Both were spent for the time being, and George gently licked Sophie's pussy clean before they lay in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep.
Later that night, Sophie was awoken by George getting up and opening the door. 'Would you like a glass of water?' 'Mmmhhmm' she said, less than half awake. She drifted off again, dreaming of George's luscious cock. Waking with a start the following morning, she found George's side of the bed cold (or at least as cold as possible in the 27 degree heat). The promised glass of water was nowhere to be seen.
Her imagination has always been able to play tricks on her, and it didn't fail her now. Suddenly wide awake, she flitted between thinking that George must've fallen into the pool and drowned and that he had slipped on the stairs and broken his neck. Trying, and failing, to talk herself down from such vivid thoughts by telling herself that George had probably just gone for an early morning read in the hammock, Sophie wound a dressing gown around her and padded down to the kitchen.
Her heart dropped as she saw the note on the kitchen table: 'If you want to see your husband again, come to this address before 5pm today. Come alone, and ready to bargain. Tell no one.'
Panicked, Sophie immediately had an urge to race to her parents' room and tell all. But the last three words made her pause. 'What if they installed some form of listening device?' she thought. 'I can't risk it.' So, with a resolve that surprised her, she wolfed down some cereal and ran back upstairs, note in hand. '...ready to bargain' stuck in her mind. What could that mean? With a shiver of nervous anticipation Sophie found her sheerest, most lacy panties and slipped them on, in case they were to be part of the 'bargain' later.
***
Sophie drew up to the warehouse that the note had directed her to, locked the van and walked with trepidation towards the open side door. She noted in passing that there were very few other buildings nearby, and certainly nothing in earshot once she was inside the warehouse. Shouting for help wouldn't work here.
As she entered the door, a tall man in a crisp suit and mask greeted her: 'Sophie, we are so glad you could make it. Come this way please.' Discombobulated by the polite tone and manner, she followed the man without a word into a beautifully appointed office at the back of the warehouse. Inside, three more men in suits and masks stood throughout the room, and a similarly attired woman sat in a leather chair behind a beautiful mahogany desk. Sophie couldn't fail to notice the plush double bed taking pride of place in the centre of the room.
'We do apologise for the melodrama, Sophie', said the masked woman. 'We needed to get your attention with a minimum of fuss. Before I explain any more I want you to know that George is fine, a bit tired but that's to be expected - it took him some time to agree to our demands. You'll get to see him again as long as you do as I ask.'
