He had met her on the internet. She said that she was a nineteen year old drama student. This lively young woman came to fascinate him and, of course, she had no idea of the man with whom she was dealing. From her emails he learned her ISP details and, for someone of his special talents, hacking the ISP records was easy. So now he knew her address and it was simple to use open sources to learn the basic details of the household. Her father was a senior lending manager with a major bank and her mother was a supply teacher. Julie was not a nineteen year old drama student; she was an eighteen year old A level student and she would pay for that lie when she was writhing beneath him with his manhood pinning her to the bed.
His income from investments was sufficient to absolve him from the need to do a conventional job so he was free to devote his time to unwrapping the delicious mystery of young Julie. His first foray involved parking his telecom van near to the large house in a nice area of Portsmouth. The van appeared to be empty but, from his place in the back, he could watch the house. And then he saw her for the first time.
She came out of the front door with her sister. Julie was slim with an elfin face and beautiful flowing black hair which gave her a slight air of the gypsy. She had her school bag slung over her shoulder and she was perfect. The school uniform was crisply pressed and the black tights seemed to emphasise the gentle curve of her thighs and her calves. Both girls were blissfully unaware of their lethal observer as they walked down the road on the way to just another day at their private school.
It was not long before the mother hurried out of the house, got into the dark blue Ford Fiesta and drove off to work. The mother was slim and trim and very attractive; the man imagined unwrapping her and perhaps keeping her a bound helpless spectator of what he was going to do to young Julie. In the past he had known the delight of hearing a helpless mother begging him to take her instead of the daughter. If they imagined they had a chance of saving their child they would willingly submit to any degradation or humiliation and he knew this game could be made to last for many days before its final inevitable denouement.
He waited for a while and then left his van and took the ladders from the roof. In his blue overalls he knew that no-one would give him a second glance as he climbed the telegraph pole outside Julie's home. At the top of the pole he took his time over isolating the line into the house and fitting his induction tap which he covered with grease to make it weatherproof and invisible. Every telephone handset contains a microphone but few people realise that sending the correct pulse down the line can make that microphone live even when the handset is on its cradle. So he could now monitor every telephone conversation to or from the house and he could also listen to every conversation which took place in any room where there was a telephone. His work complete for the day he drove away.
The key to a successful operation is patience. One has to take time over every stage to get the measure of the prey and for many days he listened to the product of his induction bug. He heard her parents in their room discussing the girls and he also heard the muted sounds of their lovemaking.
The telephone in the lounge gave him Julie's voice as she had the normal innocent conversations of a girl with her family and the slightly immature jibes between the two sisters about various boys. His monitoring also gave him the family routine so he knew that the mother had a full programme of teaching jobs for the next two weeks. This meant that the house would be empty for most of the day so he could move to Phase Two.
Not wanting a strange car to be seen in the road he parked the car in the next road and walked confidently up to Julie's front door with all the appearance of belonging there. It was the work of a moment to open the lock and he was in. Of course there was an alarm but it used the telephone line and he had already neutralised that from the nearby pole. He stood silently looking around and picturing Julie in her natural habitat then he made his way upstairs to Julie's room.
The room was the perfect mix of the newly formed adult and the small girl she had been. On the dressing table was the untidy mess of scent bottles and jewellery and on the bed lay the innocent stuffed cheetah cub which he knew from her emails was called Tig.
For a moment he just stood there breathing in the faint fragrance of Julie then he slid open the top drawer of the bedside chest. Now he was looking at Julie's underwear which was also a mixture. His quarry possessed some very skimpy thongs and brassieres which were only a few wisps of lace as well as more substantial plain white cotton knickers. Despite laundering, the cotton showed a slight indent where the fabric had taken on the intimate shape of the labia which it covered and he ran his fingers along the creases at the gusset of some of the intimate items.
He closed the drawer and set to his main task which was to plant his tiny devices in two corners of the room. They had been purchased for cash in Seattle when he had visited the USA using one of his many false passports so they were completely untraceable even if they were ever found which was unlikely. The devices were just tiny specks containing microphones, pinhole cameras and enough battery power to last many years as they used so little power to make them operate.
Having now stolen Julie's privacy he looked around to ensure that he had left no trace of his visit and slipped out the back way then walked briefly to his car which had been hired using a driving licence and credit card in yet another alias.
