by RJ Hunter
That night, Sally found it hard to sleep. She kept going over events in her mind. There was something different about Frank. It made her feel both frightened and a little curious. But deep down, it made her feel excited. She felt her spine tingling, as she tried to remember just how it felt to be held by a man once again.
The drive to Frank's office would normally have only taken about twenty minutes, but now the late afternoon rush hour had started, and Frank found himself stuck in thick traffic. He fiddled with the radio, changing channels, only to eventually turn it off as he found the constant DJ chatter an irritation. Despite being stationary, he felt pleased with himself, and longed to put the next part of his strategy into action. He was like a wild animal about to move in for the kill, following a lengthy period of prolonged stalking.
Feeling himself growing hard, as he thought back to earlier that afternoon, he refused to allow the image of Sally's naked body fade from his mind's eye.
Frank grinned as he marvelled at his own audacity for entering Sally's house so easily, and the most remarkable thing was, he got so close to her without being detected. Getting hot, he wound the window down, checked his sunglasses in the rear-view mirror and lit a cigarette. Usually, Frank would smoke cigars, which he believed reflected his lifestyle, but driving he found cigarettes far less cumbersome.
It had actually been true, what he said to Sally, about arriving early to look around the house. However, he failed to mention that it was over an hour too early. He had driven up and down Oxford Park several times, before getting out of his car to stretch his legs. Then, after seeing Sally's Volvo estate parked in the drive, he had gone closer to have a look at the exterior of the house, after all, he did have a valid reason for being there. Not seeing any sign of movement at the front, he had looked around warily, before opening the unlocked back gate, and wandering into the rear garden. He knew the back of the house quite well, but had not seen the garden in daylight before. He walked boldly across the well-kept lawn towards the tree-house. It was here, that he'd spent many a night recently, armed with his high-powered binoculars, peering into the many rooms. He felt he knew the contours of Sally's body rather well, even if it was from a distance. He noticed how brightly-coloured the tree-house was painted, and for a moment thought about building one for his own son, Jamie. Looking closer, Frank had immediately dismissed this idea, after realising how much time and effort had gone into building such a structure. Besides, Jamie would be able to have this one, if everything went to plan.
Gazing at the rear of the house, he noticed that the kitchen door was ajar. He casually strolled towards it, the only sound he could hear was the creak of his expensive leather loafers. It was then, that he saw Pepys come trotting out to investigate. After a token bark, more of affection rather than malice, the Border Collie wagged his tail, and came over to lick Frank's hand.
"Hello, boy," whispered Frank, as Pepys sniffed at his clothes. "I haven't got anything for you today, so you run along."
Pepys had now become used to Frank's nocturnal visits and got excited when he saw him, especially when a nice piece of meat was the reward. Frank quickly pushed the dog away, as he finally heard some activity coming from inside the house. He knew it would be Sally, and looked up as she opened the bathroom window a few inches. Frank entered the house, and peered at the gleaming, wet kitchen floor. He could distinctly hear Sally running a bath. He then heard a door close, and now could only hear the feint rumble of running water.
He walked through Sally's pristine kitchen, being careful not to make any marks on the classic-themed tiled floor. Upon reaching the staircase, he stood dead still, trying to listen out for any further movement. If someone else was in the house, it could only be Laura, the student nurse. Frank knew Penny was at school, Jonathan was at university, and Lizzie would always park in the drive. After a few moments, and feeling his mouth go dry, he began to creep up the stairs.
It was a large house, but Frank through his observations, had a good idea of where everyone's rooms were. He heard the unmistakable sound of splashing and was satisfied Sally would be a little longer in the bathroom. Sneaking along the upstairs hallway, he went past several closed doors, until he arrived at one which was open. Upon entering, Frank found himself in Sally's bedroom.
He stared at the king-size four poster bed, and her designer clothes carefully laid out across the satin bedspread. Gazing around the bedroom, he saw several framed photographs of Sally and William. He picked one up from a bedside table, and saw Sally as he used to remember her. She was obviously much younger then, and looked fit and tanned in a skimpy bikini, laying on a sandy beach somewhere exotic.
Noticing her huge collection of perfumes and cosmetics on the dressing table, he opened one bottle and deeply inhaled its aroma. Reaching down to one of the drawers, he was just about to pull it open, when he heard the sound of a door being closed. He froze for a few seconds listening to the sound of delicate footsteps as they got increasingly closer. Then, he heard her swear and go back to the bathroom. She had obviously forgotten something, and this gave him a few more precious moments. He looked across at what he guessed was a walk-in wardrobe, and moved hastily towards it. It was a job, but he managed to squeeze his substantial frame in among the many rails of Sally's clothes.
Within moments Sally was back in the bedroom. She sniffed the air, and looked about her, somewhat bewildered. Her hair was swathed in a towel, and she was wearing a long black silky robe, that clung to her hips perfectly. Frank watched intensely, as Sally undid the sash, before slipping the robe off, and hanging it on the back of the door. She was now completely naked. Frank was breathing heavily, and longed to have her there and then. He couldn't take his eyes off her full, shapely breasts, her large pink nipples, hard due to the change in room temperature. He admired her delicious, rounded buttocks, as she stood in front of the full-length mirror admiring her body, without even realising he was there.
After a few moments, she turned and walked with her distinctive sway of the hips, towards the walk-in wardrobe. Frank's heart was pumping wildly, and he knew he was about to be discovered. He didn't care. He had made his mind up, he would have her. He sighed as she got closer, and let his eyes dart from her breasts, to her firm belly, and down to her beautifully trimmed mound.
Sally flicked through the clothes as if she knew exactly what she was looking for. Frank could hear her breathing as she got closer to him, and at one stage her left breast was literally just inches from his mouth.
Frank was very uncomfortable, bent over in a half crouching position, and longed to straighten himself up. Part of him wanted her to discover him, but the longer the situation went on, the more confident he felt about getting away with it undetected.
Miraculously, Sally didn't see him in the closet, she was far too pre-occupied with what she was going to wear. It was vital that any potential buyer should see her in the best possible light, after all, first impressions are so important.
Sally snatched down a hanger supporting a very conservative mid-length skirt, complete with a matching blouse, before hanging up the clothes she had laid out on the bed earlier. Frank was sweating profusely now, as he watched her bending and stretching naked. He wouldn't be able to contain himself for much longer, and was about to burst out from where he was hiding, when the sharp intrusive ring of the doorbell startled them both. Frank breathed a sigh of relief as Sally slipped her robe back on and headed off downstairs to see who it was. Unable to get a proper footing because of Sally's shoes being in the way, he started to lurch forward and reached up to grab a rail that might prevent him falling, but the rail couldn't hold his weight and collapsed, bringing down several dresses on top of him. Surely she must have heard that, even from downstairs, he thought, but she didn't. Frank's luck was still holding out, as the noise was largely stifled by the doorbell being rung a second time. Frank crept out of his lair, and stood hesitating in the centre of Sally's bedroom, deciding his next course of action. Feeling confident
that she wouldn't return in the next few seconds, he moved out onto the landing, where he crouched, listening and watching. Sally was chatting to someone at the door who wanted a signature for whatever it was they were delivering, and within moments she looked like she was about to come back up the stairs. He could see her admiring a bunch of flowers, so he sneaked into another bedroom. It was smaller than Sally's and very untidy, with clothes and cassettes strewn everywhere. The walls were adorned with posters of pop stars, and in one corner stood a unit of shelves which was home to at least a hundred teddy bears of all shapes and sizes. Frank sat on Penny's bed, until he finally heard Sally return to her room, then he silently sneaked back downstairs and left via the same way he had arrived.
At last the traffic began to move, bringing Frank back from his recollections of earlier that day. He finally got clear of the road works that were causing the delay, and putting his foot down hard on the accelerator, he felt an exhilarating surge of power as the large Mercedes Benz effortlessly overtook another car from the inside lane. The other driver sounded his horn angrily as Frank dangerously cut in front of him, in order to turn right at the next roundabout.
Both cars then had to fall in behind yet another line of slow-moving traffic, and the driver of the other car took the opportunity to swing into the inside lane, so that he could pull up alongside Frank. The man stared at Frank from an open window before directing a stream of obscenities at the driver of the Mercedes.
Frank removed his sunglasses with an air of silent menace, and wound down the passenger side electric window. He then slowly glanced sideways until he was looking directly into the face of the other driver.
The man felt uncomfortable under Frank's cold, intimidating gaze. Sensing danger, he averted his eyes, and looked about him to see if he could manoeuvre his vehicle out of what looked like an ugly situation. There was a small gap in another lane, and as the man slipped the gear stick into first, a large globule of saliva came hurtling through his window, and struck the steering wheel, before splattering over the dashboard, like a heavy deposit of bird droppings. He then heard the sound of an irate car horn, as he himself cut in front of another car, only to feel his heart sink, as the big Mercedes suddenly appeared directly behind him in his rear view mirror. Those same crazy eyes were now boring into the back of his head as the man preyed for the traffic to move. It seemed to take forever, as they drove the few yards bumper to bumper, until thankfully, the Mercedes veered off and turned into another street.
Frank eased into his designated parking space in the car park at the rear of the offices belonging to The Gant Carriage Company. As usual he entered through the back door, thus having to pass through the driver's waiting room to get to his own office. It amused him when the chatter always came to an abrupt halt as soon as he made an appearance. On some occasions he would catch snippets of conversation, usually derogatory, either about him, or his company, and Frank would then be on hand to set matters right. Sometimes, Frank would speak if he felt like it, but this was usually in the form of a grunt, just to acknowledge someone. To be addressed on first name terms by Frank was a great honour indeed, and this would often result in the driver responding by offering to make Frank some tea, or by running an errand for him. But to achieve this status, one would have to be with the company for at least two months, but in truth, few were.
"Good afternoon gentlemen, I trust we're all raking the money in, on such a fine and pleasant day?" Called out Frank, in an unusually friendly manner as he headed to his office.
"I've been here since seven this morning, and I've made twelve pounds. I don't call that raking in the money, Frank."
Frank stopped and hesitated for a moment, before turning around to see who had just addressed him. Some of the other drivers buried their heads in newspapers, and two actually left the waiting room.
"What's your name?" Asked Frank, as he stepped towards the balding, middle-aged man.
"Tony!" Came back the deadpan reply.
"So, what is it you're saying to me, Tony - you're not making any money?" Demanded Frank, looking the man up and down with a critical eye.
"Yes, that's what I'm saying Frank. None of us here today have made any real money. We don't get enough jobs."
"Well, let me tell you something, Tony. If I was a fare-paying passenger, and you came to collect me - I would tell you to fuck off! Do you know what I'm saying?"
"Look Frank, it's a genuine grievance. You don't have to take that line." Replied the driver, taking a step back.
"It's quite obvious to me why you're not making any money, Tony. Just look at the state of you. To me, you look like a dosser. We all wear jackets and ties here, a suit if you own one. It's what makes us stand out from the crowd, and makes us the top cab company in West London."
All the men nodded in agreement, and looked down at their clothes. Tony, however still wasn't convinced.
"That's nothing to do with it, I'm just a cab driver, not a dinner companion."
"Don't try and be funny with me - it could be a big mistake." Snarled Frank, walking over to inspect what the rest of the men were wearing. "I built this fucking company up from nothing. There's no secret to what I did. I just dressed smart, and was civil to the punters. Then, as they paid their fare, I asked them to use me again. I even gave them a business card. That's all you have to do, it's not difficult."
Tony shook his head and began to walk away, but not before Frank had bundled him up against the wall.
"The next time I see you, pal - you'll be wearing a collar and tie. Do you understand, you loser?"
The man nodded and Frank let him go, before turning back to the others.
"That goes for all of you, if you want to work for the best, you've got to be the best. Now, where's Mark? I want him in my office immediately."
Mark had been with Frank since the early days of the late sixties and was one of the first drivers to join the business. At thirty eight, he was Frank's right-hand man, and ruled with an iron fist in the owner's absence. At six feet two, he was as tall as Frank, and just as imposing, with his stocky build and short-trimmed black hair and beard.
Frank reclined in his leather swivel chair, lit a cigar and took a healthy swig from a vodka and tonic.
"Come in Mark, here pour yourself a drink." Said Frank amiably, "There's a little job I want you to do for me."
Mark opened a fridge next to the cocktail cabinet and took out a can of cold lager, before seating himself opposite Frank.
"Is it Tony - do you want him taken care of?"
Frank laughed, he was usually very well spoken, but when talking to Mark, or any of the drivers, he tended to adopt a more localised accent.
"No, forget Tony. He's just a wanker. I don't think he'll be coming back. Just make sure he doesn't owe me any money."
"Take it as done. What else did you want me to do?" Replied Mark, downing his lager in one.
"I want you to visit an estate agent's office in Twickenham, and speak to a young chap called Stewart. Tell him I sent you, and just say I don't want anyone looking at the house I went to see recently in Oxford Park. He'll know which one." Frank then took two hundred pounds from his wallet and threw it on the desk. "Give him that, and say Frank will be in touch."
"So you are going to buy it then?" Asked Mark, scooping up the cash.
"Maybe, as an investment. House prices will rocket soon. But the club is draining me of every available penny. There's always work to be done. It's a bloody new roof now. I think it would have closed down if Claire hadn't lost it to me in that poker game."
"Can't you sell it Frank, and get out while the going's good?"
"Maybe I will, once the roof's done. Take on another twenty drivers, Mark, and make sure they use company cars."
"I'll get right onto it boss." Mark got up to leave, but Frank called him back.
"How's Pauline?" He asked in a direct manner, staring straight into the other man's eyes.
"What do you mean, Frank?" Replied Mark, war
ily.
"Exactly what I said. How's my wife? After all, you chauffeur her around most of the time, don't you?"
"She's fine Frank. But I still don't know what you're getting at?"
"What I'm getting at is this, Mark. If she told you something, you know, something about me, you would tell me wouldn't you?" Frank took a long pull on his cigar, before adding; "I mean you wouldn't keep secrets from me would you?"
"No, of course not, Frank. She never talks about you." Replied Mark, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the questions.
After dismissing him, Frank leafed through a motorcycle magazine. It was his son, Jamie's eleventh birthday soon, and Frank was planning a big surprise for him. Nothing too big and powerful, just something that Jamie could churn up the mud with. He saw one that fitted the bill perfectly, and phoned through his order. With a bit of work here and there, he thought Sally's back garden would make an ideal circuit for Jamie to practice his riding skills.
Frank had been pleased with the day's events, now there just remained a couple more things on the agenda. He had seen Sally's home, and like her he wanted to possess it. It hadn't been difficult to track her down, after seeing the TV programme on Scarlet's boutique. Now the audacity of what he was planning looked like it could bear fruit. Not only could he have Sally, and the house, but also the business, Laura, and possibly, even Penny too. He licked his lips at the endless possibilities, money, property, women, and of course, hours of fun in the secret office.
It intrigued him to think that both, his daughter Tina, and Laura were student nurses together in London. In fact, ever since William's untimely death, Frank had known not only Sally's whereabouts, but also the movements of her whole family. Now the moment was right. She'd had time to mourn, and his re-appearance at this stage wouldn't be viewed as suspicious, just a coincidence that's all.
Frank however, did have to raise money. He needed a lump sum. The mini cab business was thriving, but most of the proceeds were being ploughed into endless repair work on the club, and most of his other cash was tied up in fancy cars, contracts and investments. He thought about trying to raise the cash himself, but it would take too long, and besides, he wanted it now. He decided that someone else would put up the cash for him, or at least part of it.