The devil is in the detail.
She had cut off all contact. No more texts. No more calls and worse of all no more explicit pictures of her slender sexy body in a range of lingerie. Red lacy teddies, push bras that gathered her delightful 32B breasts into a pleasing cleavage. She was everything he wanted, it didn't matter that she had children, it didn't matter that she was married. He would have been content with a sexual affair and honestly believed that she would see in him, an escape from mundanity. Then she took herself away and his obsession with her nearly broke him. Packing up his meagre belongings he moved away to a new city and tried to forget her.
Four and a half years later, after a dramatic change of fortunes that gave him a new life and even a new face and body; money, it seemed could make him a different person and a vast sum could make him a very different person. He also immersed himself in his study of psychology, achieving his doctorate in psychology, intent on using his knowledge to create something new in the work of individual liberation. After some very expensive cosmetic surgery, dentistry and months of intensive body conditioning; he emerged from the Turks and Caicos Island Hospital plastic surgery specialist clinic like a butterfly emerging from his chrysalis.
He took another month to fully recuperate, indulge in rest and recreation, and laze on a pristine beach. He loved the peace he received there and decided to dissolve his business interests and return to this beloved island, in a new form; a new organisation, a new face to look out at the world and hide his real motives behind a charitable foundation. Eventually, he returned to his native country and set about arranging his affairs to make a permanent move back to the island but now he was to be the head of a self-help foundation; a large self-funded organisation with tendrils across the globe, with the sole aim to help those who needed it.
Or at least that was what the world saw.
After a further year of intensive marketing, rapid acquisition of appropriate buildings and staff, and a very large financial outlay (but he could easily afford it); the Lynch Institute was born. It preached self-help guidance; motivational speaking, intensive emotional support groups and The reality was somewhat different; different after he saw her. He saw her in the latest group of initiates at the welcome orientation at his headquarters building in London, and he couldn't take his eye off her. All at once, he was back in his lonely flat, looking at the empty call log after she stopped texting him.
Now she was here. She was here, wanting to be helped and now without her knowledge, she would feel the full blinding glare of his attention. Within hours, she was fast-tracked to join the select few initiates who were flown by private jet, to the organisation's retreat on Turks and Caicos. After she had arrived, she had been settled in one of the small bedrooms, all her worldly belongings had been stored and given her institute linen halter neck dress and sandals. While Lynch took his time to join her, she was immersed in the indoctrination process. With eight 'seminars' every day with four or five different 'counsellors' they slowly de-briefed her and wrote out a lengthy and detailed programme of exercise, and more meetings and even outlined what meals she should eat. By the time Lynch flew into the island and was driven to the 'Residence', Gina Robins was well under the expert instruction of her 'counsellors' and was moved to the next phase of her 'liberation' from the constraints of her life. He had learned of her divorce and how her ex-husband had taken her boys from her and she had lost her job. All this information was a delight for Lynch. She was the perfect initiate for his 'liberation' teachings and soon, very soon he would have her ready to take the first steps to her complete assimilation into the institution and he would take personal charge of her 'liberation'.
Chapter Two.
