She awoke as her book fell off the bed onto the floor, the noise startling her. She didn't know that she'd fallen asleep but checked the bedside clock, its red LED numbers showing her 12:37. Damn! Then there was a noise from downstairs and she became concerned. Enough to reach down between the mattress and the night-stand to where her husband had installed a soft chamois-leather holster that held her Glock. Hidden from view but readily available as she now pulled the gun easily from the holster and listened intently.
Maybe the noise wasn't the book falling to the floor? Her hearing was extremely sharp and she lay, slightly breathless, waiting for anything that would confirm that she was hearing things, outside of the house settling as the night cooled.
There it was again, a rustling sound as if someone was treading carefully maybe coming up the stairs. Thinking quickly so as not to be caught in bed, she slipped out, her silk full-length night-gown enabling her to leave the bed silently. Holding the gun in her right hand, she tip-toed towards the half-open bedroom door and gently pulled it fully open. A flash of light flickered in the hallway and she was startled, holding her breath in case the mere fact of her breathing could be heard.
A coolness came over her and she shivered, goose-bumps breaking out on her arms, with her nipples suddenly thrusting hard and erect through the blood-red silk with its shoe-string straps.
At thirty-five, and 5' 9" she was very confident in herself with a growing anger suppressing any fear that some bastard would think he could break in and wander round her house. She moved towards the stair well and looked over the top. Directly below her a man's head and body was starting to move up the stair, facing away from her until he almost reached the landing half way up. Without thinking, she flicked on the lights in the well, and yelled "Stay right there or I'll shoot!"
He froze but slowly turned as if to look up the stairs; his face was hidden in a black ski-mask and he wore black jeans, turtle-neck sweater and leather driving gloves. Spreading his hands wide, he said "Hey Lady. I ain't armed so just be careful with that gun!"
"Stay still or I will fire! Now, on your hands and knees!" Slowly he complied as she moved down the upper stairs to the landing. He was still under the landing level so propped at an angle facing upwards at her, his eyes feasting on the fact that she had a great figure under the blood-red night-dress.
She, for her part, was wondering how the hell this guy had got into the house, had avoided the security system and just what the hell was SHE going to do now? Her mind raced as she kept back from his reach; she knew that she was vulnerable in her silk clothing and wasn't going to allow him to be able to reach her. "Put your hands behind you!" she yelled, her voice rising with her fear. Slowly he complied and his chin rested on the top stair, as his eyes stared at her through the holes in the mask.
She couldn't leave him or even turn around as she knew that he'd attempt to grab her. A Mexican stand-off. What the hell was she going to do? He answered her questioning mind by suddenly bringing his hands back to his sides in an attempt to push himself up and leap at her. Instinctively, she lashed out, bringing her gun down on the side of his head. He immediately grunted and collapsed onto the stairs. He was clearly out for the count.
She stood in shock having reacted on the fear instinct, realizing that she could have actually killed the guy; she watched him for a few moments and saw that he was breathing, his body moving with the intake of air. Still cautious, she stepped over him and down the stairs to the main floor of the house, and turned towards the kitchen. Flicking on lights she tested the back door and found it unlocked. How the hell had that happened. She knew that she'd set both the locks and the lower-floor alarms before she'd retired to bed. Tom, her husband, was in Vegas at the CES show; as an IT expert his company had sent him there and he wasn't due to return until tomorrow, Friday, when he would drive home to their home in Palos Verdes.
Her first thoughts were to disable the guy, and while he was still unconscious, she went to their utility-pantry and took a roll of duct tape. Using more caution, she approached the body and placing the gun at hand on the floor, pulled some length of tape and gingerly reached out to pull his right arm behind his back. Then wrapping tape around the wrist, she pulled it sharply behind him and quickly pulled the left arm to match it. Holding the gloved hands close together like she'd seen on the TV cop shows, she was able to continue wrapping the hands with the tape until she felt that he would not be able to free himself anytime soon.
Feeling bolder, she then added tape to his ankles, binding them tightly together. She watched him for signs of life but he was out for the moment. Standing, and looking around she wondered "What next?" Picking the gun up, she moved to the kitchen and placed it on the antique, wooden, country-style table. Slowly her breathing slowed; she felt her left breast and her heart wasn't thumping as much as it had been.
She should call the police. But, for whatever reason, she dialed her next-door neighbors. A male voice drowsily answered, grunting 'Hello'.
"Jack! It's Sally next door. I'm sorry to call this late, but I've caught a burglar going through my house. Can you come and help me please?"
Now wide awake, he replied "Sure Sally. Gimme two minutes to get some clothes on. I'll be there!"
"Jack - come round the back; I'll leave the kitchen door unlocked." He grunted a quick acknowledgement and hung up. She hung up the phone and padded around, automatically setting the coffee pot to brew what would have been the morning's first taste of the day. She then went back to the stairs to find the man awake and struggling to free himself, to no effect. He was well secured. Still she wondered what to do. Jack would know, she thought.
Her thoughts flashed to Jack, and Anne, his wife. They'd been neighbors for over five years now with everything - on the surface - as normal as neighbors could be, but she and Jack had indulged themselves after one of his riotous parties, at two in the morning, when everybody else had either gone home or was asleep; particularly Anne! They'd been left in the hot-tub at the time and as she'd moved to leave he had pulled her towards him. She knew he was drunk, as was she, and she couldn't resist his strong arms pulling her back towards him in the water.