Evening Visitation
It was late afternoon on a windy Autumn day and Karen was walking home after work. This was a small two bedroom cottage at the end of a cul-de-sac in a comfortable middle class suburb. It was situated on the end of a short ridge and overlooked a new commercial building in a business suburb to the north.
Karen was in her late thirties and had been married. After an unfortunate period of less than ideal matrimony there had been a difficult divorce. But she had been able to salvage enough from this disagreeable parting to set herself up in her present home. She had lived there alone ever since.
Despite this unfortunate episode she still enjoyed men and wanted to find a suitable companion. But as time passed and with her particular situation this seemed less and less likely.
Karen had a fit, athletic figure and exercised daily by long, vigorous walking. She had a clear skinned oval face, smiled easily and this was framed by shoulder length brown hair. She was trained in accountancy and held a minor managerial position in a local business firm.
She was wearing a two piece business suit as her employer required and, outside the office, wore gloves, a small narrow brimmed hat and carried a large, shiny black leather handbag. And today, because rain had been forecast, she was wearing a light, loose fitting raincoat.
In the gathering dusk, she walked purposefully down her short street, thinking only of the simple evening meal she would make for herself.
Idly, she noted that another woman was walking on the opposite footpath. In the same direction, keeping pace with, but slightly behind herself.
This was Beryl. She was in her early forties, fit, solidly built and exuding strength and purpose. She had a square determined face framed by straight, short brown hair in a page boy cut. Today she wore a well fitting and expensive looking trench coat, firmly belted and buttoned to the throat. Solid, sensible shoes, a small, close fitting hat completed the picture. She carried, not a handbag but a large carry bag, slung over one shoulder.
Karen glanced briefly at her once, then did not give her another thought. By now she had reached her own front gate. In the fading light she turned in, walked up the path, onto her small veranda where she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. Finding them, she opened the front door, reached inside, switched on the hall light and went inside. And then.
“Good evening Karen.” A voice sounded behind her.
Startled, Karen spun round. And saw, standing in her front doorway her fellow pedestrian traveller from the street outside. It crossed her mind that she must have quickly crossed the roadway and hurried up the path behind her. She noted the firmly belted raincoat and that she was holding both hands clasped firmly in front of her. She looked businesslike.
Karen was not frightened, but rather very surprised. “What!” she snapped. “Who’re you? And why’ve you come to my house? Do you want to see me about something?”
Beryl smiled. She was glad Karen was not given to panic or fright. She stepped forward, turned and closed the front door softly behind her and locked it carefully. She turned and faced the incredulous householder. “You and I, Karen,” she spoke quietly and pleasantly, “have some very important business tonight.”
Helen’s eyes bulged with amazement, “Now look here,” she began, “Just what do you think…“
Still smiling, Beryl interrupted, “No, you look, Helen. Let me explain a few things to you. First of all, I’m armed.” One hand descended rustling into the cavernous front pocket of the trench coat and partly withdrew, holding a black pistol butt. “And I’ll point out I’m stronger than you,” they were both about the same height, but she was obviously more solid and muscular. “And,” still smiling, “I know how to overpower people, such as yourself.” And Karen was ready to believe this last.
“But,” Beryl continued to smile, “I’m sure it won’t come to anything like that. In fact, there’s no need for any unpleasantness at all. If we’re both sensible.” She moved in front of the outraged householder who was realising the situation was fast moving out of her control.
She took Karen’s black handbag out of her clenched hands. “In fact, why don’t you tuck those neatly gloved hands into your raincoat pockets and we’ll walk through this nice home of yours to the kitchen and then I’ll explain what’s going to happen here tonight?” She actually pushed one hand into the waterproof pocket. Karen did the same with the other. She was realising she had become a captive in her own home. But she was also curious what was going to happen in her home that night.
They walked through the house into the kitchen at the rear. Two raincoated women, Beryl carrying Karen’s handbag.
They stood beside the kitchen table which was next to a large plate glass window which looked out and down onto a three floor commercial building in a business complex to the north of Karen’s cottage. The top level of this structure was a large glass walled conference room practically level with her kitchen and situated about forty metres away. They could see uniformed staff making the long discussion table ready for use.
“That’s what we’re interested in.” Beryl indicated the conference venue. “Tonight a very important financial meeting is going to be held there. International rather than national. The information discussed will be priceless.” She smiled. “We’ve got listening devices planted inside but they only transmit to about eighty yards. We need a site closer than that to pick up and record information of what’s said. And that, dear Karen, is where your admirably positioned kitchen comes in.” A further smile, “And that’s why we need the use of your home for a while." Karen looked at the preparations being made at the conference table. It was becoming clear.
Beryl became businesslike. “We can see them, but there’s no reason they should see us.” She dragged the curtains at each end of the plate glass window across it. “And there are other preparations to be made here.” She faced the lady householder. “For a start, you, Karen my dear, have to be tied up.”
Karen looked at her. She had suspected for some time this was coming. She knew it was a waste of time to protest, and it wasn’t necessary. Beryl hitched the carry bag still slung over her shoulder. “I suggest we do this in your nicely appointed lounge room. You’ll have to sit down later and the chairs look more comfortable in there.” She seized the other firmly by her raincoated arm and steered her out of the kitchen
In the lounge Beryl removed both their hats and placed them, together with her black handbag on a side china cabinet. Karen was made to stand on an embroidered rug in the centre of the room The carry bag, now open on the lounge table, proved to contain neatly torn and folded lengths of white sheeting. “Prepared for all contingencies,” she smiled, taking one out. “Do you want to be bound wearing your raincoat?”
Karen was silent for a time, then said she would. She moved her hands up and down the stiff waterproof fabric which rustled as she did so. Possibly she thought of it as a protective garment. Beryl nodded, moved behind her and began to tie her up.
First she crossed her wrists behind her back and looped them several times with a thick white sash. This was secured with a couple of knots. Next she bound her arms to her sides, both above and below her breasts and then cinched them firmly under the armpits, causing her bust to protrude. Lastly, a long strip was wound and tied tightly around her waist, further securing her bound hands. Beryl worked with some care, taking pains not to twist any of the prepared strips. The raincoat surface whispered and crackled and Karen began to resemble a neatly wrapped parcel.
“There,” she said, stepping back and surveying her helpless captive. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Don’t bother struggling, you won’t get anywhere.” She smiled again, “I’ve done this before you, might have gathered.” Karen was silent, she merely flexed her arms into a position of some comfort. She had no intention of straining actively against her bonds.
“Oh, one thing more.” Beryl dipped into her bag and produced a damp folded wad of towelling. “Something for your pretty mouth.”
Karen frowned. “There’s no need to gag me. I’m not the hysterical sort. You’ve seen I haven’t tried to scream all the time you’ve been here.”
“It’s what you might do when I’m not here that concerns me.” Beryl pressed the thumb and forefingers of her strong right hand against her captive’s jaws, forcing her lips to open. She pushed the damp wad into Karen’s mouth.
“Just let it settle, let your jaws relax. It’s not over large, you won’t choke. You can be quite comfortable.” Karen hoped this was true.
“Almost done. Just one thing more.” Beryl turned to the bag and took out a hemmed blue satin sash about three inches wide and two feet long. “Something to hold it in place.”
She tied this across the lower part of Karen’s face, covering her mouth and secured it at the back of her head with a firm knot and even a fetching bow. “There. Pretty as a picture.” She smiled and placed both hands on each side of her captive’s face. Karen glared at her. Mewing was the only sound she could make.
The two women, both wearing raincoats, stood in the centre of Karen’s lounge room. Only one had her arms tightly bound and a very effective, if attractive, gag in her mouth. Beryl reached for her carry bag.
Outside it had started to rain. A vehicle was heard to stop in the street. Then it turned into the driveway of Karen’s home, along the side of the house and stopped outside the kitchen door. “That’ll be my people,” Beryl explained quietly. "We can meet them in the kitchen.” She took Karen by the bound upper arm and steered her to the back of the house.
They stood inside the kitchen door. Beryl switched on the kitchen porch light and opened the door.
A man and two women waited outside. All wore grey boiler suits with visored caps. They could have been contract cleaners. And carried canvas equipment bags. Beryl ushered them inside and switched off the porch light.
She moved Karen in front of the man and introduced her. “This is Karen, the Lady of the House. Whose home we are going to make use of for the next few hours. And I want to make it clear we are not going to steal or damage any of her property while we are here. All we want is the use of her kitchen table for a few hours.”
The man smiled. And bowed his head. “It’s as my colleague has said, Karen. We want nothing of yours and will cause you no harm." He made it seem it was the most natural thing in the world for him to meet a lady householder who was bound and gagged. "But, time’s a-wasting,” he turned to his two lady accomplices. “Put the gear on the kitchen table and unpack it. And don’t scratch anything.”
The two girls silently put their canvas bags on the table. One said,”We can’t unpack it in front of her. Can’t she be taken somewhere else in the house? Put in a wardrobe or something.”
Beryl spoke up. “I’ll look after Karen. In the bedroom if you want either of us.” She glanced through the curtained window at the object of their mission. “You’d better get busy. They’ll be starting their talk in about fifteen minutes.”
She took Karen by the arm once more and led her to the bedroom. Picking up the carry bag from the lounge as they went.
Karen’s bedroom was simply but adequately furnished. A double bed, a large, low chest of drawers beside it, a wardrobe and a small writing desk in a corner. And a small armchair in front of this last. Beryl pulled this over to the bedside and indicated the bound house owner should sit in it. Dropping the carry bag on the bed, she took another length of sheeting from it then knelt in front of her and crossed and bound her ankles.
Lastly she undid the two lower buttons of Karen’s raincoat, pulled the flaps aside, lifted her skirt and bound her legs above the knees.
“The very idea,” she muttered, “Put you in a wardrobe, indeed.” She stood up, “That’s the Technical people. They rarely meet anyone else and don’t know how to treat them when they do.”
“Well then Karen, my dear. We’re going to be in each other’s company for some hours. How shall we spend it?” She patted the smooth waterproof fabric of her trench coat, causing it to whisper and rustle as she did so. “For a start, I’m going to divest myself of this.”
She unbelted it, loosened the wrist straps and finally unbuttoned it. Shaking it out she said, “I’ll borrow one of your coat hangers if you don’t mind.” Arranging it on one of these she patted it smooth and hung it on a peg at the end of the wardrobe. “There,” she smiled, “And don’t let me forget it.”
“And another thing.” Beryl leant over Karen, untied her gag and gently removed the wad from her mouth. She placed both on the wide armrest of the chair she was sitting in. “Since we’re going to be in each other’s company for some time we can talk to each other.”
Beryl seated herself on the bed and faced her captive. She began. “This has been a long time in the planning and involved a lot of preparation. And amongst other things we learned a lot about you.”
“You own this property, don’t you? Have for many years now? That’s good. After that rotten divorce. He was a wife-beating bastard, wasn’t he?” Karen was amazed to find how much this organisation of her captors knew about her. And she was somewhat comforted to find that Beryl approved of what she had done. She began to warm to her.
They talked at some length of how after the nightmare of the divorce she had managed to set herself up in this cottage in this comfortable area. Beryl seemed to think she had acted sensibly throughout.
Then they got on to Karen’s fortunes since then. Not so good. Her social life had been limited to non-existent. Social contacts were not easy to make for a divorcee like herself. Beryl seemed outraged. “A woman like yourself - in your situation - ought to be able to do better than that,” she fumed. She sat up and looked around the bedroom. Her gaze fastened on the little writing desk in the corner. “What’s that? On that desk?”
Karen didn’t answer. Beryl got up and walked over to it and picked up the item. It was a folded newspaper, open at a certain section. She looked at it.
“What!” She expostulated, “the Personal Classifieds. Oh good heavens.”
She came back and sat on the bed again. “You’ll only meet fortune hunters and losers there, my girl.”
“Don’t I know it.” Karen’s voice was barely audible.
Things calmed down. They sat and talked at some length. Beryl was both kindly and sympathetic and also, very much a woman of the world. And seemed prepared to help Karen if it were at all possible. Finally she asked, “How long since you had a good lovemaking? That is, a good, decent fuck?”
“Eh,” Karen’s voice was still faint. Her eyes were lowered. Then, “I don’t know. Months. Years.”
At that moment the bedroom door opened. The man who had come with the two women stood there. Karen noticed he looked about the same age as herself.
“Sorry to disturb you ladies.” He began, “Just reporting that all’s going very well indeed. We’ve got the important stuff. It’ll go on for another hour or more but the girls can look after that. I just came to see if you wanted a spell.” This to Beryl, "Do you want to come out and see how things are going?”
Beryl stood up. Her trench coat removed, she was wearing a warm workmanlike sweater and a thick woollen skirt. Apparel that seemed suitable for someone going on a difficult mission. She walked toward the newcomer.
The man looked puzzled. “Something going on here? Can I help?”
Beryl stopped and faced him. “Yes. You certainly can help. This lady,” she indicated the bound Karen who looked about to cry, “Has been sexually deprived, cruelly deprived, for a very long time.” She waxed philosophical. “As much by the times in which we live as by this example of smug suburbia we’ve come here to tonight.”
The man was startled. “Well. Ah, I’m sorry.” Beryl eyed him closely. And then started to discourse.
“I’m not going to use names for obvious reasons. But we’ve known each other for some time now.” The man nodded. “And I think I can accurately describe you as a gentle, considerate and highly skilled lover when you set your mind to it. Just what this unfortunate woman so desperately needs.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Are you prepared to service her? Give her what she so very much desires?” A knowing pause and softly, ”You’d better.” Louder, "There’s time enough.”
The man spoke hesitantly, “Well, we are here on a mission tonight.”
“I’ve thought about that. And in a roundabout way this can only help our mission.”
“Very well then. But, what does the lady herself say? I notice she’s tied up.”
Both turned and looked at the seated and bound hand and foot Karen. “Well Karen,” said Beryl, “This gentleman is prepared to give you a good, professional, highly skilled and enjoyable lovemaking. And I know he’ll do that.” She went on, “It’ll be your first in years and, from what you’ve told me, who knows when it’ll happen again. For heaven's sake, take this opportunity that Fortune is offering you."
A long silence. Then, softly “Alright.” Karen lifted her head. Again, more loudly, “Alright.”
“Good. Let’s get you untied then.”
Beryl knelt and untied Karen’s thighs and ankles. They stood her up and both untied her arms and wrists. “You won’t need this raincoat,” she said, unbuttoning it and pulling it off her. The erstwhile captive stood before them in her neat, well fitting blue business suit. She rubbed her wrists. Her captor smiled, “Blue suits you darling.”
She took Karen’s raincoat, shook it out, fitted it onto a coat hanger and hung it in the wardrobe next to her own trench coat. The loosened ties and the gag she bundled into the carry bag.
“Well then,” she smiled, rubbing her hands, “And now it’s up to you two people.” She grasped the man firmly by the shoulder, “You look after her,” she admonished, “And give her a good one.” Dividing a smile between both of them, she left the room.
The boiler suited male and the blue business-suited female faced each other. He asked tentatively, “You’re OK about this aren't you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. And then more loudly, “Yes,” as if deciding to herself that outspoken forthrightness was more fitting. “As the lady said, ‘Fortune, Fate, Opportunity or Whatever, is offering.’ And She doesn’t offer very often. Believe me, I know that from sad experience.”
She looked into his eyes, raised her arms to shoulder level and said,”Hold me.” Boiler suit and ladies business suit embraced.
They kissed. A lover’s kiss, she fervently hoped. She turned and led him so that they stood between her bed and the long, low chest of drawers. “We can,” she said, “Put our clothes on this.” And began to take off the jacket of her business suit.
He was undressed first. It was simply a matter of slipping off his footwear and socks, putting them neatly together under the bed, and then one long pull on an industrial zip and he was out of his boiler suit and in his underwear. She took longer. Her sensible shoes were removed and placed alongside his and then her blue business suit, top and skirt taken off, carefully folded and placed on the top of the chest of drawers. Round about the same time he had neatly folded his boiler suit and placed it beside her outfit. She was pleased to see he seemed tidy with his clothing.
Both in their underwear, they faced each other. Wordlessly they embraced again, this time longer. “Darling,” she murmured, “It’s been so long. Oh so long since I’ve been in a man’s arms.”
“I don’t get that much opportunity myself,” he whispered. They parted. Each removed their under garments and placed them to the side. A final clasp in each other’s arms and then she led him to her bed.
She settled him in on one side and placed a tube of lubricant from a bedside drawer under the pillow. “Not that I’ll need it," she smiled, “I’m moist and dripping.” And then entered herself from the other side.
It was a lover’s embrace. “Oh darling,” she moaned, “But it’s been so long. So very, very long. It must’ve been years.”
“That should never have happened. Maybe something can be done."
The next eighty minutes were pure ecstasy.
And then back to the real world. Much later, both were seated side by side on the bed. He was back in his boiler suit. It had been as easy to slip back on as it had been to take off. She was wearing a white woollen dressing gown, firmly tied at the waist. On Karen’s face was a look of quiet contentment. Stress and strain were gone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured.
“I enjoyed it too,” he told her. He spoke with feeling.
Karen spoke. “I know you and your people will leave soon and it’ll be as if you’d never come here. I know it’s asking the impossible but I’d like to see you again. Just for a short visit. Like this.”
“It is possible,” he produced a pencil and pad from his boiler suit, “Write your phone number on this.” She was doing this when the door opened.
Beryl came in. She walked to the wardrobe, got out her trench coat and began to put it on. “They’re finished out there. Mission successful. They’re packing up to go.” She finished buttoning, pulled the belt tight and did it up. All the time eyeing the couple on the bed. To the man she said, “There are some things of yours in the kitchen. Go and get them.” He got up and left the room. She watched him go.
She turned to Karen. “I know he’s a good lover but socially he’s something of a misfit. Rather like yourself.” The other stiffened at this, though at the same time realising it was all too true. Beryl went on. “We’ve got some precocious, avid and willing ladies in our organisation but none of them have ever been able to get through to him, personally.” She smiled and looked around, “You madam, seem to have done that in one go. Quite an achievement.”
“You know, he’s one of the best in the country at his specialty. Distance Computer Investigation, otherwise known as hacking. But as a person he’s a very lonely man and desperately needs a suitable companion. But she must be suitable.” Another smile. “Perhaps he’s found her.”
One of the boiler suited girls appeared at the bedroom door. “All packed up. Loading it into the van now.” She even smiled at Karen, “And time to take our leave of the Lady of the House. You’ll find everything in order in the kitchen. And thank you.”
Then she paused. “I daresay you’ll have to report this. What will you say?”
Seated on the bed Karen glanced at her. A faint smile on her otherwise contented face. “Report? Nothing’s been taken. My property’s as it’s always been. Whatever was done from the kitchen table, I saw nothing. I was in here all the time. What’s there to say? There’s nothing to report.”
All three went out into the kitchen, Beryl taking her carry bag. The kitchen porch light was on. The van was outside. The other boiler suited girl was already behind the wheel. Beryl and the others went out and got into the rear of the van. The man stood at the door. He gave Karen a quick kiss then got into the passenger seat. She switched off the porch light.
The van slowly reversed down the driveway and backed onto the street. Karen watched it go. The man waved discreetly from the front seat. The vehicle drove off. It was still raining slightly.
Uto