11 comments/ 52109 views/ 5 favorites Danger! Naked Woman Ch. 01 By: oggbashan Copyright Oggbashan June 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. * * * * * It was dark and raining, the light rain that doesn't seem much but soaks through everything in minutes. I was driving carefully along a side road on Romney Marsh watching carefully for the sudden right hand corners that marked the edge of a water-filled dyke. I had been to a committee meeting about a re-enactment event. The meeting had adjourned to a friend's house and we had been chatting for hours. I was thinking hard about a plot for Nude Day that is National in the US but is celebrated as Bastille Day in Europe. I was more successful in the driving than plot construction. So far I hadn't made any sudden stops or violent swerves. The plot was more elusive than the twists in the road. 'Wouldn't it be nice,' I thought 'if an attractive naked woman could appear in my headlights, flagging me down for help.' That was unlikely as a plot and even more unlikely in real life. At two a.m. on a Saturday morning, in the rain, I was more likely to have an accident. If a naked woman occurred it would probably be a trap, a car jacking or something. But who would want my car? It is old, reliable, but had no real value to anyone but me. I'd probably have to scrap it when it finally started to become uneconomic to repair. And if a naked woman did appear she would probably be some ancient crone suffering from senile dementia who had escaped from her care home. She'd probably pee all over my car's worn upholstery as I drove her to the nearest Police station. Where was the nearest Police Station open at this time of night? Folkestone might be open or Dover perhaps, but Ashford, although in the wrong direction was most likely. Thinking about naked women reminded me of my ex-wife Emma. Even though we had been divorced for more than two years we still made love once in a while, only when she wanted me. I never forced myself on her but if she wanted sex I was always willing. I had the feeling that this stage in our lives was coming to an end. I think she had found a new man and didn't need me for sex. If that were true it would be good news for both of us. We needed to move on and rebuild our lives. I would be sad because making love to Emma was almost always great. She was passionate and noisy, always totally naked, and I managed to satisfy her almost every time. I could almost see her naked body lying against my shoulder, her hair spread over my chest... Blast! I had to brake hard to avoid a sheep in the road. Where had she escaped from? Should I try to find out and put her back in her field? No. I didn't know which field, it was pitch black under the low cloud, and I didn't fancy trying to persuade a soggy sheep to go anywhere. Sheep are remarkably awkward when they want to be. As I edged the car past the started sheep I thought that was it. I had met the naked female. The sheep was female, she wasn't wearing any clothes, she was soaking wet, but she didn't need my help. She was enjoying the usually inaccessible roadside grass. Around the next bend a car's reflector caught my headlight as it passed. An abandoned car, I thought, as the light passed on. Then I braked. The shape of the reflector was modern, too modern for a wreck. I reversed carefully. There were tyre tracks across the grass verge and the car was nose down in a dyke. This looked bad. I climbed out of the car and put on the key-ring torch. The car's numberplate showed that the car was only a year or so old. I went back to my car and reversed so that the headlights shone on the wreck. I had to leave my ignition on, so I detached the torch from my car keys. I through the wrecked fence and scrambled down beside the ditched car. I shone the torch inside, expecting a mangled body or two. There was a body resting on the deflated air bag but it didn't look mangled. It was female, her blonde hair splayed across the air bag, with her face away from me. I wrenched at the door handle. It opened easily but upwards because the car was tilted away from me. I gently touched the bare shoulder. It was cool to the touch, not dead but chilled. The woman moaned and stirred. Her head lifted from the air bag. She turned towards me. Her eyes squinted against the feeble light of my tiny torch. She didn't look like attractive at present, her make up smeared on her face; red lines where she had been resting on the creases of the air bag. "Who's there?" She asked. "I'm Paul," I said. "A passing driver. How are you?" She lifted her head further. "I don't know... Paul. Where am I?" "In a wrecked car on Romney Marsh. It looks as if you ran off the road into a ditch. Was anyone else with you?" "Anyone else? No. I was alone." She unfastened her seat belt and tried to get out of the car. That was when I saw that she was naked, nude, devoid of clothes, not even a G-string. I couldn't see any obvious injury so I helped her out into my arms. I carried her up the bank through the stinging nettles and brambles. I opened my passenger door and lowered her to the seat. Her arms were clasped around my neck. As the car's interior light shone over her I was very aware that she had an attractive body and that she was naturally blonde. I looked carefully. I couldn't see any injuries apart from a couple of grazes to her knees. She became aware of my scrutiny. Her hands covered her pussy. I reached past her to pull the car rug from the back seat. She accepted it gravely and covered herself from the neck downwards. I remembered enough first aid to check for concussion. I asked the usual questions. The answers that mattered: Her name is Julia; she lives alone in Canterbury; she had come to the Marsh to spend a weekend with a man she wouldn't name but she had changed her mind and fled in HIS car which she had crashed. She knew the date, who was the Prime Minister, she could see my fingers – all that sort of thing. She had been drinking too much before she drove away. I asked what she wanted to do now. "Paul," she answered, "HE will be looking for me. I don't want HIM to find me today." "Does he know where you live?" "Yes." "But if you have crashed his car, surely he is stuck – wherever he is?" "No. He still has his four-wheel drive. I took his Porsche – and wrecked it." Julia started crying. I pulled her to my shoulder. She rested against it, burying her face and sobbing convulsively. I let her cry, stroking her damp blonde hair. I was thinking furiously. An imaginary plot about a naked woman was one thing. A real distressed naked woman crying against my shoulder was different. I could see many problems for me. Julia might look attractive but what was she like? She could accuse me of attempted rape and I'd have little defence. She was still naked under that rug. How could I get her somewhere where she could get clothes if she didn't want to go home? What did I do about the wrecked Porsche? Where exactly was I? I scrabbled for a map. I knew where I was coming from and where I was heading when I stopped. Could I find the exact position on the map? I opened it and peered, using my key ring torch again. Julia stirred from my shoulder. She wiped her tears with the edge of the rug inadvertently flashing an appealing nipple. I looked away. I didn't want more trouble. She smiled at me. "Sorry, Paul, did I reveal something? It doesn't matter. You've seen all of me, haven't you? Getting worried about being the knight in shining armour?" I nodded. "What are you trying to do?" she asked. "Find out exactly where you crashed so that the car can be recovered." "Oh. The Porsche has GPS. Would that help? I don't know how to use it but Jo..." She cut his name off. "...he was proud of it. He demonstrated it as we drove down but switched it off when we got to the Marsh." "If it is still working it would be useful." I started to climb out of the car. Julia caught my arm. I looked back at her. "There's a torch in the Porsche. Much more useful than that tiny thing." "Thanks. I'll try to find it." The torch was in a clip under the dashboard. It was expensive and powerful. I turned the ignition on and the GPS. I wrote the position down on the back of a credit card slip before turning everything off again. I took the torch and climbed around the car. Julia must have been travelling slowly. The 'fence' she had hit was two hurdles tied together with binding twine. They were under the front wheels. As far as I could tell the Porsche wasn't even scratched. The front had slid down against soft mud. "Jo..." whoever he was, might have to pay for a new airbag but that might be all. I checked the interior and luggage compartment. They were totally empty. There wasn't even a scrap of paper to give a clue to the owner's identity. I wrote the car's registration on the credit car slip, replaced the torch in the Porsche, hid the ignition keys under the passenger seat, and returned to Julia. "The Porsche looks undamaged, Julia. How fast were you going?" "Very slow. I was drunk, lost, and I didn't know the road. I swerved to avoid a sheep and then the road wasn't there. I think the air bag knocked me out. Silly, isn't it?" "OK. Now we need to talk. What do we do about the car? Tell him?" "No!" She nearly screamed. "I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to see him again – ever." "OK. How about if I tell the police, anonymously, where the car is?" "Maybe... If we are nowhere near it. I don't want to meet a police car and answer questions, especially dressed in a rug." "OK, Julia. Let's get to a main road first. Before we start one last question. Would you rather be dressed very conspicuously but demurely, or stay wrapped in that rug?" "Dressed, please. What do you mean, conspicuous?" "As Catherine of Aragon." "What!" "As Catherine of Aragon. I've got my costume as Henry VIII in the car, and I have Catherine's costume as well. The lady who used to wear it has moved and I'm to store it until we find the new Catherine. It should fit you, I think." "OK. I think I'd rather be Catherine than a naked floozy in a rug. Where is it?" "In the back." I reached over and grabbed the large plastic carrier bag. "Here you are. Want any help?" "I think you have helped enough, Paul. I'll get out and put this on in the headlights. Can you try not to look, please?" "OK." I studied the map assiduously until Julia swept back into the car in her long dress. This time I looked. The sweeping cloth of gold dress accentuated her trim waist and breasts, yet the neckline was high. She looked regal except for the rain spangled and tangled hair or her smeared make up. I passed her a comb and tissue box and tipped the sunvisor down to reveal the illuminated mirror. Julia grabbed the comb gratefully. She used it to reduce her hair to a manageable condition before combing it with long steady strokes. She removed the wreck of her make-up with the tissues before settling down in the seat. "I feel more like myself now," she announced, "even dressed as a queen. I left her tiara in the bag. I thought that was too much." "Perhaps not," I said. A tidied up Julia was attractive without makeup. With it she would be stunning. "Let's go." She said. "Where?" I asked as I started the car and drove off. "You don't want to go home. We'll go to a main road and report the Porsche, but what then?" "I don't know. We'll think of something. Is your wife waiting for you?" "What wife? I'm not married. I was but she left me for someone else. I've been divorced for two years. We're still friends but nothing else. The bastard left her two months before the divorce was final." "That sounded like real venom, Paul. Are you sure you still don't love her?" "No. She doesn't love me, either. We liked each other, we were young, we were great in bed, we got married. Only then did we find out that we didn't love each other. He was the catalyst to end something that shouldn't have happened. He treated her badly. How? She never said but I knew it must have been traumatic because she changed suddenly as if I was far better than him. She stopped treating me as an opponent and became much friendlier towards me. She still is. We went through with the divorce even after he had left because although we like each other there is nothing else. We are happier apart and respect each other more." "Sounds a sad ending..." "Maybe, but better that we found out before we had children. What about you? How..." "How did I end up crashing a car while driving naked? It's a long story." "We have time. It'll take at least twenty minutes to get to a main road and then..." "OK. He, I won't give his name, had been chasing me for weeks before I accepted a couple of his invitations for a meal out, the theatre, that sort of thing. We were beginning to become a couple, I thought. He had been pleasant and hadn't pushed me too far. A couple of my friends had dropped subtle hints but I thought I could handle myself. One friend was insistent but I diagnosed jealousy. Eventually..." I kept quiet. I didn't think Julia wanted a comment. "...he invited me to his cottage for a weekend. I couldn't invite him to my flat. It is far too small and the bed takes up most of the space. I could make love there, but it isn't the place for a romantic dinner first. I stalled for a few weeks until I agreed to let him collect me yesterday evening. Mary, the friend I though was jealous, tried hard to put me off going. She said a lot but only now do I know what she was trying to say that he wasn't safe to be with. I wish I'd listened to her, but I thought it was sour grapes because she had been his girlfriend for a few months. We went to a pub in Dymchurch for a few drinks and finally arrived at his cottage about nine o'clock. He had told me to bring the absolute minimum because apart from the village pub there is nowhere to go and there isn't much space in the Porsche for luggage. I wore a plain black jersey dress, ankle length, over a full slip. I had a long narrow golden belt that went twice round my waist and hung down the front like a medieval woman's girdle. I took a couple of pairs of panties, a spare bra, a basic make-up kit, and a pair of slacks and a blouse. Oh, and a T-shirt nightie. He said that the cottage was basic and old clothes would be best." Julia stopped. "I think that remembering my clothes is important to me. I chose them. They defined my identity and I think getting me out of them was his way of depersonalising me. He tried to turn me into any woman, or perhaps a particular woman he had a grudge against. Once I was naked he never said my name, only endearments such as 'darling'. I suppose I've lost those clothes. They don't really matter. What does matter is that I am me, not just any woman. I had taken nothing I really valued except my flat keys. I'll miss the golden belt. I liked that but it is replaceable. I have a similar dress and I was wearing the older one. I didn't take any money or credit cards. He told me not to because I wouldn't need money. I don't need to go back. That's a relief." "Are you sure? What about the flat keys?" I asked. "The block has a coded entry system. He doesn't know the code because he has never been inside. The flat key? I can change the lock. I can get in because several of my neighbours have spare keys. We keep each other's keys for deliveries and cat-sitting – that sort of thing." "Any cat waiting despairingly for you?" "No. There's no room in my flat. It's the smallest in the block." I didn't comment. It struck me that Julia had been incredibly trusting. She had taken no identification, no money or means of getting money. "Jo..." whoever he was, had isolated her with no means of escape from him, except by something very drastic and relying on the kindness of strangers. "Did anyone know where you were going?" I asked. "Not exactly where. Some of my friends knew I was going with him to his cottage. One or two even suggested I was foolish. Mary was much more emphatic. I wish I'd listened. No one knew, not even I, where his cottage actually is except that it is on Romney Marsh. I alone knew that it was somewhere near Newchurch." "Could you find it again?" Julia shuddered. "I could. I wouldn't want to. I have a very good sense of direction usually. I was watching where we went and I'm sure he took a long way round on purpose. Now I'm sure he did. Yesterday evening I was just slightly puzzled that he didn't drive the easiest way from Newchurch. When I drove away I was in Newchurch in a couple of minutes. I turned away from the main route in case he was following and took a few random junctions. I was drunk, I still am slightly woozy, and I got myself lost. I was aiming for Ashford and the A28 when I met the sheep." "You were going the wrong way, back towards Hythe." "Was I? It doesn't matter now, does it? I want a day to let him calm down. If I can stay away from home until Sunday no one will know how stupid I've been." "I'll know." "Yes, Paul, but you are a stranger, not someone who warned me and I wouldn't listen to them. I'd be embarrassed to go back and admit they were right." "More embarrassed than being found naked by a stranger, or dressing as Catherine of Aragon because you have nothing else to wear?" Julia giggled. That was a heartening sound. I took it to mean that she was feeling better about herself. "I feel very comfortable as Catherine of Aragon, thank you. I feel queenly and cosseted. The lining of this dress is slinky and sensuous. What is it? Silk? It feels like it." "I wouldn't know. Until tonight I had only seen the dress in use, gliding along graciously beside me. I was a last minute substitute as Henry VIII. Until the dress rehearsal I'd never met the lady who played Catherine, and now she's moved away. I was concentrating on my part, knowing that she knew hers." Julia crossed and uncrossed her legs. The dress swished as she moved, distracting me from the road for a second or two. I moved my eyes back to the road hurriedly. I couldn't have seen anything of her because the reflection from the headlights wasn't strong and the dress swept well beyond her feet. Her hands plucked at the skirt. "It's got built in petticoats as well. Taffeta, I think." We reached the main road. I pulled off the road across a farm track and reached for my mobile phone. "I'll tell the police where the Porsche is. OK?" The main road's lights illuminated Julia's nod. I rang the anonymous Crimestoppers number and reported finding the Porsche. I gave its registration number, its exact position, and the fact that the ignition keys were under the passenger seat. I said that the car was empty when I left it, with no trace of a driver nearby. "You lied," said Julia. "Did I?" "You said there was no trace of a driver." "There wasn't. You were sitting in my passenger seat when I 'left' the Porsche. If I had said that there was no trace when I found the car I would have lied. There wasn't a trace of a driver when I left the Porsche. That wasn't a lie." "Semantics!" "Can be useful sometimes. Anyway, I was anonymous. They might be able to trace this mobile phone but so what? I had reason to be on Romney Marsh and I have no connection with the car's owner. I have done what a good citizen should do. If the police act promptly your friend can have his Porsche back in the morning. He might have to use his four wheel drive to pull it out, but I'm sure the Porsche is still roadworthy and almost undamaged." "Thank you." "For what?" Danger! Naked Woman Ch. 02 Copyright Oggbashan June 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. Story so far: Paul, driving a back road on Romney Marsh at night, found a crashed Porsche with Julia in the driver's seat naked, drunk and barely conscious. He rescued her, looked after her overnight, and bought her some clothes in a charity shop in the morning. She had been fleeing from a man she had intended to spend the weekend with. He had staged a strip poker game so that she was naked. All her clothes were locked in an old chest she couldn't open. When she saw him adding liquid from a small bottle to her champagne she had grabbed his car keys and had driven off in his car. Paul intended to take Julia to his ex-wife Emma. When he rang Emma she told him that the police were looking for Julia because the man had been found dead. Paul and Julia decided they needed a solicitor before going to the police... Chapter 02 I rang Emma's solicitor. He wasn't too pleased at being disturbed on a Saturday morning. I suspected that his displeasure would be reflected in the size of his account. He arranged to meet us in a car park near Ashford Police Station in an hour. We left the car park and headed for Ashford. I turned the car radio to the local station. The travel news reported congestion because of a fatal accident near Hythe. I checked that we would be avoiding that area. The news item was repeated every quarter of an hour. The man had been found 'dead'. The woman was asked to contact the police. Everything else was waffle. I had met the solicitor once or twice. He had been on Emma's side, so our contact hadn't always been cordial, but professional. He had seemed competent. He was standing beside his Bentley in the car park. The Bentley worried me. If he could afford a Bentley, his fees must be high. He greeted me as if we were old acquaintances. I suppose we were. We sat on the car park wall while Julia and I explained everything that had happened last night and this morning. He asked a few questions. Then he rang the police station fifty yards away. He told them that the woman they were seeking was coming voluntarily to the Police Station. We entered the normal public entrance. A sergeant opened a door for us and we were shown to an interview room. An inspector and a woman sergeant entered the room. I was asked to wait in another interview room. I left Julia and the solicitor. Her look as I left wrenched my heart. Until then I hadn't realised how much she had come to mean to me in a few short hours. I waited in that bare room for about three-quarters of an hour before the two police officers entered. They taped the interview. I told them everything from the meeting on Friday evening until my arrival at the police station. I was slightly annoyed that the solicitor wasn't with me, but Julia needed him more than I did. They asked a couple of questions about the Porsche, and a few others, presumably to check that I was telling them the truth. They referred to the dead man as 'Mr Smith' or 'the deceased'. I had the feeling they were trying to trap me into saying his first name. They didn't get anywhere because I didn't know it. Julia hadn't mentioned his name. The woman sergeant helped me to write a statement that I checked and signed. At the end the inspector said: "Thank you, sir. I think we have enough information. We may be in touch again. You may be called to give evidence at the inquest but probably not." "Why not?" I asked. "It looks like suicide so far. There is still a possibility that we may be wrong but everything points that way. We have been concerned about that man for some time. Your young lady seems to have made a fortunate escape. We have your address. Please don't leave the country without telling us." "Is she free to go?" "Yes. She's waiting for you." I collected Julia and we left. Once round the corner of the building she threw her arms around me and kissed me hard. "What was that for?" I asked as we climbed into my car and started towards Canterbury. "For being here for me. The interview was unpleasant. They seemed to think I had something to do with Joshua's death. The details were upsetting..." "Joshua?" I interrupted. "Joshua Smith?" "Yes. Didn't I mention his name?" "No," I said grimly. "Just as well you didn't. I think I know him. I certainly know of a Joshua Smith. What did he look like?" "He had light brown hair, short for a man - about my height but more muscular... The obvious visible identification was a small tattoo of a dragon breathing fire on the back of his right hand. He had a couple of other tattoos but normally they would be under his clothing." "A swallow on his left shoulder, and an eagle on his lower back?" "Yes, Paul. How did YOU know him?" "He was the man that Emma left me for. No wonder the police wanted me to say his name. I haven't seen him for two years. I understood that he had moved away. I had better tell Emma before the police go to her. They will. I think I need a solicitor as well as you. I may be a suspect if Joshua was murdered." "The police think it was suicide." "That's what they have told us. The post mortem hasn't been finished yet. Who knows what they might find? We don't know because I haven't seen him for two years and when you left him he was alive. What happened later? We don't know." "OK. You should ring Emma. You promised to let her know what happened." "I'll ring her from the next lay-by. Then I'll ring my solicitor." There was a bay for a bus stop. I pulled over and rang Emma. "Emma?" "Yes, Paul." "The dead man was Joshua Smith." I heard her gasp. "Paul. Listen carefully. I thought it might be Joshua. Mary, you don't know her but we were friends at university, rang me from Canterbury yesterday afternoon. She wanted Joshua's new address because she wanted to prevent a friend falling for his bag of tricks. What she told me was worrying. He was bad enough with me but according to Mary he has progressed to more serious games. I gave her the address. Joshua sends me an e-mail every week or so, inviting me to visit him. I have been ignoring them but for some reason I kept a note of where he lives – mainly to avoid going anywhere near. It is near Newchurch. Mary thanked me and rang off in a hurry. She gave me the impression that she was going to confront Joshua before he started his games." "Oh." What else could I say? "I think you two should come here. I can tell you what Mary told me, and what I know about Joshua. If the police are interested in you two, you should be aware what might come out. Will you come?" "Hang on, Emma. I'll ask Julia." I muted the phone and explained. Julia agreed that it would be a good idea to talk to Emma. I told Emma we were on the way. The A28 was its usual congested self. It took us three hours from Ashford to Emma's house. I rang her after two hours. She promised to give us lunch, checking that Julia didn't have any special dietary needs. She didn't. I wouldn't have known. I knew so little about Julia. Julia had borrowed my mobile phone and tried to ring Mary twice. Mary's mobile was switched off. Julia left two messages and my mobile number. Julia and I used the delays on the A28 to learn about each other. The detail doesn't matter. We were attracted to each other and found each other fascinating. I was falling in love. I think Julia was as well. Julia was recovering from last night's alcohol and sometimes obviously suffering yet she remained bright and amusing. At Emma's house we were both welcomed with a hug. That was a good start. After using the bathroom we sat down to a meal. It wasn't exotic, just good plain food. Afterwards we sat on the settee in the living room with cups of coffee. It could have been awkward but Emma treated us as if we were a couple, and her friends. I was grateful. Emma started the explanations. "I never told Paul what Joshua did to me. I told him some of it, but not the gory details. Paul was angry enough with what I did tell him. Now Joshua is dead and you two are involved, Paul at least deserves to know what Joshua was like. I'm glad he's dead. I shouldn't say that because the police may make me one of their suspects. However I have a complete alibi. Paul shouldn't object because we have been divorced for years, but I spent last night in a man's bed. His bed. Not here." I raised my eyebrows but made no comment. Emma kissed me. "We were good together for a while, Paul, but..." "I know." I said. "We just weren't right. Is he?" "I think so. He has proposed twice. I haven't accepted yet. I probably will. If I do..." She looked at me carefully. "...would you give me away?" "Yes, of course," I said. "You are not mine to give away, but if you want me at your wedding, I'll be there to help in any way I can." I was kissed again. Julia joined in this time. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Emma," Julia said. "Is Paul that important to you?" "His opinion is," Emma replied. "He's usually right about the things that matter. He told me that Joshua wasn't good for me. I just wasn't ready to listen. I wish I had but at that stage in our lives communication between us wasn't good. It is much better now. We feel responsible for each other's happiness. I am sure Paul will approve of my choice of man..." "Will I?" "Yes. He is George." "You spent the night in George's bed?" I was astonished. "Yes. It has taken me three months of hard effort but last night was worth it." "Three months?" Julia interrupted. "What is George? A statue? I can't imagine you taking three months to seduce anyone." I was inclined to agree with Julia but I knew George. Emma was and is an attractive and sensuous woman but George is a great guy but seemed to be a cold fish. He has been our friend since schooldays but always seemed uninterested in women. Perhaps that is why he always had two or three chasing him. He didn't mind escorting them but they never got anywhere beyond a goodnight kiss. "Congratulations – if you get him." I said. "But we ought to discuss the unpleasant Joshua before the police catch up with us again." "I know," said Emma. "He was unpleasant. He was into bondage but in a weird way. I didn't mind playing games but he was too serious and there was always a hard edge. He used to get me completely naked, and then I had to wear some special clothes and a brunette wig before he was ready. The clothes and wig were bad enough but he was trying to turn me into someone else before he made love. At first he would persuade me to wear the clothes and wig, and he would apply make up to my face. He never let me see myself in a mirror when I was dressed up. I got tired of being turned into someone else and I objected. He forced me to dress up, even beating me until I did. Then he would tie me up and leave me bound all night, fucking me several times. I was trying not to let him overpower me but he started using a date rape drug on me. Any contact with him would end with me coming to, dressed as he wanted, and tied to his bed. At the end he had virtually kidnapped me. He reported me sick to my employers and I was tied to his bed for three days. I managed to struggle off the bed when he went to the shops and I used his phone to call Paul. Paul was there in minutes and took me home. I was still dressed as Joshua wanted. Paul didn't ask questions. For that I was grateful. As soon as I was home I washed off the make up, removed the clothes and wig, and put them in an old suitcase. I knew they were very important to Joshua and he wouldn't rest until he had them back. I was right. He was hammering on my door ten minutes after I had changed. Paul saw him and sent him away – with the suitcase full of clothes. Paul stayed the night, on the settee, and nothing happened. In the morning Joshua was back. Paul sent him away again. Paul didn't say anything much but he had frightened Joshua. Joshua stayed away for a while but kept trying to contact me. I used Paul as a threat to deter Joshua even after Paul had left Hastings. Eventually Joshua moved away but he kept sending me emails, begging me to see him again. I ignored them but noted where he lived, just to avoid it. I was still afraid of him." I was fuming. If Emma had told me what Joshua had done, I'd have... ...killed him. That brought me up short, like a cold shower. Perhaps someone else had felt the same way about Joshua. I remembered how Emma had been dressed when I collected her. She was wearing a pink gingham fifties dress with a fitted bodice, tight waist and full skirt over multiple net petticoats, stockings attached to the suspenders of a body length corset, enormous white cotton panties with a pocket on one leg, and pink high-heeled shoes. The brunette wig of shoulder length hair was pulled back into a high ponytail tied with a matching pink gingham scarf and her face was plastered thick with make up including blue eyeshadow. When I reached Joshua's house her ankles and knees were tied together and her hands were tied behind her back with three similar scarves. She had spat out another scarf from her mouth that was around her neck held by the last scarf worn normally around her head. Emma had been shaking like a leaf as I untied her, desperate to get away before Joshua returned. I had only freed her legs before bundled her into my car with her hands still tied and the scarves still around her head. A few hundred yards away I stopped to remove her remaining bonds. The scarf holding her hands had been threaded through a strong loop sewn to the back of the waist. Even after I had freed her she had been panicking in case Joshua saw us. Once back at her house I had to undress her and dress her again in her own clothes. I did it in her darkened bedroom to give her some semblance of modesty. Her hands were shaking too much for her to help. I had thought that she and Joshua had been playing sexual games that had gone slightly too far. At the time Emma had made light of what she had been through and went along with the idea that she and Joshua had been playing. I should have known that Emma wasn't telling the whole truth but at the time she and I were still defining our new roles as ex-partners. I hadn't queried her story. I just made sure that she knew that she was safe from Joshua, and from me. I held her, hugged her, but didn't make a single advance. I hadn't known that she had been bound for three days. If I had undressed her in the light I would have seen her bruises. If I had... Emma continued: "Last night when Mary rang me she said she was worried about a friend, I assume she meant Julia, who was going away for the weekend with Joshua. Mary thought that Julia might need rescuing and she intended to go to Joshua's house, and if necessary, confront him. I didn't want to give Mary the address because she was so worked up but eventually she persuaded me. I understood that Mary was taking some friends with her because she didn't want to face Joshua alone. I had the impression that the friends would be women. Does she know some athletic types?" Julia nodded. "Yes. Mary is involved with a Ladies' Gym. Some of her friends are into martial arts." "I thought so. Julia. Mary rang off about eight o'clock. I don't know how long it would take her to get to Newchurch but surely not until midnight? I gave her basic directions but..." I said: "Depends whether Mary or any of her friends know their way around Romney Marsh. If they didn't, it could take hours to find Joshua's cottage, even with a map. Julia, what time was it when you left?" "The police kept asking me that. I'm not sure. I think it was before midnight but I was too drunk and scared to care. What was the time when you found me, Paul?" "Just before 2 a.m. The Porsche's engine was cold. So were you. You must have been there some time." "I don't think the car had much time to warm up before I crashed it. Perhaps it did. I was at least five miles away from the cottage according to your GPS notes. I remember coming to in the dark at least once before you arrived but I had drunk so much..." "You might have had hypothermia if you had been there much longer. Alcohol doesn't help." "I know. I didn't think I'd drunk that much. I think Joshua had been putting vodka in my drinks at the pub. I was woozy even when we reached the cottage. By the end of the meal I was swaying when I stood up. When I went to the bathroom I nearly threw my meal down the toilet. That doesn't matter now. From what the police told me, Mary and her friends must have visited Joshua." "Why do you say that?" Emma asked. "It is how he was found. I didn't know about his fetishes. I was just frightened and ran away. The police told me about a pink gingham dress laid out on his bed. I didn't know anything about it. I think they believed me because I was telling the truth. But..." Julia shuddered. I put my arms around her. Emma moved to the other side of her and hugged her too. Julia continued: "He had been dressed in my clothes. He was wearing a pair of my panties. The long slip was used normally but his hands were tied behind his back with one of my bras. My other bra tied his ankles. His mouth was stuffed with panties. My long dress had been forced down his body outside his bound arms and my belt was fastened tight twice around his chest. The weird thing was his head. It was inside a hood that was tightly laced at the back and had a very good plastic impression of a woman's face at the front. The wig had been fitted over the hood. For the first few seconds the police had thought Joshua was a woman. The hood had nostril holes but it held the panties tightly in his mouth. My blouse was knotted around his knees under the dress's skirt. He was hanging by my pantyhose from a hook in the kitchen ceiling. A chair had been on the table but had been kicked away. The police say that he could have done it to himself but that I doubt. If I accept what Emma and Mary have said, he did it to women, not to himself. He was too much of an egoist to commit suicide." "I agree," said Emma. "He thought too much of himself. Did Mary and her friends do it to him?" "I can't see Mary or her friends committing murder," said Julia. "It isn't something you do as a group event. I can see them tying him up in my clothes, gagging him, and fitting his own hood. But hanging him? No. That they wouldn't do. I wish I could get Mary on the phone." "Why don't you try again?" I suggested. "Where's your mobile?" "Here. Last number redial..." "Still turned off." "Julia, why don't you try her landline?" said Emma. "I've got her number." Emma went to the hall for privacy. She tried and was straight through to Mary. She shut the door to the sitting room. Emma and I looked at each other. Emma was back soon. "They did it. Tied him up in my clothes but in the sitting room. They had hidden their cars and had just begun watching him through the kitchen window when I took off like a bat out of hell to use Mary's phrase. They grabbed him before he got back to his front door. They wanted to follow me as well but their cars were too far away and they would have no chance of catching a Porsche. Mary said something I didn't understand about the clothes drier in the kitchen. Apparently that made her really mad. Why? I don't know. She was not very coherent at that point. She found the gingham dress, scarves and laid out in the bedroom ready for me and that was the final straw for her. When they were together he had forced her to wear it, including the hood, a couple of times when she was helplessly drunk or under the influence of a date rape drug. The last time he tried Mary had pretended to drink. She got away from him by kicking him in the balls before he could tie her hands. She had tried to forget him but couldn't let me be his victim even though I didn't listen to her advice.