Well, that could have gone better, I berate myself. As I wander up the lane towards the car park, I mull over the outcome of my last meeting of the day. There was something this client wasn't saying, and that could be the key to the whole thing.
Oh shit, keys! Why do I always leave rooting about for them until the last minute? When I'm laden down with three bags, shopping and crappy, spotty street lighting that only manages to put everything in the shadows?
Sighing, I reach the car, having to slide into the space sideways because some delightful citizen has parked their van over the lines separating their space from mine. This leaves me just enough room to squeeze the door open and limbo myself into the driver's seat. But first I have to find the keys.
For once I have a brainwave and move down to the end of the car, put down all the bags except my handbag and root out the car keys. I open the boot and put everything else in it, shut it firmly and then manoeuvre myself back down to the driver's side door. ‘Why are the drivers of these inconvenient vehicles never coming back when you have spleen to vent?' I wonder, as I make to put the key in the lock.
Just as I put my hand out to do this, I feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle, that old familiar feeling… and adrenalin surges through me violently. Not again! Forgetting the car, I make to get away as fast as I can. As ever though, just as my limbs are galvanised into action, there's that hand over my mouth, an arm around my waist and I am easily, efficiently and apparently effortlessly, bundled into the back of the van.
Once he has me in there, he's gone and the door is slammed shut on me. I immediately try banging on the door, but the bastard has covered it in padding. A quick, if blind search in the dark tells me the rest of the interior is similarly padded, including the roof and the floor. This means no use making banging noises and no chance of being heard screaming for help. Why am I not surprised?
A flood of resignation washes over me, but I am determined to fight it. In order to get out of this, I need to stay calm and stay smart. I also recognise that this time I have to manage to be smarter than him. I'm very aware that, since I have failed so spectacularly every other time, it's not going to be easy.
In no time the van is moving at speed. The driver seems intent on finding every hole and bump in the road. I do the only thing I can and try to find a corner where I can wedge myself and not get too bruised. There might be nothing I can do for now at least, but give me half a chance...
After what feels like an eternity, I become aware of the van slowing, and of the fact that it's travelling up a very uneven road or track. I feel it come to a stop and then reverse in an arc. I crouch at the door, poised to come flying at the bastard, but groan audibly when I feel and hear the side panel sliding back. I have the sensation of the van dipping as a large shape comes towards me, and a vague outline to work from. All it tells me is that it is a man, and that he is bigger than I.
I try to get around him and make a break for it, but he has me quickly captured by the waist, and seems utterly impervious to the kicks and punches I land on him. He merely hoists me to one side and dumps me out onto the gravel. The hand that hasn't been engaged in holding me against him grabs a handful of my hair as he drops me, ensuring that my head flies back and that I have no way of making a run for it. What now?
So far he hasn't made a sound, which throws me. Ordinarily he's big on telling me exactly what he's going to do to me, the reasons it would be easier on me if I just gave in, and how grateful I know I really am that he bothers with me at all.
The silence disturbs me more than the threats and humiliation he's subjected me to before. I know it's him. I can tell it by his scent, and his breathing, and as he's used my hair to yank me back onto my feet, causing me to fall against him, I can tell by the feel of something very hard and very long pressing against my stomach. Oh, God. Again? Just thinking about what he can do makes me tremble.
Without warning, he marches off in the direction of a large house, only vaguely identifiable as an outline of dark on slightly less dark. There are no streetlights, no sign of moonlight, and as it has been overcast and threatening to rain all day, heavy cloud cover.
As for my nemesis, totally unmindful of whether I can walk, stumble or require to be dragged, he goes on regardless, and as I'm attached to him through his hold on my hair, I'm going too, screaming myself hoarse all the while, but still going anyway.
He stops briefly to fish around in his pocket and unlock the door, before progressing inside. He doesn't put the lights on, or stop even momentarily; he simply negotiates his way through the dark house until he comes to the stairs, which he climbs unfalteringly. I scrabble to keep up and not stumble, not easy in 3 inch heels.
Once at the top of the stairs, he pauses, pushing me hard against the wall, and leans his entire weight on me, making it difficult to breathe. His hands slide down, stroking over me. Is this it then, is this when he bends me totally to what he wants?
Then the door on the right is thrown open, he pushes me in, and, with him still in the hallway, merely closes it between us and locks it.
"What the fuck is going on?" I scream, nearly hysterical now, I'm so confused; none of this makes sense given how he's behaved before. There is no response from the other side of the door. I feel like weeping.
To begin with I just sink to the floor, but after a moment I get myself up onto my feet and begin trying to take in my surroundings. Even with my eyes adjusting to the dark, there's nothing I can make out. If there are windows, no natural light penetrates them. I edge my way back to the door. Surely there‘s a light switch here somewhere. Sure enough, I find it and flick the switch – nothing, flick it off and try again - still nothing. Either he is well prepared and has taken out the bulb, or he's too cheap to pay his electricity bill. I don't think it's the latter somehow.
I feel round the rest of the room, starting at one end and moving my way side to side: no windows, which is very odd. Eventually I stumble over something small, metallic and ring shaped sticking out of the floorboards. Weird, but something tells me it isn't accidental. Now on my hands and knees I work my way across the room until I find myself against something fabric and heavy, covering something solid, a silk cover. Further searching with my hands and I discover that it is indeed a cover, for what appears to be a huge bed. About three feet beyond the bed at the other side there's something solid and cold that goes from floor to ceiling. It feels like glass, a wall length mirror?
There doesn't appear to be anything else to do at this point, having discovered as much as I can, and in truth more than I want, about the room I am in, none of which reassures me in any way. All that's left is to sit on the bed and wait.
So, I straighten my clothing and sit, and sit, and sit for what feels like an eternity. I strain to hear something, anything and… at one point believe I hear faint murmurings and movement, but it is indistinct and could be imagination. Then nothing. Just as I find my thoughts drifting and rambling at last, the door opens and he comes in.
