The Touch Ch. 45

I stripped off my sweatshirt and shook out the worst of the dust and crap and used some water and a wet tissue to wipe my face reasonably clean, then poured myself a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette and sat in the driver's seat of the van with the door open and gazed back at the bungalow estimating how long it would take me to complete the job. I had got on well and only had the high up strands of vine around the guttering and on the roof to get down, when I had finished my break I would put up the ladder and take the growth down with the long handled bill-hook. So far the job had not been too difficult, I had cleared out a couple of old disused birds' nests and had found some evidence of squirrel activity but thankfully there was no sign that rats were using the vine as an access point to gain entry to the house. I should be finished in about a couple of hours and so I decided to take a break and walk down the lane to a telephone box that I had spotted coming in and call the office to get Steve to come out with the lorry to pick up the debris in the late afternoon, he would be able to clean up even if I had already left.

The ten minute break and the walk down to the telephone box and back in the warm breeze had refreshed me a bit, most of the really dirty work was done and so I got the ladder, the bill hook and handsaw and started on clearing the growth from the roof which really pissed off a bevy of feral pigeons which had been nesting in the tangle of vine. The birds are regarded as vermin in the UK and it was perfectly legal for me to clear their nests from the roof as they not only carry more diseases than rats but cause considerable mess and structural damage to buildings. My greater worry was that there might be song bird nests lower on the wall of the bungalow which I would feel sad about disturbing. The task actually took less time than I had anticipated and I was finished in just over an hour had dragged all the off cuts onto the debris pile, treated the root stems with glyphosate and then took a short break for a drink and a smoke. I put my flask and cup back into my satchel, thrust my cigarettes into my pocket and started around the corner of the bungalow with the long handled stiff yard broom to clean the small suckers from the brickwork and make sure that I had not missed any of the vine growth.

I am not a nosey or curious person by nature and would not normally dream of peering through other people's windows, I value my own privacy too much to do that. The rear of the bungalow had a small bathroom frosted glaze window and two large windows, both probably bedrooms both of which had heavy curtains half drawn and venetian blinds but the middle room had a light on and was quite clearly visible if you were close to the glass. The view did not really register with me as I swept around the window frame and beneath the eves until a movement caught my eye inside the room. I knew that Dr. Fry was out, he had made no mention of anybody else being in the house, so perhaps he had a dog. Certainly something white and alive was laid on the bed in the room its squirming was what had attracted my attention.

This time curiosity got the better of me and I cupped by hands around my eyes and pressed my face to the window to peer in.... what I saw caused me to jump back in shock and surprise.

"Oh, fucking hell!" I exclaimed out loud. I stepped back to the window for another cautious look.

The room was definitely a bedroom but all that I could really see by the light of a dim overhead hanging lamp was a bed with an old fashioned brass bedhead and foot and what appeared to be a big old dark wood wardrobe to one side.

On the bed was a girl. It was her twisting and writhing that had caught my attention. She was totally, stark naked and spread-eagled on the top of the counterpane, her ankles and wrists fastened to the brass bars of the bed frame with metal handcuffs and some sort of gag was tied around her mouth. Her long blonde hair was spread out on the pillow beneath her head and her eyes were open but I did not believe that she was aware of my presence.

The unexpected discovery left me completely confused for a moment, I really did not know what I should do. One part of my mind was telling me to walk away, mind my own business, get back in the van and go. Another part of me argued that the girl might be in trouble, maybe a kidnap victim, she looked young and she certainly seemed to be struggling against the restraints.... I remembered the strange old minister and my instant dislike for him.... it would not shock me in the least if he turned out to be a pervert or pedophile... or perhaps some kind of occult weirdo. He had made a big issue of my staying out of the house, like he had something to hide.... this could well be it.

I guess that it was not in my nature to just walk away which left me with two choices, either I ran down to the 'phone box and called the police or I took action myself. I had no idea when the old creep might return or what he might do when he did and logic screamed that trying to get the girl free was probably the first priority.

I paused to light a cigarette to calm my nerves and then walked around the bungalow and tried the front door... it was locked. I did another half circuit and twisted the door handle of the half glazed kitchen door. It too seemed locked at first but under pressure suddenly sprang open. I tossed away my cigarette and stepped in closing the door behind me and I found myself in a large square kitchen with the usual facilities, cooker, fridge, freestanding larder and so on all of which seemed to be at least twenty years old. The floor was covered with worn and scratched lino of an imitation tiled pattern. I nearly jumped out of my fucking skin when a scrawny grey cat shot out from under the kitchen table, ran between my legs and bolted out through the cat-flap in the outside door with a loud clattering.

The inside door from the kitchen led into a dim hallway with a half dozen closed doors and I guessed that the three doors to my left would be the bedrooms and bathroom, the middle door would be the one where I had seen the naked girl. I crept cautiously up to the door and pressed my ear against the woodwork. I could hear the sounds of her thrashing on the bed, the clink of the metal hand cuffs on the brass bedstead and muffled moans from behind the gag. I gently turned the door knob and pushed. The door opened silently and I stepped through.

The first impression that I received was the smell. The room had the odor of sex.... That distinctive musky perfume of female sex mixed with a light old fashioned fragrance of lavender and the sharp zing that I always associate with hair-spray or women's deodorant.

The girl was stretched out on the bed less than six feet from me but her head was turned away and she had not yet seen me come into the room. I could see now that she was older than I had initially thought, maybe early twenties, she appeared to be about 5' 6" and quite slim with light shoulder length hair and smallish breasts which were almost flat except for her dark prominent nipples. Her thighs were stretched apart exposing her almost hairless slit with a puffy labia and a prominent clitoris which looked engorged and aroused like a tiny penis.

She twisted and her face turned towards me and I saw her blue eyes go wide with surprise. She wore no make-up that I could see but had a pretty face with naturally rosy lips which were locked around what appeared to be a solid red ball gag with a rubber strap which fastened around her neck.

"H-r-r-r-p, m-a-a-a-a, g-r-r-r-r-g-h..." She began to thrash her head from side to side as she attempted to speak to me through the gag.

The hand cuffs appeared to be the sort that needed a key to unlock but at least I could remove the gag. I undid the buckle and pulled the ball from between her teeth.

"Who are you.....?" She mumbled. She did not appear to be either alarmed or relieved at my presence.

"I'm going to try to help you...." I told her, "Do you know where the key for the handcuffs is....?"

"He has it..." She gasped. "You can't...."

"OK, don't worry," I told her, "I have bolt cutters in my van.... I can cut them off......"

"No-o-o-o-o!" She wailed, "You mustn't.... you must leave them on.....I want them left on!"

"But I need to help you...." I said. I was getting a bit frustrated. She did not appear to be greatly distressed... perhaps she was more concerned that he would return and find her released and punish her...

"Are you his prisoner?"

"No....of course not!" She started to giggle, maybe she was becoming hysterical? "He is my husband..."

"What... Dr. Fry.... That old man...?" She must be at least forty years his junior... this whole set-up was just turning out to be really weird and I was starting to get uncomfortable. "Do you need any help?" If she wanted my help I would give it but if she said no then I was out of there...

"Oh, yes.... Please help me.... I need you to help me....!" She moaned.

"But how... it I can't take the shackles off....?"

"I need your HELP! I need you to fuck me....! Please, please FUCK ME!" She keened. Her lips were now transformed by a voluptuous smile and her voice was pleading but full of lust not anguish. She began to arch her back, thrusting her crotch towards me jerking and writhing in an obscene parody of the sex act.

I took a shocked step backwards. I have had many sexual encounters, some of them a bit surprising or totally impromptu but this was something different, my mind was suddenly filled with strange fantasies that involved the old boy keeping his wife chained to the bed because she was a dangerous psychopathic nymphomaniac, or a ravenous vampire woman.... But one way or another I had stumbled upon something that I really didn't want any part of...

"FUCK ME! Do it to me, please....!" She screamed loudly.

Then suddenly she seemed to calm and her voice dropped to a normal level and tone. "He can't do it.... Jonas, My husband... He can't get it up any more.... He has a rubber cock he uses on me, but I haven't been tongued or had a proper fuck for nearly two years... Please help me.... I want IT so much..." She moaned. She was quite pretty and had a good body but there was something wild and disturbing about her eyes that I found downright frightening and I was bloody glad that she was chained to the bed.

This really was not my style... in fact I was finding it bloody terrifying. I just wanted out of there before the old creep got home and started making accusations. I started to back out of the door.

"Don't go! I need you! What are you...a fucking queer or something...?" She screamed at my back but as soon as I closed the bedroom door she went silent. Maybe the old man had a valid reason for keeping her locked up?

I am a firm believer that whatever people do in their private lives is their own business and their privacy however kinky should respected and if the Frys were into a form of bondage and torment then that was nothing to do with me. I did suspect however that the old boy probably took to chaining his wife to the bed when he went out to stop her straying and wondered how many unsuspecting deliverymen got dragged into her bed before he started using the handcuffs.

I got out of the house and gathered up my tools, made a last inspection to ensure that I had done a satisfactory job of cutting down the vine, and then sat in the van for a few minutes smoking and sipping a cup of coffee. I could hear no noises or screaming coming from the house and guessed that Mrs. Fry had quietened down again. That had really been one odd experience.... You never know what you are going to encounter when visiting the homes of clients but it is usually restricted to feral brats, aggressive dogs and the occasional saucy housewife but this adventure had taken it to another level.

As I started to pull out of the drive I came face to face with Steve pulling in with our lorry to collect the debris, and so I reversed back and parked the van.

"I'll give you a hand to load this lot onto the truck...." I offered. "I think we should both be away from here as soon as possible..."

"What is it, Jamie?" Steve asked with a grin, "Problem customer?"

"I'll tell you about it at the pub later..." I told him. I had done good job taking down the creeper, but it was a dead certainty that I would not be going back there again. I would speak to Emma and get her to mark Dr. Fry's index card with a black spot, the system we used to indicate that no further site work should be accepted for that client.

Later, when I collected the Range Rover from Maggie's house I stopped and had a cup of coffee and asked her about Dr. Fry and his sex obsessed wife and told her about my experience with the naked wife, the bed and the handcuffs. Naturally she thought that it was hilarious.

"I really don't know much," Maggie told me stifling a giggle, "I only met him a couple of times, once at Robert's funeral and again about three or four years ago when he moved into the Winterbourne Gunner bungalow and came in to the garden centre to buy some planters and a run of trellis." She laughed, "We definitely did not sell him the Russian Vine!"

"So you have never met his wife, then?"

"No, but I heard that he had married a young woman many years younger than him... just before moving to Salisbury after he retired as a school master at a boy's secondary school down on the south coast somewhere." She paused to think for a moment, "I don't recall how he was known to Robert but I do remember him telling me a story about Dr. Fry being expelled from the church as a parish priest over some scandal involving street corner prostitutes before he became a teacher..."

"Wow! Maybe she was....." I started.

"Are you sure you behaved yourself... Jamie?" Maggie laughed, "Because if you did help yourself to a free shag than I shall take you up to Waite's Farm and put you through the sheep-dip before you drive my car tonight."

I arrived at the Shelby Riding Stables to pick Philippa up for our dinner date almost dead on 6.45pm fifteen minutes early and drove straight up to the big house and parked in the drive and just sat for five minutes enjoying a cigarette. I had noticed that my sister's VW Beetle was parked in the stables car park and so Emma must either have been helping out with the horses or out riding with Janice but I could not see either of them around the stalls although one of the stable lads was sweeping the cobbled yard.

To my surprise Philippa was not only on time but was ready and waiting and as I got out of the Range Rover to go call at the house she emerged from the front door and came down the steps to meet me.

Maggie had guessed it right...as usual. Philippa had dressed to go out to dinner and she looked fantastic. I think that this was the first time that I had ever seen her in a dress, I couldn't remember her wearing anything other than riding gear in all the years that I had known her as one of her 9 years old junior pupils and then more recently as a business acquaintance. She was maybe 37 or 38 and attractive with a delicate face, almost elfin, with hazel eyes and blonde streaked, light brown bobbed hair. She was quite tall, about 5' 8" with a slim athletic figure which tonight had been poured into a knee length dress of red silk with angular black panels at the waist and one side of the skirt, short sleeves and a deep V neck which showed a small amount of cleavage but emphasised her pointed breasts. The dress hugged her body and showed off her firm rounded rider's hips and buttocks and shapely tanned legs and her feet were clad in red patent leather court shoes with a low heel. She was wearing a lightweight gold chain at her throat with a gold horseshoe charm but her hands were, as usual devoid of jewellery. There was a small red leather evening bag on a narrow gold chain hanging from her shoulder.

I was seriously glad that I had taken the effort to change into my grey pin-stripe business suit with a new pale lemon shirt and a grey and lemon club stripe tie. I had not shaved fully since returning from my trip to Tetbury and now sported a fashionable dark stubble which I had carefully trimmed. I had taken some teasing from Emma about my intention to grow a beard but Maggie had given the idea her seal of approval....and I was counting on Gwen feeling the same... if she hated it then the beard would go. I don't know why I felt that a change of appearance was in order, perhaps it was the male equivalent of women alternating their hair colour, or perhaps it was because I felt that there were a lot of changes going on in my life at that time.

The way that Philippa looked that evening anything less than a suit would have been disrespectful. I guess that I am a bit old fashioned but one of my pet hates is seeing a couple where the girl or woman has obviously taken time and trouble over her appearance and the guy looks as if he is about to go dig the garden or out for a game of darts at the pub with his mates.

"Wow, Philippa....you look fantastic." I complimented. I kept my fingers crossed behind my back that she was in a more amiable mood than the last time that we spoke.

"Thank you Jamie.... That was sweet of you..." She replied and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. She smelled of expensive perfume, one of the French ones, I am not sure which, possibly Geurlain, and she did not move away when I rested my hand lightly on her firm rounded hip.

"Are we friends again now?" I asked cautiously, "I thought you sounded a bit pissed with me when we spoke on the telephone." We were still standing very close together our faces only inches apart and I could feel her breasts lightly pushing against my chest.

"I am sorry Jamie, it is not you....really it isn't...." She said softly, "I have had a lot on my mind... things have been happening just recently... annoying things...." She broke off, I guess she had told me as much as she wanted to... she really did not need to explain herself to me. We had become friends with benefits over the past few months but our relationship was not really a close confidential one.

"I think we had better get going..." she chuckled and nodded over my shoulder, "I don't pay that lot to spend their time speculating about who I might or might not be shagging...."

I glanced down the hill and spotted my sister Emma, Janice and Sean the stable boy standing in the stable yard watching us. I opened the passenger door and offered Philippa my hand to get into the car and then glanced back at the stables, Emma raised an arm and waved cheerfully as I walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. My sister knew about my dinner date and that it was basically business...she had made the restaurant booking for me.... and Janice was not likely to be jealous; our relationship was an open one and really just fun and sex. By the time that I had driven down to the gate the girls had gone back to whatever duties they had and Sean had run down to open and close the gate for us.

The Old Rectory Hotel near Warminster was only about a 40 minute drive from the Shelby Stables and I had a reservation for dinner in their restaurant for eight thirty, but had telephoned the new owner and explained that I would be bringing a guest who wished to see around the hotel and grounds. I figured that The Old Rectory Hotel was similar to the type of venue that Philippa was planning for Shelby House. I was a little bit concerned that she want me to 'fix' her garden but hadn't really indicated what it was that she wanted to see as an end product and explaining to her the ideas that Maggie had visualised for the Old Rectory and how the landscaping worked in with their operation might give Philippa some focus.