CHAPTER ONE

 

It was a cold and shivering Amanda Keen who sat miserably in her parked car, trying desperately to see out through the rain lashed windscreen. It was coming down hard now and it was hard to see. She switched on the wipers for another single sweep of the screen and within seconds it was just as bad again. She sighed. It just wouldn't do. She couldn't see properly from here. There was nothing else for it ... she'd just have to get out and continue surveillance from one of the doorways across the street.

"Christ!" she muttered furiously. "What a stupid cow! I'm not exactly dressed for this. I'll catch my bloody death!"

She looked down at her clothes and "harumphed" in exasperation. More cut out for the disco than for catching a wife cheating on her husband. Mini skirt, stockings and suspenders, tiny, frivolous, high heeled sandals, silk blouse, no bra (she'd been planning to meet her current number one, Jerry, straight from the office and he liked her tits easily accessible), and, what was worse, no coat (she'd left that behind in her hurry to leave). Besides, who'd have thought the weather would have turned so quickly. It had been so warm earlier she'd even thought of going up on the roof to work on her tan.

Of course, that had been before the nice, polite little man had walked into her office waving a fistful of ten dollar bills.

He'd been terribly earnest and apologetic. "My name's Henry Darrow, Miss Keen, I'm sorry to bother you ... I know you must be busy!"

She'd put on her most interested, professional, look and tried to tear her eyes away from the thick wad of bills.

"It's my wife, you see ..." Henry Darrow had continued. "... I think she's seeing someone else. Can you help me? I just HAVE to know."

Amanda had, of course, felt obliged to come to his rescue. Our Mr Darrow, as he'd introduced himself, was in his forties and balding, but he had a school-boyish, somewhat woebegone look about him that stirred the almost-forgotten maternal instinct in her not inconsiderable breast.

And then there was the cash! Business hadn't just been a bit thin lately ... it had been practically non-existent.

Not to worry, she'd told him. Busy or not ... she would help him. Trying hard not to look too eager, she'd relieved him of the cash.

A previous client had steered him to her, he'd said, mentioning a name. Amanda had been impressed. That client, too, had an abundance of the green moolah to throw around.

Now, sitting in the car, she swore, silently. What a way to earn your daily bread. Was it ever going to be any better than this ... sitting on rain soaked corners, late at night, trying to catch brainless little bimbos who hadn't got enough sense not to cheat on their long-suffering (and usually rich) husbands.

"Jesus," she muttered, "there's just gotta be easier ways."

She peered out at the rain and shivered again. "Oh well," she shrugged. "Here goes! At least it'll teach me to keep a coat in the car!

She picked up the silly little plastic, see-through umbrella she kept on the back seat for emergencies, opened the car door, and dashed across the street. By the time she reached the shop doorway, she was soaked, but at least her hair was reasonably dry.

As she huddled in the shop doorway, she found she was worse off than before. The wind had risen and was driving the rain into the doorway. And still she couldn't see properly. In this downpour, even if the little bimbo stepped out stark naked to dance in the street, she'd never be able to recognise her.

She looked down at herself in exasperation. She was soaked right through and the blouse had gone transparent, her boobs clearly outlined under the wet silk, as was the shape of the tiny knickers and suspenders beneath the flimsy material of her skirt.

"This is no bloody good!" she muttered, angrily. She shivered as she studied the house, trying to think quickly. The night's surveillance wasn't going at all like she'd planned. Already, she was soaked right through. She'd have a quick look across the road and, if there was nothing doing, maybe try again tomorrow.

As she ran across the road, the wind caught the silly little umbrella and turned it inside out. She cursed and threw it away. By the time she got to the somewhat dubious shelter of a tree in front of the house she looked as if she'd just climbed out of a river, her dark hair plastered to her forehead and even the tiny knickers soaked right through.

She stood under the tree and cursed. It would be her own fault if she went down with a chill. Miserably, she thought about Jerry. What was he doing now? Shacked up with the skinny blonde from the office? Amanda snorted angrily. She certainly wouldn't put it past him. Had a very strong libido did Jerry. She studied the darkened house. There were no lights showing and, shivering, she wondered what to do now.

"A quick reconnoitre round the back, now that I'm here?" she muttered to herself. "And then, home and a hot bath. Tomorrow's another day."

She braced herself against the torrential downpour and made her way round the side of the building, heading for the rear.

She never made it!

As she passed the big lilac bush at the corner of the house, a man slipped out behind her from the shadows.

A club took her behind the ear with a soft 'thunk' and she was out before she hit the ground.

Her assailant looked round cautiously, then stooped to take hold of her ankles. Unmindful of the mini skirt hoisted up around her waist, he dragged her inside, reappearing in seconds to claim her discarded handbag.

On the opposite side of the street, Amanda's car sat silent and forlorn, keys still in the ignition, waiting for its owner to return ...

She came round lying face down on a dirty floor, a blinding headache emanating from somewhere just behind her right ear.

She groaned and tried to roll over. Oh shit ... she couldn't' move. She was tied hand and foot. She shook her head, dazedly. This didn't make any sense. Why would the bimbo (or her lover for that matter) go this far?

She groaned and tried to wriggle over onto her ass. There was a low chuckle from somewhere behind her.

"Well, little miss big tits ... YOU'VE got a lot of explaining to do, haven't you?" asked a low, musical voice.

Forgetting her headache, Amanda threw her head round, and then groaned as it threatened to explode.

"Wha ... what the fugg's happening? Who're you?" she managed to get out, her mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

Hands grabbed her elbows, jerking her roughly to her feet. The man was fast and efficient. Almost before she knew it, her hands had been re-tied in front of her body and fastened to a rope running over a pulley above her head.

She gave a little scream as he pulled on the rope and her arms were jerked upwards. Again he pulled, and then again, until she was right up on tippy-toe. Then he tied off the rope, stepped back and grinned at her nastily.

She groaned. Shit ... this was no joke! Her wrists were taking virtually all her weight, and the ropes were cutting in deep.

Her head was clearing now, and she studied her captor carefully as she hung from the rope. A big man, six three or four, he had flat, brutish features and was built like a gorilla.

The musical chuckle came again from behind her and she craned her neck round, trying unsuccessfully to see.

"Oooooooooh!" she gasped. There were hands on her body from behind, reaching round to cup her wet, bra-less boobs! She wriggled like a fish on a line. The touch was feather-light, teasing her nipples into automatic erection.