Trilobite (Part 3)

At five o'clock, Connie bade goodbye to Emma and Jill, and went home. She was greeted as usual in the hall by her hyperactive Springer spaniel, Panda. She scratched the dog's head and then walked into the kitchen. Her husband, Mike, was there and he was busy cooking dinner.

"Hi," he said, giving her a kiss.

"Hi," she responded with a smile. "Had a good day?"

"Not especially," he replied. "I couldn't find my debit card - I think I must have left it in a shop yesterday. The bank's going to send me a new one straight away, but it's a real pain in the meantime. Anyway, how about you - how was your day?"

"Interesting," replied Connie. "I walked into Stan's office today and Emma was in there, completely naked!"

Mike stopped stirring his cheese sauce and stared at her. "You're kidding! Is this Emma the new temp? What was her surname - Caldwell?"

"Yes that's her … I didn't know where to look! It was so embarrassing!"

Mike chuckled. "So what was her story?"

Connie shrugged. "I've no idea. She said she just likes taking her clothes off, but I think maybe there's something going on between her and Stan."

Mike snorted. "She must be desperate then," he said.

"Oh don't be cruel. He can't help his stutter."

"Well he seems pretty much like a weirdo to me. Anyway could you take over stirring a minute? I need to go to the loo."

"Sure."

Mike was just on his way out of the kitchen when he paused. "By the way," he said, "I'm taking the car in for a service tomorrow morning - what are your plans?"

Connie pursed her lips. "Well I was going to check out the market," she said. "I guess I'll have to wait until next week now."

"You could always take the bus," suggested Mike.

"Yeah, I s'pose." Connie sighed.

"Just make sure it's not a double-decker. That hurricane's going to hit tomorrow morning, they reckon."

"Yeah but they've demoted it to a 'tropical storm' now - they think it'll be a bit of an anticlimax."

"Oh?" Mike raised his eyebrows. "Well, be careful anyway. Strong winds are strong winds."

Connie nodded, and Mike left the room. As she stirred the simmering sauce, her thoughts turned once again to the moment she had opened the door to Stan's office and seen Emma naked. A shiver ran down her spine - such overt sexual confidence was a rather alien concept to Connie.

Later that evening, Connie had a bath while Mike surfed the internet. As she emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, Mike called her into his study.

"What's up?" she asked as she entered, towelling her hair dry.

"You've got to see this," said Mike, with an amused expression on his face. "The latest contri at Voyeur Central - it's called 'Hypno Show'. Allegedly this girl, a real prude, was hypnotised into stripping and covering herself with all kinds of messy stuff. Set-up if you ask me, but still … rather erotic."

Connie pursed her lips in mild disapproval, but nevertheless looked over her husband's shoulder as he paged down slowly through the pictures. "Very nice," she remarked without enthusiasm. "Poor girl - if it's genuine then I feel sorry for her."

"I'm sure it's a set-up," Mike assured her.

"Well, I'm going to read in bed for a few minutes," said Connie. "Will you be coming to bed soon?"

"Um, sure - I have to write a few emails first, but it shouldn't take me more than half an hour."

Connie nodded and left the room. She got into bed with a novel and read for the best part of an hour before Mike walked in, disrobed, and climbed into bed. They cuddled for a while in the dark, but the sound five minutes later of Mike's measured breathing told Connie that he had fallen asleep.

As she lay next to him, Connie still could not get the mental image of Emma's naked body out of her mind. What must it be like to be that bold? Now that she thought about it, Emma's clothing was always provocative. On occasion she had noticed that Emma's skirt was in need of pulling down, but she had assumed this rather inappropriate exposure of flesh was unintentional. Now, however, she began to wonder whether it might have been deliberate - was Emma playing a constant game of Dare with herself? If she was not careful, Emma was likely to end up with a page all to herself at Voyeur Central… Eventually, with the matter still unresolved, Connie drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The following morning, she awoke before Mike and looked at the clock. It was nearly eight o'clock. Yawning, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. She would have a quick shower, she decided, and then grab some breakfast. Taking off her pyjamas, she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her (she didn't want Panda charging in and waking Mike unnecessarily), then walked into the bathroom and switched on the light.

Ping! The light flashed on for a fraction of a second, then went out. Connie cursed and left the room to fetch a new lightbulb. As she reached the foot of the stairs, her eye was caught by a small fuzzy white patch visible through the frosted glass of the front door. The post had arrived. At that moment Panda dashed through from the kitchen, wagging his tail, and Connie briefly petted him. It occurred to her that one of the letters might well be the results for an exam she had recently taken, and she decided to retrieve the post before taking her shower. Pulling the two front door keys from their hook on the wall, she picked out the key for the inner door, which she unlocked before replacing the keys on the hook. Then she opened the door a crack and looked out.

She could see nobody outside - not on the pavement nor further down the road in either direction. No cars were visible and the curtains in the windows of the houses opposite were all closed. So, her heart beating rapidly at this incredibly bold (for her) act, she opened the door a little further, then stepped through into the glass-fronted porch. Reaching down, she picked up the three letters lying on the floor, then she stood up and prepared to retreat back into the hall.

But a sudden 'click', accompanied by a scuffling sound, told her that she was in trouble even before she whirled around in a panic. The inner door of the porch had just closed, and there was no handle on this side! On the other side of the door, Panda continued to bound about for a moment, oblivious to the consequences of his exuberance, before heading back into the kitchen in the absence of his mistress.

Connie froze in shock. She was locked into the porch! She could not get outside, since she had not unlocked the outer door - and she could therefore not even use the doorbell to attract Mike's attention. Frantically looking down the road, Connie spied a car coming her way. In the other direction, a man walking his dog was approaching at a slower rate.

Turning back to the inner door, Connie began pounding on it in the hope of awaking Mike. But it seemed a slim hope - he was a terribly heavy sleeper and she had even closed the bedroom door. Sure enough, by the time the car had passed, honking its horn, and the man walking his dog had arrived, stopped and begun staring at her, Connie realised that she was not going to be able to rouse Mike. There was nothing she could do.

The man with the dog grinned at her. Connie shrank into a huddled, miserable ball in the corner of the porch and hugged her knees. A minute later, the man resumed walking and disappeared from view. Connie returned to hammering on the inner door and shouting for Mike. When she next looked back out into the road, a new shock awaited her.

Four teenaged boys, one of them clutching a football, were staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and delight. One of them hurriedly pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled into it. Seconds later he was speaking with someone on the other end of the line, and all the while he was staring at Connie…

Connie waved at the boys crossly in an attempt to shoo them away, but they paid her gestures no attention. Fifteen minutes later they were still there, sitting on her garden wall, staring at her with lascivious grins on their faces. One of them was eating a packet of crisps. Then the work of the mobile phone bore its first fruit - three other boys arrived and began staring, goggle-eyed, at Connie. Two minutes later another boy turned up, and then other couple after that.

One of them finally climbed over the wall and jogged up to the porch. Connie tried to shrink away from him, but her back was against the inner door as it was. The boy began to rub himself up against the glass obscenely, while leering at Connie. The other boys on the wall thought this was terribly funny, and pretty soon several of them were gathered around the front of the porch. They were so close now that Connie could hear their lecherous comments.

"Fucking fit isn't she?" said one. "Can you see her tits from there?"

"Nah," said another, "but I can kind of see her quim - mmm, I'd love to get my dick in that cunt."

"No way man, you'd have to find it first…"

"What, his dick or her cunt?"

There was much laughter at this.

"Anyone got a sledgehammer we can use on this glass? I figure she's gagging for it really."

"Think she'll do all of us?"

Connie burst into tears.

"Shit man, look what you've done."

"What I've done? Hey, I wasn't the one who said I'd love to get my dick in her."

"Think we should help her or something?"

"Nah man, I think we'd better just get out of here."

The teenagers drifted off, though they cast lingering glances back at her as they departed from her eyeshot. At that moment, the inner door of the porch opened.

"What on Earth are you doing out here?" demanded Mike.

"Oh Mike!" Connie wailed, and dashed back past him into the house.

A long shower and a breakfast later, Connie had calmed down somewhat. "I feel so stupid!" she moaned. "I figured I'd just be in the porch for a second … I hadn't bargained on Panda shutting me out."

"Never mind baby," said Mike. "I'm sure you'll look back at this little incident in years to come and find it funny."

"Maybe," responded Connie, "but I certainly don't find it funny at the moment, so that thought isn't very comforting."

"I'm sorry," said Mike. "I'm just not quite sure what to say."

Connie sighed. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Anyway what time are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible. In about five minutes probably. I just need to shave and brush my teeth." He swigged down the last of his tea and got up from the breakfast table.

Once Mike had left, Connie got herself ready for going out. She put on a knee-length summer dress over her bra and panties, applied some make-up, and then left the house to catch the bus. Rummaging through her purse, she cursed as she realised she was short on cash - she only had a pound or so in loose change. She hoped this would be enough for a return ticket to the centre of town.

The bus appeared at the end of the road, and Connie, who had been watching for it through the living room window, quickly ran out of the house, locked the door, and hurried to the pavement, where she flagged the bus down and boarded it. The ticket cost one pound sixty - she did not have enough. Fortunately this was not a major problem - she could just afford a single and once she had got into town she would be able to obtain some more money from a cashpoint machine. As the bus wound its way through the suburban streets, Connie noticed trees were swaying in increasingly strong winds - Reginald had apparently arrived.

When she arrived in the middle of town, Connie stepped out on to the pavement, and almost immediately had to clutch her dress, which began to whip about and billow up around her waist. Blushing crimson, she hurried down the pavement towards the bank, battling to keep her dress under control. She was not entirely successful - several times, though she did not realise it, her dress flipped up at the back to reveal her white panties to anyone behind her who chanced to look in her direction.

She popped her card into the cashpoint machine. Nothing happened for a moment, then a message appeared which said: "Your card has been reported missing and has therefore been retained. Please contact your local branch."

Connie stared at the message in disbelief. Then she recalled what Mike had said about his card going missing. Had the bank stopped both their cards? Or had she perhaps picked up Mike's by mistake? At any rate, so much for her shopping trip! Angrily, she turned back towards the bus stop. And then she came to an abrupt halt as she realised with horror that she only had a single ticket. She would have to walk home.

But in this dress? Already she was fed up with trying to keep her hem from flying up to her waist - how was she going to manage on a walk that would take her nearly half an hour? The wind seemed to be getting even stronger - trying to keep her panties covered could soon prove well nigh impossible. What had she been thinking when she put this dress on?

And then she had a sudden thought. Rummaging in her purse, she uttered an exclamation of triumph as she pulled out her cheque book. She hardly ever used it, much preferring her debit card, but now it could very well prove a life-saver. She could go shopping after all!

Her look of elation faded quickly as she realised that, in using both hands to look through her purse, she had been neglecting her skirt. Looking down in panic, she gasped as she saw her dress folded and plastered to her waist by the wind, her panties on view for all to see. And, when she looked up anxiously, it did rather seem as if she had quite a large audience. Many people, mostly men, were staring at her with more than a passing interest. She quickly pulled her dress down and held it there while she walked quickly down the pavement.

Soon she came to the market. It was not in a happy state. Some of the stall-holders were already packing their goods away, unable to cope with the rising wind. Lighter items were been blown from their places and carried out of reach of the vendors fighting a losing battle to achieve a degree of stock control. A rack of clothes was blown over and crashed into a neighbouring stall - a heated argument ensued.

Realising time was pressing, Connie hurried into the market and looked around for something she could wear. Spotting a clothes stall at the edge of the market, she hurried straight to it. It was selling, amongst other things, jeans and t-shirts.

"Hi," said Connie to the stressed-looking stall-keeper.

"Hullo," he replied. "You'll have to hurry Miss, I'm about to clear out of here." He stared anxiously at his racks, which were being strongly buffeted by the wind. Fortunately the stall next to his, which was suffering even more badly, was providing a small degree of cover.

"I just need a pair of jeans and a t-shirt," said Connie. "Perhaps a jumper too - this wind's quite cold isn't it?"

"Sure, fine, just pick out what you want," said the stall-keeper distractedly. He was eyeing the other stall nervously - its vendor had given up the struggle against the weather and was beginning to pack up.

Spots of rain began to fall as Connie tried to choose her clothes. She was not used to having to clothes-shop in such a rush. "Um, that t-shirt," she said at length, "and, er, those jeans. But I'll need to try them on - I find it very hard to get jeans that fit me."

The stall-keeper laughed hollowly. "Well, there's no changing room here," he said. "Though I dare say you could put the jeans on under your dress. How are you paying?"

"Cheque," replied Connie, and she produced it.

"You got a cheque guarantee card?" asked the stall-keeper automatically.

"Um, no," confessed Connie. "The machine just ate it."

The vendor whistled between his teeth. "Then it's tough luck Miss - a cheque's no good to me without a card."

"Oh," said Connie, disappointed. "Do you think any of the other stalls will accept a cheque?"

"Without a card? Not a chance," said the man. "Sorry." He grimaced and looked skyward as the rain got a little heavier.

Connie felt herself become increasingly desperate. "Look, isn't there any way? I have to walk home, but I can't do so in this dress - it's blowing all over the place!"

"So I see," the vendor remarked, as Connie's panties briefly came into view. He let out a heavy sigh. "Tell you what Miss - seeing as I'm feeling especially generous today, I'll let you have a t-shirt and one of my cheapest pairs of jeans in exchange for that dress, and your underwear. It's not, after all, a very expensive dress."

Connie's mouth opened in surprise. "What?" she exclaimed. "What do you want my underwear for? Surely you can't be meaning to sell them on…?"

"Just as a souvenir," said the vendor with a grin. "Look, I'm going to make a loss on this deal, so you have to make it worth my while somehow. I'm not asking you to do anything obscene. Now do you want the clothes or not?"

Connie glanced around. She could no longer see any other stalls selling clothes. And the rain was beginning to soak her dress. "Um," she said, "well all right. But I'm not going to change right in front of you."

The vendor indicated behind him. "There's a doorway just behind me here," he said. "It's quite deep - you'll be able to fit into it all right. Can you see that bit of corrugated plastic over there? If you fetch it, I'll prop it up across the doorway for you. Then you'll have a bit of privacy."

Connie did not like this idea one little bit. But her dress was becoming unmanageable now - it was exhausting trying to keep it down and she was sure that everyone for miles around must have seen her panties by now. "All right," she said resignedly, and hurried to fetch the plastic sheet.

The doorway, as the vendor had said, was fairly deep. The door was inset from the outer wall by at least eighteen inches, which allowed Connie enough room (just) to get changed. Together they positioned the sheet of plastic so that it was covering the doorway. As the plastic was leaning against the wall, its bottom was about a foot away from the wall, leaving a gap through which clothes could be passed.

"I'm not giving you the clothes just yet," said the stall-keeper. "That door leads into the mall, and I'm not having you escaping through it with my wares when you've not paid for them."

"So what do you suggest?" demanded Connie from the other side of the plastic.

"You'll have to take off your clothes first and pass them out to me," said the man, unruffled. "I'll then pass you your t-shirt and jeans. Hell's bells!"

"What?" inquired Connie.

There was no reply for several seconds. Then the man's voice returned. "Sorry," he said. "Had to go rescue … oh shit, there goes another one! This is no good - I'm going to have to pack up."

The sheet of plastic suddenly blew over. Connie shrieked and retrieved it hurriedly, her dress quickly becoming like a second skin as it became drenched in the now very heavy rain. The stall-keeper helped her put it back up, leaning a little more this time so it would be more stable. Connie was once more concealed from his view.

"It's no good!" exclaimed the man. "I'm losing stock here! I'm getting out."

"No! Wait!" squealed Connie. Taking her courage in both hands, she undid her dress and pulled it up over her head. Then she dropped it as the plastic sheet began to lift away from the wall. Grabbing hold of both sides, she managed to hold it in place. Then she stooped and picked up her dress with one hand. "Here you go!" she said, passing it out through the gap. It was tugged out of her hand. Then she swallowed nervously as she realised she would now have to remove her underwear. She pulled her panties down and stepped out of them, then unclasped her bra and took it off. She was now naked apart from her shoes.

"Here you are!" she said, passing her undergarments out through the gap. They, too, were whisked out of her hands. "Now the jeans if you pleeeeaaaaghhh!" Her request dissolved into a shriek as she was obliged to grab the plastic sheet again. She held on for dear life - if it fell over, everyone around would see her naked.

"Hurry up!" she insisted. "This sheet isn't going to stick around here much longer!"

But no jeans were passed through the gap, and no t-shirt either. Standing there naked, holding on tightly to the corrugated plastic, Connie began to feel worried. She attempted to poke her head around the edge of the plastic, but found she could not do this without letting go of the plastic with one hand. And if she let go, even with only one hand, she was not confident of keeping the sheet in place.

But after another minute, she figured she did not have a choice. Holding on with her right hand as tightly as she could, she let go with her left and peered around the right-hand side of the plastic sheet. Then she gasped in horror. The stall was gone. So was the vendor. "Nooo!" she screamed in terror and panic. Why had he left, after taking her clothes? What kind of person would do that? Unless… Her heart sank as she realised it had probably been the wind itself snatching her clothes from her hand, not the stall-keeper. He had, apparently, been as good as his word when he had said he was 'getting out'.

With a great clattering sound, the plastic sheet was ripped out of her hand and carried several yards away. The few people remaining in the area stared, stunned, at the naked woman who had suddenly been exposed to their eyes. But they did not stare for long - everybody in sight was now running for cover as the rain became torrential. Connie quickly turned and tried the door which the man had said led through to the mall. Perhaps she could find some refuge there. But the door turned out to be locked. In despair, Connie looked around at the now deserted market place, wondering where she could take refuge. No obvious solutions presented themselves, however. Shops across the road were busy closing and boarding up their windows. And she did not dare go and knock on some stranger's house - what if it turned out to be a complete psycho? She whimpered in distress - whatever was she to do?

Clutching her purse, Connie dashed out into the rain. She reached the pavement, paused, and ran across the road. On the other side was a fence, beyond which a disused railway line led in the rough direction of her house. She knew that it passed her local convenience store, and her tentative plan was to follow it until she got as close to home as possible, then dash the remaining couple of hundred yards to her house. Down in the cutting she was not likely to meet anybody, so to her mind it was a better option than trying to run the gauntlet of the suburban streets.

She managed to climb over the barbed-wire fence without injury, but as she hurried down the fern-covered slope into the cutting, Connie's left foot got caught in a rabbit hole and she tripped forward. Her shoe was wrenched off and she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. Tumbling head over heels, she crashed down through the bracken for what seemed like ages and finally ended up in a bruised, shaken heap at the foot of the slope.

One of her shoes was gone. The other now had a broken strap. Sighing wearily, Connie removed it and threw it away. She got to her feet and winced as she put her weight on her bare left foot. It was not broken, perhaps not even sprained, but it was uncomfortable to walk on and she was obliged to limp along at a much slower pace than she would have liked.

The bottom of the cutting was already awash with rainwater in places. Connie skirted around a few big puddles; paddled through others that stretched from one side to the other. It was raining harder than she could remember it ever raining in her experience. The water drummed into her skin like a thousand cold fingers giving her an unwanted massage. Rainwater ran in rivulets down her face, over her breasts, down her belly and into her sodden pubic hair. Her chilled nipples stood out like bullets. She was by now feeling thoroughly miserable.

Twenty minutes later she was tired out, having hobbled along with her weight largely on her right foot. Shivering with cold, she sat down for a brief rest, putting her purse down beside her. Panting from her exertion, she looked around in attempt to ascertain how far she had come. She did not recognise the houses she could see, but the sight of a church steeple poking over the tops of nearer roofs led her to guess that she had come about a mile. She was less than halfway home.

A shout made her freeze. She turned on to her hands and knees and crawled up the slope a few yards, hoping to hide herself in the bracken. Only here the ferns were interspersed with brambles, and she sustained a few cuts. Finally however, she was reasonably well hidden. Where had the shout come from? Had somebody seen her?

Five minutes later she decided the shout must have had nothing to do with her. She was about to get up when she spotted something nosing around in the cutting below. She could not see it too well, but it looked rather like a dog. Then she caught a better sight of it - it was a fox, very bedraggled and rather thin-looking. Connie stayed where she was, watching the animal with interest … until it grabbed something in its jaws and began to trot away.

Connie gasped as she realised what the object was - it was her purse, which she had left at the foot of the slope! "Hey!" she yelled, jumping to her feet and charging down through the bracken. Her leg caught on a bramble and she yelped as she felt it cut into her flesh.

The fox bounded off down the cutting before turning aside and disappearing into the undergrowth. Connie by now had reached the foot of the slope, but she knew it was hopeless to try to follow the creature. Her spirits, which had been low enough already, sank even further. She had lost her house keys, her cheque book and the small amount of change that she still had left over from the bus fare.

Completely naked, and with no means even of getting into her house once she reached it, Connie fought back an urge to break down and cry. It would do no good anyway. Perhaps she could take refuge in her neighbours' house - if they were in. She sighed and continued limping along the base of the cutting.

Half an hour later she decided she was probably fairly near to the convenience store. Unfortunately, by now the ferns had given way to thickets of brambles and nettles - there was no way she could climb up just here. Continuing on, she saw that the banks of the cutting began to slowly descend up ahead as the surrounding terrain dipped into a marshy nature reserve.

Footsore and weary, Connie finally reached a gate at the point where the disused railway ended and a stretch of farmland began. A gate on the right-hand side of the track led into the nature reserve which bordered the farm, and Connie climbed over it. On the far side she began to follow a muddy path which, she hoped, would lead her back in the general direction of her house.

It may well have done, but now that she was out of the cutting Connie found herself at the mercy of the wind, which was so strong she could hardly walk against it. What made matters worse was that her feet kept slipping on the infirm terrain. Several times she fell over, and soon she was plastered from head to toe in dark brown mud. At one point a particularly strong gust of wind caught her off balance and carried her, arms pinwheeling madly, off the edge of the track. She slipped and slithered down a muddy slope into a deep, steep-sided ditch, at the bottom of which she sank twelve inches deep into the thin, watery mud.

Connie was momentarily stunned, but uninjured. She picked herself up, dripping mud from every body part, and attempted to climb out of the hole. This proved, however, trickier than she would have thought. The sides of the pit were slippery, and she could get no purchase on them. After several abortive attempts, she sat down in dismay, sinking waist deep, her bottom and pussy squelching into the thicker mud at the bottom. She was trapped! Naked, helpless, and shivering with cold in a six-foot-deep muddy ditch, who knew how long it would be before she was rescued?

As it turned out, about three quarters of an hour. The sound of a car engine roused Connie from her fit of depression, and she stood up and began jumping up and down, waving her arms frantically. She no longer cared about being seen naked - she just wanted to get out of this hole.

The car - a powerful 4x4 - stopped just next to the edge of the ditch. A door slammed, and a woman's head appeared. "Hello!" she shouted over the noise of the wind.

"H-Hi!" said Connie, shivering. "Could you get me out of here please?"

"Hang on a moment," said the woman, and she disappeared. A few seconds later she returned with a rope, one end of which she threw down. "Hold on to that," the woman instructed, "and I'll back the car up."

Connie held on tightly as she heard the car's engine rev, then she felt the rope pull taut and, slowly, she was lifted off her feet. Clinging on for dear life, she was dragged up the edge of the ditch on her stomach, sliding through the mud until she reached the top. Once out of the pit, she stood up and stumbled towards the car's passenger door.

"Just a moment," her rescuer called out. "I have a blanket in the back."

The blanket was retrieved and Connie wrapped it around her before getting into the car. Once inside, with the doors shut, she turned to her saviour. "Thank you so much," she said. "I was getting desperate."

"I'm sure you were," said the woman, starting the car along the path again. "Just how did you get into that predicament?"

Connie rolled her eyes. "It's a long story," she said with a heavy sigh. She turned to face her saviour, and her brow furrowed. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she inquired.

The woman looked at her in surprise. "I don't think so," she said. "My name's Sophie."

"I'm Connie," said Connie. "What brings you out here on a day like this?"

"I'm looking for a missing horse," replied Sophie. "I work at an Animal Rescue centre - as you can imagine we've been inundated with calls today."

Connie nodded. "Well, thanks for rescuing this animal, at any rate. You wouldn't believe the day I've had. First I got locked in my porch this morning without a stitch on…"

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "So this kind of thing happens to you a lot?"

"Well no! Not before today at any rate. And now, twice in one day, I find myself without clothing in a very awkward situation. Not to mention the fact that I've lost my house keys as well…"

"Ah, I was about to ask you where you wanted me to take you," said Sophie. "So you can't even get into your house?"

"No," said Connie ruefully. "But hopefully my neighbours will be in, and they can look after me until my husband gets home."

"Okay," said Sophie. She was silent for a moment, then she said, "So tell me - please, I'm itching to know - how on Earth did you end up in that ditch with no clothes on?"

Connie sighed, and explained. Sophie listened, but at the end her expression showed she thought this all sounded very far-fetched. "Good grief," she said. "You stripped naked in the market and gave away all your clothes with nothing but a piece of plastic sheeting to hide you? That was … well, pretty stupid if you ask me."

Connie went rather red in the face. "Well, I was desperate!" she said. "Of course, in hindsight it sounds stupid…"

"I can't believe anyone would do that," continued Sophie, shaking her head. "I'd never let myself get into a situation like that - never!"

Connie looked sharply across at Sophie, then gasped in recognition. "Oh really?" she said. "You haven't been hypnotised recently, have you, by any chance?"

Sophie's eyes widened and she looked quickly at Connie. "No - whatever makes you say that?"

Connie chuckled. "No reason," she said.

Sophie frowned. "Go on," she prompted. "I want to hear this."

Connie shrugged. "I suggest you check out a web site called Voyeur Central," she said, with a trace of amusement. "That's all."

"I doubt there's anything at all there that I would be remotely interested in," said Sophie through all but clenched teeth.

"Suit yourself." Connie said nothing more but continued to smile to herself, which began to annoy Sophie no end, though she also kept her silence.

They emerged from the nature reserve and Connie directed Sophie to her house. When they pulled up outside, Connie said, "Okay, I'll just go and see if my neighbours are in." She opened the passenger door.

"Leave the blanket," said Sophie sharply.

Connie glanced back and saw a look of barely disguised hostility in Sophie's face. She decided against arguing the matter, and left the blanket behind as she got out of the car. She shut the door and, putting one arm over her breasts and the other hand over her pussy, she dashed towards her neighbours' front gate. Then she turned in alarm as she heard Sophie's 4x4 rev up and speed away down the road.

Her heart pounding in fear, she ran up to the door of her neighbours' house and pushed the doorbell. Looking around, she saw faces in windows across the street staring at her. Further down the road, the teenaged lads who had seen her in the porch that morning were coming her way. Her heart sank as seconds ticked by with no sign of life from within the house.

And then a dark shadow appeared, and the front door opened. Connie let out a huge sigh of relief as her elderly neighbour stepped aside to let her in. "Oh thank God!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're in, Mr Evans!"

Mr Evans, his eyes flitting from her breasts to her pussy, cleared his throat. "So am I, Connie," he said fervently. "So am I."