The File · Part 2 (2/2)
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’ll simply scan the first document.” And with that she turned, opened the file, picked up the top letter and began to read it. This was the communication Nancy had been on her way to reply to before the invaders had arrived.
The woman finished the letter quickly, replaced it and closed the file. She turned and looked at Nancy.
She spoke firmly. “Can’t you see what this guy’s trying to do? All of those veiled questions about your ‘personal comfort situation’ as he calls it? He’s trying to find out how much money you’ve got! And if he thinks there’s enough, he’ll try and marry you for it. The bastard’s nothing but a fortune hunter! Tell him to go to blazes. Better still, don’t reply to him at all.”
Nancy was mutely silent. She had had this letter for over a week, wondering how she might answer it. After much tortuous thought she had finally, tentatively arrived at much the same conclusion herself. Yet this woman had seen through the man in minutes.
She turned aside, but still went on about the letter writer. “He says he’s in his early fifties. He’s probably lying. Which means he’s nearing the end of his working life and doubtless has nothing to show for it. In other words – a loser. Sounds as if he lives in rented accommodation. Which doesn’t say much for a near lifetime of effort. And now he’s worried about how he’ll spend his final years. So he’s looking for a comfortably off widow or divorcee. In the personal columns. Believe me, that’s what they do.”
Nancy had nothing to say for the moment. She wondered how much of this was true and decided most of it probably was. Yet to hear it all stated so bluntly was almost refreshing.
The woman turned abruptly and walked a few steps around the room, her waterproof rustling. "Nancy, Nancy, what’ve you come to? Dealing with characters like these. You don’t have to.” Then she was silent for a few moments, as was her listener.
Finally she stopped, regained her composure, walked over and stood in front of the bound Nancy.
“Alright. I forgot myself,” this more calmly, “But the question’s still there. What is to be done to help you?” She looked firmly at her securely bound captive and asked, “How long is it since you’ve had a good, rewarding, satisfying fuck?”
Nancy said nothing. Firstly, she was stunned at the sheer bluntness of the question. And secondly she would have been embarrassed to have answered truthfully. The reality being she had not had a satisfactory love experience in over two years now.
“Not for years, I’d say.” Her questioner continued. “Look at yourself. You’re just forty. That’s not old. You’re quite reasonably attractive, slim and fit. You’ve had a good education and you're intelligent. From what we’ve been able to find out about you, you’re a pleasant person. Got a good job, own your own home and live at a good address. Why can’t you find decent male companionship instead of worthless non-achievers like these?” She gestured at the file. Nancy hadn’t heard herself spoken of so favourably in years.
“Do you have any local interests? Places where you might make a few social contacts?”
“Well,” said Nancy, “I belong to the local library. And they have a poetry group I attend.” She said this last hesitatingly, fully expecting the woman, obviously more worldly wise than she was, to snort ‘Poetry indeed. You won’t meet a male companion there.’
Instead, she looked thoughtful. "Now that’s a coincidence. My male partner in today's project,” she nodded towards the door, “The one who’s out there now handing items to the those two techs that they could quite easily get for themselves. He’s got quite an interest in verse. Always has. We’re not lovers I might add, though we’ve known each other for years. Management simply paired us together for this job.”
She smiled at Nancy as an idea slowly began to take form. “As mentioned, we’re not lovers. Though we have indulged in the distant past. And that’s how I know him to be a good performer. Accomplished, kind and gentle.” Her smile deepened. “Here's a chance to cater for your long denied sexual needs. It would be handled, discreetly, privately and, I repeat, highly professionally. You could, if questioned, say you were forced, after all, you’re already tied up. That’s if you want to report it at all. Everything would be done in such privacy, it’d be as if nothing had ever occurred.” She looked expectantly at Nancy.
Nancy’s mind was racing. She realised this unexpected new episode in her life which had begun when she had opened her door to these two earlier today would end eventually. The four would finish their information gathering mission in her home. Then they'd go on their way and she’d never see any of them again. She’d go back to her solitary existence.
She appreciated that she’d not been harmed. Merely, very considerately tied up but not hurt in any way. Nor had there been any harm to her property. How she’d be left when they went she didn’t know. Bound and gagged or simply anaesthetised perhaps. It all sounded quite painless. She wondered if she’d have to report what had happened to her. Quite possibly those people in the convention centre would never know they’d been spied upon.
And now she’d been offered an opportunity for a discreet love experience. The woman was standing there smiling with an inquiring look on her face. She knew a chance like this would never come again for her for a long time.
“All right,” she said quietly.
The woman nodded. “I’ll go and speak to him. But he’ll agree. When I explain things. And there’s plenty of time. They’ll be recording out there for the next couple of hours or so. But I’d better gag you, you see I might be gone for some time.”
Nancy looked askance at this but the woman said, “In the future you might be asked ‘Why didn’t you scream when you had the chance?’” She fitted the gag, tied it securely, playfully pinched the captive on the cheek and then left, leaving her sitting bound and gagged on her own bed in her own bedroom.
Nearly fifteen minutes went by. Nancy began to fret.
At last the bedroom door opened. The woman’s male companion came in. He seemed hesitant and even looked shy. He crossed the room and quickly removed Nancy’s gag. “Well Nancy,” he began tentatively, “How do you feel about this?”
Nancy by now had risen to the occasion. She was by now feeling that this opportunity, if not taken at the full, might be lost forever. She spoke.
“I’ve been kept waiting nearly a quarter of an hour, I’ve become very moist and I’m very impatient. Do something.”
The man, whatever else, was sensible and understanding. “Very well, as you wish, I will do something.” A quick kiss on Nancy’s pulsating mouth and then he knelt and removed the bonds on her ankles and thighs. Next he pulled her upright and undid the clasp and zipper of her brown skirt and let it fall to her ankles. Her knickers followed, pulled down and allowed to fall also. Her footwear had already been removed when the woman tied her in the first place. He picked the small lambswool rug that had been placed under her feet, put it in the middle of the bed then gently but firmly forced her to lie down so that her bottom was squarely in the middle of it. By now highly expectant, Nancy began to moan softly.
Slipping off his shoes and undoing his belt he climbed onto the bed beside her and began to deftly massage her vaginal orifice. With his other hand he began to fumble with some of the knots of her other bindings. “Leave that,” she whispered with her eyes closed, “I’m not uncomfortable. We'll continue with the myth that this is being done against my will.” And the moaning began again. By now her private parts were very moist indeed.
Smoothly, comfortably he eased himself on top of her and easily and delightfully entered her. Nancy moaned with ecstatic pleasure. This was a moment she had longed for more time than she cared to remember.
The next ten minutes were pure heaven. The man did his duty nobly and Nancy strained and heaved with all of her heart and soul and every sinew in her body. The bonds restraining her arms only served to make the muscles in her legs more active. Months, years of frustration went into her efforts.
At last it was over. Nancy lay motionless, mute and silent for long after the event. So long that her partner asked with concern, "Are you alright?”
No answer. Again he asked, “Are you OK?”
Finally Nancy, her eyes closed, breathed, “I had two orgasms, one after the other. I’ve never done that before in my life.”
Her companion was gratified. “Well then. I’m pleased. Very pleased to have been of service.”
Nancy seemed not to have heard, her eyes were still closed. “And I’d like another one. This time with my arms untied. So that I can respond to you properly.”
“Oh.” There was surprise in his voice. "Well look, ah I’m not entirely sure..er”
“I said I wanted another one. I'll not be denied. And I think you're a pretty strong boy.”
“Well then. Of course. I’ll just have to rise to the occasion, won’t I?” He began to fumble with the cloth strips binding her body.
Well over half an hour later the pair lay naked and without moving on Nancy’s bed. Both were silent and satiated. And content. The man opened his eyes, looked up and saw his lady partner standing beside the bed. Still wearing her raincoat, she was putting a camera back inside its case.
“Hey?” he asked, “What’ve you been doing?”
She smiled, “Just recorded your efforts for posterity. Your little friend there might be less inclined to report today’s happenings in detail if there was a photographic record that might be made public.”
“Now look here…” he began.
Nancy spoke for the first time. Without opening her eyes she whispered softly. “Oh, it’s alright. I’d like a souvenir picture of today. In colour please.” She smiled dreamily. The woman looked at her.
Fully an hour later Nancy and her companion were still in the bedroom only both were fully dressed by now. And both were sitting side by side on the bed. He was lacing up his shoes, she was smoothing the pleats in her skirt. The rain coated woman was missing. Nancy reflected amusedly that perhaps this was inappropriate. After all, she was the one who had brought them together. The man stood up and looked at her, then spoke a few lines of verse from a poem that only a poet would know. She smiled up at him and recited the following lines in full. It was a love poem. Poets have their own forms of communication, just like couples. Perhaps they tend to be more romantic.
At that moment the door opened and the two boiler suited women came in. Still wearing their caps and dark glasses, it seemed they had done an excellent job of recording the very secret meeting in the building opposite. And had made some good photographs of the people who had been present. It appeared some important people would be pleased with the information collected from Nancy’s apartment today.
This they passed on to Nancy’s companion. And to the householder herself one of them said, “There’s been no damage whatsoever to your home. We didn’t even have to move the furniture.” Nancy nodded her acknowledgement. "Oh, we know you’ve been tied up, gagged and held against your will but we also understand you’ve had a certain amount of pleasure as well." She smiled. Nancy nodded again.
The woman went on. “And so Madam, it would be appreciated if you said nothing about what’s happened here today. Otherwise, you might just suddenly disappear. Perhaps to turn up in some remote part of the Middle East or Latin America. There are plenty of local magnates in those places who’d pay handsomely to have you a mature trained woman like you as part of their household, and available for their pleasure. We’d do very well out of you.” Nancy responded with an acknowledging glance. At the back of her mind there was faint twinge of pride that someone like herself was of value.
The boiler suited woman went on. “We’ll be on our way shortly, once we get our gear packed up.” They turned towards the door. With a final word to Nancy, “Bear in mind what we said darling. Otherwise you might end up bound and gagged on a one way trip to another continent.” The response was a look that indicated the message had been received and understood. With that they left the room.
“Well then,” the man began, “I don’t think you need worry. Just go back to being what you were before. Only you needn’t worry about those columns in the local rag. Just keep on with the local library and its poetry meetings.”
Nancy spoke up for the first time. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? You’ve been to some of those meetings yourself. I thought I recognised you.”
“Perhaps you have,” he said, “I wondered if you’d remember. And you might also recall there’s a meeting next week about the Afridi poet Kelshar. Perhaps we’ll see each other there?”
“Perhaps we will.”
They both looked at each other.
The File · Part 2 (2/2)
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