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Copyright Oggbashan March 2019
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: I had met Fiona when my niece Molly had asked me to take her friends to a Square Dance. Fiona had an injured ankle. I had helped her at the dance and had taken her home. She had wanted to thank me and I ended up staying the night. The next day she had some laundry to do and I had helped her again until burglars disturbed us.
Fiona and her ex-husband Keith had been targeted by burglars recently. Keith ran a games software company, largely owned by Keith and Fiona, which was threatened by an unscrupulous competitor, James Smith. Fiona and Keith were still on friendly terms despite the divorce. Keith had suggested that Fiona and I should go away for a few days while he arranged for burglar alarms to be fitted at her house. We had agreed.
Fiona packed a small suitcase but she asked me to put three larger suitcases in the car as well. I drove us to my house where I packed quickly. I rang the office and told them I’d be away until Thursday morning. If anything urgent happened they had my mobile number. We were on the road before noon. Fiona’s car was unfamiliar so I was driving carefully. After a hundred miles or so of motorway driving we turned off and took a minor road leading to the hotel I had booked us in to.
A few miles down the road we were coming round a bend down a hill and suddenly came to a crossroads with a more major road. We had to give way to the other road. I pressed the brake hard. The pedal went flat to the floor with no response. I heaved the handbrake up as far as I could and swung the car in a handbrake turn. Despite our seat belts we were thrown around in the car. I had stopped sideways across the minor road a few feet short of the other road. A heavy truck rushed past. If I hadn’t reacted instantly we would have been crushed.
I sat there shaking before easing the car backwards to rest on the grass verge. Fiona’s face was buried in her hands.
“The brakes failed.” I said unnecessarily.
“I know,” she whispered. “If I had been driving we’d be dead.”
I reached over and cuddled her. What could I say? It was true.
We called out her motoring organisation. They loaded the car on to a truck and drove us to the hotel. We checked in as the car was taken away.
Although the room was pleasant with a great view of the rolling hills we were subdued. Both of us were thinking about what might have happened. We made love for comfort.
A couple of hours later we were sitting in the lounge for afternoon tea. The hotel manager came to us.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. There is a policeman here who wants to talk to you.”
We followed him into the foyer and then to a small office. The policeman stood up as we entered.
“Mr Andrews? Mrs Owens?”
“I understand that the brakes failed on your car earlier today?”
“On MY car,” emphasised Fiona.
“But you, sir, were driving?”
“Yes. I was.”
“Can I see your driving licence, please, sir?”
I took it out of my wallet and gave it to him.
“That appears to be in order, sir.”
He passed the licence back to me.
“What is this about?” Fiona asked.
“The garage your car was taken to called us. The brake failure was NOT an accident. The brakes had been sabotaged. You were very lucky not to be injured or worse. We have examined the scene. It looks as if you did a hand-brake turn. Did you?”
“Yes. I used to rally when I was younger.”
“That is fortunate. We found a slick of the brake fluid where you pressed the foot brake. A hole had been drilled into a brake pipe and covered with chewing gum. It would have held until the first time you applied the brakes hard.”
“Who?” Fiona asked.
“That is what we would like to know. Your car had a sticker indicating a service completed this morning. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Fiona said very quietly.
“Do you trust your garage?”
“Yes. They are main dealers for the make and have serviced all my cars. I know most of the staff by name.”
“This is not a mistake by the garage, madam. This was deliberate. Apart from the hole in the brake pipe the brake failure warning light had been disconnected. Have you any enemies? Or you sir? Who would have known that you were driving the car?”
I answered first.
“No one would have known except perhaps…”
“Except who, sir?”
“He means my ex-husband Keith. Actually I think Keith would have assumed we were driving one of Alan’s cars. Only Alan and I knew that we were going to be driving my car. No one else. No one was likely to guess that Alan would be driving MY car.”
I nodded my agreement.
“So if anyone was intended to be injured, madam, it had to be you?”
Fiona Kartal Escort shuddered.
“Have you any reason to think that your ex-husband would want you injured?”
“No. We spoke to him this morning.”
“Yes, Officer,” I replied. “We spoke to him early this morning. Apart from the burglary and the attempted break-in at his office yesterday…”
“The what?” the policeman interrupted.
“The burglary and the attempted break-in at his office yesterday,” I repeated.
“I assume your local police are aware of these events?”
“Yes,” said Fiona. “We have crime numbers for them both.”
“I see. Then the sabotage of your car doesn’t look like an isolated incident, does it?”
“No.” said Fiona flatly.
“OK. We’ll investigate as far as we can. Does anyone know that you are here?”
“No. Not even Keith.” Fiona said. “He knows we are away but he doesn’t know where. He’s got my mobile number, of course, but it’s switched off.”
The police left us to unpack. A hire car would be delivered this afternoon.
Fiona revealed the contents of the larger suitcases. They were satin circle skirts and bouffant petticoats that needed finishing by next week. The hems needed to be levelled which she would normally have done on a mannequin. She thought she could use me instead and hand tack them in the evenings.
After a very good evening meal in the hotel’s restaurant I found myself standing in the middle of our room modelling skirts and petticoats. After a couple of hours, Fiona dressed herself in one of skirts with layers of petticoats. She told me to strip and get on the bed. She clambered awkwardly on to the bed before straddling my chest. My head disappeared under layers of petticoats before Fiona slid herself down to engulf my insistent erection. As she rode me she smothered me with a satin skirt wrapped around my head and held there by her hands. The feel of the petticoats, the skirt and my surrender to her were too much. I came into her much sooner than I had intended.
Fiona let me breathe while I recovered but she was still poised ready for my reaction.
“You like my skirts and petticoats, don’t you Alan?” she asked, as she swished her petticoats across my chest.
“You know I do, Fiona,” I replied, “particularly if you are wearing them.”
It was true. I was enjoying being with Fiona and being caressed by her layers of clothing. She reminded me of the encounters with circle skirts when I was a young adult. My reaction then had been faster, perhaps, but Fiona was arousing me almost as much as then. She played with me, taking me close to ejaculation for hours. Eventually I came into her again and we went to sleep wrapped around each other.
Next morning, after breakfast, Fiona and I went to the attached spa. I went for a swim while she had gentle massage on her bruised ankle. She booked another session for the early evening. I noticed the improvement in her walking.
We went to a local stately home and toured the house before lunch. Fiona managed the stairs without much difficulty but was grateful to sit down.
She rang Keith, telling him about the car’s brakes. As I watched she frowned.
“A couple more days? Yes. We can manage that. Why?”
“It seems extreme, but if you think so? OK.”
She switched the phone off at the end of the call.
“Alan? Someone tried to break into my house again last night. The alarm was switched off even though the codes had been changed from the ones I had been using. Keith has had a warning that the alarm company is owned by James Smith. He doesn’t trust James. Nor do I. So Keith is getting another alarm company to fit the new security for his offices, my house and his – but they can’t start until Monday. My house should be ready by Wednesday afternoon. Is that OK with you if we stay here until Wednesday?”
“Yes, Fiona. I’m enjoying your company…”
“…And the sex?”
“That too, but I was going to say that the spa treatment seems to be improving your ankle.”
“It is. Perhaps we could dance together next weekend if the ankle continues to respond.”
We walked around some of the gardens until Fiona started limping again. I drove us back to the hotel. She rested on the bed while I checked business emails, none of which were important. I also searched for Keith’s company and its products which had great reviews. If Fiona owned 40% of the company she was seriously rich but the risks for the company were fairly high. They needed to continue to develop new products to keep up with their competitors – one of which was that owned by James Smith. The reviews of his company were good but not in the same league as Keith’s.
Fiona had a text message from the Police about her car. Whoever had sabotaged it had worn nitrile gloves. There were no prints or DNA. It could have been done in less than a minute. Her car would be repaired by a local main dealer and should be ready for collection in a couple of days. Tuzla Escort Fiona forwarded the text message to Keith. He responded while we were having the evening meal. Fiona’s house had been expertly searched when the alarm had been turned off but as far as Keith could tell nothing was missing but CCTV at his premises had shown another attempt at a break in by three men wearing balaclavas, foiled when the new alarm was triggered.
In bed that night Fiona wore some of the petticoats before smothering me as I reached a climax. I enjoyed it when she wore the petticoats. Even when I had to wear the petticoats I knew I would be rewarded with sex soon afterwards.
The next day we both enjoyed the spa facilities and a massage before I drove us to another stately home for lunch and a gentle stroll around the gardens. In the early evening I acted as a mannequin while Fiona worked on the petticoat hems. She had finished all of them before the evening meal but hadn’t left enough time for sex before the meal. She made up for that by dragging me off to bed as soon as we were back in the hotel room. I burrowed under layers of petticoats to rouse her to squealing before she rode me again.
Fiona’s car was ready for collection in the morning. I drove her to the dealer’s before she followed me to return the hire car. She drove us to a forest walk but we had to cut the walk short. The ground was too uneven for her recovering ankle so we went to a nearby pub for lunch. That evening we decided that we would return home tomorrow. The new CCTV and alarm system had been installed and would be ready. We would have to arrange with Keith for him or one of the alarm company to show Fiona how the new system worked.
Neither Fiona nor Keith could understand what the burglars were searching for. There was nothing in Fiona’s house that was so valuable that justified the efforts made to find it.
That night’s sex was almost routine as if we were a married couple who could have sex any time. I went to sleep with a satisfied Fiona in my arms. We were happy together but missing our own home comforts. Fiona wanted to get back to finish the petticoats now she had tacked the hems and needed her sewing machine.
As I drove us back I idly asked Fiona:
“What would happen to your shares in Keith’s company if you died?”
Fiona looked at me quizzically.
“Why do you ask?”
“It might explain why your car was sabotaged.”
“I don’t think so.”
“My will states that the shares will be in a trust. The dividends will go to my two nieces – you met them at the Barn Dance, but the trust will be run by my solicitors and Keith until the girls are twenty-five.”
“Who will have the voting power?”
“The trust, which effectively means Keith.”
“So no one could take over the company with your shares?”
“No. They couldn’t.”
“But who would know, Fiona, apart from you, Keith, and now me?”
“Only my solicitors. My nieces don’t know.”
“So someone could assume that your shares might be sold as part of your estate being wound up.”
“I suppose so, but that seems a weak motive for killing me.”
“There must be some motive.”
“I know, but I don’t know who would want me dead, or why.”
When we stopped at a supermarket to buy milk, bread and a few other items she rang Keith who told her a man from the security company would arrive in ten minutes to let us in. I stayed in the car while Fiona was given the codes to set and reset the alarm. As soon as the man had gone I unloaded the car.
“Can you make some coffee, please, Alan? I want to turn my computer on and check for emails.”
When I brought the coffee to Fiona she was looking at a screen of data.
“That’s odd,” she said.
“What is?” I asked.
“The computer had been telling me I needed to do a back-up before we went away. I just closed the window, as I had been doing for a couple of days, but this time the window didn’t come up.”
She peered at the screen.
“It says I did a back-up three days ago, but that was while we were away.”
“And that was when Keith changed the security company because he was unhappy about using one associated with James Smith. Perhaps someone copied all the files from your computer.”
“If they did, it won’t have been much use to them unless they are dressmakers. I’m not that unique as a designer. My patterns are fifties style and that has a limited market.”
“Nothing about Keith’s company on it?”
“No. There wouldn’t be. The computer is only three years old. Anything of Keith’s would be over 10 years old and he took the computer with him. He bought me a new one – then – but that one was scrapped what? Seven years ago when I upgraded to one with better graphics.”
“What happened to your old computers?”
“I gave them to Keith so that he could wipe the hard drives. I watched him clean the data, and he smashed the drives with a hammer before putting them in metal waste. He is paranoid about Anadolu Yakası Escort data security.”
“I think you ought to tell him that you think your computer has been accessed, Fiona.”
“I will, when I’ve finished the coffee and unpacked. Whoever copied my data has got nothing of importance.”
“You do your back-ups. When? Where do you put the back-ups?”
“Once a fortnight but I was a few days late. The last version is in my bedroom. The previous version is in a box in the garage.”
“I think you should check that they are still there, Fiona.”
“OK, OK. But coffee comes first.”
My suspicions were right. Both sets of back-ups were missing. I backed up Fiona’s computer while she rang Keith to tell him. The back-up was still running when she returned. The system said it still had nearly two hours to go and needed several DVDs,
Fiona returned after about quarter of an hour and looked over my shoulder.
“Why so long?” she asked. “It only takes me about twenty minutes.”
“This is a full back up of everything. The system indicated you had never done that. The full back up includes all the software installed. All you did was the files.”
“Um.” Fiona paused. “But if I’ve never done a full back up, then whoever broke in didn’t either. All they copied were my files and they’re not much use to anyone unless they have my designing software. Keith made that and I have to convert my files with Keith’s software if I want to share them. So all they have are files they can’t access.”
“What did Keith say?” I asked.
“He told me to ring the Police and contact the officer dealing with the case. I did and he will be around to see me sometime tomorrow.”
“When did you last see the back-ups?”
“The one in the garage was still there after I damaged my ankle. I hadn’t looked for it since then. The current one? That was here when we left for the hotel.”
“Did you tell the Police that?”
“Yes, of course. What are we doing to do while that back up finishes?”
“Have a takeaway meal? I have to be close to change the DVDs when each one is full.”
“OK. Pizza do? You can eat that one handed.”
“Sounds OK. And then what? I ought to go to my work tomorrow for a couple of hours at least.”
“I think a quiet night’s sleep seems attractive. There’s the Chamber of Commerce dance on Friday night. Why not a date for then?”
“OK. Today is Wednesday. I could work Thursday and Friday and I know you have sewing to do to finish those petticoats. I’ll collect you at seven. OK?”
“OK,” Fiona said, wrapping her arms around me. “See you soon. I’ll order the pizzas.”
She kissed me and left me watching the screen for prompts to change DVDs. After the back-up was complete I went back to my house because we were both tired. I would be staying the night after the Friday dance.
On Thursday afternoon a Police Scene of Crime officer came to my office to take my fingerprints for elimination. She wouldn’t give any details about the progress of the case. In the early evening Fiona updated me. Her new CCTV has shown to men wearing balaclavas riding up to her house on black painted BMX bikes. They had entered through her back door and somehow had switched off the alarm before riding off about a quarter of an hour later carrying a plastic bag. That presumably contained her partial back-ups. The alarm company had attended, checked the alarm system, and had talked Fiona through a reset of the code. The intruders had been wearing disposable gloves. They hadn’t left any fingerprints.
On Friday evening I drove up to Fiona’s house in my larger vehicle. I suspected that she might be wearing a formal gown and would need the space. She was. It was a very full-skirted floor length gown in bright red satin, held out by multiple petticoats. I had to help her to get the folds of the skirt in and out of the car.
We enjoyed the evening although Fiona’s ankle limited her dancing to less strenuous dances such as the waltz. As we danced her skirts wrapped around my legs, impeding me slightly but she could move freely as the hooped petticoat left her legs free.
I drove her back to her house. I helped her out of my car and then parked it across the road so that she could take her car out if she wanted to. I don’t know why I did that. I just didn’t want to block her access. She had opened the front door and turned off the alarm before I arrived with my bag of overnight items.
“I’m going to turn on the external sensors,” Fiona said. “I’ll turn them off before you leave, but no early hours strolls, please. The new alarm would wake everyone in the street.”
“I’m not likely to. It looks like there will be rain.”
“That’s OK, then,” Fiona replied. “Oh, I forgot. The new system records all movements around the house and uploads it in real time. Your arrival with me is there. Is that a problem?”
“No. Why should it be? If you had a jealous husband or I a wife, it might be. Keith knows we’re together. He even suggested I take you away for the weekend.”
We had a couple of glasses of wine from a part-finished bottle that we had with the pizza on Wednesday evening before going to bed together. Fiona wanted to make love while still wearing her ball gown but she removed her pantyhose and the hooped petticoat first.
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