As Stephanie worked her way down Telford Mews she began to feel despair returning once again. Heading away from the St Pancras area she had come across this quiet shopping mews in Islington and saw its eclectic mix of a pet shop, a couple of antiques shops, a second-hand antiquarian bookshop, a small bakers and an independent fashion retailer.  It had seemed invitingly secluded and friendly, unlike so much of London.  Perhaps this was somewhere she could hide…

But none of the shops were looking for casual assistants at the moment.  Was this simply a stupid idea born out of desperation rather than reason, like the impulse that had brought her here in the first place?  But what else could she do?

Finally Stephanie reached the premises at the very end of the mews.  The lower half of its small display window held a simple ornate bowl of roses backed by a curved chest-high black velvet panel.  Above the backing panel was an inner window of heavy frosted glass.  In one corner of this minimal display stood a small plaque which read: N & E Villiers: Bespoke Trammel Accessories. 

What was a “Trammel” Stephanie wondered?  It didn’t matter.  She’d try selling them if they gave her the chance.

Stephanie pushed at the door but it was locked.   It bore a notice saying: “Callers by appointment only.”   Still, what had she to lose?  She rang the bell even as she realized that there was a small security camera looking down on her from an upper corner of the recessed door alcove.

After a minute the door was opened by a slim, distinguished looking man perhaps in his mid forties, greying slightly at the temples, who wore a dark waistcoat, a blue shirt and a red bowtie.  He took Stephanie in at a measured glance, noting her creased clothes and the bag slung across her shoulders, her untidy hair and the hollow, desperate look in her normally bright and clear eyes, which were not solely the result of her sleeping rough.

‘Good Morning, can I help you?’ he asked in cultured, assured tones.

‘I was wondering if you were looking for shop assistants at the moment?’ Stephanie asked, trying to make it sound as if it was a casual request.

The man raised a critical eyebrow.  ‘And do you have any experience in handling our line of merchandise?’

Stephanie gulped and admitted less airily: ‘No… I mean I’ve no idea what you sell, but you see I really need to find some work.   Today… I’ll do anything…’

The man looked her up and down again closely.  ‘Anything?’

‘Yes.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘We’ll if we were to employ you officially we’d need to see your P45 form. Have you got it with you?’

‘Umm… no.  I was sort of hoping to work casually… cash in hand, you know.’

‘I see.  Have you any other references?’

Er… no.’

‘You don’t live locally, do you?’

‘No, not exactly locally.’

‘And you’ve no family or friends in London to stay with?’

She had a couple of friends but she dare not go to them.  ‘No.’

‘Run away from home, have you?’

There was no fooling him.  She nodded.  ‘Yes... sort of…’

He appeared to consider for a moment and then he said: ‘Perhaps we can find a position for you.  I’m Nathan Villiers.  I run this establishment with my wife.  And you are…?’

‘I’m Stephanie… Smith.’

Had he noticed her hesitation?  He smiled and stood aside and beckoned.  ‘Then come into our parlour, Miss Smith…’

Within was a hallway lit by the fanlight above the front door.  It was very clean and fresh smelling with another bowl of roses on a side table. 

‘You can put your bag down there,’ Nathan indicated a recess beside a coat stand.  ‘It will be perfectly safe.  We do not have another client booked to call this morning…’ 

That sounded very exclusive Stephanie thought as she un-slung her back pack and set it down, looking about her with interest and hope.  There was a door at the far end of the hall and two recessed doorways along the left hand wall.  The nearer one was oddly framed between two deep panels of square wooden latticework construction.  Where the lattice battens crossed they seemed to be pinned together by metal studs with stubby spiked heads.  None of this gave her any clue as to what their business actually was. 

Nathan Villiers stepped aside and indicated this framed door. ‘If you would just wait in here I’ll fetch my wife and we’ll have proper look at you…’

He was so polite that Stephanie suspected nothing.  Within the recess, which was perhaps a metre deep and half as much again wide, was another solid door studded like the outer lattice panels.  It bore a small plaque that read: “Reception Room”.  She stepped up to it and tried its handle but it would not open. 

‘I think its locked,’ she said, turning round to Villiers only to see him closing the lattice side panels, which only now did she realize were hinged like doors, across the recess, trapping her within it.  Small lights set in the top and sides of the recess came on, illuminating her brightly.

‘Hey… what are you doing!’ she cried in alarm. 

‘We like to screen uninvited visitors before they precede any further, Stephanie, especially those who give false names,’ he said as he pressed a button on a wall mounted switch panel which had been concealed by the lattice shutters.

Stephanie lunged forward to try to push the shutters open and gave a yelp of pain, snatching her hands away and flinching backward.  The metal studs in the panel had given her a sharp electric shock.  She turned and banged on the door behind her, only to yelp again as its studs and brass door handle sent more jolts through her hands. 

‘There is no way out until we decide to free you,’ Villiers said. 

Stephanie pulled out her mobile phone and held it up threateningly.  ‘Let me go right now or I’ll call the police!’ 

‘No you won’t, Stephanie,’ Villiers said calmly.   ‘You’re obviously hiding from something or someone and you wouldn’t be here if you could have gone to the police about your problems.  But don’t despair.  We may be able to help you…’

And he went off down the hall leaving Stephanie alone in her strange cage, feeling her stomach knotting up in fear.  She felt all round the wood panelling which lined the recess but there was no escape or any apparent means of opening the double doors.  She was trapped.

Villiers was back inside two minutes.  As he reappeared in the hall a panel opened at head height in the solid door at her back between the metal studs.  Stephanie twisted about to see a small barred aperture and beyond it the face of a fortyish woman with pale skin and collar-length black hair with a square-cut fringe.  Her nose was firm and straight, her lips pursed and her dark eyes very deep and intelligent.

‘My wife, Elvira,’ Villiers explained by way of introduction.

‘Good morning, Stephanie,’ Elvira said formally, as if everything was perfectly normal and she was not participating in her unlawful imprisonment.

‘Let me out of here!’  Stephanie shouted at her.

‘It will do you no good to get angry, Stephanie,’ Elvira admonished. ‘You are on our premises and in our power and you will obey our rules.  Firstly, if we are to find a position for you we need to see if you are physically suitable.  So you will now undress completely.’

Stephanie could hardly believe her ears.  ‘You… what!’

‘You will remove all your clothes and display yourself to us totally naked.’  Nathan amplified.  ‘If your body is suitable then we might find work for you…’

‘You’re crazy… both of you!’ Stephanie choked.  ‘No way!’

‘We’re not in the habit of repeating our instructions,’ Elvira said sternly.  ‘You will undress immediately or else you will be compelled to obey…’

Both husband and wife moved as if actuating controls hidden from her sight.  There were slight clicks from both the panels and the door and Stephanie was horrified to see the stud heads sliding inwards towards her on the ends of extending metal shafts.  There was no escape.  The grids of studs pressed into her clothing, pinning her between them.  She tried to push them away but as she touched their shafts they flickered with blue sparks.  She shrieked and jerked wildly, touching more metal, fluttering between the walls of spikes like a pinned butterfly, shrieking and sobbing helplessly.

Then the spikes retracted and she sank to her knees, hugging her arms about herself and shaking in shock and fear.

‘Now do as we told you and take your clothes off, Stephanie,’ Nathan said sternly.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Stephanie obeyed.  She had no choice.

With trembling fingers she took off her coat and boots and then all the rest.  As she did so she was acutely aware of the two faces beyond the bars staring in at her with what seemed to be disturbingly clinical interest.  Who were this mad couple?  And what did they do here that meant they had an electric trap set up to spring on innocent callers?

Finally Stephanie shed her underwear and stood naked before them.  Instinctively her hands slipped across her breasts and pubes.

‘Don’t cover yourself up,’ Nathan said sharply.  ‘Interlock your fingers behind your neck and stand straight with your feet spread so you display your body properly.  Good… now turn slowly so we can both see you from all sides…’

Biting her lip, Stephanie obeyed.

She was of a slender build and had long dark brown hair and pale skin.  Her eyes were grey-blue and she had a slightly retrousse nose, a slim firm jaw, a softly cleft chin and a cupid bow upper lip.  Her breasts were neat and were carried high on her chest and were capped by large pale brown nipples.  She had a tight waist, slim hips, a dark thick pubic bush and pale smooth buttocks.     

Under the Villiers’ intense scrutiny Stephanie realized to her acute shame that her nipples were standing up.

‘Yes, very good,’ Nathan said after a minute’s study.  ‘I think we might make something of her, don’t you, dear?’ 

‘I think so,’ Elvira agreed.  ‘Let’s bring her through and put her on the table and find out more about her…’