The stress and suspense I endured for the days following my unfortunate encounter with Mickey Fisher, culminating with him walking out of the house with a DVD of me masturbating and, as I suspected, posing nude for him on tip-toes with my bare bottom pushed out, was unbearable. I'd racked my brains trying to think of an escape from my predicament but to no avail. Mickey had me cornered, where he wanted me, and there wasn't a blind thing I could do about it nor even anybone I could ask for advice for fear of my most private activities being exposed, in his words, "high wide and handsome".
The only positive event that gave me some respite that miserable week was learning that my application for employment at the local high school had been successful and that I was to start there teaching gym, dance, drama and English at the beginning of the new academic year in September which was only a couple of weeks away now. My first career job and first income would normally have been a time for celebration but Mickey having that damned DVD had put an insurmountable damper on everything.
Finally, the stress became unbearable and, taking courage in both hands, I plucked up the courage to contact him via the estate agent where he worked.
"Edwards and Edwards, good morning," came the sunny response from the receptionist.
"Could I speak to Mickey Fisher please?"
"Oh, I'm afraid Mr Fisher is at a client's, could I give him a message?"
"Yes, please tell him to call Cathy Matthews... er, he has my number."
"Certainly, I'll tell him when he comes in."
During the intervening hours, I mooched around the house, trying to read a novel, unable to concentrate until, towards lunch-time, my phone finally rang.
"Cathy Matthews," I answered.
"Hello, darlin'," he replied, cheerily. "What can I do for you, today?"
"Listen, Mickey," I hissed so as not to be overheard, "you know damned well why I phoned you. This has gone far enough and I want that DVD."
"Certainly, miss."
"You agree, then?" I asked incredulously but hugely relieved.
"Sure, no problem."
"Good," I said. Mickey was vaguely attractive in a rough kind of way so I was glad that common sense and decency had apparently prevailed. "When will you bring it around?"
"Ah, I'll get back to you with that, miss. I'm flat out at the moment so I'll ring you again when I have a gap," he pondered. "Give me twenty minutes."
"Alright," I replied, somewhat surprised but very grateful that retrieving the DVD had been so easy.
I waited, on edge, for fully half hour, poring over the phone and praying that he didn't change his mind. My mother, who looked and behaved like my blonde sister rather than a parent, walked past.
"Waiting by the telephone, eh? --New boyfriend?" She asked, hopefully, as she seemed disappointed that I didn't bring a steady flow of the male sex through her front door.
"No, definitely not," I answered, curtly.
"Now don't bite my head off..."
But before she could go any further, my phoned beeped to announce the arrival of a text message. It wasn't a number I recognised so I guessed it was Mickey's mobile.
"... okay, sorry mum," I snapped. "You'll have to excuse me for a moment," and I went to my room to read the message.
"For the DVD, be at my place, 10 Wordsworth Avenue, this afternoon at 3:30."
Result! He'd kept his side of the bargain, restored my faith in human nature and I allowed myself a satisfied, audible sigh of relief.
Also, the timing was perfect for me as I had a hair appointment at two and could call in to pick it up on my way home.
It was very a warm and sunny afternoon, so I donned my powder-blue flared mini dress with a pair of white shoes and, save for a white, lacy thong, that was about all. I eyed myself in the mirror and was pleased with the result --contrasting the golden brown tan I had lazily been building up in the garden over the summer holiday.
Raymond worked his usual magic on my shoulder-length hair and I flounced out of the salon immaculately groomed, feeling and looking a million dollars and skipped into my car to drive the short distance to the seedy council estate and then the run-down semi that was the Fishers' residence. I parked outside the rusty front gate and negotiated a gang of urchins who wolf-whistled and made crude comments as I made my way to the gate.
Closing the gate behind me, I walked briskly up the path to a chorus of little brats remarking about my breasts, bottom and what they'd like to do to me --needless to say, not exactly in those terms. Feeling my colour rising, I remember thinking how advanced kids are for their age, these days.
Before I could get to the front door, the Fishers' drooling bull terrier pounced seemingly from nowhere and took great delight in jumping up my leg and under my skirt, sniffing embarrassingly. As hard as I tried to push him down, this solid ball of muscle pushed back harder and I simply did not have the strength to bring him under control. I lurched to the doorbell and rang it with an outstretched arm to an urchin chorus of "Oooh-ooh! White knickers!" as my skirt rode right up to my waist because the damned hound had entangled me, shoving his cold, moist nose all over my thighs, leaving horrible, gooey tracks on my lovely tan.
Mercifully, the door opened, Mickey answered and seeing the dog, who had apparently decided that the foreplay was over and was now gripping my leg like a vice with its front paws, shouted sternly at it.
"Pricky!" Well, the name was apt, at least.
"Er, come in, miss," he said as the dog skulked awayed whence it had come looking thoroughly disappointed to have been interrupted. And in we went.
If the garden was strewn with litter, and broken machinery, then the Fishers' house was a positive health hazard, I observed, picking my way through the beer cans and discarded food packaging.
"After you, miss. Don't worry, there's no-one else in," he ushered me into the front room, and gave me an inappropriate little pat on the bottom as I entered. "You look stunning today, darlin'." I paid scant notice to his unwanted attentions.
"Thanks, I've just had my hair done," I humoured him with the sole objective of securing the DVD.
"Nice place," I enthused, falsely.
