I almost lost her to slavery
It had been only a day since Lila had gone with Jen to Dr. Tress' surgery
but Karen's many phone calls had created a rippling effect throughout the
two girls' lives. Being contacted by the police is a major cause for alarm
at the best of times and the repeated entreaties from Karen to anyone who
might know anything about the whereabouts of Jen or Lila meant that everyone
from both girls' families, groups of friends or casual acquaintances were
not only informed of the police's interest in the two missing people but
began phoning up all their families, friends and casual acquaintances to try
and find out what had happened. A couple of years later a historian wrote a
book on the subject and estimated that over three hundred thousand people
had been contacted by Friday the 27th. Of course, by then, it was all over.
The womenhunt had started the second Karen got into work on Monday morning
and heard the recorded message from Lila. Karen was dressed in her weekend
end pick me up: a black skirt, part of a suit, that stretched down only as
far as the lower thigh, a white shirt that was made of a good cloth that hid
her favourite bra, the black silk one with matching panties. She was
wearing her suit jacket too, although it was hot that day in June. Her
superiors didn't like her idea of the uniform but, as long as she looked
good and so long as it was a suit, they didn't press the issue. Karen
dropped her purse on the table. It contained her wallet, phone, keys,
makeup and all the other paraphernalia of being a woman, but it also had her
badge. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an opportunity to give
it an airing.
Karen listened to the six messages she had received over the weekend. Five
were mundane. The one from Lila was not. Alarmed but not panicked, the
policewoman phoned the two numbers she'd been given by the girl. The mobile
wasn't on and her work said that she'd been given a week off because of some
therapy she was going to. 'What therapy is that?' Karen had asked. 'Oh
some women's thing,' was the sexist, chauvinistic reply from the sexist,
chauvinistic boss Lila had had to endure for two years. Finally, Karen
tracked down the doctor's order. It led nowhere... or, more exactly, it led
to an NHS hospital which said they'd never heard of either Jennifer
Taylor-Moore or Lila Jones. They certainly hadn't heard of any Dr. Tress.
Karen decided that this was definitely worth some hard investigating. She
immediately set about finding out everything she could about the two girls,
calling up their families and informing them of her interest in them as
missing persons. The Jones were understandably shocked and started there
very own search, though it was mostly confirmed to Manchester. They told
Karen that Lila was a lovely girl who wouldn't just go away without telling
them and so on and so forth. It was a dead end. The Taylor-Moore's were
less informative and far more helpful.
After finally overcoming the wall of security surrounding Lord
Taylor-Moore, Karen reluctantly found herself informing one of the most
powerful politicians in the land that his only daughter, of four children,
was missing. She didn't get to ask any questions. His lordship slammed
down the phone and was engaged for the rest of the day. It later transpired
that he'd been calling comrades at the MET, Scotland Yard, parliament, MI5,
MI6, the Admiralty and Dominoes Pizza in King's Cross who were quite
surprised to receive three phone calls from an irate customer demanding to
be given a progress report on his daughter's kidnapping. By the time Karen
eventually found Jen, his lordship had caused an estimated £10.3 million to
be spent on her rescue.
It was her memory that allowed Karen to locate the missing women. All the
fancy toys in several police departments, not to mention the many gadgets
used by the various spy networks which got involved, couldn't compete with
one woman who took the time to listen to another woman's complaint. That
was Karen's edge. It almost lost her to slavery. By the time she found
them the manhunt which she had inadvertently started was on national TV...
it being a slow news day and the beautiful, kidnapped daughter of a lord was
something of a rarity.
Jen, Lila, Sandra and Missy didn't watch any television that week, nor did
they listen to the radio or check their emails. If they had they would have
been informed of the massive effort being made to find them all... or at
least, to find Jen. Lord Taylor-Moore hadn't made much of an effort to
discover any details once he heard his daughter was missing. Karen never
heard the news either. After her call to his lordship's wife she soon
realised what she was looking for.
Lady Taylor-Moore was slightly less succinct than her husband but only
moderately so. She was shocked to hear that Jen was missing but assumed it
was because she was on some sort of medical trip. Tentatively pushing,
Karen found out that Jen had gone on a special therapeutic course after her
recent heartache. Further pushing about whether this heartache might have
been because of a gentleman called Toby Barrett caused Lady Taylor-Moore to
hang up. Further calls were answered concisely by the butler who told Karen
that she had all the information she was getting. Lady Taylor-Moore didn't
like the idea of the common police force discussing her daughter's botched
To Karen the common link was the doctor: Jen was supposedly at a therapy
and Lila was off work for a week. Both had been ordered by some sort of
doctor and the only details given had led to a dead end. However, Lila had
mentioned a Dr. Tress. It was not a popular name by any standards and none
of the nurses Karen spoke to had heard of any Dr. Tress. She got all the
London hospitals to email her their employee lists but, other than a surgeon
called Mr. Triss, nothing was biting. In the end, Karen sat back and stared
at the ceiling. There was something eluding her... something she'd heard
which would help but she couldn't put her finger on it. The more Karen
willed the image to arrive the further it slipped away. Finally, in
exasperation, she went for a coffee break. It was nine fifty five in the
"Hey Karen, how's tricks?" Of all the other officers, Matt Dickinson was
the only one who treated her with any respect. The other men initially
tried it on with her and, when brushed off, muttered unpleasant comments
under their breath while surreptitiously eying her legs. Matt was
different. He'd worked with her before and found her trying, standoffish
and occasionally downright rude... but she was also very intelligent and
clever, which wasn't the same thing, and opened up if you weren't too much
of a pig. He didn't find her bad to look at either.
"Oh same old, same old, Matt. How're things with you?" He laughed.
"Nothing doing. The most exciting thing I've got to work on is a freshly
paroled dealer who's sworn all kinds of unpleasantness on me for catching
him." Karen smiled and fixed herself a wonderfully lukewarm coffee. Matt
looked at her shrewdly.
"You're working on something... I can see it in that far off look in your
eyes." Karen looked slightly shocked before smiling bashfully.
"Am I that transparent?" Matt laughed.
"Hey, you know me... I'm a master spy! Don't worry... I'll keep your
secrets safe. Only me, king and country!" He laughed and Karen smiled.
"You're a regular James Bond, Matt." They laughed at the joke and Matt
left. Karen stirred her coffee. Something Matt said triggered an
association in her mind... 'King and country... King and country...
King...? King... King!' That was it! She burst out of the coffee room.
Matt saw her.
"Hey roadrunner, where are you off to in such a hurry?" Karen smiled
"Oh, I've just got to see a doctor on the King's road about women's
troubles." He shrugged and Karen raced off, leaving Matt and everyone else
on the planet none the wiser.
The King's road is not small. It's primarily an upper class area stretching
parallel to the river though not directly alongside. It's crowded, somewhat
touristy and no one had heard of a doctor Tress. Karen thought she must be
mad. Here she was on the King's road at ten a.m. without a clue as to where
she was going or whether it even existed! She'd never heard of a Dr. Tress
anywhere in the area and Lila hadn't told her how to get to the surgery.
She hadn't even brought her bag with her! That meant she had no phone, no
money and no badge. It was hopeless. Dejected, Karen was about to head
back to the station when a voice dripping with snobbery went past her. It
was the kind of voice that, even on a young girl, made your knuckles itch...
the kind of voice that talked of estates and country houses and months in
exotic locations... the kind of voice that thought washing up was hard work
best left to the servants... and it had just spent a lot of money.
"Oh yes, daaarrlinggg, he's simply fabulous." A pause. An explosion.
"Well off courrrrse he was there, darling. He knows who his best customers
are." The mobile phone conversation continued at high volume down the
street. Karen turned her head to the noise and was about to look away in
disgust when something caught her eye. The words 'Du Pont' could be seen on
one of the girl's bags... all of them in fact. Karen followed the girl,
wondering what the connection was when, finally, her brain got into gear.
'Du Pont' was the name of a designer. Jen and Lila had gone to the shop and
bought many, many clothes there. Upon leaving Jen had been summoned back by
the manageress. That was who'd told her about the doctor. Of course!
Karen cursed her slowness at arriving at that conclusion. She rushed up to
the loud girl.
"Excuse me," asked the policewoman. Using a great many generations worth
of inbred arrogance the girl simply walked around Karen as if she wasn't
there, continuing her 'conversation.' Karen had had enough. She walked up
to the girl and grabbed the phone.
"She'll call you back," was her succinct statement before ending the call.
"Who are you?" The girl was still managing to be incredibly annoynig!
"I am a policewoman and I need to ask you a question."
"Ask someone else, I'm busy." The girl made to move off. Karen grabbed
her by the scruff of the neck.
"Hey that's Versace!" cried the girl. Karen released her grip and pointed
at the bags.
"Where did they come from?" The girl looked at her bags and back to Karen,
her face registering her disbelief that anyone in Karen's income bracket
could possibly want to buy at 'Du Pont.' However, she finally acquiesced.
"It's Du Pont, darling... you know? The famous French designer. He's
personally come over from France to fit me you know. I was just at his shop
down the King's road five... hey! Where are you going? Give me back my
phone!" Karen turned and lobbed the phone back to the girl who dropped it.
She began yelling in general to get someone to 'get' Karen but the
policewoman ignored her. All she'd needed was a direction and, sure enough,
Du Pont was just about two and a half minutes walk down the road.
"May I help you?" The tone of voice implied that help would, at most,
involve directions to the door. Karen looked at the woman hard and, in her
most officious voice, asked:
"Are you Mai Ling?" The woman nodded, suddenly confused and reserved.
Karen was about to demand a business card for Dr. Tress when an idea crossed
her mind. She lowered her eyes and toned down her voice.
"Is there somewhere private we could talk?" The manageress looked at the
plainclothes policewoman with some trepidation and no little suspicion, but
led her to a quiet room at the back. Karen looked around, making sure they
were alone. Finally she turned to the beautiful Asian woman.
"Sorry to be so rude in there, but I've been going nuts," she said simply.
Mai Ling stared at Karen, who put a greater degree of desperation into her
"These last few weeks have been the worst of my life." From nowhere her
voice managed to crack on the last word. Karen was thrilled at her sudden
skills as an actress. She used the unexpected bonus of tears welling up to
her advantage, covering her eyes and weeping into her sleeve for a moment.
"I just don't know where else to turn!" Mai Ling guided the policewoman to
a seat and sat down opposite.
"I am afraid that I am not sure I can help you... miss," the Oriental
replied. Karen turned the tears up a notch, surprised at how readily they'd
"Oh it's not you," she wept, "It's the woman who helped my friend. She got
jinked at the altar too..." She felt rather than saw the Asian woman
stiffen... there was nothing so crass as a jerk or twitch, just minute
changes that turned a hard if compassionate woman into a sister... a kindred
spirit. Still, Mai Ling was not to be fooled so easily.
"Who was your friend, miss?"
"Jen... Jenny. Jenny Taylor-Moore." Now Mai Ling looked sceptical.
"We were childhood friends. I was the poor one at the expensive school. I
was quite bright but all the other kids made fun of me because of my accent
and my clothes. Jenny was the only one kind enough to be friends. I'd do
anything for her, but she's disappeared. She told me what you said about a
doctor who helped woman but I couldn't get away from work till today. Now
she's gone somewhere and I'm losing my mind here!" As Mai Ling was
digesting this Karen realised that however good her acting was her
improvisation still needed work. Disbelief was gaining in the Asian's
mind... but there was a desperate last chance Karen could take. She
summoned more tears from their unknown source.
"I mean," she spluttered, "Who could have thought we could introduce each
other to two such horrible men!" Fresh tears completed the scene. Karen
couldn't have seemed more dejected, bawling her eyes out in front of a
complete stranger. She had another good idea. Wiping the tears away she
sat up and smiled at Mai Ling through her reddened eyes.
"You know," said Karen, "I don't think I need that doctor after all... I
just needed to let a few things out, to a stranger. None of my friends will
talk to me... they all say I drove him into her arms, but..." she sniffed
and prepared to let the tears run forth once more when she felt a touch on
her arm. Karen took the proffered card.
"It's just round the corner from here," said the Asian in a confidential
whisper, "They have someone there at the moment but I'm sure they could at
least book you an appointment." Karen allowed her face to melt into
pathetic gratitude, hugged the other woman close, felt that momentary thrill
of another woman's breasts pushed up against her own and left. Mai Ling
felt a tear in her own eye. She went into the central shop and looked at
her two assistants.
"Do we have any more appointments today?" she asked, harshly.
"No miss," one replied. Mai Ling smiled and her whole visage and voice
softened too. The two assistants picked up on it and felt their pulses
"Excellent," said Mai Ling, "Send that idiot Du Pont home and then both of
you come into the back room." Both girls' faces brightened hugely.
"What of the clothes you have to make for the English women, Mistress
Ling?" asked one. Mai walked up to her and kissed the girl full on the
mouth, the younger woman returning the kiss passionately while her sibling
looked on in awe, desperate for her turn.
"The clothes can wait," said Mai Ling seductively, "What we're about to
share cannot." Du Pont was out the door in five minutes. He didn't mind.
All he had to do was sit still and make occasional noises when spoilt little
rich girls came in who demanded 'The Designer.' Mai Ling had found it
easier to hire an unemployed and unknown French actor to play the imperious
Du Pont rather than tell her customers that she made the clothes, plus it
gave her the anonymity to really enjoy her assistants in London, Paris,
Milan and New York.
The doctor's surgery was as nondescript as possible, just a little two
story house in a row of similar buildings just off the King's road. There
was a single buzzer in the door. Sarah prepared to press it. She didn't
know that, even as she stood in front of the surgery, millions of pounds of
tax payer's money was being spent in a thousand different ways to find
Jen... nor did she know that her mobile was ringing constantly, as were her
home and officer phones, with her superiors demanding to know where she was
and what she knew... nor did she know that the noon time news on the BBC was
preparing exclusive coverage of what would become known as 'The Jenny Saga.'
All Sergeant Karen Seymour knew was that she'd already come pretty far on
a wild goose chase, it'd be pretty silly to stop now. She regretted having
been so hasty as to come without her bag and the fact that no one knew where
she was caused her a moment's concern, but she decided to press on. Why
call for back up when she was probably about to ring the doorbell of
The surgery was sparser than Karen expected. She'd rung and a girl, whose
name tag said Lisa, had answered. Lisa was pretty hot! She was short but
not plump though her breasts filled out the top of her surprisingly skimpy
uniform very nicely indeed. Karen had to make sure she didn't stare. Lisa
asked Karen who she was and what she was doing there. Put on the spot,
Karen recounted her story of jilted dreams. She even found a few more tears
as well! Lisa went from interrogator to best friend within thirty seconds
and soon Karen had poured out her whole tale again, with a few details.
She was a twenty seven year old teacher who had gone to the same school as
Jen. They'd been friends and had eventually found fiancées through each
other. Karen's had been called William James. She'd named him William
after her father and James after her brother. Old Bill had promised Karen
the Earth and, she really cried at this point, she'd believed him! They
were supposed to get married at a quiet ceremony two Sundays before, the
better not to detract from Jen's wedding, only good old Bill had run off
with his sluttish ex-girlfriend the night before, while Karen had been
consoling Jen after her break up! It was enough to drive even Lisa to
tears, who told Karen that Dr. Tress was currently with a patient but would
be taking a break in five minutes if Karen would wait. Karen did so. Five
minutes later Lisa bade Karen follow her to the doctor's room.
Dr. Tress was shorter than the policewoman expected and conformed to few of
Karen's other expectations. This was no monster, merely a fairly plain, if
not unattractive woman, who was dressed like Karen, though more severely,
and looked every part the standard GP. Karen was made to go through her
story. She did so. Dr. Tress listened attentively and finally leaned back.
"I'm sorry to hear about your loss, Ms Seymour. It is truly a very
difficult thing to deal with, a major disruption to one's wedding day,
particularly one as vindictive as yours. I can sympathise. Tell me, how
did you find us here?"
"Mai Ling at the beauty parlour near here recommended you," explained
Karen. Tress smiled and her face was transformed into that of a pleasant
woman... quite a fetching one too in Karen's eyes. The doctor was talking
about Mai Ling.
"Ah yes, Ms Ling is one of our greatest successes. She was a wreck when
she arrived but, after just a week of the therapy I have created, the trauma
of the break up of her marriage was all but forgotten." The doctor leaned
over the table, her face suddenly much more severe.
"I can help you, Karen," she said, "But only if you agree to be helped."
Slightly surprised by the change in tact, Karen replied:
"What exactly do you do... to me?" Dr. Tress leaned back in her seat.
"The nature of the therapy is very simple but cannot be discussed else it
hinders progress." The doctor reached into a draw and withdrew a form which
she slid across to Karen, along with a pen.
"If you agree to the treatment you must sign this disclaimer." Karen
"Disclaimer? Why?" The doctor tried to breeze aside Karen's doubts.
"It's just a standard insurance document, the kind of thing we now have to
fill out in triplicate unfortunately. It just says that should anything
happen to you because of the therapy but not because of undue negligence on
our part, we will not be responsible." Karen started to read the document
as the doctor spoke, but the small font and mixture of medical and legal
jargon defeated her. Finally she simply signed and passed it back to Dr.
Tress who smiled her wonderful smile.
"Excellent! The therapy will begin immediately. Go to Sandra in the
nurse's station. I will be through momentarily." Slightly stunned by the
rapidity of events, Karen stood and walked out, finding Sandra next door.
The very attractive red head smiled. Karen, seeing her for the first time,
could barely smile back, so surprised was she. She'd seen looks like that
on women before... usually after she'd just kissed them for the first time.
It was strange that one of the practice's nurses should so openly be a
"So you're undergoing the therapy?" Sandra asked. Karen could only nod.
"Excellent," continued the nurse, "Just go behind that screen and strip
down to your underwear then come through and lie down on this bed." Karen
was surprised but did as she was asked, taking off her clothes and folding
them neatly behind the screen. When she emerged it was to show off the full
glory of her body.
Nurse Sandra gaped, for want of a better word. She'd seen many gorgeous
women pass through the surgery, sometimes at the same time! But none, on
their first visit, stood quite so sexily... none looked like they were ready
to be brought to orgasm. Sandra may have felt the first stirrings of
suspicion at that stage, but it was overrun by the massive great stirrings
of arousal! She patted the bed.
"Sit," she commanded. Karen swung her hips as she walked... the whiteness
of her long, slim legs accentuated by the black of her panties. Her D cup
breasts were perfectly encased by the Wonderbra she was wearing, a new
design that had allowed her to hike up her cleavage as she unchanged. She
slipped onto the bed, first thrusting her ass onto it and then the rest of
her svelte body, swinging round before Sandra's eyes. The nurse was
practically hypnotised. Boy she was going to enjoy showing this one the
The mattress of the bed felt strange to Karen, like it was prickling her
but in a... good way. She looked over at the nurse.
"This bed feels strange."
"It's supposed to," replied Sandra, "It's made of synthetic fibre designed
to help with the therapy. Please may I have your hand?" Karen extended her
"So what exactly is involved in this ther... hey wait a minute!" She
wrenched her arm away from where Sandra had been trying to tie it into the
"It's all part of the therapy," said the nurse reassuringly, reaching for
Karen's arm again.
"Not any therapy I'm having its not!" exclaimed Karen. She leapt off the
bed and made for the door only it was locked.
"What are you doing?" cried Sandra, "You're missing out on the most
wonderful feeling of your life!"
"Getting brainwashed like you? I don't think so. Open this door!" she
yelled, "Open this door!" She detected a strange, sickly sweet odour in the
air. Sandra smiled at her.
"Welcome to the sisterhood," she said, before slowly dropping to the
ground. Karen fell a few seconds later.