Two Thousand and Ten Ch. 05

Thursday, September 2nd 2010 - 5:06pm

The trill sound of Lindi's intercom sounded around her flat. Pressing the button below its screen, a black and white image of the man she recognised as Detective Inspector Crawley came into view. He was accompanied by a younger colleague, a smartly attired woman in a black jacket and a light coloured blouse.

"Ms. Vernham, It's Mark Crawley here." The inspector spoke into the camera.

"Come on up." Lindi replied, and pressed the button to unlock the front door to the building.

A couple of minutes later, Lindi opened her door to the two detectives.

"This is my colleague DS Caroline Grayshott." Crawley said, introducing his junior officer.

"Hello, good to meet you Ms. Vernham." Grayshott said politely.

"Is your friend, Peter, here yet?" Crawley asked.

"He should be on his way." Lindi answered, as she led the two detectives into her living room.

DI Crawley and his colleague took a seat together on the settee, whilst Lindi sat opposite them in her armchair.

"Now then." Crawley said after clearing his throat, and producing a file from his briefcase, "Now, I can understand that seeing this again might be hard for you, but if you could confirm to me that this is the girl you think she is..."

He placed a large glossy print on the glass-topped coffee table, and slid it across towards Lindi. It showed a beautiful twenty-one year old woman, clearly in the prime of her life - an image of feminine grace personified. She was shown before a vivid yellow backdrop, and she was completely naked, although the pose was considerably more tasteful than many of the others Lindi had seen on Clive's memory sticks. She was sitting on the floor with her legs bent and resting on her left hip, propping herself up with her left arm held straight and her right arm gently resting on her hip. Her skin was soft and delicately smooth and her breasts were pert and perfectly proportioned for the rest of her slender frame, and her nipples stood proudly amid her dark pink areolae. Her long blonde hair appeared to be almost gossamer smooth, her locks cascading away behind her back. She was smiling for the camera, but it looked forced, a little fearful even, and there, just as Lindi remembered it, was a small red birthmark just above her left eyebrow. It was the only slight blemish on an otherwise flawless face, and it appeared to resemble an upside down outline of Australia, just as Lindi had recalled it.

"Yes." Lindi said, "That's her - that's Vanessa Firway."

"Right." Crawley said as he took the photo from Lindi, "Well, the encouraging thing is that when I ran her name through the system she didn't pop up in any missing persons reports, so we can safely assume that she is alive and well. But the metadata for the file on Mr Datchet's memory stick where we retrieved this image shows that it was taken in early August of this year - almost a month ago to the day, to be exact."

"You mean, he was... seeing her and getting her to pose naked for him just a couple of weeks before he went away to America with us?" Lindi recoiled in shock.

"It would seem so." Crawley replied.

"We have already assigned some officers to try and track down Miss Firway," DS Grayshott took over, "but if there is anything you can give us to help us find her we'd be most appreciative."

"Oh, yes right. Well, she was a former pupil of mine, she left school about four years ago and then studied at our sixth form college for two further years. There had been talk about her going to Oxford or Cambridge at the time, but after she took her A-levels in 2008 she hadn't actually applied anywhere - I think she may have gone on a gap year or something. Anyway, the school should be able to give you all the information they have, just give my headteacher, Mrs. Kingston a ring."

"Thanks, we'll do that." Grayshott said as she scribbled something down on her notepad, "Let's just hope we can find her and that she'll be willing to help us. She may even be able to identify some of the other girls - they may even have been some of her friends or classmates."

Saturday, September 4th 2010 - 3:22pm

"Interview conducted with Clive Datchet at three twenty two pm on Saturday the fourth of September, two thousand and ten. Present in the room is myself, Detective Inspector Mark Crawley of Brighton CID Vice Squad, Detective Sergeant Caroline Grayshott, and Mr Simon Bordon who is Mr. Datchet's legal representative."

A brief pause followed as DI Crawley opened out a folder and extracted a number of photographs of a strikingly attractive blonde-haired young woman, and placed them on the table before Clive.

"Now then, Mr. Datchet," DI Crawley began, "Can you identify this young lady for us?"

"No comment." Clive replied, without even looking at the picture.

Undeterred, DI Crawley simply continued.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Datchet," he said as he fished out another picture, this time of Clive actually having sex with the girl, that was clearly a still image captured from one of the video files, "this girl that you can be clearly seen having sex with - you have no idea who she was, whatsoever?"

"No comment."

"Because we do know who she is, thanks to a positive identification." Crawley said firmly.

"Good for you." Clive sneered.

Judging by the look his lawyer gave him, Crawley suspected that last remark was something that he had not been advised to say.

"And we are currently in the process of tracking her down." Crawley went on, "And I'm pretty sure we'd find her views on what happened to her in your studio, to be rather enlightening."

The inspector let that statement hang for a moment, to let it sink in before continuing.

"And of course..." Crawley said as he produced another six photos, each one of a different naked young woman, "In due course we will trace these other young ladies, and ask them about what happened in your studio. What did you tell them Clive? Did you tell them that if they did what you told them to do, they'd become rich and famous supermodels, hmm?"

"No comment."

"Did you tell them it was 'standard practice' for them to have to perform sexual acts with you, in order to 'get ahead in the business'?"

"No comment."

"Did you tell them that if they had sex with you, it'd help them to become the next big supermodel?"

"Inspector Crawley, is this line of questioning really relevant?" Clive's lawyer interjected, "It seems that all you have to go on are some glossy photos and some video footage with no sound. None of it actually proves that these young ladies didn't consent to anything."

DI Crawley pulled out a laptop, opened it up and pulled up a video file.

"Mr. Datchet and his legal representative are now being shown video footage obtained from cameras situated in Mr. Datchet's studio." Crawley said for the benefit of the recording.

He clicked on the play button. The scene was shown from above, obviously from one of the cameras in the studio's rafters. A middle aged man, naked, and very obviously Clive, was shown pulling a blonde-haired young woman by her arm towards the leather couch. It was clear from the camera angle that Clive was erect, his stiff circumcised engorgement waggling around in front of him as he manhandled her. The girl looked to be in obvious distress, if her mute protestations and balled fists were anything to go by. To any sane person it was obvious that the young woman was trying to fight him off.

"Tell me, Mr. Bordon, does this young lady look to you like she is giving her consent?" Crawley said levelly.

"Without any audio..." Bordon stated, albeit with a visible wince at the screen, where Clive could be seen penetrating the young woman from behind in what appeared to be a most forceful and animalistic fashion, "You have no proof that she didn't consent. This is all clearly play-acting, or some kind of role play."

"Can you be sure of that, Mr. Bordon?" Crawley asked.

"What I am, or am not sure of, is not relevant." Bordon said coldly and efficiently, "I am not the one being questioned here, my client is. And if my client insists that these young women gave their consent, I am professionally obliged to believe him until such time as you can prove otherwise. Now then, until you have irrefutable proof that my client committed an act of non-consensual sex with this young lady, you have no business in continuing to detain him any longer."

Monday, September 5th 2010 - 8:45am

Lindi was sat once more in the staff room, determined for her life to get back on track, following the trauma of the past few days. Her colleagues, under the impression that she had been absent due to a family bereavement, had showered her with sentiments of deepest sympathy, which included a card, signed by the teaching staff, and a large bouquet of flowers. She was just about to finish her usual mug of instant coffee and head out to her first lesson of the day, when her phone rang in her pocket. The caller ID showed Detective Inspector Crawley's number.

"Hello, Lindi Vernham." She said as soon as she hit the answer button.

"Lindi." Crawley sighed at the other end of the line, "We, er, he had to let him go."

"What? Why?!?" Lindi gasped in shock, "You have video proof of him raping that poor girl!" She continued as quietly as she could, in case one of her colleagues overheard.

"The video alone isn't enough." Crawley attempted to explain, "All it shows is Clive and a young woman engaged in quite a rough looking bout of sex."

"But it's clear to even the most dim-witted of people that she was fighting him off." Lindi hissed down the phone.

"Look, I totally agree with you." Crawley replied, "It's blatantly obvious to us all that he was raping that girl. But the trouble is, without any audio to back it up, his lawyer just insisted that all it proved was that they had rough sex. He just stated that they were were merely role-playing. So he had us up against the wall, so to speak. Our time was up, we had nothing concrete to charge him with, and there simply hasn't been enough time to trawl through everything we seized from his studio."

"Shit." Lindi replied in exasperation.

"Oh, but we'll get him, you mark my words." Crawley said with determination in his voice, "This is a setback for sure, but that's all it is, it's just a setback. Once we find Vanessa Firway we'll have him and his smarmy lawyer right where we want them - backed into a corner with no way out."

"You... you haven't found her yet?" Lindi gasped.

"Don't be alarmed, we're pretty certain she's alive and well somewhere." Crawley said to allay Lindi's fears, "We tracked down her parents but they're out of the country at the moment. As soon as we get in touch with them we'll have an address for her and we can take it from there. Then all we have to do is to hope that she will agree to help us. We don't know what Mr. Datchet might have threatened her with if she speaks to anyone about her relationship with him."

There was a short pause on the line.

"We'll have him put away, Lindi - the guy is a total slimeball. Mark my words, he is going down." Crawley said determinedly.

"But... what if he tries to..."

"Come after you?" Crawley completed Lindi's thought for her, "I can assure you he won't - he will have to report to his local police station every day, and we've also seized his passport so that he can't do a moonlight flit and escape to Acapulco or anything. But all the same, it'd be prudent on your part to take care until we can get enough evidence to take him down. We already know you have an intercom at your flat."

"Yes." Lindi answered.

"What about a security chain on your door?"

"I don't have one." Lindi replied, "I have a peephole though."

"Good, make sure you use it just to be sure."

"And I have Peter just upstairs from me."

"Right, well until we know for sure what he may or may not be capable of, I suggest you take some common-sense precautions." Crawley advised, "Don't go out alone at night if you can help it, let other people know where you are going and when you expect to get back. Do you drive to work?"

"No - not usually. Peter takes me normally, my school is on the way to his office so..."

"Good, that sounds okay." Crawley said, "And if you notice anything out of the ordinary, or if you think you might be at risk, you call us right away, okay?"

"Yes... yes, I'll be sure to." Lindi answered unsteadily.

"Okay, I'll be in touch again when I have something to report."

"Right."

"Don't lose heart, Lindi." Crawley said earnestly, "Like I said, this is a setback, but we're committed to getting this scumbag off the streets. We will get him behind bars."

Saturday, September 11th 2010 - 12:16am

Even before he found out what had happened to Lindi in Clive's studio, Peter had a dislike of pornography - which could be viewed as quite surprising, given that up until fairly recently he had been a virgin. It wasn't from any particularly moral standpoint -- he was certainly not prudish about pornography -- but it always made him feel uneasy whenever he saw images of naked young women, and young men too, in luridly pornographic poses. He could never be sure if they weren't being forced into it. Either literally, by some brutish man like Clive, or yes, by a woman too, or that they were forced into it out of financial desperation. Either way, he had decided many years earlier, that he just didn't like it.

That's not to say he had always been of that opinion - like many young lads, he'd had a secret stash of girly magazines that he would surreptitiously flick through in his bedroom when his Aunt was either in bed or out visiting friends. But he had grown out of girly mags years ago, and once the Internet came along, and the world of pornography became a whole lot more sinister, or at least, appeared to get a whole lot more sinister, for it was probably just as sinister back in the twentieth century as in the twenty first century, he had simply had enough of it. The void had been replaced, for the most part, by his own imagination, and he had a veritable arsenal of erotic fantasies stored in the recesses of his mind. Fantasies hurt no one, he figured to himself, just as long as one doesn't choose to act them out. Without the consent of a willing partner at least.

Something else that had filled the void, when he vowed himself away from pornography, was another thing that the Internet had made possible: online erotic story sharing sites. Visiting these, he felt, he could justify to himself. After all, there were no lurid images, nobody to be forced into doing anything. All there was, were just words. Sure, some of them allowed contributors to write stories which depicted underage characters, and he simply chose to avoid those like the plague, but there were plenty of others that had a strict 'all characters must be over the age of 18' policy that suited him fine.

He had spent most of that evening downstairs in Lindi's flat, keeping her company and watching a horror film to help take her mind off her current situation. There had been no word from the police on whether they had got in touch with the young woman that Lindi had recognised, but at least Clive hadn't shown up on their doorstep. Peter had advised her that she ought to consider taking out an injunction, just to be sure she had legal protection if he tried to get in contact or tried to stalk her, but she decided against taking such a measure - for the time being at least.

He knew he needed to be with her during such a difficult time for her, but the trouble was, the more time he spent with her, the more he felt turned on by her. That wouldn't be a problem for most people, but to him, Lindi still felt like the sister he never had, and being attracted to her still felt wrong - even after the kiss they had shared, the time they were naked together in the swimming pool changing area, the time she had been there whilst he had sex with Alison in order to get her pregnant, and the time she had given him a handjob on her sofa late one night.

Their aversion to pursuing a physical relationship by regarding each other as almost being siblings was, on the face of it at least, a pretty ridiculous notion when he thought about it. After all, they were both single and consenting adults, they were unrelated and shared many of the same interests. They were, in short, absolutely perfect for each other. But they were both plagued by 'what if' thoughts whenever they got close to each other. What if we took things too far, and our relationship elevated to a sexual level? What if it ended up destroying our friendship rather than taking us to a higher level of intimacy?

What if...?

What if...?

So, feeling pent-up and with an erection that his pants were struggling to accommodate, he kissed her goodnight on her cheek once the credits rolled, and he got up and left her apartment, taking care to conceal as best he could, the ridged outline of his engorgement in his trousers. He dashed up the two flights of stairs to his own top floor flat, and as soon as he was inside the privacy of his own four walls, he booted up his laptop, opened the browser and pulled up his favourites, and clicked on the link that took him to what had become one of his favourite story series.

It was a story about a seemingly ordinary married couple, a man named Carl and a woman named Annabel. They were both middle aged and in still in love after twenty years of marriage, having known each other since high school. But behind their seemingly normal and humdrum suburban marriage, was a steamy, fetish-laden sex life. Annabel's particular fetish, the thing that always turned her on like nothing else ever could, was to be ravished by her man and to be subjected to light bondage. Carl's fetish however, was something that Peter had never heard of before stumbling upon this particular story, but he had found himself more than a little fascinated by it. And it was a particular passage in the third chapter of the story, where Carl's fetish was first revealed, that Peter was always drawn to.

The spelling and the grammar weren't perfect, and it could certainly do with a few more commas here and there, but then the stories on that site were almost always enjoyable, so he could excuse pretty much all but the most horrendous of grammatical slip-ups. Nobody is perfect, after all. But the story had captivated him nonetheless. And it was also clear from some of the spellings, that the writer was American, as were most of the site's authors, it seemed.

As the story came up on screen, Peter stripped himself naked, and sat down in front of the screen in his leather upholstered swivel chair, his erection in his right hand and his naked skin illuminated by the soft glow of the laptop's display...

Carl returned home that evening to be greeted with the sight of Annabel busy in the kitchen preparing a batch of cookies. She was facing away from him, her sumptuous feminine curves outlined by her plain white blouse and a simple pleated pink skirt that highlighted the shape of her ass perfectly. He loved it whenever she dressed like this so simply and so un-pretentiously. To Carl it was the most alluring manner in which a woman could dress - on the outside she seemed so demure and apparently diffident but underneath the plain exterior was concealed, in Carl's eyes the most fabulous body a woman could be in possession of.

"Mmm... White chocolate and raspberry." Carl said as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist bringing them close together in a soft embrace as he planted soft kisses on the nape of her neck re-establishing their bond, "My favorite flavor."