Winter 2000 re-write
When Rosemary's younger sister, Penny, goes missing after answering an ad for
entertainers overseas, Rosemary follows her footsteps to rescue her. She is
kidnapped under the eyes of her husband and is taken into a world of white
slavery.
The beautiful blonde, together with her fellow 'slaves' suffers sexual
humiliation and training, discipline, exercise, pony racing and hideous torments
from both sexes as she is trained into a harsh new world, but always searching
for her missing sister.
SEARCHER
Rosemary Pearson (Peterson false name ) (Trixie)
Damien (Rosemary's husband)
Miles (Foreign Office guy
Lindsey (Dixie) - Italian.
Laura (Copper) - Young - probationer policewoman
Penny( Pixie) - Rosemary's sister
Mark (Michelle)
Lynne (Loopy) - Teacher
Kate (Flasher)
Miss Mitzie (Firm but Fair)
Mr Sampson (firm but fair)
Miss Wang ( Teenager - Miles' lover - jealous of Rosemary - spiteful)
THE SEARCHER / CAMP OF ANGELS
PROLOGUE
The villa was cool and white with neatly trimmed, well-cultivated gardens. Its
clean white net curtains stirred lazily in the warm gentle breeze beneath a
cloudless azure sky. A woman, probably in her mid twenties wearing a green
dress, casually closed the door behind her. Waving cheerily to someone within
the villa she strolled to a waiting car in the drive.
Tightly pressed against a pair of binoculars, the eyes of the young
Englishman waiting some way down the road beyond the villa's drive, widened in
thanks as the apparently familiar figure of the wife he adored emerged from the
villa. Outwardly it was an idyllic, Arabic scene, but if one looked closer,
behind the scenes, one would see that this facade was not exactly as it at first
appeared.
Inches behind those neat curtains a beautiful blonde woman squirmed
frantically, desperately, on the lap of a grizzled, fat Arab man over twice her
age. Perhaps not that unusual one might say? Maybe neither that she was stark
naked? However, any vestige of even near normality disappeared rapidly when it
was appreciated that her wrists were tightly bound behind her. Further, she was
gagged and the woman in the green dress was leaving wearing clothes which the
bound woman had worn just minutes earlier when entering the villa!
Worse, the Englishman watching patiently from the car was her husband
and had no idea, how could he, that the figure in the familiar green dress was
not his beloved wife! How could he know that she was in reality naked and bound
straining in vain to attract his, or anyone's, attention? How Rosemary
hated the utter, calm possession with which the Arab's gnarled hand rested on
the perfect golden spheres of her shivering bottom. He was hot and sweaty,
making her moan through her gag. Touching, gently patting, he abstractly
squeezed her cheeks, sliding over the firm flesh.
Although she wriggled in disgust she wasn't totally sure whether that
disgust was at the liberties he was taking with her - or at herself and the
tingling warmth spreading between her thighs. She shook herself banishing such
stupid thoughts. Normally her temper would flare, green eyes flashing, if
anyone dared touch or pinch those pert curves perhaps beneath a tantalising
short skirt or jeans; especially a total and obnoxious stranger such as whose
lap she lay upon. Now, however, not only was that luxury denied her but she was
also completely exposed before him. She tried to shout, to object as a finger
idly curved between the clenching cheeks of her buttocks, brushing her secret
entrances, making them contract in a useless attempt to prevent that curious,
loathsome digit. The only sound to emerge from her bulging mouth was a subdued
grunting squeal, which merely seemed to amuse him.
She had expected something to happen to her, was almost welcoming it,
but nothing as total as this, nor so soon after her arrival in the country. The
old Arab knew that he held all the aces; that she was helpless and could treat
her just as he damn well pleased. A tiny frisson of excitement sparked at the
thought before she angrily banished it. Then, unceremoniously he simply rolled
her over, dumping her painfully on the floor, dismissed. She was no more than a
piece of meat - and indeed had seemingly no more control over her destiny than
such a carcass.
Rosemary's fevered brain marvelled abstractly, through the physical
discomfort of lying on her belly on the hard cold floor, at the immobilising
effect one tiny length of plastic could have. The thin serrated strip simply
encircled her thumbs, but it fastened them tightly together behind her back. In
turn, her ankles although not bound were trapped one below the other beneath her
pinioned wrists folding her legs back painfully. They strained outward for
release making it impossible to pull them back sufficient to slip under her
wrists. Thus one tiny insignificant strip of plastic confined her whole body.
Her feelings of helplessness were compounded not only by the wide strip
of tape holding in place a filthy rag which had been stuffed in her bulging
mouth as an effective gag, but also her complete nudity.
Additionally as an extra cruelty she had to hold her head up in a
neck-straining tangent from the taut bow of her body. This was because whenever
her head slumped and she failed to look continuously, despairingly, at the Arab
slob who now relaxed in a chair right before her, he growled. He emphasised his
will with a horsehair fly-swat across the sensitive bare soles of her raised
feet. After several stinging lashes, punctuated with her muffled yelps, her
first such lesson in obedience had been learnt.
The painful confinement and enforced neck-aching posture ensured that
her lush breasts were shamelessly thrust out from her curved body to touch the
floor beneath her like two inverted cherry-tipped ice-creams. Tears ran from
her large eyes dissecting the heart-shaped beauty of her face. The woman who
normally enjoyed being in control of events pondered yet again why she had
voluntarily put herself in this position?
CHAPTER 1
Rosemary Pearson, at twenty six, was more like a mother to her younger sister,
Penny. Their parents had died when they were both quite young and she had
assumed the role of keeping a maternal eye on her. Such a role had added iron
to her already strong character.
Aged nineteen, with tresses as golden as Rosemary's although longer -
nearly to her waist, Penny aspired to the stage. She dreamt one day being a
famous actress, dancer or singer. However her wild spirit and recklessness, and
brushes with the police, always prevented the right people investing their time
or money on her. A recent escapade with drink and a suspicion of drugs had
prompted a drama school to withdraw a promising invitation.
Rosemary despaired for Penny, wondering if she would ever make a go of
things. Then had come another invitation. She had become involved with an
overseas entertainment company - the Lavery Road Troupe - which at face value
had seemed to offer her some promise. Indeed it had seemed a good opportunity
because Penny had then been experiencing some difficulty with her temporary job
with a London based Middle Eastern investment company.
There were accusations from a wealthy Arab businessman, quite groundless
Penny assured her, over a missing cheque; and only if Penny was no longer
employed by the company would the man cease his boycott of them. The
alternative job offer from Lavery had come the same day, saying her name had
been passed to them from the drama school, and thus letting everyone off the
hook without loss of face.
Rosemary figured that a complete change of scene for Penny would
probably be no bad thing under the circumstances. Maybe deep down she also
envied the youngster. Rosemary enjoyed life, a comfortable, middle class
existence. But sometimes she wondered whether that was what she really wanted,
continuously for the next sixty years?
It was thus decided, and within days Penny flew out to Hassan.
However, the subsequent lack of contact from Penny had now aroused Rosemary's
fears. Her husband Damien had tried to assure her that all was well and that
Penny would write or ring when she had established herself. But her woman's
intuition told her differently. She knew Penny would not have let over two
weeks go by after she left for her training with these Middle Eastern people
without getting in touch.
The small Arabic country of Hassan was rich in oil but poorly served by
traditional Western values; Rosemary had researched the internet. However,
politics and economics dictated that Britain and most other Western countries
ignored the occasional, unspecified rumours of barbarism towards convicted
felons, which leaked out of that feudal country. At the end of the day,
unfortunately, who cared if a few unknown troublemakers ran foul of the local
police - except perhaps anxious loved ones?
With hindsight Rosemary realised that she had not felt totally at ease
with the concept of Penny signing up with the entertainment company in a remote
country she had barely heard of. However, she was realistic enough to know
there would have been absolutely no point in putting any alternative viewpoint
to her impulsive sister when her mind was made up. Then again, Lavery's
references had seemed impeccable and her sister really needed to make the break
with her current circle of friends and the fringes of the law.
Finally, Rosemary decided that direct investigative action was needed -
if only to put her mind at rest. Her determination, equal to her sister's, and
relentless inquiries, led her to an address in a seedy area of London with
Lavery emblazoned above the door in gaudy letters. It was here that she had
first met Miles Brand. The tall, distinguished Englishman had been leaving the
premises as Rosemary arrived and, glancing casually, yet intriguingly around, he
had discretely asked her business there.
Something about him soothed any caution and she had sketched her
concerns about Penny. He showed her an impressive identity card announcing the
bearer to be an official of the English Foreign Office and suggested that they
have a quiet chat over a brandy before she went into the Lavery office.
Why had she listened to him? She wasn't normally that open to
suggestion. It wasn't just his suave manner though. With shifty-looking
characters standing casually in every other doorway under garish, enticing
signs, she suddenly realised that she needed his large shoulder to lean on in
this urban jungle.
Miles had confirmed her worst fears, the British Government apparently
had the Lavery organisation under discreet investigation. This followed the
loss of contact with other Britons and Westerners who had broken local laws.
Although they normally got in touch again after many months they were by then
changed people. It was believed that in Hassan some form of prison parole
system operated to the benefit of the few rich ruling classes, who had the
Government in their pocket. Those who went missing, invariably pretty girls,
would end up staying on the country working for 'clients' there or elsewhere in
the Middle East. The organisation seemed to have more to do with prostitution
and white slavery than entertainment! The women were seemingly lulled, and maybe
subsequently paid, over the months into being high class call-girls for rich
Arabs, frequently choosing to remain in Hassan after their deliberately vague
contracts were up rather than return home and face inevitable shame.
Miles - he insisted on first name terms to put her at ease - explained
the difficulty and delicacy of the political situation. Britain needed Hassan's
oil and trade and there was no great public interest in the fate of criminals
over there, especially as they normally did turn up, but by then voluntarily
leading a sleazy life. He said that he was desperately in need of evidence so
that action could be considered against the Lavery organisation - maybe shame
the Hassan Government into disowning them? If only, he had said, he had someone
whom he could trust to undertake such a Mission - otherwise probably little
could be done.
"Can I maybe do anything ... ?"
It wasn't just his good looks or air of confident authority and power
that had made Rosemary hesitantly make the offer. She did want to help Penny -
and it seemed there might be no other way.
"Gosh, are you sure? It would be really good if you could spare a week
or so and could make all the difference for your sister," he had ventured before
she could vocalise any change of heart. He assured her that he could put a
tracer on her. Then if she could somehow get into the Lavery organisation he
could arrange the rescue of her and Penny in a covert SAS-style raid.
After the second brandy Rosemary had agreed that if she arranged to
commit in Hassan some minor parking violation, for instance, she would probably
be sucked down into the same route as her sister; a Trojan Horse. And she
naturally wanted to help her sister if she was in any difficulty. Further, if
she was honest with herself, she was in rather a rut. A young, glamorous, yet
bored housewife whose husband was often away - and who perhaps wanted more from
life?
A week of adventure, he assured her that would be the maximum, rather
appealed. Also there was the wealth of stories she would be able to
subsequently tell at cocktail parties as the heroine of the piece, the brave
woman who had risked life and limb for her sister. She gradually felt more at
ease with the idea, also knowing that given the right persuasion Damien would go
along with it if she insisted.
Her acceptance of the scheme took on more substance when Miles had shown
her a tiny bug. He said he would attach it to one of her teeth with superglue.
When rubbed with her tongue the friction would send a homing message over a
distance of 200 miles. Within an hour of that message going out she and any
other girls in her vicinity would be rescued. She would be paid too, not only
with Foreign Office expenses before and after but also by an initial fee from
Lavery if they accepted her.
He suggested she visit the Lavery office, but not mention her sister.
He advised her to inquire after work under a false name, understanding they were
interested in women of all age groups as dancers and hostesses, but mainly
beautiful ones such as she! Rosemary flushed, she knew she was beautiful but it
was always good to have it re-enforced, especially by someone like Miles. She
had once been a dancer and the brandy-induced glow made her even more sure that
she could muddle through.
He further advised that she play down a little to her husband what she
would actually be doing, assuring her that she couldn't come to any real harm
and there was no need to worry him unnecessarily. It was something she was more
than capable enough of handling by herself he emphasised. They made an
appointment to meet at 1pm in the Foreign Office in Whitehall the following day
so she could report progress, but he gave her his mobile phone number just in
case she needed to contact him urgently.
Warmed and fortified by the Dutch courage of the drinks Rosemary's
interview with the Arabic man and woman in Lavery went more smoothly than she
could possibly imagine. Flattery oozed from every pore of the man, commenting
on her beauty and graceful body. After taking a brief photo-set he indeed
thought that they would be able to offer her a six month contract as a hostess
and dancer.
One part of Rosemary's brain wondered what on earth she was getting
into. The other part didn't care! Completing the application form, she used the
name, Peterson and omitted any mention of having a sister. Apparently a medical
was necessary as a pre-qualification and, after a brief phone call, the Arab had
made an appointment for her the following morning with an expensive private
consultant just off Harley Street.
On the way home when the brandy's warm glow had ebbed somewhat Rosemary
decided to take Damien into her confidence. Probably Miles wouldn't approve -
but what the heck! That evening a reluctant Damien was finally convinced by his
wife's powerful, persuasive and seductive arguments to accept the plan. The
excitement of the proposed adventure together with the knowledge she would be
helping her sister and other young women had made her come especially alive in
the bedroom that night.
Poor Damien didn't know what had come over him. He was bending over to set the
alarm when he heard Rosemary padding behind him and smelt her perfume as she
pressed herself against him from behind, contour to contour. He could feel the
softness of her breasts, thrusting against his back through the thin material of
the yellow tee-shirt she wore in bed. Her hands slid over his chest to hold his
nipples, her full soft lips nuzzling his neck as she pressed the heat of her
loins against the round hardness of his buttocks.
He straightened as one of her hands slid down from his chest to the
rapidly enlarging bulge of his pants. Tantalisingly her cool fingers slid under
the waistband, just brushing the throbbing head of his erection as if wiping
away invisible crumbs.
"I wonder ... can he come out to play in my place tonight big boy?" she
breathed huskily in his ear.
Damien felt the down from her pubis tickling his buttocks as her urgent
thighs straddled his in a pincer movement whilst she ground her soft heat and
juices against him.
The complete and far reaching contrasts of his wife's behaviour in the
bedroom was one of the reasons for his attraction to her. She was so alive, a
presence which could light up a room, so difficult to ignore. She was 5ft 4
inches in stockinged feet, slim, without being thin, with shapely 36B breasts.
Her small pert, rounded bottom thrust so sensually through the short skirts or
the leggings she often wore. It was always difficult not to stroke or pat it,
either in private or public. Her bubbling personality and beautiful
heart-shaped face and wide green eyes, framed by shoulder-length wavy blonde
hair all served to bewitch the eye and enslave the heart.
Sometimes in the bedroom she would be his willing slave girl, his to
command. Her large eyes would glow with desire as he ordered her to completely
undress herself and then him. Maybe he would have her bend over so that the
beautiful rounded globes of her buttocks with the delightful velvet secrets
between were soft against his palm. Then he would gently spank her till her
cheeks positively glowed.
Possibly she would have to lay across his lap, her breasts and warm sex
pressing, squirming against his legs as he tanned her smooth nates, feeling them
clench in exquisite anticipation under his familiar hands. Afterwards he would
have her kneel on the carpet with bottom thrust high and thighs wide so that he
took her from behind. The silken depths of her liquid womanhood willingly took
in the long throbbing intruder, feeling it grip him whilst one of his hands
mauled, pressed and squeezed her hanging breasts. His other hand would be
further down between the ripe wet valley guarding her sex. He would press and
flick the hard ripe bud of her clitoris, strumming over her, playing tunes with
her sexuality like the chords of a delicate harp. Rubbing and trailing, his
fingers delved into and over the secret valleys and folds between her legs,
alternately hard and soft.
When her body and his had reached the correct pitch, when he sighs and
wriggles became unbearable, he, as conductor, would enter the finale. Thrusting
deep into the molten sheath of her vagina, he would feel it squeeze and grip him
in time with the clenching of her buttocks. He would kiss, suck and nibble her
neck, hearing her growl like an animal from beneath the silken screen of her
hair. Her hands clenching into the carpet, he would spend himself, jetting his
lust deep into her whilst his hands simultaneously squeezed the buds of her
nipples and clitoris producing electric whirlpools of desire tingling around his
body.
At other times when he played the dominating role he would make his
slave girl spread-eagle on the floor or bed without being allowed to move an
inch whilst he entered and conquered her. Any attempt on her part to move
resulted in him withdrawing until just his tip, glistening with the urgency of
her love juices, remained within the portals of her sex. Her womanhood would
grip him frantically almost trying to suck him back without moving her loins as
he had instructed.
Equally good was when they simply made love jointly active and inventive
but almost without talking. Each one would let their body communicate for them.
Maybe they would just lie side by side until the rub of an erect nipple or penis
would initiate a reaction until their limbs entwined in an explosion of moist
lust.
However, Damien realised that this was one of those occasions when
Rosemary wanted, and had, control. On such nights he might be turned away from
her in bed, maybe asleep, and he would feel the soft yearning of her naked body
pressed against his back.
"No moving buster or you can forget it. You do only as I say," she
hissed through clenched teeth, her sweet-smelling breath hot against his neck.
He had to lay on his side, feeling her nipples brush his back like two
berries, the warm furry mound of her sex grinding and pushing against his
bottom, whilst she toyed with him. Her fingertips lightly brushing his chest,
teasing a nipple before rippling on, stirring the hair on his chest like a light
spring breeze through corn. His long, aching erection jutting out, yearned for
action or just attention - but that was denied him until she decreed it. Her
cool hands caressed his shoulders, chest and belly in little circles of
throbbing desire whilst her lips mouthed most unladylike things in his ear using
the crudest language. Every time he hoped a hand would encircle his throbbing
member it would lightly skip away again making him groan and sigh. Of course,
if he tried to move any part of his body she would completely withdraw until he
gasped, pleading for the return of her body and touch.
Her fingers ran down between his buttocks to circle the dark puckered
skin around the bud of his anus, exciting the sphincter muscles with the
promise, or actuality, of tiny probes of desire within his body. Then she began
stroking the length of his aching penis, cupping his tight, straining testicles.
But woe-betide him if he dared to move or respond. She would occasionally bring
him to a bursting peak with her one hand whilst whispering in his ear what her
other hand was doing to her own body, how she wanted him deep and throbbing
within her. He knew then that she would either complete the final jerking,
sliding thrusts to make him spurt his frustrated lust or she might, panting,
order him to mount and thrust into her in time to her counting. It was always
unknown, exciting.
Now she had him remain standing facing the wall whilst he heard the
swish of her tee-shirt sliding off and the creak of the springs as she lay on
the bed. He was forbidden to look at her but he heard the hum of her vibrator
and she described in horse whispers exactly what she was doing with it. Then
she told him to remove his pants whilst still facing the wall. He just had to
hold his jutting erection between the tips of his thumb and forefinger without
moving his trembling digits.
Finally Rosemary allowed him to turn around. He had to keep his hands
on his head as she stood naked, directly before him. She was a vision of
beauty, a perfect figure and a glowing, expectant face. Tongue circling her
lips, she ran her hands over the hard peaks of her breasts and down the flat
plain of her belly to enticingly twirl the thatch below. He caught his breath
as she walked slowly, purposefully up to him, lightly smacking the magnificent
globes of her buttocks as she did so. Then her cool hands were encircling his
rigid member whilst she edged forward, straddling her thighs, trapping him
between the hot wet lips of her sex. He felt the erect, berry-like nipples of
her desire tickle his chest as she edged closer to him.
"Now, my darling, I've a little story ... to tell you ... hah ... an
adventure story, involving me. I want you to listen ... aahh ... without
interruption and ... who knows ... you might get a nice reward at the end of
it."
Her lips opened over his after every few words, her tongue like
quicksilver, darting into his mouth, stroking his tongue before continuing. All
the while she told of her meetings, playing down any danger, her hips undulated
gently, flowing over his trapped penis. He could feel the moist, hairy heat
surrounding her throbbing bud and would have agreed there and then to virtually
anything to delve into her velvet promise.
She continued to plant breathless kisses on his mouth, cheeks, throat
and shoulders as she sought his approval to the rescue scheme. With no
rejection of her idea Rosemary allowed further intimacy. Her juices as she
straddled him, made his erect throbbing root hot and wet as she slid the tight
glove of her womanhood up and down his pulsing shaft. Her hair fell over his
chest as she sucked his hard nipples deep into her mouth, nibbling, not allowing
him to move at all. He had to remain completely still, spread-eagled on the bed
as she pumped him dry. When he so much as twitched, her curvaceous haunches
stopped their teasing movements. She arched up on her knees until only the head
of his throbbing member remained in her silken warmth wagging her finger at him
with a wicked grin on her face until he subsided and she slid him back into her
waiting vagina with a sensual swish.
When she had him on the brink she purred to him that she would go along
with Miles' scheme anyway but that she preferred Damien's support. He gasped
his agreement and was rewarded by the sheath of her sex giving his aching penis
a delightful squeeze. When she had drained him she lay quietly, undulating full
length on his glowing body. He stroked a trembling hand up and down the smooth
arched dip of her spine, stroking the soft flesh of her bottom, whilst his other
hand played with her hair. He always wondered and marvelled at his wife's
antics and although he wasn't entirely happy he knew he would have no hope of
deterring her now. Her mind was made up!
The medical was one of the most thorough Rosemary had ever undergone. She felt
a little unnerved when the consultant asked her to remove all of her clothes
behind the screen, but he looked to be a gentleman and of advanced years - and
the presence of an efficient looking nurse put her at ease. If she had known
that both the small mirror in the changing cubicle and the bigger one in the
surgery each concealed a camcorder she might not have felt quite so at ease.
How was she to know that the Arab from the Lavery office paid the
elderly consultant well to conceal the cameras and that he was operating them by
remote control to record and zoom in on every detail of her magnificent body. In
addition to the examination to ensure that the girls had no hidden defects, the
secret portfolio helped the Arab find a market for the girls who passed through
his hands. Of course a copy was made for the consultant to keep in his private
collection.
Walking naked across the room and turning gracefully so that he could
check her balance, legs raised and parted wide for a most intimate of
examinations, the camera faithfully recorded every supple movement, every velvet
womanly secret she possessed, the bouncing breasts and flexing buttocks.
The consultant, looking rather flushed after an hour's such 'work,' assured
Rosemary that she was 100% fit and that he would be reporting as such to her
prospective employers. His heart was racing at the thought of relaxing that
night with a whisky whilst he looked at the video. Again he would see her
standing before him, chest heaving, slightly flushed in her complete nudity from
her swan-like neck down the delightful curve of her back to the roundness of her
bottom and slender thighs. Her hands instinctively covered the delightful
curves, but largely ineffectively, as he peered into her open mouth, his white
coat occasionally brushing the golden flesh.
He would re-live the succulent feel of the delightful creature. Stroke
again the wonderfully smooth texture of her shapely breasts and firm buttocks.
Then perhaps visualise the heat of that exquisite vagina nestling in the
down-covered mauve ripeness of her sex lips with the tight puckered entrance
behind, deliciously tight when he probed.
He guessed that the girls who passed through his hands from the somewhat
furtive Lavery organisation were destined for a world where such facets counted
for a lot and he envied whoever would have the use of such beauty. Still, he
was paid enough in cash in addition to his normal fee to ensure any such
surmising remained only in his head.
Rosemary just had time to leave the surgery and arrive at the imposing entrance
to the Foreign Office in Whitehall, through which countless famous diplomats had
passed, as Miles was leaving. She was aware of the many masculine eyes
appraising her beauty in a clinging, low-cut dress - so out of place in this
street of sober suits. He was full of apologies. He had left a message with
his secretary but another urgent case required him to conduct a stakeout from a
hotel. Rosemary was naturally impressed!
He told her that by chance he had all the details Rosemary would need,
including the bug, in his case. She accompanied him to the room he had booked
in the nearby hotel, amused as he cursed an employee for not having the camera
equipment yet installed by the window. Her eyes flicked over the room's large
bed, then flushed, hoping that Miles had not seen her appraisal.
She drank in his masculinity as he leaned right over her whilst she sat
in a chair mouth wide open for him to insert with tweezers the little bug
against a rear tooth. His aftershave was expensive, his touch firm. In seconds
the glue had stuck it fast and he assured her it wouldn't come out until he
applied a solvent after the job was over. It was so unobtrusive but when she
rubbed it with her tongue a buzzer and light reassuringly flashed on a control
panel Miles carried.
Rosemary's heart beat faster as the strong cool hands lightly held her
face, a finger brushing one of her pink ear lobes. In a moment of madness she
knew that she wanted him to sweep her up, crushing her yielding softness against
his lean hard body. She wouldn't have resisted him, indeed she felt a
fluttering warmth below her tummy. It was all business however. And she
guessed that, in truth, she might have had doubts about the whole scheme if it
had been otherwise. He naturally couldn't offer her a written contract in his
line of business but he gave her, as good faith, ?1000 to cover her initial
expenses.
When she and Miles met in the bar of the same hotel at the appointed
time a week hence she showed him with excitement the contract she had signed
with Lavery the day before and the air tickets they had supplied her to fly to
Hassan some two days later. She had already spent some of the ?2,000 of the
initial payment of her Lavery contract to buy a pretty new flowing green dress,
slit up one side to reveal tantalising glimpses of tanned thigh as she walked.
She knew it was daring but she had to look the part and luckily this particular
country currently largely turned a blind eye to the more fundamental beliefs on
womens' bodies being totally covered in public. Rosemary was slightly
apprehensive yet happy that she was about to do something positive for her
sister and indeed her country!
Damien drew Rosemary close for one final moment of intimacy before they must
depart for the airport and henceforth act as strangers. Her arms encircled him,
holding him tightly, urgently, the mounds of her breasts against his chest, the
warmth of her loins against his. He looked down at her tousled blonde head and
kissed her hair, tasting lemon from her shampoo and breathing in her freshness
as she nestled against him, gently kissing his neck. The delicate musk of her
perfume drifted up to him, hungrily, he grasped her chin and tilted her lips up
to his. Her sweet mouth opened and their tongues chased and entwined together,
but slowly, inevitably - as they both knew they must - drew apart. He planted a
kiss on her eyes, tasting the salt from her tears. The taxi's summoning horn
made them finally part and Rosemary repaired her make-up on the ride to the
airport.
The house was suddenly empty physically and spiritually after he had
waved Rosemary goodbye. It almost mocked him for letting such a precious gem
go. Without thinking he found himself in their bedroom retrieving Rosemary's
tiny tee-shirt from under the sheets. He slowly drew the still warm garment
across his face savouring the special fragrance of his beloved. Somehow he
hoped that action would eventually draw her back to safety; it had once before.
The act brought back sudden sharp, painful memories. It had been three
years ago and he had been similarly lying in bed after a bout of lovemaking.
The police had called at their home to notify him that Rosemary was amongst
several hostages being held by robbers in the bank where she had been visiting
as a business consultant. Throughout that long day news gradually trickled out
of their plight, no full details just dark hints and supposition.
The worst moment came that evening when, after various deadlines had
passed the television news showed Rosemary reading out a demand from an open
door. To emphasise their power they had her stand at the door in just skimpy
bra and pants, hands bound behind her. Damien saw with a unconscious tightening
of his knuckles and almost a loosening of his bowels the new red satin underwear
he had only recently brought her. It clung to every curve, every contour of her
beautiful body as she stood in the doorway under the harsh, white unforgiving
glare of the television lights. Her bare feet and red painted toenails rubbed
nervously over each other.
The vision of her loveliness and vulnerability was etched into his mind,
just as the hard cones of her nipples were etched into the satin fabric of her
bra, the other contours of her beauty so visible under the thin covering. With a
leash around her neck, she repeated in hushed tones the demands from the masked
men behind her.
The final part of the whispered message was that from then until the
final deadline, the hostages would be naked and with explosives strapped to
them. This, she had to repeat, was to ensure the authorities knew the
discomfort being endured by the victims and that further delays would not be
tolerated. As Rosemary was pulled back slightly from the door at the end of her
message a voice could be heard ordering her to strip out of her underwear and
kneel. Damien had sobbed as the cameras just caught Rosemary reaching round to
unclasp her bra before the door obliterated further sightings.
Whilst he had watched on the television, Damien clutched her tee-shirt
to him tightly as comfort to try and ease his feelings of utter helplessness and
misery. His mind was in a turmoil of hatred and uncertainty wondering what she
was enduring as he tried to thus mentally draw her back to him and safety.
When the police stormed in to end the siege without injury to any
hostages the reality was that they had not been treated as harshly as depicted.
The robbers had simply wanted to increase the pressure on those making
decisions. And he supposed that it had worked. However, the mental anguish
suffered by those watching, as intended, had been a reality. Rosemary herself
though soon bounced back. And he had heard that she could actually have quietly
left the bank when the robbery started! Instead she had been lured, maybe by
the excitement, into staying put. He sensed that she might not have found all
of the ordeals as unpleasant as one would expect! Maybe, he surmised briefly,
she even retrospectively found an element of enjoyment in such things!
Thus he knew of old the strength of her will and the uselessness of him
trying now to prevent her doing what she thought was right to help her sister.
It had made Rosemary feel even more at ease with Damien having insisted on
flying out with her. A taxi was calling for him 10 minutes later just in case
anyone was watching their house. He would share the same flight but on separate
seats - just in case. He would also discretely share the same hotel with nearby
rooms but maintain no open contact. Just keep an eye open for her.
With the implanted bug, Miles assured her that he himself had no need to
follow her from the airport. He would just be in the general vicinity in an
official car in case of emergencies. She was to be met at the airport by a Mrs
Leilla and taken to her hotel - all seemingly quite innocuous.
Miles had initially objected but then sensing her stubbornness, just
laughed at Damien's elaborate plan to trail her at a discrete distance in a
taxi. Eventually he said he could see no harm so long as he remained out of
sight. The presence of her husband was, for Rosemary, just an added insurance in
case anything went wrong with the plans. She was thus reassured to see both men
on the Arab airlines plane, but as agreed, the three of them were careful to
make no contact with each other.
It was a relaxing and luxurious flight during which Rosemary even
managed to sleep. Nevertheless, mixed with excitement, she felt a sense of
panic that events were now actually happening, changing from plans to a current
reality. This was especially so when, after retrieving her luggage in the
dazzling heat of Hassan's principal airport, she set foot on foreign soil - on a
secret mission and under false pretences. Then she saw a smiling attractive
Arab woman, of about her own age, holding up a card with 'Mrs Peterson' on it,
suddenly appreciating it was for her!
Glancing casually over her shoulder she saw Miles on one side of the
concourse and Damien on the other. Taking a tighter grip on her small suitcase
Rosemary took a deep, calming breath and strode out to meet her destiny.
"Hi, I'm Mrs Leilla representing Lavery, how wonderful to meet you Mrs
Peterson; did you have a good flight?"
The small-talk was mundane but served its purpose of putting Rosemary at
ease. She relaxed, feeling better already as the young, muscular Arab chauffeur
smiled as he relieved her of her luggage.
The woman sat on the comfortable rear seat of a luxurious Mercedes
beside her, introducing the handsome hulk driving rather fast as Garth. As he
steered the car expertly through the traffic from the airport Rosemary was
relieved to see Damien clambering into one of the many empty taxis. She hoped
the driver would be able to keep up, but reassured herself that, in any case,
Miles would be in an official embassy car somewhere. Her tongue tentatively
touched the bug behind her tooth.
Mrs Leilla was very pleasant and beautiful, with long dark hair and of
about the same size and height as Rosemary. She apologised that they would have
to make a brief detour before continuing to the hotel, but stressed that it
wouldn't take more than a few minutes. Then Rosemary could relax before the
first audition the next day. The woman smiled effusively, complementing her on
the lovely green dress. However, Rosemary couldn't help but wonder if this same
friendly person had similarly picked up her sister a scant few weeks earlier.
Mentally gritting her teeth she forced herself to be equally friendly. Soon
enough she would be at the heart of the despicable operation and summon help to
wipe the smiles off all of their faces!
A slight frown had creased Rosemary's brow when they headed deep into
the countryside rather than the town. However, a tentative look over her
shoulder as she brushed an imaginary thread from her shoulder assured her of a
taxi's presence following in the distance.
When they finally reached a villa accessed by a long stony drive Garth
remained behind the wheel Mrs Leilla invited Rosemary in for a moment.
Helpfully she suggested she wear her sunglasses to protect her from the glare of
the sun. Rosemary was thankful to see a taxi pull up at a few hundred yards
from the drive's entrance, then Mrs Leilla opened the villa's door and ushered
her inside.
Its interior was dim in contrast to the bright sunlight outside and
thankfully deliciously cool. Rosemary also realised that it was deserted,
devoid of any furniture! When she turned curiously to Mrs Leilla she saw to her
surprise and dismay that they had been joined by an Arab man. Obviously he had
been awaiting their arrival in the villa.
He was probably twice her age and rather like the typical Arab villain
portrayed in films, short, fat, and swarthy. Both were staring at her with
satisfied, evil smiles on their faces, the man ominously licking fleshy lips.
She realised then that something was terribly wrong.
"Remove all of your clothing immediately please Mrs Peterson," Mrs
Leilla had snapped. "Do it now or will be stripped naked by my companion here,"
she indicated the Arab, whose blackened teeth were displayed in a sickly smile.
"You will not be hurt if you do exactly as you are told but one way of the other
you will be naked within two minutes. It is up to you how you arrive in that
state."
"What! How dare you! Why?" Rosemary protested, her mind whirling.
"Regard it as an early audition," the grinning woman suggested, holding
up a copy of the Lavery contract she had signed, pointing out its ambiguous
nature. "Most people passing through here have been firstly arrested having
committed genuine, though small, crimes. They then serve their sentences in a
manner unique. Our instructions for you however Mrs Pearson are that you've
already committed a crime by entering this country under false pretences, so the
formalities of arrest have so far been dispensed with."
"What?"
Rosemary could hardly take this in. How had they discovered her? Her
tongue poised over the transmitter, wondering if Damien would sense something
was wrong and burst in.
"Lavery's intelligence sources are pretty good and we take the trouble
to check things," Mrs Leilla continued. "We have proof that you entered the
country under a false name. But I assure you that your final fate will not be
that different to many others who sign up. However, if you cause trouble, I
just wonder how you will cope in the, real prisons of this country whilst you
await trial. They must determine whether you really have broken your contract
and why you entered the country illegally. Some people die from disease in
those holes before being heard."
Panic and then hatred flared within her as Rosemary imagined her Penny
being possibly similarly confronted. Although, knowing Penny's wild nature, she
reasoned, that she probably had indeed transgressed some local law.
"This is preposterous, why do you want me to undress?"
The words tumbled out; her mind still jarred. In a flash Mrs Leilla was
by her side. One hand grabbed her hair the other cracked painfully across her
face.
Rosemary gasped in shock, pressing her hand to her stinging cheek,
startled, then angered that this cow had treated her so. The last time she had
been slapped was at school and she had ensured that other schoolgirl had lost a
front tooth! But this was not school. As she now raised her own hand, the Arab
man held it in a tight grip. His fat fingers curled round her wrist like hot,
wet slugs, but the grip was of steel, unyielding. She glared into the man's
amused eyes, then at the now stern face of Mrs Leilla, panic returning.
"You do not question me, bitch. Unless you want to disappear into the
prison system I suggest you strip, or be stripped," the woman calmly advised.
"With your outburst you have only a minute left to do so." The firm lines of her
mouth contrasted with the quivering lips of the frightened blonde.
"Pretty lady do as told - or I will do it for you," joined the fat Arab,
tugging down the zip of her dress a little, "I enjoy that - yes."
Enraged, Rosemary jerked free, but her face was crumpling. She never
imagined events taking this turn, but then again, she knew that something like
this was probable - and had accepted it. At least she still had choices,
options. She again touched the bug on her tooth for re-assurance, contenting
herself with thoughts of how Damien would soon burst in if they tried to keep
her in this villa or how Miles would come storming in if they hurt her and she
summoned him.
The gamut of emotions finally cleared her face but she tried one final
imploring look at Mrs Leilla. It was woman to woman, glancing sideways at the
man, she sought some understanding and compassion. Surely no woman could expect
her to take her clothes off before the loathsome creature?
"Forty seconds left Mrs Pearson, there are no extensions to this
important deadline in your life." The voice was calm, assured, brooking no
disobedience; there was no sympathy in the pretty face, just impatience.
Rosemary realised that she had a duty to Miles, and her sister, to see
the mission through, no matter how unpleasant. She had never been ashamed of
her body, and secretly delighted in the teasing effect that it had on men. And
she guessed when commencing her adventure that she might have to use it to
achieve her goal. Although she didn't relish these particular circumstances, or
the grinning Arab, her shaking hands went to the zip on her dress. And maybe
within her, deep down, was that a tiny surge of excitement she felt? Ashamed at
even the suggestion of such feelings she began obeying her captors, ignoring the
wider grin of the Arab, his hot eyes undressing her ahead of her hands.
"If he touches me you'll all rot in hell," Rosemary muttered under her
breath.
She had to hand every still-warm garment as she discarded it to Mrs
Leilla whilst the Arab man, thankfully now ignoring the scene before him, tipped
out the entire contents of her handbag onto the floor. A woman's handbag
contains elements, a cross section, of her whole life, her personality. Seldom
was a woman far away from its comforting grip. Rosemary felt desolated as her
private, personal things were handled and viewed by the total and repulsive
stranger. She longed to snatch back her passport, mobile phone, credit cards and
diary from the greedy uncaring hands but sensibly refrained.
After reaching behind to unclasp her bra she hooked her thumbs into the
waistband of her small panties and slid them down her legs with a feminine
wiggle. She normally performed such intimate acts in privacy, or in the
sexually charged darkness of her bedroom. It was terribly humiliating to do so
before the leering slob and the Arab bitch. However, she finally stood naked
and blushing, covering herself with slightly trembling hands, glancing between
the man and woman with anxious, yet also enraged, eyes. Her skin shivered with
gooseflesh in the cool room.
"You seem clear of tracking devices." Mrs Leilla had spun her around
under a tight grip. How Rosemary hated the amused gleam in the Arab's eye at
the sight of her soft flesh bouncing under the woman's hands and her attempts to
frantically cover herself.
When she stooped to retrieve her clothes, however, Mrs Leilla snatched
them away, leaving Rosemary crouching on the floor, hands over her quivering
breasts. The woman gave a brisk order in Arabic to the man who then passed her
Rosemary's hotel booking details from the bag. Then he advanced menacingly on
her golden nudity, a tiny yellow plastic tag in his large hairy hands.
"If you do exactly as the gentleman demands no harm will come to you.
Remember, alternatively, your precarious legal position and the state of our
prisons. I can assure you though that it would be more than his own life's
worth to sample your wares," Mrs Leilla said almost mockingly as she began,
worryingly for Rosemary, to take her own clothes off.
"Stand, hands behind," the Arab managed in broken English.
A woman, naked as she was, loses not only some her self-confidence but
her will to disobey and thus Rosemary found herself following the Arab's orders
with an almost robotic mind, but her tongue comfortably touching the transmitter
- just in case. She was secured face down on the cold floor with just the tag
binding her thumbs tightly, making them throb.
"Aghh," she had winced as he lifted her confined hands, folding and
pinning her legs under them, just above her bottom. Thus her limbs were trapped
securely, her knees and arms soon aching intolerably from their cramped, folded
confinement. There was just no way she could unhook her legs. The
man's hand slapped down familiarly on the firmness of her buttocks, presumably
indicating he was pleased with her compliance. But the touch of the loathsome
creature had made her briefly yelp, staring at the brute with angry hate-filled
eyes.
Then her attention was caught again by the woman and she looked up
incredulously. Mrs Leilla was now wearing her dress and shoes. Further, the
woman had donned a blonde wig and sunglasses. From a distance Rosemary realised
with a shock that anyone would understandably mistake her captor for herself!
She looked down mockingly at Rosemary's bound form, and into her
beautiful victim's wide green eyes.
"I hope you are quite comfortable down there. Maybe we'll need to gag
you too though," she pondered. "Oh I shan't need these.' Mrs Leilla disdainfully
threw Rosemary's small lacy black bra and panties to the Arab man who
revoltingly held them to his face breathing in her intimate essence with
grinning relish. "Abdul likes his little souvenirs," she smiled by way of
explanation.
The despairing, bound blonde could only squirm, screw up her face and
shiver in disgust as those garments, so intimate to her, were stretched between
his filthy paws. She couldn't help but recall the shopping trip with a girl
friend down London's Regents Street a few months ago during which she had bought
that fine underwear. Remembering how she and her friend had giggled at what
Damien would make of the scanty frilly coverings. That life seemed a world away
now!
Now, to add to her misery the Arab cruelly pinched her nose and thrust a
smelly rag deep into her pink mouth when she opened it to scream. She pondered
in disgust whether it was his hanky? He then tore off a long length of sticky
tape and affixed it securely several times around her bulging mouth. Crudely,
he then brutally twisted one of her pink nipples in his sweaty hands so that she
squirmed. Tendons taut in her neck, her eyes screwed shut, she absorbed the
humiliating burning pain on the tip of her sensitive orb without anything other
than a shuddering groan being able to pass her sealed lips.
Seemingly satisfied he stood up whilst Rosemary looked up with helpless, mute
rage as Mrs Leilla retrieved the scattered contents of her handbag. She could
only grind her teeth in frustration as the Arab woman casually, laughingly read
out a few personal remarks from her diary before dropping it into the bag with
the rest of the effects. She swung it casually over her shoulder and strolled
out. Ostensibly, Rosemary was continuing her journey alone with the chauffeur!
Guessing the intention, knowing that the watching Damien would assume
that she was freely leaving, Rosemary squirmed helplessly on the cool floor in
her confining bonds. The amused Arab looked down at his beautiful blonde
captive writhing in her nudity like an eel at his feet. He would have heard her
unintelligible grunts, seen her desperate straining eyes above the broad white
mask of tape across her mouth.
"Ok pretty lady," he crooned to his squirming victim, "I let you watch
her go."
After five minutes Damien was growing rather unsure, apprehensive as he stood at
the entrance to the villa's drive, mingling with a few other tourists from a
local market. He lounged against a wall apparently examining some worthless
bangles he had just bought whilst in reality looking beyond them; wondering why
the car carrying his wife had called at the villa.
He resolved to give it a further five minutes and then creep up to
building to take a closer look. However, having just reached that decision a
blonde figure in a green dress emerged from the villa, waved cheerily to someone
inside and returned to the car.
Breathing a sigh of relief as he sauntered casually back to the waiting
taxi to order the driver to follow the car ostensibly containing his wife. He
of course could not possibly see Rosemary's tousled blonde head or wide staring
eyes behind a pair of net curtains in the villa. He naturally only had eyes for
the figure in the green dress as she climbed back into the car.
If Rosemary's spirit could have left her body it would have done so now and
flown to the figure of her husband so near, yet so far away. She shuddered at
the Arab's touch on her body. He had spoken softly like a father to a young
daughter as he slipped her ankles from their confinement under her pinioned
wrists and pulled her up from the floor to sit her on his lap on the chair.
She could see Damien oh so clearly through the window; he was looking at
the bitch Leilla walking to the car. Squirming helplessly on the Arab's lap she
was quite unable to touch the curtain or even offer any meaningful sound to
attract her husband's attention. Indeed, her movements only served to arouse
the horrid creep who held her lushness so tightly against him, bouncing her on
his lap as if she were a child.
She felt a horrid male hardness through his course cloth trousers under
her squirming bottom; it pushed against her clenching cheeks. One slug-like
hand confined the top half of her body by gripping the ripeness of her breast
fruit, pushing her softness further down onto him. The other hand stroked
revoltingly through her blonde tresses as he crooned in her ear, rocking her.
"It OK little lady, she go now, you stay with me, I take care till you
go on your journey." He had giggled insanely to himself, dribbling on her
shoulder and slapping her thigh with what seemed to be either merriment or
hatred.
Such was the yearning within her to burst out of her confinement she
almost stabbed the bug in her mouth, only stopping when she realised that it
wouldn't help Penny, also that Miles was still out there ready to swoop when the
time was right.
------------
Damien relaxed as the vehicle he was following headed straight for the hotel he
had booked for them both under separate names and rooms. It stopped momentarily
to disgorge the familiar figure in the green dress who disappeared with her
suitcase into the lobby. In case the car driver was looking in his
rear-view mirror Damien had his taxi park a little way down the road. He paid
off the driver, then walked casually back to the hotel with his own luggage,
whistling cheerily. So far so good, he considered.
------------
Whilst Damien's tensions were easing, his wife's were greatly increasing.
Rosemary had screamed inwardly, mentally to her husband willing him not to be
fooled by Mrs Leilla. In the straining silence of the empty villa however she
had seen and heard Garth drive the car off. Then in the distance she saw the
taxi containing her husband depart in pursuit. A large tear trickled from her
eyes when she saw him relaxing, confident on the taxi's rear seat.
Afterwards, the Arab brute had then done, cruel, painful things to her,
prompting her tongue to touch the transmitter again, before dumping her back on
her belly on the cold floor of the villa. As he casually drank from a bottle,
more silent tears trickled down her face. It made her realise her own thirst,
but she knew that was the least of her worries.
She was several times tempted to activate that transmitter and have the
SAS wipe the grin of the Arab's ugly face, but she always regained control of
herself in time. These people had no intention of damaging the 'goods,' and
being rescued at this stage would not in any case help Penny. Also, she
couldn't deny almost a sense of almost excitement and stolid pride at enduring
her predicament. Her life had always been so ordered and planned, predictable.
Now she was living a real adventure amongst people who obviously appreciated,
rather than sometimes took for granted, her beauty. It made her feel so alive.
And she was confident, secure and powerful in the secret knowledge of always
being able to summon help if it became necessary.
Abdul relaxed, thinking about the little game he had just played with
the English woman, bound naked at his feet. It was a game he had previously
enjoyed with some of the others who had been delivered here, as an alternative
to prison, by his brother - the local policeman.
This one was a real gem he decided as he softly, thoughtfully trailed
the strands of the fly-swat almost seductively across her shivering white flesh.
He recalled the perfectly smooth firmness of her bottom on his lap and the furry
warmth as his exploratory fingers slid into the coolness of the cleft, how she
wriggled deliciously, helplessly. But her pretty face had contained a hint of
arrogance he thought, someone who had plenty of the good things in life that he
lacked. She was someone who wouldn't normally even notice him if they passed in
the street. He decided to change that.
Now she had to notice him, he smiled. If she didn't, if she didn't
make the effort to continually, achingly, crane her neck back to look up into
his scarred, weather-beaten face she knew that he had the power to make her
suffer. The swat, caressing - when handled gently - slithered over a bare silken
shoulder, making the woman shiver. On it went, down into the enchanting dark
shadowed valley between her breasts. He was remembering how those breasts felt
as he crushed them under his marauding hands, the rubbery tips hard against his
palms. Also he anticipated how they would feel if he scooped them up in his
hands again and mauled them, sucking their buds into his gnarled mouth.
Recalling the soft spheres of her bottom squirming on his lap as she watched her
husband leave a hard bulge of excitement again began pressing tightly against
the rough material of his trousers.
When she had been still perched on his lap he initially offered mock
sympathy for her predicament, licking his furry tongue into the pink warmth of
her small ears rocking her like a large, child. Unfortunately that brought back
memories of how as a young man, he and his family had been treated by the
Europeans. He had convinced himself that, because of them, his own child had
died in poverty.
Thus he had then slapped her thigh and cruelly tweaked and twisted the
buttons of her nipples until the girl had been forced to look away from the
window and her departing husband. Instead she had to bend down towards his lap
to ease his burning hold on the sensitive tips of her bosoms. Her confined
hands clenched uselessly behind her longing to tear the pincer-like grip away
from her throbbing buds. Then kicking her away from his lap and onto the floor
he had swiftly rolled her back onto her belly and tucked her ankles again under
the confinement of her bound wrists. Obviously thankful for the release from his
cruel fingers she had gasped, pressing the tips of her breasts against the cool
floor.
However, he then ordered her in broken English, and by use of the swat,
to look at him continuously. It made him feel good. Looking into his ugly face
was now the most important thing in her life; something she dared not stop
doing.
Eventually though he saw that the rich Western bitch was unable to hold
the straining position and her head fell forward to ease he obvious pain of her
taut neck and shoulder muscles. Thus he lovingly clasped the handle of the swat
gently between two fingers and began lightly flicking the pink soles of her
trapped feet. It would have been simply irritating at first but slowly building
up to a burning patch of agony on her soft skin. Nothing too hard though, he
had been told not to hurt her; it was enough to make her squirm deliciously,
rocking helplessly on the floor.
"Up, up, pretty lady," he growled in his limited English having
previously grasped and pulled up her chin to make clear his requirements. "I
tell you before, you must always look straight up at me or I hurt you."
He could see the beads of sweat popping out on her brow as she absorbed
the pain and somehow strained her neck back to look up once again with wide eyes
at her sadistic, grinning tormentor.
----------------
Meanwhile, several miles away, Damien's composure only evaporated when the hotel
clerk told him his wife, the blonde lady in the green dress, had indeed called
in but had departed again leaving an envelope for him. Confused he ripped open
the manila seal to reveal a copy of the contract Rosemary had signed with Lavery
with a brief note clipped to it. It read:
'Damien,
Everything's going fine but its best that I stay by
myself to avoid suspicion. Enjoy a holiday by yourself and I'll
make contact with you and Miles when I see Penny. Don't worry.
Rosemary xx'
Damien was surprised at the change of plan but not unduly alarmed; or at
least he didn't appear to show it outwardly. She was, he thought, obviously all
right, and he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. The
handwriting in the note was a little rushed but it looked like hers and it was
quite plainly Rosemary who had delivered it. It was just a pity she couldn't
have lingered a little longer so they could talk.
He didn't notice the Arab, casually sitting in the hotel lobby look up
over his newspaper. The man smiled when he saw Damien stroll off unconcerned to
his room. Damien would have no way of knowing the Arab had practised copying
Rosemary's handwriting, from the various documents she had completed, for
several hours before he judged it was good enough to pass as genuine.
TO BE CONTINUED
