A traffic accident occurred late on a rainy Autumn afternoon on a quiet medium density residential street in the western suburbs.
A driver lost control when his car skidded on a rain wet surface and crashed into a parked green Ford sedan. He was not hurt, merely shaken, but both cars were rendered non-drivable, the parked vehicle being particularly badly damaged.
Two police officers driving by stopped to investigate. They made ready to give the driver a spot test for alcohol consumption. He protested, saying he had been a teetotaller all his life but they went ahead anyway. A few pedestrians stopped to watch.
One of these was the man who had parked the now damaged car. He halted some distance away but did not approach either the vehicle or the police.
He was a lean, fit looking man of about forty with a square face and thick brown hair. He wore a belted leather jacket and neat dark jeans. Remaining well back, he watched the investigating officers. One of these saw fit to make a call on the police car radio, which he did standing on the pavement beside their car. This man had a loud voice and everything he said was heard by the small group of onlookers.
He began by giving the number plate and a brief description of the parked car. This caused some concern on the other end and it appeared he was asked for further details. He continued with this exchange and seemed puzzled at the interest in what he was reporting. Finally he expostulated, “What! The National Police? But it's only a traffic accident. No one’s hurt. Why bring in the Feds?” A pause while he apparently received further strict instructions. Then. “OK, OK. They’re coming. A crime scene? Right.”
He switched off, turned to the small group of onlookers, who had heard every word and said, “Step back please. Step right back. Away from this vehicle.” He then added, “And if you’ve got no business here you can move on.”
The man who had parked the green Ford in the first place was ready to do this. He turned and moved quietly away, trusting no one had noticed him.
He knew there were documents in the glovebox of the Ford which were about to fall into the hands of people who would be interested to see them. And him too. He had to get off the street as soon as possible.
At the same time as this accident was a lady making her way home from work. This was Rosemary. Late thirties, slim, athletic, figure still youthful, she had an attractive oval face framed by short, straight fair hair. She was a computer processor by trade and worked in the inner central business district. She wore the mandatory light blue business suit her firm required and calf length black boots. Her status was single, living alone, having been widowed some years ago. Today, because of the weather she wore a thin, light raincoat.
She saw the accident from some distance away, paused briefly as she drew level and then moved on at the young policeman’s admonition. Her only interest was to get home to her apartment a few hundred yards away. Though she did not know it, she was walking a short distance in front of the driver of the damaged car. Both were going in the same direction.
Meanwhile the leather jacketed man was thinking of the rotten luck of it all. Of all stationery cars in the street that erratic driver had to run into the one he had just parked. He could hear approaching sirens in the distance. That’d be the Federals on their way. His car had been identified as soon as the number was given out. Once they found those papers they’d have the local police scouring the neighbourhood for him. He had to get out of sight - and fast. But where to go?
He watched Rosemary walking ahead of him. He noted she only carried a handbag and a plastic bag holding a one or two small supermarket purchases. Too small for a family or even a couple? A single person living alone was what he was looking for.
She turned into a two floor apartment building of eight separate units. One bedroom each by the look of them. She’d have to be a single person living alone. The sirens behind him were getting louder. He decided to take a chance on it.
As she let herself in by the security door and he walked quickly up behind her. She turned and smiling, held it open, thinking him a resident or visitor. He watched her climb the stairs and hurried noiselessly and unseen some yards behind.
He saw her put her key in the lock of the end unit. She didn’t call out to anyone inside. She was only interested in letting herself in. That was enough. As she entered he stepped quickly in with her and seized her from behind. He held her arms to her sides with one arm and clamped his hand over her mouth. At once she began to struggle. He kicked the door closed with his heel and heard the lock click. No one had seen either of them enter.
He held her firmly and was obviously the stronger of the two. He let her squirm for a while and then said quietly and calmly, “Easy does it now. I’m not going hurt you. Just calm down and we’ll be able to talk.”
She stopped struggling. “Now then,“ he began reassuringly, “If I take my hand away I hope you won’t call out. Then we can talk.” She hesitated for a while and then nodded her head, difficult as it was to do. He removed his hand.
She paused briefly and then spoke. “What's this all about? Why have you come here? If it’s robbery, there’s hardly anything in here to take.” Very carefully, she was assuming he had come only to steal.
He was glad of this. She was not panic stricken or hysterical. That made his task a lot easier. “Nothing like that. I repeat, I’m not here to harm you. And I’m certainly not going to take any of your things. I simply have to stay here for a while and then I’ll be moving on. Just passing through as it were.” He then released her and she stepped forward a foot or two away from him but did not turn round. He bent down and picked up her handbag and plastic bag of purchases which she had dropped. He went on. “Why don’t we move into this nicely appointed lounge room of yours where we can talk more comfortably?”
The front door opened directly into the lounge - dining room. They stepped into the centre and Rosemary turned and got a look at her intruding visitor for the first time. She seemed somewhat reassured that the leather coated man did not look like a brutalised thug. He put her possessions carefully on the dining table. She put both hands deep into her raincoat pockets. “Well then,” she said, facing him, “You say you’re passing through. Does that mean you’ll be going soon?”
He was pleased she was taking it all so calmly. "I’ll go as soon as my people come and pick me up,” he said, “But first I’ll have to make a telephone call. And before that I’ll unfortunately have to tie you up.”
She stiffened at this, “I don’t need to be tied up.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. With luck, it won’t be for long.” He took her gently but firmly by the upper arm. The nylon fabric of her raincoat rustled. “Let’s get on with it. The sooner we get started, the sooner I’ll be gone. First, let’s find your linen cupboard.” He steered her into the hallway.
He noted where her sheets and towels were stored, stepped quickly into the kitchen, took a pair of shears from the sight board and the returned to the linen press.
He opened it and found what must have been her oldest and most frayed towel. “No sense tearing up your good, new linen,” he explained, “And we’d better do this in the bedroom. Then you can lie down after I’ve got you properly bound.”
“Absolutely no need,” was her comment.
In the bedroom he made her sit on the bed while he made a series of cuts with the scissors across the end of the towel and then tore it into strips. These were were then folded into lengths a couple of inches wide.
Rosemary was then forced to stand up and her wrists were lashed behind her back and secured with a reef knot. Next her arms were tied to her sides and cinched under the armpits. She was then seated on the bed, her skirt lifted and her legs bound above the knees. The waterproofed fabric of her raincoat whispered as he did so. Finally he knelt before her, crossed her ankles made several turns with the towelling and knotted them firmly. “There,” he said, straightening up, “You look as pretty as a picture.”
“All quite unnecessary,” she said.
He made her lie down on the bed and using one of the longest of the strips, looped one over her chest, through her armpits and tied the ends to the wooden bed head. The last strip was threaded through her legs, above the ankle tie and finally lashed to the wooden foot of the bed. Thus she was tightly bound and firmly secured to her own bed. “Just to stop you wriggling around and perhaps hopping over to the window where you might be seen from the street,” he explained. She glared at him.
Lastly he went into the bathroom and returned with a damp face washer and a small hand towel. He began to fold the washer into a firm wad.
Guessing his intentions she protested, “You don’t have to gag me. I won’t call out. I’m not the hysterical sort.”
But he did just that. Forcing the wad between her lips and holding it in place with the towel tied around the back of her neck. “It shouldn’t be for long,” he reassured her, “I’ll be back and take it out as soon as I’ve made my phone call.” She mewed furiously, the only sound she could make now and scowled as he stood up.
Before he left the room he moved to the window and peered cautiously through the curtains. About two hundred yards away at the scene of the earlier collision there were now three police cars and uniformed men everywhere. Two of them walked past the apartment building but did not come in. He was thankful he was in a safe haven, at least for the time being.
It took him fully ten minutes to make his call in the lounge room. And when he came back, he untied her from the bed, sat her up on the edge and took the gag out of her mouth.
“Well,” he said with the faintest hint of an apology in his tone, “The good news is that my people are sending a car to collect me. The bad news is that it won’t be here before two, more likely three hours. We’ll be together for that long.” He shrugged, "I’m sorry, I thought they’d get here sooner than that.”
“Well then,” she replied, “If that’s the case, you can untie me and let me go to the toilet, and if you’re going to tie me at all I’d appreciate being allowed to take this raincoat off. It’s too hot.” He nodded and without a word untied her ankles and the bonds holding her arms. And escorted her to the hallway and the toilet.
Rosemary came out of the water closet with both her raincoat and her blue suit jacket over her arm. She had taken off her stylish black calf length boots as well and carried them. She was wearing a neat long sleeved white blouse. He took her back to the bedroom. “Look,” he said, “Hang your suit coat and raincoat up and out of the way. I’ll tie your wrists and ankles and you can sit on the bed. Then we can talk to each other.” He smiled faintly, “We’ve got a lot of time to fill in.” She nodded.
She hung her jacket and waterproof in her wardrobe and put her boots beside the bed. While she did this he took off his leather jacket, smoothed it and placed it on the bed. She saw he was wearing a clean, well ironed, soft collared shirt. Without a word she stood with her back to her captor and crossed her wrists. He bound them considerately and then eased her down on to the bed. Again he knelt and tied her crossed ankles. He then sat down on a bedroom chair facing her. “We’ll be keeping company for a long while,” He looked at her, “So I hope we can make some worthwhile conversation.” She just stared back at him.
He looked around her neat, spare bedroom. On a wooden chest of drawers against the wall were three objects. Two framed photographs and a small open box. These attracted his attention and he got up to look at them.
Firstly, he picked up and carefully examined the framed picture on the left. It was a good school photo of a smiling, early teens Rosemary taken perhaps twenty five years ago.
“Wallbrook High? Up the coast." he asked, “I can tell by the tie and the tunic. You went there?” She nodded. “I was educated up that way myself. We used to go down to Wallbrook on inter school sports days.” He smiled, “Possibly there were times when we were both there together at the same function.”
She had already come to the conclusion there were only one or two years between them. It was interesting to learn they might have gone to school only a few miles apart.
The second item was a wooden box containing business cards, printed for her by her firm and containing the usual details. He read one, then carefully replaced it.
“You’re with a good firm I see,” was his comment, “And appear to have a good position. They’re a rising star and going international. They’ve already got affiliations with EuroWest.”
She looked at him sharply on hearing this. This was classified information. Very few people knew about it. “How do you know this?” she asked.
He laughed, “My people have their sources. They have contacts in many places.” She was beginning to wonder about these “people” of his. Who were they?
They talked for a while about an aspect of far eastern finance her firm was getting into, including an international figure, whom she knew, very few in this country had ever heard of. This man spoke knowledgeably about this personage’s association with the Middle East. She began to think there was more to him than she had thought.
The last object on the bureau was another framed photograph. Taken at a wedding, the newly married couple in their going away clothes were about to leave the reception to go on their honeymoon. The bride, a happy Rosemary pictured perhaps fifteen years before.
He looked at this and then asked quietly and with interest, “You’re divorced? Or perhaps widowed?”
Rosemary had been thinking carefully.
This man had come into her life suddenly and without warning. It was pure chance, he might have invaded any apartment in this building. Or he might have gone to any other unit block in the entire area. And he would go eventually, just as quickly. Rosemary assumed he was just as eager to leave her as she was to see the last of him. And once he was gone, she would never see him again. But for the meantime they were stuck with each other for at least two hours.
So she must make the best of this situation. Which was not of her choosing.
She answered his question. “A widow. For well over five years now.”
Though apparently on the run from the law, he did not come across as a common criminal. Perhaps white collar crime? She decided she could tell a little of herself.
“Married nearly fifteen years ago. We were gloriously happy for two years. And then cancer. I couldn’t leave him. We stayed together. I ended up nursing him in his last years. He finally went about six years back.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He sounded sincere. Was he?
“But,” he went on, “You seem to have put it behind you. You own this place I gather? Not the grandest address in the City but a very long way from being the worst. Upper middle class, I’d call it. You’ve done very well.”
She smiled sadly, “There was enough from the insurance and what was left from his estate for me to set to set myself up here. I know it’s a long way out but I didn’t want a mortgage. I wasn’t earning much at the time.” She nodded towards her business cards. “It’s different now.”
She sat there, her wrists tied behind her back, her ankles securely knotted. Bound with strips of her own towelling.Their relationship, captor and his lady captive. Yet she felt despite this he was a sensitive, perhaps even a caring man. In any case he would go soon. She continued to talk.
“Unfortunately I’ve picked up a local reputation for being a wealthy widow. Largely untrue, but you know how rumours take hold in these isolated suburban backwaters.” She laughed, “Be assured though, I’m working on it. I’d certainly like to become a lady of means. Meanwhile, I get a certain amount of attention.”
He nodded sympathetically, “I can imagine the attention you’re getting. Penniless adventurers, fortune hunters on the make. The born losers with half a working lifetime behind them and nothing to show for it. All looking for a profitable marriage that will enable them to live in the style they would like to become accustomed to.”
She agreed ruefully, “True enough. This area seems to have more than its quota of divorced males who came off second best in a property settlement. They blame femininity for their troubles and are looking for a comfortably off woman to make it all up for them. Well, they haven’t found one in me.”
He nodded thoughtfully. On impulse she decided to put the ball into his court. "And yourself? Do you have a partner?” She did not really expect an answer to to this.
Surprisingly, he told her. He was silent for a moment and then said quietly. “Many years ago a very fine lady and myself had a relationship which went on for nearly a decade. It was heavenly most of the time and we even talked of marrying. But in the end we decided the old saying applied. ’They had a wonderful relationship but spoiled it all by getting married.’”
"We parted company about three years ago. We’re still friends and see each other from time to time, after all we’re both with the same organisation (these ‘people' of his). We’ve been lovers on occasion. But the old fire’s just not there,” he concluded with a wry smile, “Just as well we didn’t marry. We might not have been able to stand one another by now.”
She was silent for some moments and then said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“It seems we’re both sorry. We’ve both used the expression.”
Silence from Rosemary. She gave the impression she was choosing her words very carefully now. “Perhaps we’re the same sort of people.”
They stared at each other.
He sat up and leaned towards her. He put his hands on her wrists, whether to check her bonds, tighten or loosen them was not clear. Their faces moved very close, their cheeks brushed. And then their lips met. Nothing happened for some seconds and then - a kiss. To which they both responded.
They parted. She was thinking. I’ve got nothing to lose here. He’ll be out of my life forever soon. By now he probably wants to fuck me and at this stage, I’d like it too. And why not? I’d enjoy it. It'll be the first time in months and perhaps it’ll be a good one. Why not? It’s been a rotten, lonely time ever since Adrian went. Why not, indeed?
He spoke first, hesitatingly. “Look. Do you feel that we..? It’s been a long time since I’ve had...”
“Yes,” she said firmly, “I do feel. I certainly do feel we could. And it’s been a long time for me too.” She leaned back, “If you would be so good as to untie me I’ll be able to respond to your caresses.” Without a word he undid the towel lashings around her wrists and ankles.
They stood up and embraced. A long and satisfying kiss. “I think perhaps it will be most satisfactory for both of us,” she whispered. She turned and pointed at her bed behind them, “And I think this will be a suitable place.” She gathered up every one of the towel strips which had been used to bind her and put them on the floor. “A little neatness on the love couch,” she smiled. Her vaginal orifice was already beginning to moisten. By the same token he was getting an erection. He took off his shirt, then slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly beside her boots. Lastly he removed his jeans.
Rosemary carefully unbuttoned her blouse, then unfastened her blue suit skirt and stepped out of it. Both of them placed their discarded clothing on the wooden chest of drawers containing the three objects they had discussed before. Each did this with some care. Neatness, it seemed was another thing they had in common.
Wordlessly, they faced each other in their underwear. They embraced, kissed each other and began to remove each other’s undergarments.
The next hour was pure heaven.
About an hour and a half later they were both back in the lounge room. He in his shirt sleeves, she wrapped in a white fluffy dressing gown with her hair tousled, rubbed dry after a hot shower in the last fifteen minutes. They were seated each side of a small table with cups of strong black coffee in front of them. Both looked calm and relaxed, all signs of strain and tension gone.
He spoke. “It’s nearly time for my people to be here.” These people again. “They won’t be happy about the accident out there,” he went on, “It’s meant some information’s fallen into the wrong hands. But it’s not the end of the world. There’ll be a few strings pulled here and there and it’ll all be smoothed over.” He concluded, “No one could’ve predicted a careless driver would lose control and run into a parked car that wasn’t even occupied at the time.”
She wondered what this was really all about and then decided she didn’t care. It had all worked out well for her. Very well indeed.
At that moment the unit intercom sounded. Someone at the front door wanted to talk to the occupants of the apartment. He got up saying, “That'll be my caller. I’ll answer it if that’s OK?” She smiled her agreement. He spoke into the mouthpiece and then admitted the party to the building. “She’s on her way up. And look, if you also don’t mind, I’d better open the door to her.” She nodded understandingly.
The lady who had just entered the building was Beryl. She was about the same age as the man she had come to pick up, possibly slightly older. She had a firm, athletic figure and a determined face with straight brown hair in a page boy cut. Tonight she was wearing a heavy raincoat spattered with raindrops. Clearly the weather was taking a turn for the worse.
She and the man embraced wordlessly in the opened doorway, her trench coat rustling as they did so. He stepped back and said, “I won’t use names for introduction here, it’s hardly appropriate. This lady,” he turned toward Rosemary who was standing a few feet away, “has been my hostess for the last few hours. And I will say, she's been very gracious. And here,” he indicated Beryl, “Is my courier. Come to take me away.” Both householder and the newly arrived visitor nodded to each other .
Beryl spoke. “The weather’s worsening.” Her damp trench coat testified to this. She turned to the man, “I see they’ve established a crime scene at the site of your accident down the road. There’s a car parked there now with two officers in it.” Her expression softened somewhat, “As to those papers they found, there’s a few old favours being called in in high places about them. It’ll be sorted out in the end. And,” she smiled, "The general opinion seems to be you ought to avoid parking organisation vehicles on busy roads.”
“Indeed,” he commented, “Well I’m glad it’s being taken care of.” He looked at Beryl, “And I suppose you’ll want to be off now.”
“We do have a long way to go. I’m parked in a visitor slot in the parking area downstairs,” she looked around the apartment. “But is there anything you need to do here?” This last to the man.
“I’ll get my coat. It’s in the bedroom.” He turned and left the room.
Beryl turned toward Rosemary and faced her. “I hope you haven’t been too greatly inconvenienced by all this,” she took her by the arm and led her into the lounge room, “I can see you’re quite comfortable now,” she glanced at the soft dressing gown, “But did he bind and gag you at first? I can well imagine how he must have felt when he found himself suddenly on his own in this part of the world. Which was quite unknown to him.”
Rosemary could see no harm in admitting this. These people would go soon. “He did tie me up but we later came to an agreement. Let’s say it all worked out very satisfactorily.”
“I’m glad you’re taking it that way,” said Beryl. She looked closely, “He's a decent man. I know that. And gentle too.” Rosemary wondered. Was this the woman her recent partner in love had spent almost a decade of his life with? The visitor continued, “And was there any damage to your property?”
Rosemary laughed, “Only a threadbare old towel which should have been thrown out long ago, torn into strips.” At this moment the man came back to the room.
He was wearing his leather coat and holding the strips used to tie Rosemary up with in his hand. Beryl looked at these and said “We’d better take those with us.” She produced a plastic bag and stuffed the pieces of towelling into it. “We don’t need to leave anything behind.”
The man stopped and looked at Rosemary. “Back in there I took the liberty of taking one of your business cards out of the box.” He removed it from his jacket pocket, displayed it and then put it away. She merely nodded, though well aware it contained both her business and private telephone numbers. “I’ll take very good care of it. No one else’ll ever see it.”
She smiled, “Very few people have one of those. They haven’t been given to everybody.”
“That will make me treasure it all the more.”
Beryl watched this exchange thoughtfully. “Well then, if there’s nothing else we can be on our way.”
Rosemary, still wearing her white dressing gown, walked with them to the front door of the apartment building. She watched them hurry through the the increasing rain to the car Beryl had driven up in. As they drove off she raised her hand.
She walked back up to her apartment, wondering. Will anything come of this?
She hoped so.