Too Close For Comfort
Chapter Four - Dangerous Flirtation
Pulling at the handbrake Rose Callaghan looked to her own reflection in the rear-view mirror as she simultaneously turned off the ignition of the three series BMW.
Letting go of a long sigh of breath as she bit gently at the inside of her lip while reached for the silver handle embedded within the drivers' side door. A chill wind immediately whipped along the street as she stepped out on to the pavement on the opposite side of the terraced street in which she had lived now for the last twelve months.
Nothing seemed out of place as she glanced in both directions along the street in the darkness. That said even with the detailed eye of a Detective Inspector Rose surmised even she wasn't familiar with every vehicle parked in the quiet street.
Wheels had been set in motion, she was as in control of what she anticipated would play out as he was. As in control as she could be under the circumstances discussed and detailed across the day.
Closing the car door and locking it with a tap of the key fob. The familiar electronic beep as the orange indicator lights flashed illuminating briefly everything around her caused Callahan to tense, for no other reason than her heightened state of anticipation.
"Fuck Rose what are you doing," she stated silently to herself as she stepped along the pavement around the front of the car and started to cross the street towards the familiarity of her home address, the property unlike many others in the residential street was shrouded in darkness from a lack of internal lighting.
Crossing the street Callaghan straightened the black skirt of her belted dress over the top of her nylon clad legs. Nylon clad legs that met leather boots that zipped along her calves to sat just above her knee. The outfit chosen while dressing this morning held a dual purpose. Pant suits or practical attire were usually order of the day, but alongside of tonight a press conference to the media to appeal for any known details on the deaths of Alice 'Pixie' Thomas and Virgina Masters had been held immediately off the back of a fraught meeting with her Senior Investigating Officer, David Cross.
As the heel of her boots echoed through the deserted street she crossed Callaghan's mind was easily distracted by impatience she shared with her SIO at the lack of genuine progress yet again made across the day. The only outstanding matter as she had left the office early, or at least the earliest she had left it all week, was receipt of the photo fit description that Detective Constables had arranged to collaborate with Virgina Masters friend Tabitha Greenslade Jones on in order to gain, as accurate as such methods were possible, an image of the mid thirties male who had last been seen in Virginia's company.
Dan possibly Daniel, their only person of interest, being a name that had preoccupied Callaghan in more than one way across the day. A string of messages exchanged with the well-built handsome male she'd made casual acquaintance with via the 'Elite Meets' app. He'd responded within hours to her middle of the night suggestive message. Between meetings and press conferences Callaghan had hurriedly arranged a further, their second, meet in less than a week.
It was only as she stepped from the pavement up the row of four concrete steps that led to her gloss black painted front door that Callaghan began to truly question the wisdom of her choice of location. She knew very little of her own mysterious Daniel, so to disclose her home address had been a sharp deviation from the anonymity of their first meet, despite the insistence of protocols to offer mutual assurances.
With her laptop case in her left hand Callaghan slipped her right hand in to her pocket and took her house keys from amongst pocket detritus, cursing the lack of illumination as she struggled with entering the key in the lock.
Turning the key in the door she heard the footsteps that approached her from behind, footsteps that softly ascended the steps behind her at a pace.
Callaghan gasped at the ferocity that followed her body pressed harshly to the solid wooden front door which spilled open under their combined body weight.
Crashing into the tiled hallway the brown leather attaché case in her hand spilled its contents across the floor ahead of her as she felt him fall heavily across her back.
As her body hit the cold hard floor, Callaghan struggled to breathe let alone speak as the air was viscously knocked from her lungs.
Lay there physically unable to react on the floor of the cold dark hallway she felt her long black jacket stripped from her arms, as she struggled for breath she turned her head but was unable to properly see her assailant given the combination of the darkness and dark colour hood he wore pulled up over his head.
Roughly her arms and hands were dragged into the small of her back, the sharp cold feel of metal pinched around the skin of her wrists that were exposed by the long sleeves of her fitted dress as she lay on her own hallway floor helpless and now significantly immobilised.
The alien sound of the cuffs applied to her wrists filled the hallway over his own heavy breath.
"Don't try and fight me" she heard him snarl
**********
Knelt over her prone body I take a moment to compose myself and familiarise my self with the unknown surroundings.
Rose lays still beneath me, she doesn't speak she doesn't struggle she waits for me to make my next move. To our right a doorway leads to a living room, and I consider the sofa I can see sat just through the doorway. To our left a flight of stairs that must lead to one or more bedrooms.
My mind casting to an earlier message she had sent requesting that I take her 'wherever presents itself.'
Pressing up from over her prone body I take hold of the top of her left arm dragging her frail slender body up with me. Stumbling forward shepherding her forward she does not protest. Not a single word passes her lips we careen through a doorway that presents a tidy, modernly furnished kitchen in the middle of which sits a broad wooden table flanked by four wooden chairs.
My mind sets in an instant at the practicality the table offers, pushing Rose towards the table I leave her stood there momentarily.
Dressed all in black so far as I can discern by only the pale glow of orange street light that spills through the long French window above a sink I take a moment to admire her svelte frame. Boots clad her lower legs, boots that stretch up over her knees toward a short tight dress that covers her upper body, the hem line sits over nylon clad thighs and the garment is belted at the waist.
My hands move around her body pressing roughly up her firm torso and over her breasts. Her breath is heavy and fast as my fingers trace over the buttons that adorn the front of the garment.
Clutching at the flimsy cotton I pull harshly at the dress hearing it rip as the buttons succumb to the viciousness I apply as the front of the garment tears open to reveal breasts I cannot see and can only presume to be contained within a bra.
Rose gasps at the act, I don't pause to appreciate her any further my left hand immediately reaching for and clutching the back of her slender neck, a neck exposed by the tied back pony tail she has fashioned her hair into.
Applying firm pressure she appreciates my intentions and offers no resistance as I force her upper body down towards the surface of the table. As her chest meets the table I hitch the tight skirt of her dress up across her black nylon clad legs.
Her upper body shifts a little as I keep my hand across the back of her neck. Her bound wrists pull at the cuffs that hold them against her lower spine as I kick apart her boot clad legs.
