful.

2:00 pm

Roger Downton had organised to take the morning off work. He had a very busy schedule planned, with plenty of things to do. But life was not being kind to him today. It seemed that everywhere he ventured, right from the very start, nothing had not gone smoothly and according to plan.
As afternoon arrived, and the time came for him to head back to work, Roger was, to say the least, feeling somewhat dejected. He had just suffered another cruel blow. He had just come away from his solicitors in Littlesea. They were handling the exchange of contracts for his flat in London, and it was time to put his final signatures to paper. At the last minute however there had been hold ups. Nothing too serious, but the promised money from the purchaser's Building Society had not come through as yet. It seemed that he was at the end of a long chain of purchases. Therefore, for a while at least, everything had been temporarily put on hold.
Not feeling like returning to the amusement park - Roger was too depressed and dejected to do that - he set off for Carrowbank Farm. As he drove, his morose disposition led him to thoughts of Mimi, still lying unconscious in hospital, and to Godfrey Brookes, the farm's previous owner until his untimely death some four weeks earlier. Memories of Godfrey's funeral returned. It was almost a fortnight ago that this took place, on March 22nd to be precise, and since that day he had not returned to the church where he was buried. Roger decided it was time to pay a call, and visit the grave where Godfrey now rested.
As two o'clock chimed on the clock tower, Roger entered the grounds to the small church of St. Michael's and all Angels in the little village of Carrowton. He approached Godfrey's grave. It had been filled in since the funeral, and now, were once a hole existed, a mound of earth covered the spot where he lay.
Godfrey's grave was still decked with wreaths, though all were now in state of decay. The only thing that looked new was a bunch of bluebells placed at the centre. Slowly Roger walked around the mound, reading the inscriptions on the wreaths. He made a mental note of the senders. It was nice to know Godfrey had so many friends and was sorely missed.
Amongst the many wreaths was a large one from 'Roger and Mimi'. Seeing his own wreath lying there, and Mimi's name on the card, brought small tears to his eyes. He was thinking that perhaps he should not have come here today. Suddenly he was feeling very depressed indeed.
As Roger stood with head bowed and staring at his own wreath, a lone figure approached the grave. The silent visitor was nearly upon him before he realised that he was not alone in the graveyard.
Roger looked up to see a rather strangely dressed man approaching the grave. The man had long brown hair and unkempt ginger beard. He was dressed in a long white gown that came down to the floor, and in his hands he carried a small bunch of freshly picked bluebells.
The man arrived to stand opposite Roger, over on the other side of the grave. He bent down and placed the bluebells amongst the decaying wreaths, and to rest atop those already placed on the grave.
"Good afternoon," said Roger as soon as the man returned to standing upright.
The man nodded, then bowed his head in silent prayer.
Roger realised that he had disturbed the man dressed all in white, and waited for him to finish his prayers.
Eventually the man's head rose and he looked across the grave to Roger.
"Good morning friend," the man answered back.
Roger collected his thoughts.
"You knew Godfrey then?" he asked.
The man nodded his head in response to Roger's question.
"We met and chatted by the riverbank on many occasions… he was a good man… he had love in his heart… and love for the countryside… and love too for the people all around," answered the man.
Roger nodded his head in agreement. It was true, it was hard to think of Godfrey without thinking what a nice fellow he was.
"I know… he was a dear friend of mine too,… such a waste," he answered.
The man nodded his head as if he understood.
"There is a beginning and an end to everything my friend… the alpha and omega… the first and the last… perhaps what happened is for a greater purpose… one that we will never know or understand," said the man.
Roger nodded his head in agreement once more. Although on this occasion he was not sure whether he understood or not.
"Perhaps you're right," he told him.
The man turned and walked away.
There were no farewells, no further exchange of words. He just moved off as silently and mysteriously as he had arrived.
Roger, having said his own farewells to Godfrey, followed the man out of the churchyard. He trailed on some ten to a dozen paces behind.
As Roger reached the steps that led down to the road, he stopped and looked on as an old, brightly coloured Volkswagen campervan pulled away. It was heading up the Carrow Valley, in the direction of Carrowbank Farm and, most likely, the rolling hills beyond.
Roger descended the steps to the road, jumped into his Mercedes, and followed the smoking campervan up the road as far as Carrowbank Farm. Here Roger turned into the driveway to the farm, and leaving the campervan to continue on up the road.
He recalled the times when he had seen this vehicle before. He had seen it on two occasions. Once in the bluebell woods when he had trekked there with Mimi and Chloe, and the second time a little while later, when it had been parked at the side of the road up by the north meadow.
He wondered what sort of conversations must have gone on between this religious freak and Godfrey. Somehow it did not make much sense. Surely Godfrey's ideology's were nowhere remotely close to anything this man was preaching. But then again, he had never heard the man preach, so what did he know of the matter?
As Roger entered the farmyard he tried to forget about the mysterious man dressed all in white. He stopped the car and looked around the yard to the point where Mimi and Godfrey fell. Everything had been tidied away since then, and there was no longer any evidence of the accident. It was true that the wooden canopy on top of the barn was no longer there, but that was all. There was nothing else present to remotely suggest that anything had happened.
Roger's mind traced his own events on that sorrowful day. If only he had not called in at Canterford on his way home from the amusement park where he worked, then things might have turned out very different. For one thing he would have been here at least half an hour earlier. But that did not happen, instead he had made a detour and called in to see a man who fitted burglar alarms. His name was John Townsend.
Suddenly Roger cursed as memories of that fateful day came flooding back. All these events had been pushed to the back of his mind during recent weeks. It was thoughts of meeting the man's wife in the driveway that had set everything off and now made his blood boil with anger. But this in itself was not the thing that had made him angry, instead it was the presence of another woman with her that day. That woman had been Sylvia Sparelli, and she just happened to be the leader of Cropwatch, the organisation that had destroyed Godfrey's north meadow and ultimately led to him threatening to take his own life..
Roger looked around the deserted farmyard. Nothing had been done about protecting the property, and the one barn was still packed full with valuable items belonging to the amusement park where he worked. With all the turmoil of the past few weeks, the fitting of a burglar alarm had been placed way down his list of priorities.
Roger rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Perhaps now was the right time to resurrect the project.

6:00 pm

Tracy and Wendy had no problem in finding No. 14, North Park Avenue. Mrs. Covington was there to greet them and show them to their rooms. They arrived sometime around four o'clock in the afternoon.
Two hours later, having unpacked their cases, tested out the shower, put on a change of fresh clean clothing, tried in vane to stop the screen on the television from rolling round and round, and after a brief struggle at mastering the dials on the microwave, it was time for Tracy and Wendy to be off again. This time to seek out the Dom Domingo Club.
They closed the front door and stepped across the small parking area to reach the quiet suburban road outside. Their car was available to be used, parked up on the small tarmac square provided for them, but on seeing that the late afternoon weather was both mild and warm, and there was at least two hours of daylight left, they decided to walk. This way they would be able to get a good look at the surrounding area, perhaps walk the same route as Gayle Jackson, and also take a stroll in the park. This was all very necessary. They knew that they were taking a big risk, but they had very little choice in the matter. Investigating such a serious crime was potentially dangerous, they knew this, but it was their own choice, and they were well aware of the pitfalls.
The two girls looked to the skies. The weather was being kind. At least it was not raining, and the mild spring weather of the previous week had returned. As they looked around the evening sun came out to brighten things up a little more. During a few seconds respite, when the television screen was not rolling up and down, and the sound became audible, Tracy had managed to catch the local weather report for the Thames Valley area. April showers were forecast for the next few days, but nevertheless the temperatures would be reasonable by both day and by night.
Together they crossed the tree-lined avenue, followed the cast-iron railings for a short distance, then, on leaving the park behind them, they set off down a side road that would eventually lead them to the Dom Domingo Club - or so they hoped.
All Tracy and Wendy had to go on was an address from a computer printed statement obtained by Georgina. They had no idea what the place looked like, or whether anyone would be around to greet them. But having talked it over on the way down from Lancashire, it was thought best to at least attempt to make some sort of initial contact before the members of the club gathered for their weekly session - and that was the one other fact they knew for definite - meetings of the Dom Domingo Club were reported to be held at this address every Wednesday evenings.
Tracy had the forethought to purchase her own A-to-Z of London from a service area whilst travelling down from Lancashire. With the book open the girls came to a halt at a T-junction. They had not walked very far, but already the most noticeable thing about the area was the ever increasing size of the houses the greater the distance from the park became. As they looked around, every house in this part of the city was detached and standing in its own acres of ground. The tree-lined roads themselves were wide and quiet, and no longer cluttered with rows of parked cars. Any cars they did see were parked in the long driveways, and all looked to be very expensive. All the evidence suggested that this was a most exclusive area, and obviously reserved for the mega-rich. Tracy wondered just how much one of these houses would cost, and what exorbitant rates they must be paying. She also wondered what they were letting themselves in for.
Tracy held the A-to-Z up for Wendy to see.
"We're here at the moment Wendy," she said pointing to a particular point on the map. Then tracing her finger across the page, added: "And this is the road we want to get to… so we've got to go down here… to our left… and then turn right… just here… and the place we want should be round here somewhere."
The final wiggle of the finger indicating a quiet crescent in this most affluent of suburban areas.
Tracy closed up the book, but kept a finger in the page for quick reference. They then set off.
Not long afterwards they were in the crescent and looking for the house numbers amongst the ivy-covered brick pillars that guarded the entrances to the properties. Eventually they found the house they were looking for and stood staring up a long gravel drive. Lawns and hanging trees followed the drive all the way up to a big house which was set well back from the drive. An oversized double garage stood to one side, and the house itself looked more like a hotel than a private residence. Counting the upstairs windows alone suggested at least a dozen bedrooms, if not more.
Wendy had her doubts that this was the place.
"Are you sure this is it Tracy?" she asked.
She had no knowledge of BDSM clubs, but her impressions had been built around the concept of back-street seedy buildings and dark alleyways. Even the one she knew in Lancashire had been housed in a drab, tumbled down old building.
Tracy nodded her head. She had her doubts too, but the street name was the same, and the house number was most definitely the one they wanted.
"This has got to be it Wendy," she confirmed, "and I guess if we knew where we were going and where we were heading, this place would be about fifteen minutes walk from the park, which is exactly the time we've taken."
Even though all the facts seemed to fit, Wendy still had her doubts.
"But it's massive!.. and this is somebody's private house," she commented.
Tracy could only agree with Wendy's statement, but there was only one way to find out.
"Well, we're not going to discover much standing around out here," she retorted. Then plucking up all her courage, she added: "Come on Wendy… let's go knock on the door and see."
The two girls walked together, hand in hand for comfort, all the way up the long drive to the front door of the big mansion. There was a large Mercedes car parked in the drive so they guessed someone would be at home. Still holding hands they scaled the three large steps to the door and rang the bell. They heard the muffled chimes echo somewhere inside the house, and immediately a small dog began to yap incessantly.
They seemed to be waiting ages, but inside the house they could hear the sound of doors opening and closing, and a male voice trying to get a dog locked up into a room somewhere. Then through the frosted glass panels of the door they could see the shadowy movements of a figure walking down the hallway towards them.
The door opened to reveal a tubby man in his early thirties, with a thin moustache, thick rimmed spectacles and balding hair. He saw the two girls standing in the doorway and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?" was all he said.
Tracy swallowed hard before speaking. She decided to go for it right from the start.
"Is this the Dom Domingo Club?" she asked.
The man raised his eyebrows even further, then the corner of his lips turned up to reveal a slight smile.
"What can I do for you two young ladies?" he asked without really revealing whether they had found the club or not.
"We're looking for the Dom Domingo Club… we want to become members," explained Tracy, then added: "Is this the place?… All we were given was this address."
The man's face was now smiling.
"Well ladies, you've found the right place… this is the Dom Domingo Club… at least it is most Wednesday evenings," he informed them, then opening up the door wide, he said: "Would you like to step in for a while, and we can talk it over in the lounge."
Tracy looked to Wendy and smiled.
Wendy was smiling too, though a little nervously all the same.
Tracy turned to the man stood in the open doorway.
"Yes, thanks," she said, "we weren't sure this was the place,… we're so glad we've found it."
Tracy and Wendy entered the house and the door was closed behind them.
There was a certain tingle of excitement flowing down Tracy's spine. She felt like a detective in a movie, going undercover to crack a most difficult case. She just hoped that she could be as good as them. Somewhere out there was a girl called Gayle Jackson, and she was determined that she be found and her abductor brought to justice.
Wendy's feelings however were a whole lot different. She was just plain scared.
They entered the lounge from a doorway off the hall. The room was big and spacious and full of Georgian period furniture that looked real and not reproduction. Tracy and Wendy sat down on a settee next to the fireplace. It was an open grate but unlit; the warmth in the room obviously coming from the central heating system.
The man sat down in a comfortable armchair opposite and put his hands together beneath his chin.
"My name's Walter by the way," he began by means of introduction. "Everybody at the club calls me Walter… we like to be as informal as possible around here."
Tracy glanced to Wendy before speaking. They had not agreed anything specific beforehand, but it was always assumed that Tracy would do the talking for both of them.
"My name's Tracy, and this is Wendy… we're cousins," Tracy told him.
Walter nodded his head.
"Well Tracy and Wendy, so you'd like to become members of the Dom Domingo club?" he asked.
Both Tracy and Wendy nodded their heads.
"We were hoping to Walter," said Tracy, "we've just moved into the area,.. and someone at our old club gave us this address… so we thought that we'd pop along and introduce ourselves… and here we are."
Walter looked content with the girls' tale thus far.
"So you've just moved into the area and you want to become members?" he asked after a pause.
Tracy nodded her head. So did Wendy.
"We've got a place in North Park Avenue… it's not very far from here,.. about  fifteen minutes walk, that's all," explained Tracy.
Walter nodded his head as he recalled the exact location of the street.
"Ha!.. yes, North Park Avenue… you're right, it's not very far from here," he said thoughtfully. He then went on to ask about their previous club: "And you say that you are members of another club somewhere?… Where would that be exactly?"
Tracy pulled herself together. The next part of their story had to stand up to scrutiny. She already had her faked membership card ready, and she held it out for Walter to see. Wendy, on seeing what Tracy was doing, held out her own card too.
"It's up in Lancashire… it's called the Bows and Ties Club… we've been members there for about a year I guess,.. here are our memberships cards, if you'd like to have a look," said Tracy spinning her yarn.
Walter bent forward and collected Tracy's card from her, and with Wendy thrusting hers forward too, he took that one as well. He had never heard of the Bows and Ties Club, but that did not mean much at all. There were hundreds of BDSM clubs up and down the country that he did not know anything about.
"In Lancashire!," remarked Walter, and then added: "and someone from up there gave you this address?"
Tracy nodded her head. It was time to spin another yarn. Luckily she already had something sorted out in her own mind should Walter ask this very question. She cleared her throat.
"As soon as we knew that we were moving to London, we informed the club's secretary… we asked if she could put us in contact with any good clubs down here… she said that she would put out a few feelers and let us know… well, at our last meeting, just before we said goodbye to everyone, she gave us this address.. she also said that we can give you her name and address for a reference if you want to check up on us," said Tracy.
It was Walter's turn to smile. From the look on his face and the casual way he accepted Tracy's story, it looked like he was well satisfied with the explanation. He handed the cards back to the girls.
"We don't normally bother with references around here," he informed them. "The Dom Domingo Club is not an exclusive club for the elite, or anything of that nature. We're just a group of folks that meet up once a week to share and enjoy a common interest."
It seemed to Tracy that they were in, their membership accepted, but she needed to clarify the situation.
"So we can become members then?" she asked.
Walter smiled once more.
"Well, Tracy… and Wendy… I guess it does mean that,.. welcome to the Dom Domingo club," he informed them. He then went on to explain a few things about the club: "We meet here every Wednesday evenings… in fact you are both welcome to come along tomorrow evening and join in the fun if you like… we start sometime around eight-thirty and usually begin breaking up and drifting away sometime around eleven o'clock… but that all depends on what's going on of course… sometimes we've been known to go on till two or three in the morning… Anyway, would you two girls like to come tomorrow? You'd be most welcome."
Tracy looked to Wendy once more. She tried not to show her glee.
"We can be here tomorrow tonight,… can't we Wendy?" asked Tracy and at the same time turning to Wendy seated by her side.
Wendy nodded her head in response.
"Yes Tracy, we can," she answered simply.
Tracy turned back to face Walter seated opposite.
"Wendy and I would love to come tomorrow tonight," she told him in her best polite voice. "We can be here for the start at eight-thirty… no problem."
Walter smiled.
"Then Tracy and Wendy welcome once more to the Dom Domingo Club… I think you'll enjoy our little set-up,.. and I think we'll all get to know each other a lot better after tomorrow's session," he said.
Tracy turned to Wendy and smiled. Her insides were bubbling over with excitement, but she tried hard not to show it. She returned her gaze to Walter to find him looking a little more serious.
"You say that you've just moved into a place in North Park Avenue?" he asked.
Both Tracy and Wendy nodded their heads.
"Yes, we've got ourselves a very nice little place overlooking the park," Tracy informed him.
Walter's forehead retained a furrowed look.
"Tell me, how did you get here?" he asked.
It was Tracy's turn to look concerned.
"We walked," she answered him, "it's only about fifteen minutes from here."
Walter shook his head slowly from side to side. He had some alarming news to tell the girls. Something they should be well aware of.
"Have you got some form of transport?… have you got a car?.. or some other means of getting here?" he asked.
Tracy nodded her head.
"We've got a car… but we left it back at the house," she informed him.
Walter smiled an uneasy smile.
"You've got a car!… that's good!… Then can I suggest most strongly that you come in it tomorrow tonight,… and I think you'd better know something else right from the start," he said and sounding most serious by now. He continued on with his tale: "We had a girl go missing last week… one of our members… she left here after our weekly gathering and headed back through the park… unfortunately she was on her own… and that was the last time anybody saw her… the police believe she may have been abducted… Anyway, we're having a little get together first to discuss future security… but can I strongly suggest that you avoid being alone anywhere near that park at night, and if necessary, if you can't drive here for any reason, then let me know and I'll arrange for someone to pick you up and take you home afterwards. We're all very shocked by what happened, and we don't want anything like it to happen again."
Tracy looked saddened at the revelations, even though she already knew most of the details. Possibly even more than Walter did.
"I think we'll be all right,… we'll drive here tomorrow anyway," she informed him.
Walter nodded his head and reflected on the horrible situation for a second or two longer. Members' safety was paramount and new measures had to be put in place. But the fact that they had their own car and could drive here was a great help.
"Then, once more, I suggest most strongly that you use the car whenever you come here," he reiterated. "There's plenty of parking space available, either in the drive or out on the road."
Tracy nodded her head once more in confirmation.
"We'll come in the car Walter," she assured him.
Walter stood up.
"Right Tracy and Wendy," he announced, "would you two like to have a look around the place and see what we've got on offer?"
Tracy got to her feet.
"We'd love to Walter," she replied.
Wendy got to her feet too.
"Yes we would love to Walter," she repeated.
Walter smiled and made for the door.
"Follow me then girls," he told them.
Tracy and Wendy let Walter lead the way.
"By the way, do you two mind being pony girls?" asked Walter as they moved along the hallway towards the back of the big house.
Tracy looked to Wendy. Neither had a clue as to what Walter was talking about.
"Sometimes!" remarked Tracy.
It was a nothing answer really, but it seemed to do the trick.
"Then I think you'll be most happy here," added Walter. "With the warmer weather on its way, we usually get the carts out and indulge ourselves in a little spot of pony girl racing… We've got our own track here… come on I'll show you that first."
Tracy looked to Wendy. Their blank expressions said everything. In truth, neither had heard of pony girl racing, and both had no idea what they were letting themselves in for.

End of Chapter Nineteen