* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Return To Hugo's

I managed to get away from Anthea's clutches a little before five o'clock, and it was not easy I can tell you. Six hours in bed with Anthea is enough to drain anyone's strength. My dick was sore and my balls ached.
I raced into London and returned the hired Jaguar just as they were closing; I paid extra for the scratches on the door; I got a taxi back to my hotel; I booked out; and I caught the first train to Birmingham.
It was late when I arrived in my old home town that Saturday night, and I must admit I was totally shagged out. From New Street station in the centre of Birmingham I caught a taxi to Sandy's flat. She was waiting up for me, bless her, and that is where I stayed all day Sunday. I only mention this on passing because there wasn't much I could do until Monday, so I guess you can call Sunday a day off.
However, what I can tell you about Sunday is this, the day wasn't wasted. For one thing Sandy and me had a good time. I think most of the day was taken up testing out the squirmy-rooter vibrator I'd bought for her from that little shop in Soho. She told me it was the best present I'd ever bought her. However, I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not, since I can't remember ever buying her anything else.
As regards the case and my search for Judy Jones, there is one small point worthy of a mention. Remember Bo's cigarette lighter? The one with the hidden camera inside? The one I took from her handbag to stop Hendry finding out? Well I came across it in my jacket pocket whilst unpacking my things. With all the many goings on - my arrest for one thing, and the playing of the video tape afterwards - the small camera had completely slipped my memory, and I guess yours too!
Anyway, having rediscovered the camera, I decided to have the film developed at the first opportunity.
And I guess that is all that can be said about Sunday.

* * *

Monday morning arrived, and at nine o'clock on the dot, I was waiting inside Police Headquarters in Birmingham. I'd already said hello to a lot of my old colleagues and drunk a lot of their coffee when the man I was waiting for arrived. He was the constabulary's handwriting expert and an old mate of mine.
I showed him the Christmas card and the hand written self-bondage note, and asked for his expert opinion.
It didn't take him long, and a final test on the ink confirmed my suspicions. Both notes were written by the same hand and with the same fountain pen and ink. I was also given some odds, which is the way the police like to produce this sort of evidence in court. The odds against finding two people with identical handwriting, and both using a similar fountain pen with the same type of ink equates to something like one-hundred-and-forty-five-million to one. The entire populations of England and Germany doesn't add up to that, so I think we were on a pretty safe bet that Boris Von Reidler sent the Christmas card to Judy Jones's mother.
The only thing I couldn't figure out was why? Why should some travelling salesman from Germany be posting a Christmas card in North London to the parents of a missing girl from Lower Clunley? It just didn't make sense.
I had one more thing done for me whilst I had the opportunity. I got the film in Bo's camera developed. However, don't get too excited. There's very little to report. Bo must have just put a new film in the camera and there was only one photograph inside. It was of me sat at the bar in Hendry's place. In the background you could see Fernando serving Denny North, and that was about all there was to see.
I left Headquarters clutching a solitary photograph and a forensic report in a large brown envelope. I'd said goodbye to everyone at headquarters and descending the main steps to the building when my mobile phone rang.
I answered it on the steps. It was a call from Sandy.
Just before I left Sandy, I'd asked her to get in touch with Doreen from the club. Mainly because she was the only person I knew that had been in contact with Boris, and therefore, hopefully, could tell me what he looked like. I needed a simple description. I'd only seen him briefly myself in the dark, so I'd not got a fat lot to go on. I also wanted to pick her brains in the hope that she might reveal some further clues as to the mystery man's lifestyle and activities.
I assumed the call from Sandy was to confirm that she'd managed to arrange a meeting between me and Doreen, possibly at the club that evening. And I must admit, from the description Sandy had given me of Doreen, I was looking forward to it.
Anyway, I listened to what Sandy had to say.
"Woody," she said, "I've got some good news for you. I think you'll want to hear this."
I could tell from Sandy's voice that this was more than just confirmation of a meeting between myself and Doreen.
"Come on then Sandy, don't keep me in suspense," I told her.
I think she did, for there was a long pause before she spoke.
"He's still in this country. Boris Von what's-his-name is going to be at Hugo's tonight. I've just spoken to Doreen and she says she's definitely got an appointment with him for eight o'clock this evening," Sandy informed me, and noticeably bubbling over with excitement as she did so. "She also say's if you want a session with her afterwards, then she's willing to stay late and give you an hour."
I think I must have got a little over excited at the news. Not with my session with Doreen may I add, but with the news about dear old Boris being at the club that very evening. I remember cheering loudly and doing a little dance on the steps of Police Headquarters just as two coppers were walking by. I told them my wife had just had a baby. But I don't think they believed me and I was lucky not to get locked up.
Anyway, after narrowly avoiding arrest for being drunk and disorderly on police property, I returned to Sandy's flat and spent the rest of the day brooding over what to do next.
I had a choice, either to tail Boris after leaving the club, or go inside afterwards and see what I could find out about him from Doreen.
I think, on reflection, what I most wanted to do was just follow Boris everywhere he went, and just see what turned up. It seemed like the best approach at the time, so I decided to stick with this plan until something better came my way. After all, I could always speak to Doreen at some later date. She was not going anywhere.
As evening approached I drove Sandy to Hugo's club. I had my old Volvo estate back and I felt comfortable again. I had it in mind not to personally come in contact with Boris. I also gave Sandy instructions to avoid him wherever possible. That way he would not recognise me if I tailed him, and if I ever called on Sandy's help, then that too would be a bonus.
I parked up in a back street next to Hugo's and let Sandy get out. This was the street where most people at the club normally parked. She kissed me goodbye then trotted off round the corner. She was on an assignment for me. I'd given her instructions on what to do, and hopefully she would come up with the goods.
Sandy had only gone a couple of minutes when a big, silver-grey Mercedes with German number plates turned into the back street. I slid down low in my seat so as not to be seen. The car pulled into a gap two cars in front of me and the driver got out. I smiled. This was the same car and the same person I'd seen leaving Hendry's a few days earlier. My only hope now was that Sandy would come up trumps with what I'd asked her to do.
I was listening to the car radio when Sandy returned. She'd been away for about half and hour. I could see by the haste and the smile on her face that she had managed to get what I was looking for.
I got out of the car and we met up on the pavement alongside the Mercedes.
Sandy handed me a great bunch of keys. There was one of those press button things on the ring that unlocked the doors and disabled the security alarm.
"He's going through his routine with Doreen right now," Sandy informed me, "so be quick will you."
I gave her a quick kiss.
"Good girl," I said.
Boris apparently always got changed into a leather outfit before going through his set routine. This I took as good news and had organised Sandy to go through his clothes and bring me the keys to his car.
"Keep an eye out for me," I told Sandy as I pressed the buttons that unlocked the door.
There was very little of interest in the front of the car, in fact there was nothing there at all, so I moved to the rear. I found a briefcase tucked away under the back seat. I took it out, placed it on the boot, and opened it up.
The case was mainly full of business documents and things of little interest to me. It appeared Boris was into selling practically everything to anyone. However, there were three things of interest and worthy of a special note here.
Item one was a fountain pen. It looked expensive, was diamond studded and had a solid gold nib. I wondered if I should take it along for tests, just to prove conclusively that Boris did send the Christmas card to the Jones's? I then thought better of it. He would no doubt miss it and get suspicious, perhaps even inform the police, and that was the last thing I wanted.
Item two was a business card. There were actually a whole stack of them held together by an elastic band. I didn't look at them all, there were too many, but one card did catch my eye. It was for a stonemasons. They were the makers of fine statues and statuettes, sculpted to order from finest European marbles and stones, and they were based at Toulouse in the south of France. I put the card in my pocket. Why I do not know. I just did it. Perhaps I secretly wanted some statues to grace my own gardens back home near the Welsh border.
Item three was probably of most interest. It was a large sealed brown envelope. Having handed Hendry five thousand pounds in used notes in a similar manner, I had no doubt that this envelope was stuffed full of money. It had the same feel to it. I estimated that if this was English money inside, then the value would most certainly be double that figure. The trouble was I had no way of telling without opening up the envelope. I returned the envelope to the briefcase and patted it down neatly.
Still pondering over the true value inside the envelope, I searched through that flap you always get in the lid of a briefcase, and here I found something else of interest. Inside was a cross-channel return ferry ticket from Dover to Dunkirk. The return sailing was booked for two days time, on the Wednesday of that week, and the departure time was for midday.
My mind switched from brown paper envelopes to the Channel crossing in question. This, I thought, to be a little odd. The ferry company Boris had booked with was a commercial operator specialising in moving lorries and heavy goods vehicles between Britain and continental Europe. I knew that they did take cars at certain times, but this was only to make up the capacity and fill in any gaps. What puzzled me was, why would someone obviously not short of a pound or two be opting for such a cheap and laborious crossing, especially with the channel tunnel now open and working successfully? The only conclusion I came to was, that Dunkirk was slightly nearer to Germany than Calais, and perhaps Boris hated driving.
After pondering for a little while longer, I looked to the positive side. At least I now had something to go on, and Sandy's little mission had not been entirely fruitless. In two days time, dear old Boris Von what's-his-name as she called him, was off back to the continent, and that put a whole new complexion on things. Mainly because my one and only plan was to follow him wherever he went.
I quickly looked for further clues in the boot and in the glove compartment, but found nothing else of interest.
I locked up the car with the press of a button and tossed the key ring back to Sandy.
"Quick, get them back in his pocket," I told her.
Sandy caught the keys and scuttled off. I was just beginning to appreciate Sandy. She was a real asset and had her wits about her. She was also the only person I'd confided in about the case and she knew what was going on. I tried to imagine giving Anthea the same responsibility, but shuddered at the thought. She'd have the pants down off every male person I bumped into, and that would never do.
It was there and then, as I stood in that back street, admiring Sandy's qualities and watching her race away around the corner, that I decided to ask her to come to France with me. I know it was all a bit short notice, and the decision made on impulse, but after spending time with Anthea, I think I wanted the intellect as much as I wanted the female company.
I returned to my car and stayed there listening to the radio until something like half past nine that evening. That was when Sandy rejoined me. Those ninety minutes or so proved invaluable and by the end I was full of fresh ideas and knew just what to do next.
My original plan was for Sandy to join me just before Boris was about to leave the club. We would then drive off together and tail Boris back to wherever he was staying for the night. Presumably a hotel somewhere in Birmingham. After that, if necessary, I would stay behind and Sandy would get a taxi back to her flat.
"He's got his coat on and he'll be out very shortly," Sandy informed me as she got into my car.
I guess she was expecting me to follow Boris, since I'd told her nothing different, but by now I had another plan.
I looked at it this way. Since I knew just where Boris was going to be in two days time, I had no real need to tail him until then. I could cross the channel before him, be there waiting at the port, and pick up his trail from Dunkirk. That however set a few problems of its own. If I was about to go abroad, then I had plenty of organising to do for myself.
A few minutes later Boris appeared. We both sunk low in our seats as he got into his Mercedes and drove away.
"Aren't you going to follow him Woody?" Sandy asked as the red tail-lights began to disappear down the road.
"No," I told her simply.
"But!" was all she managed to utter before I cut in on what she had to say.
"Is Doreen still inside the club?" I questioned.
Sandy nodded her head.
"She was still in there when I left," she confirmed.
"Is she with another client?" I asked.
I could see that Sandy was not too sure.
"I don't think she was," she answered hesitantly. "She was still getting dressed when I left."
I opened up my car door.
"Good, we're going back in the club," I told her.
Out on the street I grabbed hold of Sandy's arm and started to walk with her back to the club.
"Sandy, you know what we were talking about before? Well I want that session with Doreen," I told her.

* * *

Doreen was at the bar when we arrived. Sandy introduced me since we'd never met. I ordered her a drink which she knocked down quickly. She said that she needed it. After a little negotiating it was agreed for me to have an hour's session with her. The cost was to be one hundred and fifty pounds. I was made to pay up in advance. I was told that I qualified for fifty percent staff discount and this was a very reasonable charge. My only problem, as far as I could see, was that I didn't have a receipt. If I was to claim all this back on expenses then I needed one.
Having done my negotiating, I left Sandy at the bar with a full bottle of red wine to get through. I then moved out the back with Doreen.
Doreen was a tall and good looking blonde. In fact a stunner that could grace the front page of any fashion magazine. She was about twenty-five years of age and had everything in the right places, including a 42" Double-D cupped bra. I think I got a hard on just looking at her.
I was led to the same room where Doreen had just entertained Boris. I'd specifically asked for this. I wanted to get a feel for Boris's likes and dislikes. I needed to get inside the man's head and know what he was thinking, and find out exactly what turned him on.
We entered the room. There was nothing to it really. There was a big, comfortable, high-backed leather chair, the floor was carpeted, and on a low table there rested the various bondage items that had been used earlier. There was also one of those ice trays you get in the freezer section of a fridge, but by now everything had melted and it was awash with water.
I checked on the bondage equipment. There were two lengths of white rope, a pair of handcuffs, a ball-gag, some medical tape and scissors, and two clothes pegs that had never seen a clothes line in their lives.
I sat down in the chair, crossed my legs and put my hands to my lips as if in prayer.
"Right Doreen, I want you to go through the same routine again. I want to see everything Boris saw in the earlier session," I explained.
Doreen gave me a look that said she could foresee one great big massive problem.
"I've got no ice cubes," she informed me. "The one with the key's melted. So how am I going to do it?"
Boy, was this a big problem? Was she telling me, no ice cubes, then no performance? I shook my head in despair.
"Just forget about the ice cubes Doreen," I told her. "I'll just hand you the key when the time comes and then let you count to one hundred. Is that okay?"
Doreen pulled a distorted face. I think she had her pride at stake and she considered this cheating a little.
"Okay," she eventually agreed, "suits me. No ice cube then?"
I smiled, and  thankfully our little crisis was over.
"Good girl," I told her, "now let's see that routine of yours."
After that I just sat back and let her get on with it.
I had Boris's hand written note in my pocket, but I didn't want to get it out. I considered it to be vital evidence and not for prying eyes. However I had a good memory and could recall all the items listed. Number one on the list had said; 'The girl strips naked before me.'
Now, when Sandy came to do this, all she was wearing was a dressing gown and a towel wrapped around her head. Doreen was wearing a lot more, and therefore, item number one on the list was to take a lot longer. I settled down and watched with interest as the act began.
I watched Doreen strip; shoes, blouse, skirt, nylon stockings, suspender belt; they all came off to be piled neatly up one corner of the room. When she was down to wearing just bra and panties, she moved into a little tease routine. There was no music in the room, but I imagined her going through the act to the strains of something like 'The Stripper' beating away in the back ground.
First the bra was unhooked, but before it was allowed to fall, hands positioned themselves over the cups and held everything firmly in position. Doreen managed to get in a few wiggles and a complete turn before the bra was slowly allowed to drop and her massive tits revealed. I wanted to say something, or at least show my appreciation with a clap of my hands, but I refrained. I realised that I was meant to be playing the part of Boris and had to remain passive and silent throughout.
Finally the panties came down. But not before the same elaborate and prolonged tease routine I'd got with the bra. Thumbs hooked beneath the waist band and stretched the elastic a few times. I also got the same wiggles and the obligatory full circle before the panties finally descended to the ankles and cast away to the corner of the room.
Seeing Doreen naked was a sight to behold. She had a wonderful body, and the sort of tits that wobbled furiously at the slightest movement. Even if I tried, I don't think I was capable of making a sound, and I just ogled at the complete picture of natural beauty stood before me.
Doreen moved on to item two on the list. I recalled that it read: 'Girl sits down on floor and ties ankles to thighs on both legs'.
She moved to the table and picked up the two lengths of white rope. She then seated herself on the carpet. Next, she folded up a leg, tied one end of the rope about the ankle, then passed the rest about her upper thigh. With a series of tugs and weaves, she drew the heel of her foot to touch the back of her thigh. She then knotted everything tightly in position.
After making herself comfortable with her one bound leg tucked away beneath her, Doreen took up the second rope and bent her other knee. As before she attached one end to her ankle, then set about roping the leg together. When she was done she rocked forwards to end up kneeling on the carpet and facing the table.
It was time to move on to item three. This, if I recalled correctly, read: 'The girl attaches the pegs to her labia lips and tapes them to her inner thighs.'
Doreen took the two clothes pegs from off the table, turned my way a little so that I had a good view of what was going on, then leaning forward, parted her labia lips with her fingers and attached the clothes pegs to the small delicate pink folds in the skin. I recalled the time when Sandy did this. Her face had been distorted, and she'd applied the pegs very carefully. But with Doreen it was the exact opposite, she just did it, and with no detectable adverse reaction at all.
I continued to remain silent and looked on with interest.
Doreen shuffled herself back to face the table and cut off two fairly long lengths of tape from the medical roll. To start with she adhered one end of each tape to the edge of the table for easy handling. She then parted her legs wide, and, after collecting the tapes from the edge of the table, adhered the pegs to her inner thighs.
All this time Doreen was careful to make sure I had the best view in the house. For a while she just sat there with her bound legs folded beneath her and her knees splayed wide apart. From where I was sitting I could see right up her fanny, and I could feel my super hard-on trying to burst out from my trousers.
After a while Doreen moved on to the next item and shuffled round to face the table once more. It was time for item four. I recalled it was now time for the ball-gag. I was pretty sure item four on the list read something like: 'Girl fastens ball-gag to mouth'.
Doreen picked up the ball-gag from off the table and placed the big red ball in her mouth She then fastened the straps behind her head. She turned her head towards me and I could see the ball holding her jaws wide apart.
I guess item four and five were both part of the same movement, because after showing me that the ball-gag was positioned correctly, the next item followed on very quickly. I thought back and recalled item five to be the instruction that read: 'Girl handcuffs hands behind her back'.
Anyway, that's what happened next. Doreen collected the handcuffs from off the table and in one swift movement locked one of the bracelets about her wrist. She then moved her arms behind her back and secured the second bracelet about her other wrist.
The last but one item on the list was now about to unfold: This, I'm pretty sure read: 'Girl lies on her back with open legs and tries to set herself free'.
With arms now locked behind her back, and powerless to do anything about it, Doreen just rolled gently over onto one side, then rocked the rest of the way until she was lying on her back with her handcuffed arms wedged beneath her body. She then began to writhe and squirm about on the carpet in an effort to get free.
As Doreen struggled to-and-fro, I prepared myself for the last item. This is where I stepped into the action. I leaned forward and collected the key to the handcuffs from off the table. I then settled back down again and waited. I was soon to be involved and it was my turn to do something. I recalled the final instruction. It read something like: 'Girl rolls over on stomach. I extract the ice cube from the glass and place it in her hand. When it melts she is now in a position to get free.'
Obviously, with no key sealed within an ice cube, the instruction could not be carried out to the letter. But getting Doreen to count to one hundred seemed like a good compromise. I just hoped that she could count that far.
Eventually, and after witnessing a good five minutes determined struggle to get free, Doreen rolled over onto her stomach and I took it as my cue. I leant forward and placed the small key in the palm of her hand.
I very nearly said something to her, but remembered at the last second to remain silent.
From then onwards I watched the performance in reverse. The handcuffs came off, then the ball-gag. This was followed by the clothes pegs and medical tape, and ended with the untying of the ropes that bound her ankles to her thighs.
As the last rope came off, Doreen crawled cat-like across the floor towards me and settled down at my feet. It sounded like she was purring and I wondered if this was still part of the act?
Then, for quite sometime nothing happened and I assumed that the act had come to an end, and, since we'd also exhausted the list of the written instructions I saw no reason why this shouldn't be so. I therefore was about to applaud and thank her for her splendid performance, when, I must admit, Doreen took me completely by surprise.
As I sat in the chair, with legs held slightly apart, and with Doreen knelt down by my feet, she moved in close, to push my knees apart and to squat down directly between my legs. However, that state of affairs did not last for very long. She rose to a kneeling position and facing me, and before I knew it, nimble fingers were drawing down the zip to my flies. A hand then slid inside, groped around for a few seconds, and without much coaxing, allowed my massive erection to spring out.
"What are you doing?" I croaked as two soft hands gripped tightly around my shaft.
Doreen looked up to me and frowned. She was good at frowning. I wondered what was wrong this time.
"You are to be rewarded for handing me the key. It's all part of the game," I was informed.
I didn't say another word. I don't think I had much choice. All I could do was issue a deep sigh of pleasure. For no sooner had Doreen finished explaining what she was doing, when her head bobbed down and took my shaft in her mouth. From then on I think I actually helped her. My hands took hold of her hair at either side of her head and helped maintain a steady but vigorous up and down action going.
I climaxed and exploded in her mouth, squirting my load deep into the back of her throat, but this did not seem to deter her, she just kept on pumping and licking away.
Eventually, when I could ejaculate no further and I sucked totally dry, Doreen raised up her head and smiled in my direction.
"Is that it?… Are we finished now?" I asked exhaustedly.
Doreen nodded her head. Semen was dripping from the corners of her mouth and she licked it in as if enjoying an ice cream. Hands then gripped my shaft and she continued to lick me clean.
Only when satisfied that there was very little else to consume, did Doreen finally raise up her head.
"That's the end now," she confirmed as she tried to tuck away my semi-erect shaft.
I helped her put everything away and made myself comfortable, including repositioning two very sore balls, before finally pulling up my zip. I think when it was all done and my shaft tucked neatly away again, I breathed a sigh of relief; but at least I was in a position to appreciate Boris's little game, and I must admit it made a lot more sense now that I knew the ending.
Still slumped in the chair and trying to catch my breath, I asked Doreen out of curiosity: "Tell me, has Boris got any more set routines?"
I was surprised to see Doreen nod her head.
"Yes, there is one more he asks for sometimes," she informed me.
I raised an eyebrow. It was about the only part of my shattered body that I could move.
"What's that then?" I asked.
Doreen took to rubbing my shaft gently through the material of my trousers before answering. I could feel myself becoming hard again.
 "He sometimes likes watching couples perform," she told me as she rubbed her hand around in little circles.
I pushed her hand away and re-adjusted myself. I then kept my own hand there, partly to protect myself and partly to comfort my sore balls. What with Anthea's bedroom romp, then Sandy and her new sex toy, and now this, I think I needed at least a fortnight's abstinence from any more sex.
"Couples?" I queried when I was felling a little more comfortable. "What, two lesbians?"
Doreen shook her head.
"No, a man and woman, doing it," she explained.
I guessed there'd be some bondage involved, but I had to ask.
"What do these couples do? Tie each other up?" I asked.
Doreen nodded her head.
"It's another set piece story. Boris will have it no other way. The man kidnaps a secretary whilst she's busy typing at her desk. He uses chloroform to sedate her. He ties her up, waits for her to come round, then he bonks her. That's what happens," she explained further.
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. It was all very interesting but I didn't think I'd learned anything that would be of any use to me. But it did give me further insight into Boris's mind, and I think now that it was all over I knew the man a little bit better.
After a few more minutes to catch my breath, I called the session to an end and thanked Doreen for all that she had done for me. Then I remembered one of the main reasons for doing all this. I needed a description of Boris. She told me he was tall, had blonde hair, and was in his mid-thirties. He also spoke fluent English.
Sandy was waiting for me at the bar when I returned. We smiled at each other, but kept our thoughts to ourselves. She must have known just what an exasperating and terrible ordeal I'd just been through, but she was a professional and kept her thoughts to herself.
"Come on Sandy, drink up, we're going home," I told her.
If she was expecting an all night bonking session, then she could forget it. I had other ideas. I was going to bed and sleep.
 
* * *

End of Chapter Fifteen