CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Detective Work

The following day … Friday 7th April …

8:00 am

Wendy spent a restless night. Today was to be her big day out. Tim Walker, the young man she had befriended at the local BDSM club on Wednesday night, was meeting her after lunch, sometime around two o'clock. They were to go for a spin together in his powerful sports car.
The notion of travelling at reckless speed was not the thought that kept Wendy awake. It was the onus placed upon her, and the massive burden of finding out the truth behind the disappearance of the university student, Gayle Jackson, that played heavily on her mind. Today she was expected to turn detective, and it could be that the entire future of the case depended on what she might discover today.
Tracy joined Wendy at the breakfast table. Possibly for the first time since they had been together they had slept in separate beds. This did not mean that their relationship was strained. Far from it. It was possibly stronger now than it had ever been. It was just that there were far too many things playing on their minds that both girls felt it better to be left alone with their thoughts.
Tracy placed a hand on top of Wendy's resting on the breakfast table. Their eyes met and both girls gave a little knowing smile.
"Don't worry Wendy," Tracy told her, "if you don't find anything out, then it could mean that Tim is innocent. After all the police found nothing on him and had to let him go."
Wendy continued to smile nervously.
"It's not that Tracy," she said, "it's… it's just that I don't want to let the side down."
"You won't Wendy," Tracy assured her. "I'm sure you'll do well."
Wendy blinked her big blue eyes and smiled.
"I guess I'm just nervous Tracy," she admitted.
Tracy nodded her head.
"Look Wendy," she said, "Davina is calling round this morning, and we've got a few things to talk about. For one thing we may have another lead. This photographer who drives a Mercedes and comes from the Littlesea area could be the clue we're looking for… so all you need to do is verify Tim's alibi so that we can eliminate him from our investigations."
 Wendy bit her bottom lip. She remained worried but tried not to show it.
"Yeh!.. perhaps you're right Tracy," she said. "Perhaps we were expecting to many things from the Tim Walker angle,… and perhaps we did jump to too many conclusions before we knew all the facts."
Tracy smiled.
"Now you're talking Wendy," she said. "Just play it naturally and wait for the conversation to come round to Gayle Jackson… and don't make it look like you're desperate to find out what happened after they both left the club,… just do that and I'm sure you'll be all right."
Wendy smiled back and nodded her head.
"I'll do just that Tracy," she told her, "and I'll be careful not to give the game away."
"That's the spirit Wendy," replied Tracy. "Just go out there this afternoon and have a good time."
Wendy nibbled on a piece of toast. She took a deep breath and composed her self. She told herself there was nothing to be nervous or to worry about. She was committed to go with Tim, and whatever happened this afternoon she was determined not to let the side down.

8:30 am

Many miles from London, on the south coast of England, Roger Downton was another person with an important commitment for the day. He had an appointment with his solicitors scheduled for ten o'clock that morning. Hopefully the money for his flat had finally come through and everyone was prepared to sign contracts.
Being Friday, Roger had arranged with Mr. McTavish to have the whole day off and make a long weekend of it. Today was therefore going to be somewhat different from his normal pattern of events. Instead of his daily routine of visiting Mimi early at the hospital, then heading off to work, he planned to see his solicitors first, then visit Mimi afterwards. He thought it better this way. Especially if he had managed to sign the contracts for his flat, then he really would have something exciting to tell Mimi.
As for Mimi's current condition, she remained in a coma. But all the signs were encouraging. There was definite eye movement now in response to questions, and not just to Roger, but to anyone who asked. As a result, everyone at the hospital was encouraged by this, and the predictions were hopeful. It was expected that she would be coming out of it within the next few weeks.
Roger had further plans for the day. After visiting the hospital, and with the rest of the day to himself, there were two more things he wanted to do. Being already in Littlesea, and with hopefully a big fat cheque in his hand, he saw his chance to do a little house hunting. He was still torn between a new modern semi in a quiet cul-de-sac, and the cottage out at Castle Point. He had decided to keep an open mind on the subject and see both types of properties. If only Mimi was awake and could tell him what she wanted, then he would know what best to do.
Finally, after house hunting, there remained the little matter of installing a burglar alarm system at Carrowbank Farm. On his way back from Littlesea he would make a slight detour via Canterford and see a man called John Townsend. He had met the gentlemen once before in the hope of getting the project started, but then immediately afterwards came Mimi's accident and the untimely death of Godfrey Brookes, and as a result nothing ever got going.
Roger stepped out of the farmhouse and into the courtyard. It was a bit too early to set off for Littlesea and he was undecided what to do next. In the early morning spring sunshine, he yawned, stretched lazily and looked to his watch. The time was eight-thirty. With at least an hour to go before he needed to head off to Littlesea, and with not a lot else to do, he decided on going for a quick stroll around the farm. He would not stop out long, but with the sun shining and spring very much in the air, it was an opportunity not to be missed. He had a route planned that would take about three quarters of an hour. He would walk the embankment, traverse the far edge of the north meadow, then return to the farmhouse via the path next to the river.
In bright early morning sunshine, Roger set off. About ten minutes later as he strolled the embankment and within sight of the old disused railway tunnel, from the corner of his eye he caught something reflecting in the bright sunlight over by the River Carrow. He stopped immediately and trained his sight in that direction. Now he could see what was causing the flash of light. The reflection was coming from a man dressed all in white and standing on the riverbank.
Roger recalled seeing the same man, stood at the same spot, on one previous occasion, possibly over a week ago now, but he could not be certain. However, and on further reflection, he remembered that a campervan had been parked over on the other side of the railway embankment at the same time. Immediately he turned, took a couple of paces across the top of the embankment, then looked down the other side, and true enough, the campervan was there, parked up alongside the road.
Roger had initially planned to walk around the outside of the farm's property, but having spotted the man, he decided to curtail his round trip a little and head directly across the north meadow. He slithered down the steep slope of the embankment and set off in a straight line across the field with its flattened and destroyed crop of rotting oil-seed rape squelching beneath his feet.
On arrival, the man, dressed in a long white robe, was seated on the riverbank. He was doing nothing more than staring at the fast running waters of the River Carrow. He looked up and saw Roger, then returned his vision to the river below.
Roger sat down by his side to stare at the same piece of water.
"Remember me?" he told the man, "we met briefly in the graveyard a few days ago."
The man nodded his head.
"Yes, you told me that you knew Godfrey," he said in a solemn tone whilst continuing to stare at the river.
It was Roger's turn to nod his head. Though it need not have been necessary, no man was looking to each other. That same spot of water remained fixed to both of their sights.
"I did that… and yes, I knew Godfrey well… in fact I knew him very well," replied Roger thoughtfully.
Silence fell. The statement obviously not warranting any reply from the man. For several minutes Godfrey, it seemed, was not far away from either man's thoughts. But eventually the man dressed in white did have something to say.
"Godfrey and myself used to meet on this very spot,… we discussed many things," he told Roger.
"Then you must have also known him very well?" said Roger.
The man nodded his head.
"I did… we sat here for many an hour just talking and putting the world to right," he said.
Roger was interested. It was strange that Godfrey had never mentioned any of these meetings, yet obviously they must have been very dear to him.
"Do you mind if I ask?… but what did you talk about?" asked Roger.
The man stroked his long ginger beard for a while, and giving the question a little thought before offering any answer.
"Oh this and that, my friend,… this and that," he said eventually and to Roger's disappointment not being very helpful at all.
"Did you ever discuss religion?… The bible maybe?" suggested Roger.
He had seen the man's campervan and the writing on the sides, and was interested in knowing more.
The man nodded his head.
"Godfrey was a deeply religious man… he believed in God… and we shared our beliefs together," the man confirmed.
Roger was aware of Godfrey's religious convictions, he was a devout Christian, so none of this came as a surprise. But all the same he was interested and wanted to learn more.
"Would the sayings on the side of your campervan have been one of those beliefs?" asked Roger.
The man nodded his head once more.
"Amongst many things, yes we did discuss those verses my friend," he said whilst at the same time remaining vague.
"Where do those verses come from?" asked Roger, "they obviously come from the bible, but what part?"
The man turned his head and looked towards Roger for the first time.
"They are, my friend, from the 'Book of Revelation of St. John the Divine'," said the man, and being surprisingly precise with his answer.
Roger was not a deeply religious man, but there was one fact in relation to the answer that he did know.
"They're from the last book of the New Testament then?" he said.
The man nodded his head.
"They are my friend, they are from the last book of the New Testament," confirmed the man. "Remember, there is a beginning and an end to everything,… the Alpha and Omega… that is what life is all about."
Roger was unsure what all this meant. This man often spoke the phrase 'Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end', and he wanted to know what made these words so important to him.
"Alpha and Omega?… Aren't they the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet?" asked Roger.
The man nodded his head in confirmation.
"They are my friend, and not by coincidence does the Book of Revelations happen to be the last… it happens to be the Omega of the bible too," the man explained.
Roger turned pensive and looked to his watch for something better to do. Suddenly he found himself shocked at the time. It was nearly a quarter past nine. He wanted to carry on with the conversation, but that was impossible now, time was pressing and he had no option but to call it a day. He had to be in Littlesea by ten o'clock. He had a most important meeting with his solicitors that he could not afford to miss.
Roger stood up. He could wait no longer. It was a pity. He would have loved to have brought the conversion to a satisfactory conclusion.
"I'm sorry, but I've got to go… I've an appointment to keep in Littlesea… so I guess I'll just leave you in peace to think about Godfrey… but perhaps we'll meet up again some day… and perhaps we can take this discussion a little further," he suggested.
The man turned his head and looked up from the riverbank.
"When you are good and ready my friend… I will be here and waiting for you… so drive safely my friend… have a good journey," said the man then turned away again to face the fast flowing river.
Roger found the man's words puzzling, but said nothing. Why should he be good and ready? And for what?
"Goodbye then my friend," said Roger, then set off at a brisk pace back to the farm.
On his way back, Roger mused over his encounter with the man in white. He could not help thinking what a strange encounter that had been, and he was also wondering why he had not asked the man his name?

10:00 am

Davina arrived at the flat in North Park Avenue at sometime around ten o'clock. She parked her car in front of the terraced house next to Tracy's and rang the bell to the front door. Wendy leapt down the stairs to beat Mrs. Covington to it, and answered the door.
A smiling Davina greeted Wendy.
"Good morning Wendy," said Davina with a definite chirp to the voice.
Wendy smiled and looked Davina up and down. Davina looked radiant in motherhood. She was three months pregnant now and it was beginning to tell.
"Come on in Davina, Tracy's got the kettle on," she said.
A little later, with all three girls settled into the comfortable chairs of the lounge, and all sipping a hot cup of tea, the real discussions began. Davina and Tracy were seated next to one another on a settee, and Wendy was seated opposite them in an armchair. There was a low coffee table at the centre.
Davina started the conversation by setting out her own movements for the coming weekend. They were not as originally planned.
"As you can imagine," began Davina, "I've been having lots of long talks with my old school chum Sylvia over the past few days, and she's not a happy woman. She thinks Gayle's disappearance may have something to do with her work at Cropwatch, and she says she needs a break… to get away from London for a few days… So I've invited her back with me to Littlesea for the weekend, and I guess that might bring with it some implications,"
Tracy nodded her head. She could easily understand the way Sylvia felt, but failed to see any problems that would cause.
"What implications?" she asked.
Davina took a sip of tea before answering.
"Well Sylvia doesn't know anything about the pact or what we're doing," explained Davina, "and if she's going to be with me all the time, then I guess I can't be doing much to help."
Tracy understood. One of the things she wanted to do was get Davina and Georgina scouting around for all the photographers and Mercedes owners in the Littlesea area. But it now looked like only Georgina was available for doing any detective work. Quickly she considered the best course of action to take.
"Look Davina, don't worry about not being able to help," she told her. "Sylvia's suspicions regarding the Cropwatch organisation may be very well founded, we just don't know at present. So just stick to that angle… keep the conversations going in that direction and perhaps she'll suddenly come up with something important."
Davina looked towards Tracy and nodded her head. Tracy was of course right. All angles needed to be looked at, and Cropwatch could be the answer. She knew what best to do now. She would keep working on Sylvia over the next few days, and, with a little bit of luck, but she might just come up with some vital clue.
"Okay, I'll stick with Sylvia and the keep pushing the Cropwatch connection," agreed Davina, then after a little pause, added: "Well that's me settled for the weekend, so what about you two? How are you two getting on?"
Tracy collected her thoughts. She thought it best to leave the findings of her own investigations until last. She decided it was Wendy's turn to say something. The junior member of the pact had been content just to sit and listen up until now.
"Wendy, tell us what you've been up to first," suggested Tracy.
Wendy placed her cup down on the low table at the centre before answering. In a way she felt proud of what she had achieved. She had gained the trust of the chief suspect, Tim Walker, and they were going out together that very afternoon. She cleared her throat first before speaking.
"Well, on Wednesday night I managed to meet up with Gayle Jackson's boyfriend, Tim Walker,… we got to know one another,… and as a result, I'm meeting him again this afternoon," explained Wendy and managing to convey it all in one sentence.
Davina face beamed. This was excellent news.
"That's fantastic Wendy," she praised, "perhaps we're getting somewhere at last."
Wendy smiled too.
"Hopefully I'll find out a lot more this afternoon," she replied. "I'll keep trying anyway."
"Great!… Well, best of luck anyway," said Davina before adding a word of caution: "and please be careful… that lad could be dangerous."
"I know Davina… I will be," Wendy assured her.
With that said, it was Tracy's turn to speak.
"And I may have found out something interesting too," announced Tracy.
Davina turned her head towards Tracy.
"Well, let's have it then," she said in eager anticipation.
Tracy composed herself. She had a lot to explain.
"Well, whilst Wendy was away trying to gain Tim Walker's affections, I took it upon myself to make friends with Gayle Jackson's best pal from university. Her name is Chloe Chambers... Well, I managed to spend the whole of yesterday morning with her, and I think I've come up with something very  interesting… I may have a lead that links everything back to Littlesea," Tracy explained.
"Back to Littlesea!" exclaimed Davina.
This news she had not expected.
"Yes, back to Littlesea," repeated Tracy. "We got around to discussing Mercedes cars… remember, in the police statements, a Mercedes was seen prowling around the park at the time of the kidnapping… Well, Chloe remembers seeing a Mercedes too… but what is more interesting, she reckoned that she knew the driver… she was convinced that the Mercedes she saw that night belonged to someone she knew well,… and someone who comes from the Littlesea area."
Davina was wide eyed now and wanting to know more.
"Who's this person then?" she asked. "Can we get on to him?"
Tracy shook her head. This is where the trail grew cold.
"Sorry Davina, but that's about as much as I've got up until now," said Tracy sadly. "Except for one other clue that is… the person in question is a photographer… and someone dabbling in pornography."
Davina looked interested.
"When are you seeing this Chloe Chambers again?" she asked. "It seems like the big break we're looking for."
Tracy shook her head more violently this time.
"That's the big problem Davina," she said with a sigh. "It's Easter holidays coming up. The university breaks up today, and Chloe's away to her parents for a fortnight."
Davina gave the problem some thought. Georgina was on duty this weekend, and that only left herself free to do anything full time. She was in two minds whether to leave Sylvia behind in London and return to Littlesea on her own. This matter was more important than looking after a depressed school friend.
"Can I do something to help?" asked Davina. "Georgina's on duty this weekend so won't be available all of the time… perhaps I should go back home without Sylvia and get stuck into it myself."
Davina still did not know what best to do, and Tracy was mindful too. There was a pause whilst the two girls considered the problem.
Tracy eventually spoke.
"No, take Sylvia with you Davina," she said. "Let's stick to what we agreed. Get on to Georgina though, and see if she can do something... She might be able to find out a few facts at the station… Tell her what we're looking for is photographer who lives in the Littlesea area and drives a Mercedes… that should narrow the field down a bit… there surely can't be many folks around that fits that description."
Davina agreed and she was already making plans of her own. Perhaps she could get away from Sylvia once in a while over the weekend and do a bit of investigative work for herself. Maybe she could send her old school friend shopping in Littlesea, or off to see the castle on her own. She reckoned she could engineer something like that, just to get Sylvia out of the way for a while.
"Okay Tracy, I'll do just that," agreed Davina. "I'll take Sylvia back with me to Littlesea, and then see what Georgina can do for us."
"Fine, everything's agreed then," said Tracy, "so we all know what we're doing then?"
Davina and Wendy nodded their heads. Both were aware of their own responsibilities.
Tracy was happy too. She had further plans of her own, but did not want to say too much at this stage. Chloe had hinted that her image was to be found in quite a number of bondage magazines. Well, Tracy knew of a whole library full of BDSM books and magazines, and she had the necessary keys to get at them. So, this afternoon, whilst Wendy was away with Tim, she had plans to return to the Dom Domingo club and have a good look around the library. Hopefully she would come across a picture of Chloe, and perhaps with it, come up with a name or two. Even a publisher's name would do, anything that would lead her to the identity of this mysterious photographer from Littlesea.

2:00 pm

Wendy was looking out of the upstairs window when the bright red sports car pulled up in the road outside. Quickly she put on a short coat and gathered up her handbag.
"Tim's here," Wendy shouted to Tracy who happened to be in the kitchen at the time.
Tracy came out of the kitchen wiping her hands upon a pinafore. She pecked Wendy on the cheek.
"Right, go sock it to him Wendy," she told her, "and the best of luck."
Wendy checked herself in the mirror then made for the stairs. She was as ready as she would ever be.
"See you later then Tracy," she called from the hallway below.
"Yes, see you later Wendy," echoed Tracy from the top of the stairs.
Tracy watched Wendy go out from the front door before returning to her duties.
Tim remained in his car parked across the road and waiting for Wendy to appear. On seeing her, he got out of the car and moved round to the passenger door. He opened it up in readiness for her.
Wendy walked across the road to stand by Tim on the pavement. She was wearing the most sexiest clothes imaginable. A low-cut top exposed as much of her breasts as possible without actually displaying her nipples, and a short skirt that barely managed to cover any of the thighs was wrapped tightly about her waist.
Tracy had helped select the clothes that Wendy wore, and she reckoned Tim could not help but be bowled over by the way she looked.
Tim and Wendy came together on the pavement over on the other side of the street.
"Morning Wendy… lovely to see you," said Tim, and he kissed her on the lips.
After Wednesday's session at the club their relationship had progressed enough for them to be on kissing terms, but that was about as far as it went. However both were hoping to advance that relationship a little bit further today, but for entirely different reasons.
"Lovely to see you too Tim," replied Wendy after the kiss.
Tim stepped back a little, and for a moment weighed up the curves of Wendy's breasts, and then looked down to admire the shapeliness of her thighs. Now aged eighteen Wendy was beginning to blossom out into the fullness of womanhood, and the scrawny teenage image of even a few months ago had all but disappeared. Wendy was now a young woman in her own rights, and dressed the way she was today, a definite and most positive accessory for any young man with a sporty looking car to want by his side.
"Ready for a spin Wendy?" asked Tim, and holding open the door to his bright red car.
Wendy smiled and tried to show some eagerness in her actions. She moved to the car door and put one leg inside.
"I sure am Tim!… let's see what this beauty can do," she replied as she took up her seat.
The passenger seat was low, and as Wendy eased herself down her short skirt rode up her thighs. She made an attempt to wriggle the skirt back down to a sensible length, but failed to make very much progress in that direction. A quick glance down revealed a flash of pink panties displaying between her legs. She felt embarrassed and closed up her legs in haste. At the same time she looked upwards to see Tim still holding the door open and ogling down at the narrow pink band of material between her legs.
Tim, on seeing Wendy look up from the seat, smiled and closed the door. As he walked round to the other side of the car, it was a very happy young man indeed. He liked very much what he saw, and, if all went well, he had plans to see even more of Wendy later that day.
Stood in the upstairs window of the house opposite, Tracy looked down at the road as the sports car moved off with a roar and a puff of blue smoke from the tyres. On seeing the car leave, she removed her pinafore and wiped her hands clean. She had an appointment of her own to keep. She was off to Walter's house, and to take a look around that library of his.

2:30 pm

Tracy pulled up in the road outside the big house in the sleepy crescent. There was no sign of any car in the driveway. She could only assume that Walter was still at work, since, and as far as she could tell, the garage space was only ever used for club meetings.
Leaving her car by the side of the road, Tracy walked up the drive to the house and opened up the front door with the keys Walter had left in her charge.
On entering, and just to make certain that the big house was indeed empty, she shouted: "Hello!… anyone at home," both up the stairs and down the hallway.
Walter's little dog began to bark from within a room somewhere on the ground floor, but otherwise there was no response.
Tracy made her way to the library, moved inside and closed the door behind her. She knew roughly what she was seeking. She was looking for pictures of Chloe. Hopefully this would then lead her to the name of the photographer. It was a long shot, and she knew it, but whilst she still had the keys to the house, it was an opportunity not to be missed. Besides, she felt like a real detective once more, and after all, this is what they always did in the movies, so why should she not have a go herself?
Tracy located a shelf that ran the complete length of the room. It was full of magazines dedicated to female bondage and arranged in A-to-Z order from left to right. All the magazines had been placed in smartly bound leather folders which displayed a single letter of the alphabet on the spine. Some letters appeared many times, others just once or twice, and there were a couple of letters missing. Each folder held several magazines.
Rather than starting at the letter A, Tracy moved directly to the C's in the hope of finding something relating to a 'Chloe' or 'Chambers'. Unfortunately she found nothing applicable. C it appeared was almost entirely reserved for magazine covers starting with the titles 'Captured' or 'Captive'.
Tracy flicked through the pages in the hope of finding a picture of Chloe. She drew a blank and replaced the folder. She now realised the full extent of the problem. There were thousands of magazines to look through. She shrugged her shoulders and moved to the start, and to begin with the letter A. All she could do now was go through each shelf systematically in the hope of finding something of interest.
An hour later, with the complete bondage section examined, and all with negative results, Tracy moved across the room to a shelf labelled 'Wooden Pony'. Initially she had assumed this to be something to do with pony girl racing, but to her amazement quickly discovered this not to be the case. It appeared that the wooden pony in question was the edge of a plank, or something very similar, on which a girl was forced to sit astride. Tracy realised that she still had a lot to learn about this strange world of BDSM. All the same, she took down the letter A from the shelf and set about flicking through the pages.
Tracy was beginning to feel despondent. She had scanned through hundreds of magazines, thousands of pages and photographs, and found no one that even resembled Chloe. She was beginning to think that this little escapade was turning out to be a complete waste of time, then suddenly it happened, but not until she had reached the letter W. Here she flicked over a page to find a picture of Chloe sat astride a plank. She looked decidedly uncomfortable. Her hands were handcuffed behind her back, and the background was a wall of dark bricks. It looked like she was in a dungeon of some sorts. For several seconds Tracy remained staring at the picture in disbelief, then sighed heavily in utter relief. This just had to be the stroke of luck she was looking for.
Quickly she turned back to the cover. The title of the magazine was unimaginative. It simply read: 'Wooden Pony Rides'. She turned to the first page, then over to the back cover in the hope of finding some credits or publisher's name. There was something there, printed at the bottom of the back cover, but it was not what she expected, and not a lot to go on. There was just one line of print at the bottom, and it read: 'Copyright FotoPix Studios, London.'
Tracy flicked quickly through the rest of the pages. There was nothing else anywhere in the magazine to give credit to the photographers, or even mention the magazine's printers or publishers. She shrugged her shoulders. She had expected to find more, but could not grumble, at least she had found out something. She had the name of a studio, and the address was London, so whatever happened now, she had something to get stuck into.
Tracy's vision returned to the shelves. Every wall was full of shelving from ceiling to floor. The only gaps being around the window and the door. She reckoned that she had seen about quarter of all there was to see. She looked to her watch. The time was half past three. She had been hard at it for about an hour. She looked around again at all the untouched shelves and estimated that it would take at least another three hours to get through the lot. She wondered what time Walter would return, and considered how much time she had left to be safe. She concluded nowhere near enough, and began to consider the alternatives. What she really needed to discover was the address of 'FotoPix Studios' in London. She removed the magazine from the folder then replaced the leather binder back on the shelf. Several magazines remained in the folder and she reckoned that the one she had taken would not be missed.
Tracy moved to the door and took a last quick look around the library. Nothing appeared to be disturbed or look out of place. She had been careful to replace every folder back to where she had found it. This was to be the end of her magazine search for the time being. But she promised herself, that if she drew a blank, then she would return.
 
3:30 pm

Wendy looked through the windscreen of the sports car at the big house stood in front of her. The bright red sports car had just pulled into the driveway and come to a halt. Tim was seated in the driving seat. He stopped the engine and leaned across to kiss Wendy on the lips.
"Well Wendy, we're here,… this is where I live," he announced after what turned out to be a prolonged and lingering kiss.
So this was Tim's home, Wendy was thinking. They had just finished their exhilarating ride and Tim had brought her here. He had informed her that his parents would be out, and that they would have the house to themselves for the rest of the afternoon and most of that evening.
Tim looked keen to go inside the house, but Wendy saw this as their first real chance to talk since getting into the car. The ride itself had been exhilarating, the big red sports car could certainly move, and to be truthful, Wendy really enjoyed the experience. She really did like fast cars.
Conversation between them however had remained restricted and limited, confined to nothing more than talk of fast cars, and where to turn next. For most of the hour and a half long journey Wendy had been in charge of the road maps, and at the same time keeping a keen eye out for the police. One quick burst on the outside lane of the motorway did prove the capabilities of Tim's machine. At one point the car did touch one-hundred-and-twenty miles an hour with ease before slowing down rapidly.
After the kiss, Tim's arm remained about Wendy's shoulders. He realised that he was about to take the arm away, so she quickly cuddled up to him the best she could across the high central transmission tunnel. The handbrake dug into her ribs, but she did not complain. She would not get a better chance than this to question him about Gayle Jackson. It was time to get Tim talking.
But first a little more softening up with another kiss. A kiss ten times longer than the last one and fired with passion. A kiss with mouths wide open and darting tongues that licked the back of the throat and touched the tonsils. A kiss designed to turn Tim into putty in her hands. With these thoughts in mind, Wendy set to work.
With their mouths wide open and lips locked tightly together, Tim's free hand moved instinctively to Wendy's breasts. The hand slid smoothly beneath her low-cut top, then eased its way slowly down beneath her bra. It cupped a breast for a few seconds before beginning a steady and rhythmical fondling of her tits. She let it happen, and compared Tim to Tracy. Both were gentle and loving, and both made the experience most enjoyable. This was the first time she had ever voluntarily allowed anyone from the opposite sex to touch her body, and she began to doubt her fears. This thing that was happening to her was not too bad after all.
Eventually the kiss came to and end, but they remained locked together, with arms about each other and foreheads touching. Tim's one hand remained cupping a tit, but doing little else.
"Wendy, you're wonderful," Tim told her after a long cuddle and a return to spasmodic fondling of the breasts and gentle rolling of the nipples between thumb and forefinger.
Wendy considered it time to do some serious talking. Tracy had given her a few tips on how to go about it. She was to start well away from where she needed to get to, and only slowly try and move the conversation around to the subject of Gayle Jackson.
"Tim," she started, "have you got another girl?"
Tim moved his head back a little to look Wendy in the eye.
"Why do you ask that?" he asked.
Wendy was ready with a reply. She reckoned Tim would either answer the question directly, or ask why she wanted to know, and she had a response to either.
"Because Tim, if we're going to move this relationship on further, then I want to know what's involved," she told him, "I want to know if I've got competition." Then thoughtfully she added a little lie to make the question sound more convincing. "It's just that I've been caught out once before… and I don't want to be two-timed again… that's all," she explained.
Tim understood her motive and shook his head.
"No Wendy, there's no one else in my life at present," he said honestly, "I want you to believe that… you're the only girl around for me."
Wendy smiled at the confession and considered her next move. She was getting there, albeit very slowly. Tracy's advice was to get Tim to mention Gayle Jackson's name first. This was now her aim. It was important that Tim mentioned the girl's name first.
"Sorry Tim, but I had to ask… it's just, well, I heard at the club that you had another girlfriend," said Wendy in the hope of triggering off some talk of the missing student.
Tim pulled a distorted face. It was hard for him to talk about his last affair. He had been faithful to Gayle all throughout their turbulent relationship, but it was her that had ditched him. She had called it off just before storming away from the club, and that was the last he had seen of her.
"That affair's finished… it's all over," he confessed.
Wendy considered her next question carefully before asking. In the meantime she cuddled up closer to Tim and rested her head on his shoulders.
"Did she break it off, or you?" she asked eventually.
Tim remained thoughtful with Wendy in his arms.
"Oh, she broke it off all right… she told me she never wanted to see me again," he confessed.
Wendy was getting genuinely interested in what Tim had to say, and at the same time finding herself becoming more and more sexually aroused. Somehow she was beginning to trust Tim and feel relaxed in his company. She considered the reasons why. Well, for starters, the gentle massaging of her tits had a lot to do with it. Tim's one hand remained beneath her bra, stroking her breasts softly and occasionally rolling her hardened nipples between his fingers. It was at times when Tim gave the nipple a little squeeze that spasms came rocketing through her body and made her draw breath. Then afterwards, as the spasms died slowly away, she could sense the damp patch on her panties between her legs getting more and more wetter.
To get out of the way she felt, Wendy needed to ask another question, and fast. She quickly pulled herself together.
"And since this old girlfriend of your broke it off, have you ever seen her again?" she enquired.
Tim shook his head.
"No… never,… in fact no one has," he said sadly, then confessed, "she's… she's the girl that went missing."
Wendy smiled a little but tried not to give the game away. She was getting there slowly. Tim was beginning to talk about the missing student, but she could tell that it was difficult for him to come to terms with the loss. She needed him to come out in the open with it: To spill his soul, but the trouble was, she was experiencing problems of her own. She told herself to forget all about the gentle petting of her breasts, and attuned her mind to concentrate fully on the conversation.
"That missing girl was your girlfriend was it!" she exclaimed as if the statement had come as a complete surprise. "You were going out with the missing girl!… the one Walter talked about at the meeting?"
Tim nodded his head and looked sadder than ever.
"Yes, that's was my old girlfriend… Gayle… Gayle Jackson was her name," confirmed Tim, "we'd first met at the club and been going out together for a few months when she broke it off… and all because of something I did that was stupid… something I did wrong… and it was all my fault… I know that now, and that I shouldn't have done it… it was silly of me… but that's life… and it's all over now… finished."
Tim's hand had stopped the fondling of her breasts whilst he spoke, and Wendy found time to concentrate.
"What did you do that was silly?" she asked.
Tim thought for a while before giving an answer.
"I was only trying to help… I was trying to help Gayle win a pony girl race… and I threw some holly on the track in front of the other girl… Gayle found out afterwards… and she called me a cheat… and said that she never wanted to see me again," explained Tim.
Wendy could not help feeling sad for Tim. He looked close to tears and she wondered whether to continue on with the conversation. Then she remembered the pact. There was no way she could give up now. She had to keep pressing.
"This other girl… the one you threw the holly in front of… wasn't that the girl in the pillory the other night?.. the one that was doing the forfeit?" she asked.
Tim nodded his head.
"Yes,… that was Chloe… Gayle's best friend at university… they'd taken on a challenge between themselves… at pony girl racing… and the loser was to spend the night in the pillory… well Gayle won and Chloe lost… and I guess that's where you came in… Chloe was doing her forfeit at your first night at the club," said Tim.
Wendy nodded her head. It was time to talk about Gayle's disappearance. She was almost there.
"I see," she said thoughtfully, "then afterwards Gayle found out about the holly… realised that you had cheated, and gave you the brush off… so what did she do then?… didn't you try to explain?… didn't you try to tell her you were doing it for her?"
A sad expression remained on Tim's face.
"I guess I did try to explain,… but she just wouldn't listen,… and she just stormed off,… walking out from the club without saying goodbye to anyone," said Tim.
Wendy pulled a sad face too. She could not help it. She just felt that way and so sorry for Tim.
"Didn't you go after her?" she asked.
Tim shook his head and told his story: "I did follow her to the end of the drive… but she was already marching off down the road… I called out to her… but she did not want to listen… she just kept striding away… I considered running after her… but decided if I was going to catch her, it was best take the car… I got in, started the engine, then thought better of it… Gayle was always impetuous… said things on the spur of the moment, then next morning I found out that she had changed her mind and was full of apologies… so I decided to leave her to cool down… and I would contact her the next day… it seemed better that way… but now I wish that I'd gone after her… because that was the last time I saw her… she got as far as the park… then disappeared."
Wendy hugged Tim close to her for comfort.
"I'm so sorry Tim," was all she could say.
For a full five minutes afterwards, nothing else was said. Tim and Wendy remained locked in embrace between the two front seats.
"Come on Tim, cheer up," she told him eventually, "let's go in the house and have some fun."
Tim nodded his head and smiled. He wanted to put all thoughts of Gayle to the back of his mind. Wendy was the new girl in his life now.
"Yeh, come on then," he said, "let's go have some fun."
They kissed once more then broke the embrace. Both sat upright in their seats and smiled to one another before reaching for the doors. Wendy stepped out of the car and pulled down her crumpled skirt. She had been wanting to do that for the last hour and a half.
Tim got out of the car, took Wendy by the hand and led her to the front door. It was a big house. Tim's parents were obviously quite well off and it showed. The place was not as big or as ostentatious as Walter's, but it was still fairly large, detached, and surrounded by spacious gardens. The houses in the rest of the street were also very similar. All were detached with large gardens. This was a posh neighbourhood.
Wendy let herself be led into the house. No words were spoken. Both knew where they were heading. It seemed like the right thing to do. They scaled the stairs and crossed the landing. Tim came to a halt at a door. He turned the handle and swung the door inwards.
"Welcome to my lair," he told her as the door opened.
Wendy stepped into the room. It was large, much larger than her own poky little bedroom back at Castle Point. But other than that, there was nothing unexceptional or unusual to the room. There was a large double bed, a dressing table and chest of drawers, a built in wardrobe down one wall, a book shelf, an acoustic guitar propped in one corner and posters of fast race cars stuck everywhere on the walls. Also, directly above the bed, from a hook in the ceiling hung a model of a bright red 'Formula One' racing car. It looked out of place up there. She felt it much better if it was stood on the windowsill, but she did not remark on it.
Tim closed the door and moved to stand beside Wendy. He put an arm around her.
"A bit of bondage then Wendy?" he asked.
Wendy secretly hoped that it would not come to this, at least not on their first date. She had always been aware of the threat, but even when being led up to the bedroom she thought that she might get away with just a kiss and cuddle on the bed. However, now that the subject had been raised, she considered it difficult to wriggle out of it without blowing her cover. She steeled herself in the realisation that she just had to let Tim get on with it. It was as simple as that.
"What do you suggest then Tim," she asked and tried to look thrilled at the proposal.
Tim smiled a big broad smile, and for the first time in ages he looked really happy.
"Well, how about anchoring you to the bed for starters?" he suggested.
Wendy nodded her head. At least she had first hand experience of this, both with Tracy at her own home, and with Sam and Tracy in Lancashire. In fact it was the only form of bondage she had ever experienced.
"Okay Tim, that's fine by me," she answered as if totally untroubled by the suggestion.
Tim moved across the room to the chest of drawers and pulled open the bottom drawer. It looked full of clothes and Tim delved down inside to fumble around at the back. After a slight struggle he managed to extract a shoe box and carried it back to the bed. He laid the box down on the quilt covers and removed the lid.
"I've got these things we can play with," he told her and showing her the contents.
Tim was stood to one side of the bed, Wendy the other. She peered inside the open box and stared at the contents for several seconds. The box was filled mainly with handcuffs. There were at least half a dozen in there, maybe more. The tangle of bracelets made it difficult to count properly. There were other items too. There were a few lead weights with lengths of thick string attached, and also a couple of clamps that looked like large metal clothes pegs. There was one item however that she did not mind. Tucked away at the bottom beneath all the other items was a vibrator. The pink plastic looked friendly amongst the clutter of chrome and lead, and on spotting this she managed a smile.
Wendy looked to Tim. He was awaiting an answer. She held reservations about what the content of the box would do to her, but considered she had very little option, and, in a strange sort of way, she felt she owed Tim something. She had forced him into spilling his soul. It was cruel of her she knew, and realised just how much it must have hurt, so now it was pay back time.
 "Okay Tim, I'm game for anything," she told him, then asked: "What do you want me to do?"
Tim seemed most pleased with Wendy's reply, and he was never short of ideas.
"Just let me do all the work… I'll be the dom and you be the sub," he told her.
Dom and sub were new terms to Wendy, as were the contents of the box, but all the same she could not fail to understand their meanings and uses. Having little choice, she decided to jump into the action feet first. At all costs, Tim was never to find out that this was all one big charade.
"That's fine by me Tim," she confirmed, "how do you want me?.. Clothes on?.. down to bra and panties?.. stark naked?"
Tim chuckled. He knew that Wendy was into bondage and discipline, but all the same he had expected some reservations on their first meeting.
"Stark naked," he echoed as soon as the last two words were spoken.
On hearing the request, Wendy immediately set about removing her coat. She could see no other course of action other than to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. She would then ask to be taken back to the flat in North Park Avenue.
On seeing what Wendy was doing, Tim came around the bed to help by holding the jacket from behind and helping her slip out from the sleeves.
Placing the coat on a chair besides the bed, Tim told her: "Please Wendy, let me do all the work… act sub… just stand still and let me undress you."
Wendy understood, She turned to face Tim, and to stand with arms by her side.
"Stand like this?" she asked.
Tim nodded his head.
"Yes, stand like that Wendy… lower your head a little… and no more talking from now on please… just let me get on with it," he told her.
 Wendy lowered her head and said nothing as instructed, and waited.
Tim took hold of Wendy's low-cut top about the waist and pulled it up her body. Wendy raised up her arms to allow the flimsy item to slip over her head and away from her arms. Tim dropped the garment on the chair and returned his hands to Wendy's waist, this time to undo a solitary button and draw down a small zip. This time Tim's hands descended down the sides of the thighs, dragging the tight, clinging skirt downwards to the carpeted floor. On reaching her feet, Wendy stepped out of the skirt, and leaving it on the floor for Tim to collect.
Wendy, perhaps deliberately, or more likely egged on by Tracy, had opted to wear the minimum possible right from the start. With skirt and top gone, all that remained on her person were her bra and panties, both in matching pink, and the shoes upon her feet.
Tim remained bending with hands near the floor. He gripped a shoe, made Wendy raise up a leg, then slipped the shoe from off the foot. He repeated this for the other leg, then collected up the skirt and shoes before standing upright. He discarded the items on the chair then turned to look Wendy up and down. As instructed she stood demurely, with head slightly lowered. She was dressed only in her bra and panties.
"You look wonderful Wendy," Tim told her.
Wendy began to raise up her head, to look towards and perhaps return a little smile for the compliment, but Tim stopped her.
"No, keep your head down," he told her, "you look better that way."
Wendy bowed her head and to stare at the floor.
Tim moved to stand behind Wendy. For a few seconds, with both hands held high, he stroked her soft, delicate skin between the shoulder blades, then with tracing fingers against the flesh, he lowered his hands to the clasps of the bra-strap. Working slowly, he undid three little hooks and let the elasticated straps spring apart. Still standing to the rear he eased the straps from the shoulders and pulled the bra downwards and away from the arms. With a flick of the wrist the bra joined the rest of Wendy's clothes on the chair.
Tim moved around to the front, and for a moment feasted his eyes on Wendy's firm, round tits. With both hands raised, two gentle extended fingers traced small circles about her protruding nipples. He could see clearly that they were hard and firm, and standing proud, but he tested them all the same with a little squeeze between thumbs and forefingers.
Very slowly the two extended fingers moved away, to follow the curvature of the breasts, then continue on their way to trace lines down the body and outwards to waist. Fingers gripped the elastic of the panties on passing and continued on downwards to the floor. On reaching the floor, Wendy obliged by first raising one leg and then the other, then to step away and leave the panties clutched firmly in Tim's hands. He noted the damp patch, smiled, then tossed them away to the chair. For a second or two he admired the naked vision of beauty stood before him. Somehow he could not believe his luck. Wendy was stood naked, arms by her side, and with head bowed. She was totally submissive, and willing to accept whatever he wanted.
Tim leaned across the bed and dragged the shoe box across to his side. From it he withdrew four handcuffs and opened out all the bracelets with a single key. Returning to face Wendy he made her raise up her arms slightly and keep them there. He locked a handcuff to each wrist, then bending down did the same to her ankles. She now had all four handcuffs attached to her limbs. When he was done, he stood erect, smiled and nodded his approval. Wendy was ready for the bed now.
"Right Wendy, up on the bed and lie down," he told her.
Wendy did as instructed, with a handcuff hanging from each wrist and each ankle she climbed up on the bed, lay down centrally, rested her head on the pillows and made herself comfortable. Instinctively she lifted up her hands and opened out her legs, and projecting all four limbs towards the four corners of the bed.
On seeing Wendy waiting with arms and legs spread wide, Tim moved quickly into action. Reaching out for the nearest wrist, he locked the bracelet to the corner post, then leant across the bed to do likewise on the other side. When he was done, as he straightened himself up, he let his open hands ride gently across the soft pink flesh of her breasts, his palms brushing the tops of the hardened nipples. He sensed Wendy writhe under the contact, and raised a little smile as she signalled her pleasure.
After a final soft tweak to the nipples, Tim moved to the bottom of the bed, took hold of an ankle and dragged it a little nearer to the corner post. He then passed the open bracelet around the post and locked it in position. Finally he moved across the bottom of the bed, pulled the ankle down towards the corner and locked the last bracelet in place. When he was done, he stepped back to linger a while in the sheer pleasure of the sight that greeted him. Wendy was a gorgeous creature, with her soft pink flesh and curvaceous body spread out on the bed before him. He reflected on his good fortune and concluded just how lucky he had been to met her.
Tim returned his thoughts to the present. He moved to the shoe box and took out the weights and clamps. They were tied together with long lengths of strong string. Slowly he unravelled the tangled mess to reveal two long lengths of string, a weight tied to one end and a nipple clamp to the other. With the strings separated and held in one hand, Tim stood on the bed and reached up for the model racing car. He took down the car and placed the strings over the hook. Stepping down from the bed he discarded the model car and changed his grip so that he now held the clamps. The strings attached to the clamps passed up and over the hook and hung down the other side, both pulled tight by the heavy lead weights tied to the other ends.
 Wendy was well aware of all that was happening. Tim's intentions were lucid and obvious. Up till this point she had been content to look on in silence and watch with interest as Tim firstly unravelled the string, then stood on the bed to bring the hook into play, and finally to stand over her with clamps in his hand. But now she was not so content. As a hand approached a nipple, with fingers squeezed hard on an opened clamp, she shut her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth in anticipation of the pain to come. She knew it would hurt. She wanted to tell Tim no, to leave her nipples alone, but she knew that was impossible. Her cover and the pact were far too important to surrender just for a little bit of pain. As the cold metal touched a nipple, she steeled herself and waited for the clamp to bite deep into the flesh.
Tim finished attaching the clamps to Wendy's nipples, then stood upright. He looked down at Wendy spread out on the bed. She was writhing slightly, her breasts moving slowly from side to side and rocking the weights tied to the other end of the strings. He assumed this to be pleasure, since she had at no time complained. His eyes locked on the swaying breasts, and he drew equal pleasure from the sight of a naked Wendy laid out on the bed before him. The shining chrome clamps gripped and compressed the nipples flat between the powerful jaws, and at the same time the taught strings pulled upwards, tugging and distorting the flesh even more under the downward force of the heavy lead weights.
Tim delved into the shoe box and extracted the vibrator. He switched it on, and as the low buzzing noise filled the room, Wendy opened one eye. Tim saw the eye open and returned a wink.
"Just lie back, shut your eyes, and enjoy," he told her.
Wendy did just that. She had very little choice in the matter anyway. She was getting use to the clamps now. The initial shock and stinging pain had subdued, and all she could feel now was pressure. It was still deep, biting pressure, but she told herself it was something she could live with.
Tim moved to kneel upon the bed, then touch Wendy lightly between the legs with the vibrator. He located the clitoris and held it there, just touching lightly and moving in a small circle. After a while Wendy began to writhe her legs and he knew that it was beginning. Slowly he eased the tip of the vibrator down her exposed pink crack, to hover for awhile at the mouth of her tight little hole. Slowly he let the vibrator slide inside, drawn inwards by Wendy's own virginal muscles. He could see the pleasure he was giving by the movements to the hips, and also hear that enjoyment from the low groans now issuing from the mouth.
Slowly at first, then at a steady but increasing pace, Tim began to move the vibrator in and out. Wendy's own movements of the hips rose to match his own efforts and soon those initial low groans turned to shouts and great gasping breaths for air.
Wendy climaxed to a cacophony of screams and wails. Tim held the vibrator in place, pushing it deep into Wendy's cavity and holding it there until the orgasm subsided. As the thrashings and convulsions came to an end, he withdrew the vibrator, switched it off, and waited for Wendy to regain her breath.
After a good two to three minutes Wendy's heaving chest began to return to a normal.
All this time Tim had sat patiently waiting on the edge of the bed.
"Did you enjoy that Wendy?" he asked after the long wait.
Wendy opened her eyes, looked towards Tim and smiled.
"That was wonderful Tim," she confessed. "Absolutely bloody wonderful."
Tim grinned a big wide smile.
"Ready for another go perhaps?" he asked.
Wendy nodded her head from the pillow.
"Oh, yes please Tim," she replied.

End of Chapter Twenty-two