Part One
Miranda Holmes locked the door of her small grey Ford car, straightened her grey skirt and checked her grey jacket in the reflection in the glass of the car door before she turned and walked up the short cracked and broken concrete pathway to the fading peeling blue painted door of Number Three, Alderman Lucas Drive, a boring ordinary Council house in the post war Austerity style just off the Hinksey Road on the East Canning estate.
Miranda knocked loudly, then she stood back away from the door and waited, but nothing seemed to happen. She listened intently for sounds of movement but heard nothing, the silence complete, except, as she strained above the background hum of the city she heard the muted mumble of daytime TV, "Mrs Jarvis, I know you're in there, we have an appointment," Miranda shouted once more.
Queenie Jarvis puffed slowly at her cigarette as she stood immobile in the corner of the front room of her modest home, number Three, Queenie had intended to slip out to avoid Miss Rice, the social worker, but she woke up late and still had not bothered to get dressed, and her bathrobe lay out of reach on the brown leather easy chair and just her thin trademark sheer black negligee, a thong and a tight black laced corset kept out the cold. She shivered as she pulled her thin negligee tighter around her, so her ample breasts were even more clearly out lined. She regretted not having the curtains tightly closed as she tried to get comfortable, to ease the tightly laced corset where it chafed on the implant scar under her left breast, she eased her thong where it was wedged in her arse crack, and wished she was not wearing her three inch heeled stilettos as her feet hurt.
The TV remote control lay with her crisp freshly laundered black DD brassiere on the coffee table out of reach, along with her cigarette papers and lighter.
She knew she had about ten minutes to keep hidden before the social worker got bored and went away so she inhaled the rich blend of home grown herbs and tried to relax.
"Mrs Jarvis!" the voice shrilled, "I watched you go in!"
Queenie eased slowly into a position where she could look through the gap in the curtains and saw a slight figure dressed in grey, her heart sank, she had expected Sandra Rice, three knocks, card through the letter box and off down the pub was her way of working, but this was someone new.
Queenie coughed, and before she realised she was looking into the mean bespectacled eyes of her adversary.
"I knew it!" she said "I am Miranda Holmes of Social Services, we have an appointment so let me in!"
Queenie shuffled across the filthy brown fitted carpet, picking her way through videos, toys, pizza boxes, discarded paper plates, part empty coffee cups and various magazines as she passed between the brown leather couch, and the coffee table and past the wide screen TV towards the hallway and front door. She kicked off her shoes and put on her grubby pink fluffy slippers, grabbed her thick blue bathrobe which slid easily over her sheer black negligee and with her rich peroxide blonde hair in curlers she looked the personification of the English housewife, only her bra less, surgically enhanced, DD breasts and freshly re-touched garish red lipstick really jarred.
"Sorry love," Queenie said brightly, "I didn't hear you."
"May I come in," Miranda replied.
"Yes, mind the mess!" Oueenie cautioned as Miranda stepped cautiously through the doorway.
"Your Children Mrs Jarvis," Miranda asked accusingly, "Do you know where they are."
Queenie thought hard, she remembered they were watching TV then nothing, suddenly the answer became clear, "At School?"
Miranda, was surprised, "Really, then you don't mind if I look around."
"Be my guest love" Queenie suggested.
Miranda retraced her steps to the hallway, she peered into the kitchen diner where a mountain of dishes awaited attention in the sink, while the kitchen units and table appeared to groan under the weight of take away boxes and empty cans.
She started to climb the stairs, cautiously, carefully trying to avoid tell tale creaks from the treads.
"Take your shoes off if you're going upstairs." Queenie ordered, "And leave me Rabbit alone."
Miranda set her worn shoes neatly on the lowest stair, she felt strangely naked as she climbed the stairs in her stockinged feet, wary of needles, she ascended slowly.
The first bedroom was peculiar, small, dark, dirty, the single low energy bulb glowed feebly spilling its brown light across the filthy floor, the heavy worn curtains hid shutters which kept out the daylight, and as Miranda's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the two bunk beds, with bedding on both tiers, one either side of the room. Posters adorned the walls competing for space with clothes hooks and cheap worn storage units and shelves loaded with children's clothes and toys both girls and boys. It was as if both sexes shared the room.
Puzzled, Miranda tried another door, it opened to reveal a room full of junk, some of it discarded boxes once containing new items, much of just junk as far as Miranda could see but junk surrounded the worn single bed, a small TV Video unit, sat beyond the bed and the decor was tobacco stained, discarded clothing some soiled, some apparently fresh was liberally strewn around. The bed itself was in disarray, the duvet cast aside, the stained under sheet crumpled, Miranda realised Queenie had almost certainly been sleeping here until quite recently.
The next door opened into the bathroom, it was filthy as Miranda expected, green tiles, bulging and loose, covered the wall above a green bath with a cracked front panel, and a filthy green shower curtain hung from a rail by the distorted and leaking shower fitting. A pile of discarded underwear filled the far corner behind the porcelain lavatory pan, and Miranda quickly shut the door to keep the smell of dampness and worse inside.
Miranda was hardly surprised, she had seen worse, at least there was no evidence of dogs, or drugs, but on opening the third bedroom door Miranda was unprepared for the shock.
Red lights, the light switch at the door switched on red lights which cast a dull red glow across the king size bed, the crisp white sheets effectively turned pink by its luminescence while the scarlet duvet cover and quilted headboard added to the image of debauchery and sin.
Scarlet carpets, scarlet curtains turning the daylight pink, everything red, the red walls, adorned, draped she soon noticed with various womens undergarments, each crisp and freshly washed and laundered, bras, panties, corsets, and as her eyes took in the scene she noticed on the far wall a collection of whips handcuffs and chains. Leather straps, harnesses, collars, small and large, and strange constricting devices, even gags filled a further wall, each on its own hook of bracket.
A shelf below the mirror held a wide range of cosmetics and below that Miranda could see various ladies toys lined up, Dildos, Plugs, Vibrators, all neatly aligned and arranged in order of size in complete contrast to the disorder the rest of the house displayed.
"Leave me Rabbit alone." Queenie suddenly shouted, "And don't use the bog."
Miranda suddenly noticed the lavatory, a glazed Porcelain standard WC but strangely erotic as the red light turned it pink, yet it was set within the bedroom, no screening of any sort, with a wash hand basin alongside.
"Rabbit" Miranda queried.
"Rampant Rabbit" Queenie bellowed, "I don't want it dripping with your cunt juice."
"Mrs Jarvis!" Miranda protested, "May I assure you." she had not noticed that Queenie had come upstairs.
"Nice innit." Queenie suggested, "It's where I work see, brings me gentlemen, have I shocked you miss prim and proper."
