Ann's Tale

He watched the woman moving through the crowded marketplace. Even if he had not been employed to follow her he would have been drawn to her. The heat of a Mediterranean sun beat on the town, reflected off the whitewashed walls, finding its echo in her dress, tight against her body, gleaming white. It also made it easy to follow her. Her bare arms were barely tanned and her red hair tied back in a white cotton scarf that complimented the dress that came down to her knees. She was a striking woman. Pretending to take photos of the local colour, he snapped at the scene in the market - concentrating on the woman in white.

He knew few details, but his employer wanted her movements known, and any other information that he could gather, so he followed her through the town. Her name was Ann, and apparently, worked in fashion. She had taken a villa a few miles out of town, down by the sparkling shore, with a private beach and high walls to protect the resident's privacy. It was a well to do place, and even if she was renting it, she was a woman of some means. Little details, such as the designer sandals, silver watch and earrings showed this - he was paid to notice these things - only the wooden beads she wore as a necklace gave notice of a bohemian side -very "fashionista". He looked at her examining various pieces of local pottery and glassware, and considered her direct gaze as she evaluated each piece, a classic English beauty. Following Ann would be a pleasure! She glided through the crowds of the market, pausing to buy fruit, before hailing a taxi to take her back to the villa. The man made his way back to the quayside, where his dinghy awaited him.

He had rented a yacht, paid for by his mysterious employer, and moored it a quarter of a mile out from the shore, opposite the villa. It was perfect. He stayed below decks, watching from a discreet porthole where he had set up his binoculars on a tripod, next to the camera with the telephoto lens. In his previous job as a paparazzo this had been invaluable, but in his new position, it proved just as useful. He waited and watched - it was all he had to do. It was not too long after lunch that his patience was rewarded. As he peered through the binoculars, the lithe female form presented herself out by the patio that faced the beach and sea. The white dress and scarf had gone, replaced by a green dress, like a long tight t-shirt, her hair worn up. But Ann was not dressed so for long. She sipped a cool fruit drink, adjusting the designer shades, a she stared out to sea. She couldn't see him at this distance, surely not? No, of course not. If she could she gave no sign of his voyeurism as she peeled the dress off her body, revealing her pale skin and the dark green bikini.

"Don't burn yourself, lady." He was almost taken aback by the fact that he said those words out loud. The closeness of the image in the binoculars and camera made it seem as if she could hear him. He watched, breathing shallow as she arranged herself on the sun longer and began to pour the tanning oil on her body, massaging it into her limbs. How he wished that he was there, performing the act for her, touching her everywhere she wanted - and he wanted. The man still gazed on - he could not avert his eyes even if he had not been instructed to keep watching Ann. Every perfect curve was set off by the bikini. He wanted her to remove her bikini top, but she did not oblige him. He wished he was rubbing the sun oil into every pore on her body, touching every curve, massaging her, feeling her skin. He knew the stuff he had downstairs just in case certain orders came through regarding the woman, but that had to wait. He just hoped that she was careful with her perfect skin, hoping the redhead didn't burn. Pale skinned, redhead, obviously well off and seemingly unobtainable - and seemingly alone - just the challenge his employer liked. It was why Ann had been selected. The man on the yacht clicked away as Ann relaxed in the sun. He would e-mail the photos to his master later. The mysterious employer was only known to him through code names, but he had mailed the photographer back praising his shots so far - of Ann swimming in a black one-piece, of her sightseeing in the red sun dress, of her arrival at the airport in the cream suit. Classy every time. He wondered how his unseen boss had known of the time of the woman's arrival. Just another businesswoman relaxing on the Riviera, so why the interest in her?

He watched, obsessed, reflecting that her body and beauty enough were cause for such notice. It was not long, however, that the redhead, cautious of her complexion, seemingly restless, left the lounger and pulled the dress back on, strapping a leather belt at her waist, emphasising her slender body as the wearing of her hair up did her swan-like neck He watched her go inside, cursing the heat of the day. He would have to wait some more for a view of his quarry.

He did see her, but only dimly through the smoky glass of the patio doors. She was making a phone call. He determined to get closer, somehow - he had to know her routine. There was one problem, the cops - there were several expensive villas along that stretch of coast and the road was patrolled at night, as well as those rich enough to afford their own private security. The woman in the villa under his observation, however, was alone - apart from the morning when some maid came and cleaned for her, it seemed. He looked hard down the camera, seeing what Ann was doing. She appeared for a moment, again engaged in a telephone conversation. He had seen her so occupied the previous night - she was obviously busy. If only he could arrange a phone tap...

As darkness fell he watched the villa still, but he also saw the lights of a police car in the gathering gloom, and the final sight was a movement as Ann reappeared only for a second as she drew the curtains. He would have to wait for tomorrow. It was time to download the photos and send them to his employer for his delectation. He kept copies for himself. Whatever the orders he was waiting for, he wouldn't mind a few days of following Ann. Beautiful, slim, enticing... he could barely wait for the next day.

When it came, it was another bright morning, and he resumed his watch. He was late - he had lain awake thinking of Ann, of the sunbathing woman, of the confident lady about town. As he looked down the camera for the first time that day he gave an involuntary exhalation. There she was. Ann was on the lawn of the villa, facing the sea. But what a sight! Dressed in a light blue leotard, with black tights she was doing yoga. The man watched transfixed as she stretched and exercised - this must be how she retained her lithe and lissom shape. He saw a movement in the villa behind her - but it was only the maid. He returned to the woman, red hair tied in a headband, who put on a show for him.

He could not tear his gaze away from her as she bent and stretched the Lycra skin tight against her body. She only paused to answer the maid who called from the house, then disappeared. In a minute the maid was seen leaving the villa. Ann assumed the lotus position and remained in that attitude for several minutes, seemingly meditating. His thoughts were only of her. He snapped, taking many pictures of the lycra clad woman.

Ann remained blissfully unaware of the attention her exercises were provoking. She zoned out, the cool breeze caressing her, brushing across her face - this was heaven! She was totally relaxed. It had been a hard month at work, and it was kind of the boss to give her a week at her villa. Of course it hadn't all been enjoyment - there were still calls to make and work to look at, but she left those for the evening, enjoying the sea and sun as best she could by day. She would go sightseeing at the port later - she had little time the other day and was too busy shopping. She arranged the day in her mind, then again, concentrated on the wind and the sea, calming her mind, relaxing her body.

Aboard the yacht the man gazed at her, watching the light describe every curve of her body. He felt the stirring in him and knew that the photographs would have the same effect on the unseen employer. By the time Ann rose from her meditations, the watcher was transfixed, touching himself as he thought of her, on the yacht, all his own. It was a possibility. With haste he sent off the pictures of Ann. He had to see what she was up to next.

It was not long for him to wait. He saw her set off for the port again. Within minutes the dinghy was making its way to shore.

He found her in the old castle. Her hair was free in the breeze. She wore a tight black vest top, with voluminous thin white cotton trousers. He could make out the shape of her slim legs - and the lines of her white bikini knickers. God, she was beautiful. She strained her eyes to look at the view from the battlements, removing her shades, he almost looked directly into her eyes - but he averted his glance - she must not know! As he turned back she had raised her hands to shade her eyes as she gazed at the scene, the little fishing boats, the idyllic harbour, the piercing blues of sky and sea. His gaze fixed on her body - and the sight of her nipples through the cloth of her vest that told him that she was not wearing a bra! He wanted to go up and talk to her - maybe even warn her of the danger she was in - but he kept to the job - the man who employed him could be powerful indeed! He snapped Ann, catching her against the skyline.

He followed her discreetly to the restaurant where she had a light salad and fish, with white wine. He stayed outside, taking a coffee across the street a discreet distance away. She even ate like a lady.

It was when he returned to the yacht that he realised what danger Ann was really in! The e-mail was waiting for him

"She has been approved - well done. Leave it to us now. You will be rewarded handsomely."

He returned the mail with the new photos attached: "She is a lady - don't hurt her, please."

He thought of the things that might happen.

He got a reply almost immediately.

"We won't hurt her - I use a professional who had done this many times. She will only be with us a little while - if she behaves. It will be tomorrow - when she is alone. You have given us enough information. If you keep up this work, there will be future rewards."

The watcher sat down. It had been decided. Afraid to warn her, but entranced by the whole affair, he did what he was paid to do - he watched Ann. In the evening she had repeated the performance with the green dress - and seemed busy once again. That night the vision of Ann was all he could think of. The promise of the next morning - the excitement made him unable to sleep, unable to wait for the next act, all of which Ann was unaware. Sleeping soundly the redhead had no idea of the plans of the man who owned a large strip of this coastline, including his exclusive villa ten miles down the coast. The watcher thought only of her - the figure outlined against the blue Mediterranean sky, the lady in the bikini. Sweating, he realised he was touching himself, and gave over to the fantasies he had of her - fantasies that his employer was able to make flesh!

The next morning he was glued to the scene in his binoculars. The waiting, the anticipation was a sublime torture - what was to happen? He saw the maid come in and Ann greet her, wearing a bathrobe, fresh out of the shower. The man thought of her body, the droplets cascading down her perfect form. Remember - they weren't going to hurt her! He was still rapt when Ann appeared on the lawn, again leotarded, hair in the headband, to begin her yoga. Again he watched the light blue fabric stretch across her body, the suppleness of the woman displayed. Again he saw the maid leave, Ann wave goodbye, and the maid lock the gates of the villa behind her, then disappear down the path as Ann began her soothing meditations.

This time, however, a new scene unfolded. A van for a pool cleaning service rounded the bend and descended to the gates at Ann's villa - a villa that, due to the sea, had no pool. One man got out, dressed in white overalls and a baseball cap. He did not call out nor pull the doorbell. He seemed to use a set of keys to open the gates. Ann was oblivious. He must have been a stealthy worker...

She was still hidden from him, but he knew where to find her. Just in case he quietly made his way around the small villa until he peered around the corner and had a view of the lawn. There she was. They had been right - she was beautiful.

Ann was lost in her meditation, so she was insensible to the man who now examined his prey. Slim, beautiful, perfect. Her body was set off by the skin tight lycra, powder blue and high cut on her hips, her back half-bare, the shiny charcoal grey tights complimenting and contrasting with her perfect English Rose skin. A light blue bandana, wound up served as a headband. Her hands were resting on her knees, she was in full lotus position. It was excellent. Just as had been predicted. It was time for work.

It only took a few seconds to remove the baseball cap and replace it with a full face black balaclava. A few seconds more to put on the black leather gloves and retrieve the square pad of cotton gauze from one pocket and small bottle of colourless liquid from the other.

Ann dreamed on, the light breeze caressing her skin, it was peace, perfect peace. She was so far into her relaxation she did not sense the man who watched her, who doused the cloth pad with the liquid, who had been told to make sure that there would be no struggle. The man in the black mask who silently crept behind her, his heart beating fast - the man who was sent to kidnap her!

The first Ann was aware of his presence was when he grabbed the nape of her neck. Her dream shattered her eyes sprang open just in time to see the white blur as the pad was clamped over her nose and mouth! She was shocked rigid as her face was forced into the pad and in a second the sweet sickly fumes invaded her lips and nostrils. Chloroform! She was being chloroformed! She tried to scream but the pad muffled her, tried to struggle, but her position made it hard, she raised her hands to try and force away the hand that kept the pad tight on her mouth, she tried not to breathe in. Ann tried to use her nails to scratch the man, but only met the leather of the gloves. He shifted his grip, jerking her head back and holding her around her waist, feeling her struggles through the leotard, and as she looked into his masked face and though effectively gagged, screamed again, but there was no one to hear. The pad was muffling all cried for help and her breath was giving out - Ann knew that the strong man had her and she had no choice but to breathe in the anaesthetic. Her eyes pleaded but the man kept the pad in place, looking into her eyes as Ann began to breathe again. The cloying smell invaded her lungs; she gagged on the fumes as it hit her throat.

"That's it, princess, breathe in deep, it's better that way..." his only words as he held her, as he watched her struggles lessen, as he admired her body, her breasts, the nipples against the tight fabric, then looked into her eyes as they fluttered, rolled up revealing only the whites, and closed. To Ann it was like swirling, disappearing into a deep black pool. They had her. The man felt her body slump; muscles relaxed as Ann lost consciousness.

He picked her up, carrying her over his shoulder, and quickly placed her in the back of his van. He removed the mask and gloves. He examined his captive to make sure that the chloroform had done its work. She was out, no problem. Taking two lengths of white rope he crossed her wrists, binding them tight. He bound her ankles. The strip of white cloth was tied over her mouth. The gag was tight on her lips. If she struggled he could douse her up with the chloroform. He gazed at Ann, unable to resist the urge to stroke her body, feeling her shallow breathing, the warm skin, the skin hugging fabric over the slim torso, the bare arms that ended in bound wrists, and down over her thighs, her calves, her bare feet... he could do anything to her at all...he wanted to peel the tights and leotard off her and reveal the woman. But time was passing.

He had succeeded in his primary job - now for stage two.

The man on the yacht was transfixed. How he wished he had been there, hearing Ann's muted cries, holding her, silencing her. It was all too much! Already he had a new assignment, a new e-mail having just come through, but it was Ann that had captured his imagination. He wanted to be in that truck, to have her helpless... maybe he could ask for a part of his reward... He saw the kidnapper enter the villa.

It took ten minutes to pack all Ann's belongings. All her tight dresses, t-shirts, bikinis, he only paused at her underwear drawer. She was one classy lady, obviously. Soon, everything was packed, her clothes, her shoes, her knickers, her watch and jewellery. All expensive. He threw the bags and cases in the back with Ann, gave her another small dose of the cloth, and shut the villa up. It was as if she had never been there - she had simply and totally disappeared!

He looked back at the woman, bound, gagged, chloroformed and helpless, her body perfectly contained in the tights and leotard. What fun he could have with her! But no, he was only the delivery boy. He would drive her to the large villa as instructed. There was a boat house there, with a room ready to receive Ann. Maybe for a bit they could kid her that she had been snatched for ransom, but Ann would soon know the truth... Making sure everything was locked and no traces of his visit were left he drove away. Just a few minutes ago Ann had been free, relaxed, and confident. Now they had her.

On the yacht the watcher's mind raced with excitement - what should he do? What could he request? The thought of the helpless Ann... it was all too much. He was sure that his next assignment would be less fun. Some rich American couple in their fifties had rented a villa for the season just a few miles down the coast. Typical fat Yanks. But they had a 20 year old daughter... But his brain was still full of visions of Ann. Ann, shopping, Ann sunbathing, Ann doing yoga - Ann being kidnapped!

The van carrying the abducted woman kept a steady pace, so as to attract no attention. There was no stirring from the prisoner in her bonds as the ten mile drive to the Villa Odette was completed, the large iron gates swinging open automatically to let the van enter. It was a winding road through the trees down to the boat house.

There was no longer any need for secrecy. As the gates shut the high walls protected the estate. There was no one to see the van stop at the boathouse - save the lone man watching from the highest window in one of the villa's towers. He saw the driver open the back doors of the van and carry the still unconscious Ann out. Excellent - it had gone exactly as predicted. The driver carried Ann over his shoulder, grasping her legs, her bound arms dangling. He carried her inside.

In the boat house there was a handsome large motor yacht, the Fortuna. It had cost the owner several million pounds. He carried Ann onto the boat, eventually - and carefully carrying her to a cabin low down, where a simple bed was waiting. He laid her gently down, arms still tied before her. All he had to do now was wait. Wait for her to regain consciousness from the chloroform. He put his mask on top of his head to slide it down when necessary. Still he watched the sleeping prisoner.

Just looking at her there, so perfect, so beautiful, classically so, he just wanted to touch her. There was no one to stop him. He sensed, only half consciously, his hands reaching for her on some visceral instinct, felt the stirring in him and his hands touched her body, along from her neck, down the lycra clad torso then back again, stroking, feeling every gorgeous womanly curve, the firm breasts, - how daring was he? He could stand it no more - he reached softly, at first, inside the leotard and started stroked and felt her warm flesh, watching his hand trace its course underneath the blue fabric. Around her breasts, firm, her nipples, looking into her face bound by the headband and gag, still serene in sleep. He started to touch himself with his free hand, soft stroking like the caressing of Ann's breasts. Then he withdrew. He probably still had a few minutes. No one would know. His searching hand now reached down to where Ann's bound hands covered herself protectively. He felt underneath, feeling for the gusset, and breathing hard now, his fingers penetrated the fabric, moving it aside, encountering the cloth of her tights, then fingering that aside. He had to touch her!