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Solitaire

Jason Steinman lent on the side of the stretch limo. It summed up Solitaire to a tee he thought. Flashy, elegant and yet clamouring for attention. He was pleased she had made the arrangements for their first meeting. Well, she thought they were to meet for the first time. As he had hoped, the change to his mothers maiden name and ten years in the past would make her think the meeting would be the first time she had laid eyes on him. The pavement was busy with late night shoppers and early revellers as he looked around this bustling side road off Oxford Street. It was just as he had imagined London to be. Vibrant, exciting and with a slight air of danger. The club, he and the limo driver waited outside, was the place to be seen in the capital. Two huge bouncers shadowed the doorway of the club. Only when they parted could you see the door dwarfed by their stature. No uninvited guests were going to get in there. Jason was pleased, he preferred the meeting to be out here. He knew it was going to be short and he knew he had to make an impression.

Ten years had passed since the prom night when he had danced with Solitaire. Ten years since she had hissed the words that hurt him so badly.

He still winced at the thought. Ten years later, he still winced. He was pleased the therapy had ground the twitch to a minimal smile. He remembered the kind old lady from next door talking over the fence to him. She had been the greatest help of all, she spoke in those soft tones full of experience "If you feel like crying just laugh out loud and if you feel angry just smile"

It had worked and as he moved against the limo to get more comfortable he felt a little smile spread across his face. He was ready for this meeting, he had worked hard to get to this position.

He really had no intention of causing any problems with the filming. It was ironic that his role was to ensure no problems would occur with the starlet Solitaire. He was not too keen on revenge but Solitaire had left him with more than just tears on that Prom night. She had also left him with a fetish.

A vibration in his back made him twist round in a start.

"Would you like to wait in here?" Asked the limo driver from the widening gap as the electric motor wound the black window down into the door.

Jason crouched down to get eye to eye with the driver. "No thanks. I guess they won’t be long now?

Anyway I am enjoying the sights and sounds of your fantastic city. It’s my first time over here."

"You with the movie crowd then? An Actor?" quizzed the driver who added with outstretched hand "Charlie’s the name, driving the game".

Jason reached into the cab to shake Charlie’s hand. The cabs warm air was tempting but he knew he needed to be in control when he met Solitaire. Best to be outside even if the February air was biting his ears.

"No. I’m not an actor. I’m a Legal representative. I have been assigned to actors or in this case actresses by their agent to make sure the contract they signed with the producers of the film is adhered to." explained Jason.

"Oh, I get it. You’re the guy who counts the red jelly babies in the dressing rooms and all those other demands these types make. Heh? Am I suitable as the driver? I am getting on a bit" laughed Charlie.

"I think you will be fine. Anyway if there are any complaints by my party it will be up to me to sort out any problems".

"So you follow these women everywhere? Making sure things are as agreed"

"No not everywhere" laughed Jason "I am meeting the lead actress tonight so she can give me the once over, then we start filming in a couple of weeks in Bath. The main filming will take place in South Africa and that is where I will really earn my keep, these actresses cannot stand the heat out there. Moan, Moan, Moan all the time and not just as simple as jelly babies in the Hotel room. I once represented a client who insisted on…" He stopped talking as the drivers eyes shifted from his own over his shoulder across the pavement to the door.

Quick as a flash Charlie jumped out of the driver’s seat and straightened up his jacket as he hurried around the enormous bonnet. As he opened the rear door of the Limousine he stood proud and erect very similar to a toy soldier.

Jason straightened up in sympathy and turned to the door of the club to witness the most amazing spectacle that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. A group of photographers, some fifteen in total Jason estimated, crowded around the door of the club. Flashes from the cameras set the scene into a crazy strobe effect fight as through the middle of them pushed three women. One of who was instantly recognisable as Solitaire Mclean.

Although she had reinvented herself as she progressed through the business Jason knew that look better than anyone. The eyes never focused on anyone or anything but saw everything, every detail, every glance and above all every weakness. She appeared from the glare of flash bulbs pulling two other women behind her. They all turned to the cameras, staggering slightly and holding each other for support as they had the photos taken and then turned back to the limo and slid through the door like mercury.

The photographers rushed to the limo and held their cameras against the window flashing continuously.

"Come on get in," shouted Charlie as he pushed open the door next to Jason and the next he knew he was sitting next to the driver as the limo slipped into the night.

"Nine more to go" counted the driver

"Nine what? Clubs? They looked a little worst for wear to me. They’ll never make another two"

"Christ. They are actresses. You’re their legal representative and they have you fooled already. They haven’t even met you yet"

Jason blushed. He was normally totally in control of things since that night ten years ago but he had blurted out the obvious. That was not always the case. Did his legal training count for nothing all those years studying and working his way through the ranks of Westcliff, Rightman and Holt? He smiled an angry smile. He had worked hard to get to this position. Over a year ago the production staff at Hummer Pictures had contacted his company to draw up all the agreements to the picture. He worked on most of them himself so knew them inside out. Gerald Green was assigned to the lead actress and it had taken some spectacular staging for Jason to get Gerald off the brief. He had passed on some information to Green via a friend. "Solitaire pushes pills" the reliable source had told him. "She will never turn down the odd Bluey. Make sure you have a supply for her at all times." Green, armed with this information and unable to take any through customs, bought some down a back alley in Soho. How the press got hold of the pictures and story Green never knew. Jason knew and being the obvious replacement he was called off vacation to fill Green’s shoes. It was just so easy and here he was, riding in a Limo with a sliding black glass screen between him and Solitaire.

As his blush receded he straightened his tie and looked at the driver. "I understand these little jaunts are to be used to publicise the film. I just thought they would be taking advantage of the free drinks" he explained.

"They don’t need drink. These types are all high on fame and attention. Me. Me. Me. Who can blame them, it’s their ticket to big money. It’s hardly working at a coal pit face now is it?" With this the driver flicked a switch and the black glass divider became clear. Jason’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Through the screen he could now see a scene of wonder. Clothes scattered everywhere as the girls undressed and dressed into new outfits. Solitaire wore a short brown leather mini skirt with the tiniest of bustles on the bottom. The top was a glorious white ruffled shirt with long sleeves and low cut neckline. Around her waist she was fastening a small waist clincher in bright red satin. Her legs shone with nude tights and her brown boots laced half way up her calf’s. She leant forward and to Jason’s surprise tapped on the glass. "Do not worry, it’s a one way mirror from their side. Perks of the job" laughed the driver. He leant forward to press a button and the screen opened slightly. "Stop the car driver we need some help back here" instructed Solitaire. "Come on stiff shirt come and lace me up"

The driver carried out the order and Jason climbed out of the front and made his way to the back doors. He had seen one of the girls was not decent so like a prat he knocked on the door and waited for the invitation. The door opened so abruptly it almost took off his kneecaps. "For Christ sake just get in," shouted Solitaire. He did so and the limousine roared off.

It was cramped in the back but surprisingly smooth. Solitaire thrust her back at Jason "Get hold of the laces and pull." He looked down at her waist and fumbled at the laces. Jason not going to give the game away this early. He tugged and pulled in a gentle way. "Tighter and faster. We will be there in a minute," she yelled. He carried out the last instruction and pulled firmly. The waist clincher was short so the laces slid through from top to bottom with ease. Jason then passed the laces to her so she could tie them off. She twisted round and asked, "Well how do I look?" "You look fine" replied Jason shaking slightly. The corsets so early in their meeting had thrown him. "Fine! You fucking arsehole. This outfit cost over $2000.00. That’s all I need is a lawyer with no dress sense" scoffed Solitaire. She took a long look at him. She slowly moved her eyes down his body and then back to his face. Jason shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat. "Do I know you?" she asked. Jason froze. "Maybe. Did you visit New York a couple of months back for a promotion of your album?" replied the lawyer. "Yes I did a signing and TV show but that’s not it." She reached over and held his biceps. "I knew it was not in a suit. You were at the Gym. How’s the rowing machine. Still broken?" Jason relaxed; he had crossed paths to test the water six months ago. He worked out regularly to maintain his combat physic earned with his tour in the airborne division. Solitaire visited his Gym during her time in the Big Apple, he found out her plans and risked being there. She liked the muscles and had not recognised him from the past. Anyway, that Jason was dead, she had murdered him on the dance floor. "Small world" he declared.

He looked round the interior of the limo. The rest of the girls wore a similar theme to Solitaire, one a bustier over a long flowing skirt and the other a longer corset over a pair of jeans. Solitaire turned away from Jason to work on the long corset back lacing as the car came to a halt. She tapped on the window and instructed the driver to go round the block again. Jason sat starring at all the clothes and shoes on the floor. Corsets, bustiers and ruffled shirts lay tangled between their feet. Solitaire gave a last pull and tied off the laces on her friend’s corset. "Anyway pleased to meet you" Solitaire put out her hand and turned to Jason. "Get used to the language it does not get any better." With this the car stopped and Solitaire jumped out of the door before the driver could make it round to the kerb side. "Take that as an apology if I was you" whispered the woman in the jeans and long corset. "See you later. By the way I’m Penny. P to my friends and this is Jay" both followed Solitaire across the pavement and up the few steps that led to the club.

Jason took a breath and climbed out of the back of the car. Stopped to unwrap a corset lace from his foot and stood up to face Charlie. "You lucky bastard. Allowed into the tarts boudoir on the first meeting. How was it?" Jason smiled; "First time I laced a corset" he lied. "So why so many clubs and clothes?" asked Jason. Charlie grinned, "You are wet behind the ears. As you said they use the photos of these nights in the run up to the release of the film. Victorian based by the look of it. South Africa you said. They will be working on their next film when this one is released. That could be anywhere in the world, where ever the film will be shot. The agents just roll out these old ones of the stars. They will fly in for the premiere night. I usually pick them up at the airport, wait and then take them back again. They will say one picture was taken in a club or restaurant they are trying to promote etc. It’s not called the Movie business for nothing you know." He knew Jason knew all this but the conversation settled both their minds. Drivers always knew how to sort out the world’s issues and it was best to let them have their say. "So" continued Charlie, "Who did she screw to get this job then? If you don’t mind me asking?" Jason knew. He knew everything about Solitaire but he just shook his head and replied "She is on her way up, this is her first major role so I guess the producer or Director. Maybe the casting director." The driver laughed and walked back round to his door. "Fancy a coffee. I brought a flask." Jason declined and explained he needed the air. He looked up at the club brilliantly named Le Club and pulled his Jacket around his neck. It was getting chilly. Solitaie had this part because she had screwed him. Not in the way the driver had meant though.

Solitaire had left school early. A drop out who hung around with boys far too old for her. She was always in trouble and many said she would soon join the unmarried mothers hanging round the bars and clubs. Solitaire was far above that. She was on the up. Her target was fame and she knew how to get there. Having a child with a country hick was not the way. The older guys had cars and bikes, but most importantly, they had Bands. Heavy Rock, New metal, Grunge. The names were irrelevant the focus was clear. Solitaire was a wild child; she was mad, crazy, totally out of it. Parties every night. Between the different groups she moved with welcome gratitude. A blow job here, a hand job there. Never leaving one band to join the other, just guest appearing when and where she could. One of these sad groups would make the big time one-day and Solitaire would take her chance. Well, time passed and the gamble paid off. French Death jumped onto the circuit supporting a major rock group. The first rung of the ladder was found.

The wild child continued the partying. Always drunk and always stoned, she staggered from one musician to the next. Acting started early for Solitare. She was good, very good. Always totally in control and never under the influence of anything stronger than the vapours of her own perfume. She was looking for talent, someone who she could piggyback on to the top. The unlucky man was Geoff Blake. A brilliant guitarist and musician, he had no idea just how talented he was. Writing a hit was easy for him, the hits came and Solitaire sung them with gusto. She had made it to the top. But that was not enough as the spotlight shone on Geoff and the rest of the band. Solitaire performed in all the groups pop videos in various states of undress. She loved the attention and the fame but these were all promotional tools for her one final target. The movies.

Bit parts soon began to arrive on her doorstep and she selected each one with the skilful eye of a surgeon. Each part she played became an extension of the pop videos. Advertising her ability and skill. So, here she was in London. Promoting a film that was yet to be made. She had the starring role again carefully chosen by her. She was to play Lady Winters the beautiful wife of Lord Winters the Commander of the British forces in South Africa in 1899. She was to have an affair with a young major and then make a decision between the two men in her life. The plot was a little thin but it had everything she needed. The starring role, beautiful dresses, exotic locations, epic battle scenes and a fifteen-minute speech near the end of the film. Oscar guaranteed. She had broken down in tears when she first read the speech. If a hardhearted bitch like her had cried then the golden statue was hers. After that she could name her price for the next series of films. That was fame and that was the target.

Jason thought of the prom night ten years ago.

He glanced at his watch, seven thirty, it was probably around nine o’clock now but his watch was frozen, it reminded him of another day. The photographers huddled around the doorway of the club; they had arrived roughly ten minutes after the limo and now lay in wait in this orchestrated game of cat and mouse. More like cat and bigger cat thought Jason. A lone photographer hung back in the shadows, he looked nervous. Jason did not like the look of him and walked round to voice his concerns to Charlie. As he walked into the road the club door opened and the show began. Bulbs flashed, smiles flashed and Jay pulled the top of her bustier down and flashed. Jason froze to the spot as the lone photographer lurched into the crowd. His camera high, his eyes crazed. Two photographers fell as he crashed into their backs; he skipped over them towards the girls. Solitaire saw him coming last of all; her hands came up over her head as she twisted away. Penny or P to her friends showed the madman would never call her P. She took him out with a straight-fingered jab to the throat. As he dropped to the floor her knee came up under his jaw with a sickening crack and he hit the pavement face first. Blood leaked across the ground from his face, his eyes flickering as if in a dream or in his case nightmare. P stood alert, her eyes scanned the street and then grabbed Solitaries hand and made for the car. Jason opened the driver’s door and bent down to speak to the empty seat. He stood up again to see Charlie climbing out of the back doors. He held them open as the girls climbed in then followed them closing the door behind him. A loud click took the door from Jason’s hand and slammed it shut. All the indicators flashed and a loud clank finished the locking sequence. Jason felt very vulnerable; he looked over at the guy on the floor, now the attention of the cameras. P was a bodyguard, she must be. Jason recognised the moves from his own training. The limo’s engine started and began moving slowly down the road. Jason jumped back, afraid his feet may be run over. He looked at the car, the club and then the crowd on the pavement. The car stopped ten yards away and Jason run after it climbing in the back door opened by P then the car slid away.

Inside the car all the attention was on Penny’s fingernails, her right hand missed three of them and blood dribbled into her palm. "Yours or his?" asked Jason. "A little of a mixture I’m afraid" winced Penny. "The danger of false nails and superglue. My fault, I should have known better." "Why should you? How the hell did you know some maniac was going to throw a wobbler" reassured Jason. "Because I should. OK" spat Penny wrapping a shirt around her fingers. "Charlie give Dave a ring. Tell him the rest of the night is off unless he can find a replacement for me. Then make your way back to the hotel. I think tonight is over." Charlie nodded and began talking into a mobile. Jason could hardly hear what he was saying but no details of the madman were given, just words such as "problem. Operative injured. 80 percent damage. Package OK. Abort". Charlie finished his conversation and turned to Penny. "Shows over boss."

Solitaire looked calm as they travelled back to the hotel. Conversation was limited but she loosened the corset Penny was wearing so it would be easier for her to take off later. Jay made most of the chat concerning the club and discussed the bartender at length. Jason stayed silent trying to take it all in. Was he the only one out for revenge? Solitaire made enemies as other people made cups of tea. He would be happier when filming began and they had moved to Bath.

Jason did not see Solitaire in London again. She was resting after the attack. She declined to meet him to discuss needs and wants but promised, as soon as they moved to Bath, he would get his meeting. He had pushed the point that he needed to be told of the protection squad. It turned out P was in no fit state to continue her task. Jay was also a bodyguard and would continue in the west country and abroad in South Africa. He had driven through fog and rain down the M4 thinking no filming could take place in this weather. During any delay he could take advantage of the English climate to do his job correctly, oh, and to visit a shop he had seen online in the area.

Bath was a beautiful city; it’s sweeping rows of historic houses, the cobbled sections of streets and winding lanes through antique shops lent itself for a turn of the century film set. The problems for the film crew were caused by the very reason they were there. Bath was a moment captured in time and drew tourists from all over the world, thousands of them, to see the sights and soak up the atmosphere. Filming in the streets was going to be a nightmare. Jason fought through the crowds gathered around the area of the set to find his way to the hotel. Trouble was brewing. The call from Jay on his mobile was short and to the point. As he reached the foyer the noise was deafening. Solitaire was in action. She stood at the reception desk with the producer by her side and Jay looking slightly embarrassed at the attention her care was drawing. The show was on. "It is very, very simple. I am Solitaire and I want the top floor. All of it. Now if you cannot make that decision please find me someone who can."

Jason suppressed a grin as he approached the argument; Solitaire wants, Solitaire gets, he thought. He touched the back of the producers arm and pulled him to one side. "How many people have they to move?" he asked the man who would make millions from this film but always stole sugar sachets from motorway service cafes. Leonard Bravos shrugged an impassive gesture. Leo watched Solitaire and nodded as she broke into another tirade of abuse. He was studying her voice, her motion and her acting ability. He smiled to himself, another hit was on the cards.

Jason gave up on the producer who seemed to be enjoying every minute. He turned and asked the doorman if the owner of the hotel was in. His heart dropped as he was informed the victim of the abuse was the owner. No smart background negotiations with the top of the tree here he thought. Solitaire was driving him into a corner so he could only attack his way out of. Jason thought quickly, he caught Jay’s eye as she scanned the room for danger. He signalled to get her out of there and to his surprise it worked. Solitaire, with Jay gripping her arm like a vice, melted from the entrance into the dinning and bar area. Jason approached the rather red faced man. "Sorry about that. Starlets. What can you do?" apologised Jason. He did not expect the reply. "Well if you do not mind me saying. You could tell them to fuck off and get some manners."

Ouch this was going to be a little more difficult than Jason thought. "Do you have any room? What needs to happen to get the entire top floor?"

"That bitch needs to lose the attitude for a start." The owner seemed to be getting even redder.

"You look to me as a man who owns a chain of hotels. Do you have any near the Assembly Rooms?" asked Jason.

The red man boosted by the compliment straightened his tie. "Yes I own the Regal across the road from the assembly rooms. Top two floors are available there for you if you wish. Fifty rooms. Two months block booking?"

"That will be fine I will square it with the producer and give you the nod. Just keep a low profile if you pop over there as you know what I am going to tell her."

The owner smiled "You movie arse holes are all the same. Just pander to their every need. You’re going to tell her you have told me to stick my hotel up my backside and you have arranged new accommodation. Good luck with the filming you are going to need it with that one."

As Jason broke the news to Solitaire he felt his stature grow. His first real task and he had sorted it out. She looked a little sceptical about the hotel fitting up the owner’s rectum, but at least she had not needed to back down. That was for mere mortals. With her integrity intact the group swept out of the hotel leaving all the crew who had already booked in to their rooms crushing at the desk to book back out.

Most of the filming would take place at the Assembly halls. These grand buildings built in 1771 oused history. All the Ball scenes would be shot here. The director needed elegance and colour to contrast with the dust and scrub of the Veld in South Africa. He had his wish. The British forces fighting in 1900 had changed from the proud red jackets to the new Khaki drills. The ball would symbolise this change as the officers flashed around the dance floor with the hordes of society ladies. Carefree and innocent the spectacle of a ball before a battle always drove home the futility of war. The difficulty of dancing with a missing leg or hand made it priority to dance before a battle. During the Ball sequence Solitaire was to meet the Major, her lover in the film, for the first time. She had spent most of the day rehearsing the lines over and over. The dressmakers and makeup departments had spent hours working on her. She was still the most stunning woman Jason had ever set eyes on but she was going to suffer. Not here, not now, but in the heat of South Africa she would wish she had never stabbed him through the heart.

The dressmakers would also look to earn an Oscar for the styles and detail of their work. Solitaire was to waltz with her Major in the most fantastic of gowns. The soft light blue satin dress took; not only her breath away, but the crew actually fell silent as she walked onto the set. The evening gown shone in the film lights as the actors took their places. The cut of the bodice swept down from her shoulders where the wide off the shoulder straps defied gravity across her heaving cleavage. The waist tapered down from her breasts to an impossible slender waist. The skirts roared out horizontally from the tight bodice in thunderous waves of satin. Sweeping down to the floor through bows and pleats in a circle of protection. The ivory doll would break in the middle if anyone dared to push through the barrier of petticoats and hoops. The major started to clap first, quickly joined by the rest of the cast and crew. The filming had started well. The look of Solitaire boosted everyone’s confidence. The actors took their places and the cameras rolled.

The dance scene took its toll on Solitaire. Jason stood out of sight at the back of the set as the sequence took place. He expected the spoilt bitch to be moaning from start to finish but he was quietly impressed as they took take after take of the swirling couple. Her eyes showed discomfort as they were asked again to twirl and glide over the floor. As soon as the call "Action" echoed across the great hall her face changed into her character. With her head flung back she laughed and flowed through her lines without a fault. The extras and the lighting caused inumerable problems with the retakes. Many of the dancers tripped over their huge dresses as they swirled in the background. If the director was not content the scene had to be repeated over and over. During the discussions with lighting and movement behind the main couple Solitaire retired to the edge of the dance floor and rested on a board. Jason looked on in wonder as she stood on a square platform of wood. From the back of the platform a board rose at right angles. Solitaire positioned herself against the board and two stagehands pulled the board back and rested the structure on a beer crate. The floor now angled up to the ceiling and Solitaire lay on her back. This strange device took the weight from her feet as the huge skirts and tight corset prevented her from sitting on a chair. With the call to the floor she was raised by the stagehands and she walked back onto the set. Any make up or refreshment was done in this prone position. The final shots were taken, the director shouted "Bravo" and the actors melted away from the set.

The rushes were staggering and e-mails criss crossed the Atlantic. The set buzzed.

Over the days after the dance shots Jason did the rounds making sure everyone behind the scenes knew any problems with Solitaire were his problems. These guys were used to the late appearances, the tantrums and the spiteful remarks. He lent a sympathetic ear and understood how starlets relied on the background staff for all their success.

He kept clear of her dressing room but was always available on the set. His contact with the rest of the crew usually gave him indications of trouble brewing. The gossip spread like wildfire on a film set. You could start a rumour at ten-o clock and hear it repeated back to you from a reliable source after lunch. The filming assisted this transfer of whispers as long periods of inactivity led these talented minds drifting.

His main contact, where he placed most of his efforts, was the wardrobe mistress. Sylvia Parker ran the wardrobe department with a rod of iron. All items where accounted for and god forbid anyone who lost so much as an earring. Jason admired Sylvia; you knew where you stood with her, well, generally in a slightly crouched position bowing to her feet. She knew her job better than anyone could and reminded Jason of a headmistress. Her attention to detail and the costumes brought her awards from across the film industry, from critics to producers. She was a popular lady however, her target was to win an Oscar before she became fifty. This film was her last chance of hitting that target.

It was late one evening as he wandered into the back rooms of the assembly hall. The great place echoed with history. Filming had finished for the day. All of the work had been at The Royal Crescent. An impressive row of towering houses built in a huge arc. It was the main centre for tourists and a great deal of over dubbing was needed as shouts and whistles from the watching crowd disturbed the filming. Solitaire loved the attention. Horses and squeaking carriage wheels added to the pandemonium. The crew had two days left in Bath and then a week’s break before jetting of to South Africa.

Equipment lay everywhere as Jason picked his way to the wardrobe department. He was surprised but not shocked to see Sylvia working at her cutting desk. Apparently one of the extras had lost a shoe. "How the hell can you lose a shoe. Bloody cretins" she barked in frustration.

"Pay peanuts get monkeys" joked Jason as he walked into her office. Sylvia liked Jason, she turned round and offered coffee.

"You carry on I’ll make it for you. How is it going?" said Jason as he moved to the kettle.

Sylvia let out a long sigh. "It has passed without great trauma. I am very concerned over the bedroom scene. However I look at it, it is going to cause problems."

Jason not wishing to be drawn or understanding her problem carried on "Do you take sugar? I am sure you will work out something"

She did not look up from her study as she took the cup, "I have a reputation to keep up but whom do I let down, myself or Solitaire?" Jason now became very interested. He knew the bedroom scene off by heart, he knew every word, every movement and he also knew how Solitaire would be dressed. His heart skipped a beat as he heard Solitaire’s name mentioned in this context. As Sylvia turned from the high cutting desk she used to lay out her clothes she knocked her tailors chalk to the floor. She began to bend down and stopped abruptly.

"Can you pick that damn chalk up for me? Be a love" Jason’s eyes bulged as he stepped over to Sylvia. His eyes scanned her closely. The long black skirt, stiff white shirt and long black knee length cardigan was her usual style. It had never drawn him before, however something was odd. The inability to bend over drew Jason’s attention like a shark to blood. He sipped his coffee and peered through the steam rising from the cup. Under her starched shirt he could see a glint. Wait. Two glints, one directly above the other approximately two inches apart in the centre just below her cleavage.

"Come on then talk through your trouble. A problem shared is a problem halved."

Sylvia smiled. "My dear boy I do not think you can help. Your professionalism in your legal arena is hardly help in this matter."

Jason stopped and looked into the old ladies eyes "Try me. You never understand where some peoples interests lie unless you ask."

She reached over and took the chalk from his hand but then returned her touch to his fingers. "OK. Give me your expert opinion on this." She rotated her hand under his and gripped his wrist. Before he could resist (as if he would) Sylvia pulled his hand towards her rib cage. His fingers passed through the gap in her cardigan and touched the crisp shirt. Before the texture of the shirt had reached his senses the fingertips struck the underlying hard corset. They slipped around the curve, bumping over the boning ridges until she stopped his arm. He never moved his eyes from hers as he caressed her waist up and down moving in at the waist and then back up again and out.

"If my girls suffer then so do I" whispered Sylvia as she moved closer to Jason’s lips. He could smell the coffee on her breath as his other hand reached to put the cup down on the table. He wanted to place both hands on her, he wanted to pull her close and plunge his tongue into her mouth. He would take her now, on the desk, floor, against the wall. Anywhere.

"Don’t you dare" Jason jumped as she shouted at him. "No drinks on the cutting table. Do you know how much that dress cost?"

Jason stepped back a little shocked. What was he doing?. Sylvia was almost twenty years older than him.

"Well do you think you can help me with my problem?" She asked as she smiled a warm smile.

Jason composed himself. "Standard Edwardian corset. Laced to about twenty-two inches. Six or seven busks. Now how can I assist"

Sylvia’s mouth dropped open and her tongue licked her bottom lip. "Well you have hidden depths my boy and you appear to be shaking. OK I will cut to the chase. We are lacing Solitaire down to around eighteen inches poor child. Although I am guessing she enjoys it. Not a single complaint"

"So what’s the problem?" Interrupted Jason.

"The scene in South Africa silly. She has been fully dressed for all the shoots so far. We have been using of the peg corsets and replacing them at regular intervals when they start to soften. But my dear, we are talking 1900 and her character is always up on latest fashion. The scene in the bedroom is when she wants the Major to make a choice. She will be in her underwear."

Jason still pretended to look puzzled but he had planned this moment for years. He had ghost written the fucking script for Christ sake.

"We are talking S front. I have examined the research and there is a company near here who can supply them. However we could not lace Solitaire down to eighteen inches in one as they cause, err, how shall I say this. Difficulties. Yes that’s the word Difficulties."

Jason stepped forward and held Sylvia's elbows. "No one ever won an Oscar by compromise. This will be our little secret. Save me a seat next to you for the ceremony. Oh, and order a couple at seventeen inches just in case Solitaire does start moaning."

"You are a naughty young man." Sylvia stepped closer and touched her lips on his.

Jason smiled and turned away. "After the picture we will catch up I promise"

Sylvia pulled her shirt straight and ran her fingers through her hair. With her hands on her hips and the corset tight against the white shirt she looked spectacular. " I will take you up on that my boy. I have heard the beaches at the Cape are spectacular."

Jason walked back through the hall. He needed to get back to the Hotel. He needed to change his pants. A teaspoon of hot sticky liquid goes a long way.

The flight out to South Africa went without a hitch. Solitaire slept most of the way, only opening her eyes to take a free drink in Club class and to tut all the way through the inflight magazine. Turning each page with equal disdain. Jason sat behind her row, alongside Jay. She was dressed in a cream light silk jump suit. Jason thought she may have a parachute with her but ruled that out as taking the initiative in bodyguard protection a little too far. She was inseparable from Solitaire and the rumour mill had placed them together as an item. Jason could just see the starlet from his position. Her knee raised up and her foot on the seat, the leg clad in tight light brown jodhpurs. Riding boots and a white cotton blouse took the safari effect to overload. He guessed she had never been to South Africa but wanted to look the part. He had checked the forecast and the Cape was simmering at 38 degrees C. Just as the flight started it’s long decent into Johannesburg Solitaire climbed from her seat and found Jason with a quick search of the cabin. She tapped Jay on the shoulder who then disappeared from her seat and Solitaire slid in next to him.

"I know what you are up to Mr Lawyer man. The game is up."

Jason turned and smiled. It was the very first time she had approached him throughout the time they had spent together over the weeks. "A game. Sounds like you have found me out" he replied not sure where this was going.

"You are on an easy ride here. You come when I need you." She snapped her fingers. "Puff! You appear as if by magic. Jay normally calls you. Yes?"

Jason smiled again "Heh what can I say. Yes I like the easy life but I have been pacing myself. You did not really need me in England. I think things may get hotter in the Cape. I will need to show them you are not prepared to be messed about"

Solitaire looked down into her lap. Silence fell over the couple. Jason lent forward to hear the hushed voice as she spoke. "This means a great deal to me. The speech I make will go down in cinema history. No one is going to get in the way of my moment. It is up to you to support me one hundred percent."

"I will help all I can" replied the shocked Jason

"I did not ask for your fucking help I did not ask you to do your job. I do not ask for anything. I am telling you to be there or you can go the same way Green went" she rested her hand on his knee. "Do we understand each other?" Jason nodded and Solitaire smiled a sneer and strolled back to her seat.

Jason thought he really should have ordered a sixteen-inch corset to really sort her out but never mind. As his ears popped and the seat belt sign came on the captain wished them a pleasant time in the Cape that currently enjoyed thirty-nine degrees. Jason lent back in his seat and let out a satisfied sigh. This trip was certainly going to be satisfying.

He grasped the reality of how satisfying when the door finally swung open and they emerged blinking at the top of the aircraft steps. Solitaire held up her hand to her face as she stepped back into the plane. "Christ he needs to turn those jets off before we get out. What the hell does the pilot think he is doing He will…" Solitaire stopped abruptly as she realised the heat was not from the engines. It poured through the door into the cabin. "Jesus it’s hot out there" stuttered Solitaire as she disappeared down the steps trying to hide her embarrassment.

Jason eventually emerged and held his hand up to his eyes. He just caught a glimpse of Solitaire and Jay climbing into a Limo and driving off. He wiped the sweat appearing on his forehead and minicked in a squeaky voice "Support me one hundred percent." He laughed as he coughed to get his throat back to his normal voice. "Yeah right. And you look after Number one. Oh, please do not worry about me. I will see you at the hotel"

The air-conditioned car was a relief from the heat. Jason could not imagine working in this temperature. The crew had arrived the week earlier, while the actors had rested. They handled all the baggage and equipment on another plane chartered for the film. He could imagine them struggling in this environment to load up the lorries and trucks. He felt exhausted just walking to the hotel from the parking area.

The main filming was to take place in near Ladysmith. The railway making the transfer of equipment easy. The very reason the town became such a strategic target in the Boer War in 1899 to 1900. The town at the turn of the century was a spread of tin roofs of the mining immigrants and mud huts of the native population. Jason leafed through the background papers spread out on the breakfast bar in his room. The town had been recreated some miles down the line. A false station built alongside the real track. The station would serve as the set for Solitaire’s dramatic scene. He had gone over the chapter again and again. Historical detail was usually lost on the audiences of blockbusters. As long as they saw a body count, a battle or chase and a glimpse of flesh. These items were timed to the second to achieve the balance required for a hit. The cutting room became the make or break of the film.

Ladysmith. Natal. Southern Africa. 28^th Feb 1900. Buller’s troops break the siege of the Boers commandos. Typhoid, Cholera and dysentery have driven the surrounded town to desperate measures. Supplies are gone and many troops and civilians lay dead or dying. In the film the Major has fought off the constant attacks, rallying his men under the most horrendous conditions. He has also looked after his secret love Lady Winters played by Solitaire. The warrior torn between his men and his love. The relief column brought food and supplies through difficult terrain and under constant attack. Twelve wagons roll up the shell holed main street and the Major supervised the distribution to the needy. One of the wagons is not as the rest. It is light on its axles and contains sealed trunks for the attention of Commander in Chief Lord Winters.

The Major assists carrying the important cargo to Lady Winters but when one of the trunks is dropped and luxurious dresses fall to the floor, the Major is less than pleased. He storms off to unload the other wagons and take care of his men. The decision between his love and his rank clear. Lady Winters must make this swing of allegiance move back to her favour. Two days pass and the Major is to move out of Ladysmith and chase the Boers in their retreat. Not that the film industry is missing the point. How a sandwich and a new shirt can turn a starving garrison into a force set on revenge is beyond the bounds of belief. In truth the defending force would stagger back to rest and new troops would take over. May spoil the plot though.

The Major visits Lady Winters in her rooms where she tries to seduce him. The scene is set. The preparations begin.

"Sylvia, are you sure this is going to work?" grumbled a sleepy Solitaire. "Is it going to give me the look I need? Where the hell is that coffee?"

"Calm down dear, it will be along in a minute. We all need one at this hour of the morning. Four o clock is an unreasonable start but they need all day to get it right"

"Well they do not need to worry on my account. I have every line, every detail worked out. I have spent months practising for this part." Solitaire, already out of the make up department stood in the middle of the dressing room. A white sleeveless chemise and long floor length cotton petticoat spared her modesty. Her hair in ringlets framed the face overdone with blusher and lipstick. Sylvia rummaged in the clothes rack as Jay came in with the steaming cups.

"Bloody hell! You’re dressed already. You are not due on set for another two hours" scoffed Jay unused to seeing her charge in front of schedule.

"Put the tray down and help me with this." Sylvia turned from the rack holding the scene-stealer. A long corset, approximately twenty-two inches from top to bottom. In bright white cotton with cream satin trim over the bones it hung limp in her hands. As she held it up the busks caught the light. "Now let me explain it’s…"

"Is it eighteen inches?" snapped Solitaire

" Yes, as arranged, but.."

"Well don’t just stand there, we have not got all day" instructed Solitaire with her arms up above her head. "You wanted me here early so let’s go."

Sylvia tried once more to tell Solitaire this was not the usual corset she had worn in England. As Solitaire mumbled under her breath about amateurs and professionalism she bit her lip in silence and approached Solitaire from behind. "Be patient my dear this will take a while to get into."

Sylvia had checked the corset the night before and had unlaced it as fully as was possible. It had been tricky as the corset would not lie flat as the off the peg types. The Front busks lay flat but the laced section full of lace holes rose up and down with the curve of the back stiffeners. It was a difficult corset to unlace but would be easier when it was on a torso. "Bend forward a little please" Solitaire followed the instruction as Sylvia placed the corset around her back. "Forward a little more" Solitaire dropped her arms slightly is case she over balanced. "OK just hold it there as I come around the front" Sylvia dropped to her knees and crawled under the half arch formed by Solitaire. From the floor she reached up and pulled the top two busk fasteners together. They would not reach.

"Jay can you get round the back and give me some slack"

Jay walked to the back and pulled at the top two rows of laces. The lace slid to the top slightly and she heard a muffled "Yes" as Sylvia clicked the busk together

"It’s a bit low at the front isn’t it?" complained Solitaire.

"Please be patient. It’s not on yet" Sylvia worked with Jay to slowly work down the front of the corset fastening each busk as she went. It was hard work as the front was so stiff all the busks tried to fasten at the same time but some went behind the peg rather than over it. The other problem was as she worked on one the rest tried to come undone. Finally after fifteen minutes the last two closed together and Sylvia slouched to the floor her fingers red and raw.

Solitaire stood up and her breasts fell over the top of the corset. "I told you it was too low at the front how the hell am I supposed to work like this?"

Sylvia stood up and looked her straight in the eye. "I am trying to explain. This is not like the other corsets you have worn in the past. In 1900 it was the very latest fashion and once we have finished you will look unbelievable. Now please, will you lean forward again while I lace you in"

Solitaire obliged and Sylvia moved around the back taking the chance at a sip of coffee on the way. The corset was very long and as Sylvia pulled the laces she also lifted the corset as high as it would go. The corset began to take shape and soon a two-inch parallel gap ran down Solitaires spine. Jay brought the coffee over to Solitaire who drank it awkwardly in the stooped position.

"Jay be a darling and bring the chair over so Solitaire can lean on something." Jay followed Sylvia’s advice and soon the lacing re commenced. Solitaire hung on to the back of the chair, as the garment became tighter. She felt the coffee gurgle up into her throat as the corset gripped her waist.

"Are you sure this will bring me down to eighteen inches it does not feel that tight?"

"The last lacing will soon sort that out" replied an exhausted Sylvia. "Jay come and pull here while I work along the back" Sylvia indicated Jay was not to pull the laces but lift them vertically, almost like a pulley from the ceiling. Jay stood with her legs spread close to Solitaire’s raised bottom and used all her strength to lift the laces. Solitaire’s feet almost raised off the ground as the final tightening took place. After an hour the work was complete and Sylvia tied the double knot in the cascade of laces hanging from Solitaries back like a tail.

Jay and Sylvia stood back as if they had just witnessed the birth of a foal and it was to take its first steps. Sylvia stepped forward and withdrew the chairs support. The room fell silent.

Solitaire stood in the middle of the room not sure how to move. Her heels wanted to lift from the ground as the weight shifted to her toes. Her hands moved up to feel her waist and a smile spread across her face. She tried to stand straight and the back of the corset painfully stopped her. Fingers spread around her back as the boning stuck into her kidneys. Solitaire's hands moved from the waist down her back. Her thumbs bumped along the laces taught in their holes but her hands moved away from her rather than straight down. From the narrowest part of her waist the back of the corset almost travelled horizontally and then swooped down to the top of the back of her legs. Her arms reached behind her but she could not reach the end of the corset and find the petticoats. From this position a puzzled look swept over her painted features. Her hands then moved forward separating on their journey to the front of the corset. They moved over her exposed hips and then into fresh air. Her stomach had seemed to have disappeared.

Solitaire's hands retraced their motion until she found her hips again. Any part of her body that used to be in front of her hipbones was now penned into a straight line from one hipbone to the other. The corset swept over the top of her hipbones and the skin screamed as it stretched into the waist. The powerful stiffeners crushed her stomach into her pelvis. Her nails clashed together as they moved over the flat surface of the corset. Her fingers examined the busks screaming under the tension. The pin and clasp felt as one piece of chromed metal. Her hands now moved up the front of the busks and the numerous boning. There seemed no movement between the busks and the lines of bones stitched so close to each other. As she reached the top of the corset her hands moved over her breasts, pleased to feel something she recognised as her own. Something familiar.

Solitaire turned to the onlookers and took a tentative step forward. It looked more like a hop than a step as the other leg quickly followed the first, pushed by the tightness of the corset across her stomach and the grip of the corset over the top of her hip joints. Nausea ploughed though her lungs as the coffee threatened to make a repeat appearance. A hand swung over her mouth is case it emerged and her palm slapped into her face. Puzzled by the slap Solitaire moved her hands with fascination as she became used to her shoulders pushed back by the arch of her spine. Once more the hands returned to the front of the corset and moved down the front to her crotch. The straight front corset lay at an angle around 25 degrees from the vertical.

"Mirror" shouted Solitaire causing Sylvia and Jay to jump simultaneously.

They both turned into each other before they composed themselves and Sylvia drew a curtain to reveal a huge mirror. Solitaire walked towards the mirror in a slow deliberate manner before turning to get her profile in reflection.

"Fucking hell this is excellent. I need boots. Bring me those ankle boots I wore in Bath with the three inch heel." She turned slowly in the mirror. "Absolutely fucking excellent. Sylvia you have excelled your self this time" Solitaire was pleased, if a little uncomfortable. The corset seemed to be pressing down on her body like a great weight lay on the top of her lower back. Any time she tried to stand up straight her stomach was crushed by the heavy boning and busks pushing at the front of the uncompromising garment. Her breasts looked enormous as they had little constriction and hung at the front inside the corset. All the pressure radiated from her waist and spread down inside her hips and in a parallel line up over her ribs just below her armpits. The other corsets she had worn just pushed everywhere they touched. This was similar to trying to stand while treading on the hem of a skirt. The turn of the century era was a serious business and left her feeling vulnerable and slightly queasy. A little bead of sweat appeared on her forehead as the sun broke over the Veld

Solitaire ‘s glee was for all to see. "This Lady Winters was a horny bitch."

Jason watched from the background as Solitaire and Jay walked to the set. The crew stared as she took off and passed her robe to Sylvia. She strode over to her place wearing the boots she had demanded earlier. A strange motion in movement, gone the swaying hips of earlier scenes. Solitaire walked almost on tiptoe. Her bottom jiggled up and down as she almost hopped into position. A lighting crew junior wolf whistled from his vantage point high above the stage and a ripple of laughter spread around the set. Solitaire smiled to herself before changing her face into a glare as she looked up into the rigging. Jason expected a shrivelled wretch to drop smoking to the ground such was the stare she gave the young lad. He was pleased so far, he had half-expected Solitaire to buck during the lacing and refuse to wear the Straight Front corset. He knew however her underlying weakness to be the centre of attention at all times. Once on, he was sure she would love the profile and the tiny waist it gave her. He had observed the entire lacing act from the next room through a small eyehole he had made in the thin plywood wall. She had been laced now for about three-quarters of an hour. The clock was ticking.

The director stepped on to the stage to explain the last minute details and his eyes lingered on her waist just a second longer than was necessary. He turned to look up at the lighting technician and winked.

He pulled the pair together as if giving instructions to two boxers before a fight. "OK the idea of this scene is passion. You are both yearning for love and torn apart by your position in society. You need each other as you need food, water and air. Passion. Do what you need to do to wind up the desire. OK we go in five minutes."

James Palmer played the Major. It was his first full role and he loved every moment. He worked his way through the States to Broadway where he received startling reviews. He was devilishly handsome and most working on the set thought he was gay. He took his place outside the door and pinched himself hard on his inner thigh. A trick he had learnt on the boards. If it hurt, you gave little more thought to the acting, the words just flowed. From the back of the set Jason could see both actors. James seeming to grab his privates, Solitaire chewing her bottom lip.

"Action"

The door swung open as the Major storms into the room.

Lady Winters turns to face the intruder and places a hand up across her chest.

"My God Sir. Do you not knock before entering a ladies room? Get out this instant. The Lord will have your hide for this intrusion."

The Major squares up to Lady Winters

"Do not be so sure Madam that, One. He will have my hide and Two. I have entered a Ladies room."

Lady Winters turns away from the Officer and walks over to the window. A hand moves to her face as she looks out. The last word is spat in his direction

"Insolence as well as intrusion. Is there no end to your lack of manners Sir?"

The Major stands his ground and places his hand down to his sword hanging from his webbing.

"If we are talking manners Madam then I am sure you can explain why you put your beauty above the lives of my men. Men who would die for you and you use a whole carriage for your trappings. If you cannot explain then I may be tempted to flail your backside with the flat of my sword"

"Trappings. Yes, Major. Trappings they are called and indeed trappings they are. Take a good long look Sir. I am the horizon to you. A distant aim that you will never reach. No matter the effort you endure. The struggle you face. I will always remain unachievable to a man of your lowly status. I have trapped you indeed. But not for me are you suffering. It is your soul that is twisting inside. Your men have torn you but your duty was always to Queen and Country."

Lady Winters turns back into the room to face the Major and square up to him. Fists clenched. Christ this corset is getting uncomfortable.

"Of course your men would die for me. As would you. I am their desire. I am their future and I am their lives. Do you not see I came to this godforsaken country to support, not only my husband, but also play my role? All their wives and girlfriends are waiting back home. Their loved ones are on the other side of the world. Here, as well as back in England men need an aim. Just because I am as an horizon to you does not stop you from taking on the impossible journey. It also does not stop them from wanting to better themselves and their wishes. In London I would cross the road from such men but their eyes would cross the road with me. They may touch their caps to me but their stares do not drop accordingly. I may lack some manners in your opinion, but that rabble you call an army are born with the sole purpose of dying for the likes of I. Their manners show it to be so. Your reckless threat of touching me let alone thrashing me show you to be as they." If I stand a little straighter it may stop my kidneys from hurting so much.

"You have ignored the positions we are in. The status of my husband. My position as a dutiful wife. You have pushed yourself on my attentions and it is not done Sir. No. It is not done."

Lady Winters turns away again and walks to the chest of drawers. Her hand rests on the framed picture of her husband. Her other hand touches the drawers.

"We all have duties to fulfil. It may be yours is to kill Boers protecting their land. It maybe sending men to their certain deaths. Do not dare ignore my duties. They are far more prestigious and important than your feeble efforts. The empire requires a horizon. It does not crawl after it as you crawl to your horizon. The horizon of an empire contains the future and people to carry that vision with distinction."

Jason looked on as the scene unfolded. Solitaire was putting every effort into this piece as promised. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw her grasp the chest of drawers. He knew it would not be long now.

Lady Winters pounds her chest with indignation

"It is I sir who puts country and Empire before foolish desires. Do you not think…."

The room span faster and faster before Solitaire let go of the roundabout and crashed to the ground

"Cut"

"Solitaire. Solitaire. Solitaire try to drink this you will feel better" Sylvia held her head up and tipped the ice water onto the faint lips. The room slowly came into focus as Solitaire came round. Surrounded by faces looking down at her she felt slightly foolish and would normally have lashed out. She lay still; she could feel the bed on her back and the aching of her stomach and kidneys. The cold water flowed into her mouth and she felt it run down her throat and into her body. Feeling better she propped herself up on the bed with her elbow and asked if the room could be cleared. Sylvia stayed along with the director and Jason lurking in the corner.

"How ya feeling doll?" growled the director disappointed at the schedule delay.

"OK I guess. I am not sure what happened. It was going so well" stuttered Solitaire

"Best damn acting I have ever seen. When do you reckon we can carry on?"

"Give me an hour if that’s OK?"

"No. Take as long as you want. Tomorrow will be fine."

"If you fall off a horse best to get straight on. I’ll do it today" and with this she swung her legs around and sat up on the bed. "Sylvia lets go."

Solitaire stood up feeling fine as the director walked out of the room. As the door closed Solitaire realised far too late that the corset was missing. Her hand felt around her damp waist as if searching for something she knew had gone. "What’s happening why am I undressed?"

"Calm down. You were very lucky. They cut the laces on your corset. Clumsy men. They could have injured you. Never mind we have another one prepared."

"Another one what do you mean?" stuttered the confused actress.

"It would take far too long to rethread the laces on that corset, but we have another as a spare. Slightly smaller but that’s OK we can leave the laces shy to suit." Sylvia explained.

"Smaller?" a flicker of doubt came over her eyes. "How much smaller?

"Seventeen inches" replied Sylvia with a smile. "Please do not worry. Now turn around and place your hands on the bed and we can get started.

Solitaire obeyed and her shaking hands rested on the crumpled sheets of the makeshift bed in the dressing room as Sylvia approached. As the corset brushed her back the skin tingled unpleasantly.

Sylvia dipped below her waist, between her and the bed. Solitaire was surprised how simply the corset was fastened on to her. It had taken ages before. "That was painless" she remarked.

"Longer laces so it was bigger for you." explained Sylvia as she began to pull them through. After half an hour Jay came into the room to help with the strong work.

Solitaire stood leaning against the bed breathless. "I have been thinking. The crew will think I have wimped out if you leave a gap. They will think I was laced too tight and that was the reason I passed out. Take it all the way in."

Sylvia wiped the sweat from her brow as she took a breath and together with Jay began to pull the corset tighter. It was difficult work but Solitaire was adamant and endured the tightening without complaint. Jason could not believe they closed the gap at the back. He could hear the lace sing with the tension.

Finally, with the director’s runner shouting for her, Solitaire was ready. Her waist numb, she made her way to the stage area with her hands reaching out for support along the way. The crew clapped and cheered as she made her way to the starting position.

The director walked over to check she was OK. "Good girl Solitaire. Right from the top"

She turned to him almost toppling over. "From the top, but I was half way through. Surely we can start half way through?" pleaded Solitaire.

"Well, do not blame me" he whispered so she could smell the whiskey on his breath. "Blame god for the change in light and blame yourself for coming out here laced even tighter. Do you think our audience would not notice your smaller waist? Detail girl you gota have detail"

"Action"

Solitaire stumbled forward slightly; she had not expected this. Lines raced through her head as the door burst open and the Major stood there.

"Hi James"

"Cut!"

"Sorry about that. Can we start again?"

The director instructed everyone back into position and again shouted "Action"

Three restarts and two hours later, with perspiration turning her chemise and petticoats into sandpaper under her corset, Solitaire regained her composure and launched back into the speech that would go down in history.

Lady Winters pounds her chest with indignation

"It is I sir, who puts country and Empire before foolish desires. Do you not think before you crash in here with idle threats how I am bringing civilisation to a land of savages? I dress as a lady to honour all the Ladies of the British Empire. The trappings as you call them are as much a part of the Empire as your rifles or gunboats. Do you let your men wander without discipline? Dirty boots and dull buttons are not tolerated in your world. My uniform may be different to yours, but, oh so very important. I do not tolerate this intrusion, however, you can see I too suffer for Queen and country. Your impertinence has allowed you to see some of the trappings you should never have seen."

Lady Winters turns slowly with her hands on her hips. Christ this is agony. My liver is about to burst I am sure of it. I need to stand a little taller I think.

Lady Winters walks over to the major. She stands face to face. Trembling slightly. Oh. No this is too much, it feels as if, Oh god no, my insides are being forced out from…. Oh god.

"Do you wish to touch your horizon Major. Do you wish to conquer not only your fears but also your betters? Do you wish to invade lands untouched by rough hands?"

Lady Winters turns away and walks back to the chest of drawers. Keep going. Got to keep going. If I stop now I will have to start all over again. The feeling is passing. The movement is in my imagination the movement is… Oh my god.

Lady Winters lays down the portrait of her husband. She is shaking now. With nerves, with anticipation and with desire. I’ve got to stop shaking this badly. They will think I am over acting I must control myself. God help me.

"You came to make a choice Major. Take me or take your men. Take your empire, your dreams. Take me now."

"Damn you to hell!" spits the Major and storms out of the door slamming it behind him.

Solitaire folds in pain gripping her stomach and staggers to the door. She slams a fist into the wood and slides down to her knees screaming like a banshee. As the impact of her knees hits the floor her insides plummet down as a cork from a bottle. "You Bastard. You utter bastard. I cannot believe you have ruined it. You Bastard".

"Cut"

"Cut? What do you mean Cut. He was supposed to kiss me and then you are to end the scene. He is not supposed to say anything after my piece. He has ruined the entire scene. Why did you not stop him? Where has he gone? What is happening?"

"He only did as directed" replied Jason as he stepped from the shadows. The crew had all gone. The director’s chair was empty.

"You see, in this part of the film, two things were required. Authenticity and Character. It is your final scene in the film. I know you think you are to film a love scene and a happy ever after wind up plot finish, but you have done all you needed to do."

"What the hell are you talking about. You supposed to look out for me, fight my corner, protect me. How can my final scenes be cut? Get this damn corset off me. I think I am hurt inside. Please help me?"

Jason continued, not wishing to be interrupted. "Well the character bit is easy. You have none. You’re as empty as your acting. The director had to push you. Sylvia had to squeeze you until we could get out the desperation the role desired." Jason walked over to her and held her face with one hand. He brushed away a tear with his thumb.

"Authenticity. Well you are wearing a seventeen-inch straight front corset introduced in 1900 to alleviate all the problems of wearing a tight waist. Problem is, if it gets laced too tight. Oh, you know about seventeen inches. It crushes the kidneys, liver and diaphragm. Pushes the stomach into the womb cavity and can cause prolapsed of the internal organs. Does any of that feel familiar?"

"Who the hell are you? Where is Jay? How could you do this to me?" she gulped as she dropped to the floor. The lower part of the busks sinking into her abdomen

Jason smiled, "I did nothing to you, Your constant desire to be the centre of attention and tread on every one and any one on the way up has created many enemies. Me. I was just a dumb sap at the high school prom. Jay is the daughter of Mrs Brinkley from Fordrock museum. When you ruined that antique corset and returned in such a state she was sacked and turned to the bottle. Died in an alcoholic coma two years ago. Sylvia is Geoff Blakes mother. Remember Geoff , the rock star you used as a stepladder. He is in rehab now, but he will survive if slightly brain damaged from the overdose he took when you left. James? Well he was just following the director’s orders. They are a couple you know. Even your Guardian angel from the bodyguard company, Dave. He was a fan whose letters you ignored. He came in very handy in my plan. You had upset so many people on the way up you needed protection from the less patient among us."

Solitaire was crawling now as fast as she could across the set. Her knees trapped the petticoats as she crawled causing her to fall face down on the floor. Her back arched down to the front of the corset. She reached the chest of drawers and climbed up into the standing position. Sweat pouring from her face. Her breasts heaving as the corset gripped her waist like a vice. "You will pay for this. You will all pay for this"

"Maybe so, but at least we had our moment of revenge. Remember Solitaire. Character and Authenticity. See you at the premiere." He opened his hand and a scrap of black plastic fluttered to the floor.

Jason turned and left the empty set. Solitaire staggered away from the chest of drawers to chase after him. As she stepped forward a red-hot poker ravaged her stomach. She collapsed on to the floor vomit foaming from her mouth. The S front had claimed another unsuspecting victim.

The End

LARP

Sally waited by the coffee machine just long enough to see Ned come out of the copier room and catch his eye, he smiled and carried on his way over to the desk suppressing a grin. The nod had told him she was ready and the previous evening had gone well. Ned was pleased everything was going well for Sally, she had some tough breaks in life and he knew their growing friendship would give them both a boost in their lives.

Sally walked back to her desk and placed the coffee next to the keyboard, pushed the mouse and the screen flicked back into life. More accounts to log, more work to do but now she had made a move to a new life, A slow step back into the social world. Her divorce had been messy to say the least, most are, but the court case and imprisonment of her husband had made the break more solid than most break ups. No children thank goodness but the pain still racked her very being. It had always caused a problem in her life post divorce, the social stigma of rape was still as strong and in marriage the stain always seemed to cling to the wife rather than the man. Simon had always been the life and soul of the party although Sally had her doubts a long time before they were married. Their first kiss in the night club had been very memorable for her but, as her reached towards her and gently slipped off her glasses just before that moment of hot tender passion, her heart sank just a little. He had always said they get in the way of a good kiss, but Sally knew it might have been because he would never kiss a girl wearing glasses. The contact lenses had been his idea and she was pleased that the only good thing to come out of the marriage was her freedom from the nickname specky four eyes. As a protection she always wore plain glass in her horn-rimmed spectacles. A test for any would be Romeo; not that men would ever bother her again after Simon. Many had blamed her for standing up and speaking out about her husband, in the quiet world of suburbia these things happened all the time, it was just part of a mans right. Sally had left a lot of the details out of the evidence against her husband as she had been ridiculed and tortured enough that fateful night. The experience of the gruesome details being dragged up in court and placed in print, never to be forgotten by people that it never happened to for them to judge and whisper. The broken arm and bruising was enough evidence plus his own sad confession recorded by her after the event and played in court to a hushed jury. The man was just plain evil and may he rot in hell

No, last night had gone very well. In fact it had gone very, very well. Although she had to admit, a little fraut as times. The wine had been chilling in the fridge hastily put in there when Sally returned from work. The stop off at the shop to pick up the outfit had made her a little late but luckily her friend Jasmine had not yet arrived. They got together every so often and she had been a rock to Sally after the break up. Even she had been shocked at the level of abuse dished out right under her nose but with the kids and a busy life not even J had noticed the signs. Sally placed the bag down on the table and looked around to judge if the place needed a quick tidy. No, it all looked ok and as she slipped off her shoes the knock she had been expecting came at the door.

J tumbled through the door at a hundred miles an hour, the speed she did everything. Kids, husband, house, job all crushed into 24 hours 7 days a week left her a bit dizzy or ditsy as Sally liked to call her.

“Spill all Sally, who’s the new bloke?” J quizzed as she nodded approvingly at the serene style and look of the flat Sally rented. “I just love what you have done to the place, but then I love anywhere you can take more than one step without standing on a block of Lego.” She winced as she spoke reminded of just how painful the occurrence could be. “Where’s the wine?

Sally stood still by the kitchenette waiting for the tornado to settle. There was no talking to J for at least 20 minutes on arrival. That was the time it took for her to chill out and wind down. Sally stepped over to the fridge and slowly opened the door to feel the wine bottle. Slid it from the rack and moved it up into the freezer draw. “ Five minutes, would you like some tea or coffee” she asked as she returned to the small lounge. J had not heard, she was staring into the bag on the table, her eyes wide open and her mouth on this occasion shut, but in a smile. J turned to Sally and wagged her finger in a mock telling off. “Naughty Sally? Does this guy know what you are up to? God you will eat him alive in this. Come on get those things off I must see you in this. Come on Come on.” J tugged at Sally’s jacket almost taking it off her shoulder in one pull.

Sally was a little nervous and it shortened her temper just a little. “ For gods sake just give me a minute I have only just got in the door. “SIT”

J smiled did as she was told and sat perched on the sofa. Knees together and right on the edge in a pleading expectant position. Hands on her lap fiddling with her wedding ring. “Deal the dirt, If you are going to wear what is in that bag this guy is special, really special. Come on what’s up?”

Sally smiled and sat down opposite J on the single cushioned chair. A grin spread across her face and J reflected the look expectantly.

“ It’s a guy at work He’s…” J interrupted immediately with an extended WWWWWWWWhat a bloke from work are you insane? He will have it all round the office, you are some kinky desperado who will do anything his twisted mind wants” J winced maybe she had gone over the top but her protection of Sally ran deep.

Sally smiled again and let J off the hook. Only a smile could explain she was happy with the situation and given her past that meant a lot to her and J was pleased to see it. “Listen J and this time listen with your ears and not your mouth!” J sat further back in the sofa but her back still did not relax into the cushions. “He is just so different from anyone I have met, small guy, unassuming, quiet, polite, caring and witty. “ Sally stared into J’s trembling face; “ No he’s not gay so you can change that look. Well, maybe he is. I am not sure, but in honesty I don’t care. He is a friend and a good one at that. He is, He has, He, well…. I am not sure how to say this. When he walks in the room he takes my attention but I notice the sun shining through the window, the leaves on the trees, the squeak of the office fan. Some how he raised my senses, Yes in every way! “ “Anyway he has asked me out at the weekend to a……..” “Orgy!! a bloody orgy and you said yes, well good for you” It had taken a longer time span than expected but J had cracked.

“Live Action role play, I am reliably informed is not and never has been defined as an orgy.” Clarified Sally in a school mam voice trying to calm down and reprimand J all at the same time. “But that outfit, what sort of Role play are you taking part in for Christ sake?” responded Jasmine.

“Princess Lola is my Larp name and I am qutie looking forward to it” explained Sally jumped up to respond to the click of the kettle. “Still have two sugars in your black coffee “ she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

“Larp”

“Yes Larp for short, these guys get together at weekends and dress up as wizards, demons, you know the sort of thing”

J just looked open mouthed but nodded for Sally to carry on.

“Well they hire a few big tents for the beer and changing rooms and then mess around in the woods. It sounds fun and you get to meet all sorts”

J scoffed “It’s the all sorts you should be worried about wearing an outfit like that, hey and you will catch your death”

“I brought it from a special shop he recommended. He said he had asked the owner to put a special something to one side for me”

“Horny bastard”

“Come on” pushed Sally “ drink you tea and then we can try it on”

J and Sally skirted around a few issues but discussed life, work and how well the children were doing as they sipped the tea and coffee, each mouthful burning as they rushed the moment, racing to get the outfit out of the bag and on to Sally.

J broke first, as Sally knew she would. Standing up she strode over to the bag and tipped the contents on to the table. Sally winced as the gold and white metal corset slid out of the bag and scratched into the cheap surface venner.

“Careful, it might pull the skirt, those edges seem a little sharp” J did as she was told and held the corset like you would a tray of cups , her hands holding both ends for support as the white chiffon slid out of the plastic carrier bag in a cloud.

J looked the corset up and down; she was impressed, this was not the sordid tat she at first suspected. The corset was crafted in a gold metal material and covered in scrolls over a white background. It just covered the breasts and was long enough to reach down over the hips. The back was laced in a golden sparkly cord and the front fastened with steel clips. The skirt was just a see through mass of chiffon that billowed over the table and flowed onto the floor.

J looked up from the amazing structure only to jump out of her skin as Sally stood before her in a tiny pair of lace knickers in the shorts style. They clung to Sally’s pert bottom and left a little to the imagination.

“Come on then before I catch my death” she laughed as she stepped towards J and the corset.

J nervously passed the metal corset around Sally’s waist careful not to catch her skin under her arms and hips. Gently the corset wrapped around her body and seemed a better fit than she would have imagined. As she clipped the front busks together J remarked how this guy knew Sally’s exact measurements as this thing fitted like a glove. A cold metal glove but none the less a glove.

Sally smiled as she looked down at the corset as it glinted in the light from the kitchenette. Her fingers ran down the front checking the clips were in place as they had disappeared from view under her bulging breasts. Bulging had never been a problem before and Sally leaned forward to look over them as they heaved up at her. Strange. Sally went to ask J if she looked any different when she was pulled backwards by a sudden yank. “Breathe in” J instructed as she looked over Sally’s shoulder, just pausing long enough to look down at the growing bosom. “Wow these things certainly improve your bust. Must get one myself, she sighed as yet another yank caused Sally to stand on tiptoe. “Hang on a moment before you go too far, Lets get this thing comfortable” Sally grabbed the top and bottom to try and twist it into a better position just as J pulled a t the laces once more. Sally began to feel a little funny. The light bulb seemed to emit a little buzz and the carpet prickled her bare feet. The chiffon skirt brushed against her legs giving a stroking sensation and the sparkle of light through the dust in the room brightened. J gave another tug and the drip of the tap in the kitchen sounded like a stone hitting a bell. The room seemed to be coming to life. J was now in a rhythm of lacing, pulling from the top and bottom to the middle, cascades of lace fell to the ground as she squeezed Sally tighter and tighter. Sally gasped for air, her voice gone, her head not really spinning but the world moved in slow motion as if she was a witness rather than a participant in the event. She coughed to get moisture into her mouth before she finally desperately said “ Stop” It had no effect J kept pulling, the dust sparkled, the drip became a hammer on an anvil. Sally concentrated swallowed and used all her strength “STOP! For Christ sake STOP”

Sally stepped forward staring around her, was this still her flat, it all looked so different, little things she had never noticed before stood out. The dust hung in the room like a veil of mist and the dripping hammer strikes became a death bell striking in the distance.

Sally stepped forward and looked in the mirror. The sight was a mystery to her; the short bobbed hair had become a mane of wild black tresses hanging over her shoulders. Her bust creaked over the top of the corset making her feet disappear from her direct view, only visible in the mirror. Her waist was impossibly tiny, no way could J have pulled the corset that tight, even if she had, the corset was never that small. It just cannot be right. Her hands run down the cold golden metal to the waist and almost straight out over the hips to meet the billowing chiffon. No, the waist, it cannot be real it just cannot be. She turned frightened to become even more terrified as for the first time since the shout her eyes fell on J. Sally stepped forward to hold her, shake her. “J what is is?” she asked as her friend turned a distinct shade of blue. “J stop messing about what’s up, this isn’t funny. J for gods sake what’s up?”

J was slowly sinking to the ground, her lips purple, her eyes turned up to the ceiling. Her hands stone cold. Sally let her fall slowly supporting her head and as she finally slipped her hand from under her she sprang over to the phone and hammered 999 into the handset. “Ambulance she screamed Now!

A calm placid voice seemed to mutter in monotone, completely detached from the scene of surreal panic. Sally looked at her figure in the mirror, looked down at J turning black and looked at the phone in disbelief.

“Is the patient breathing”

“Oh my god” gasped Sally snapping back into reality, she slumped to her knees the corset biting into her hips and under her arms. The chiffon skirt giving no protection to her knees on the hard floor. “Airways, yes airways” Sally remembered her first aid training from way back and tilted J’s head back and folded her arms out into the recovery position. The voice called from the phone but Sally paid no attention “What to do? What to do? Come on J what’s up with you, she pushed at her then shook her. Why aren’t you breathing? She shook her again. Oh God please, why aren’t you breathing? BREATH Damn you BREATHE!”

The sickening guttural growl that came from J’s throat was just awful and the gasp came long and hard. J grabbed and gasped for air as she took in as much of the precious gas as she could without bursting her lungs. The dark colours run from her face and her eyes blinked into focus “Shit what happened” Sally beamed, tears streaming down her face. “ I think you must have passed out honey” explained Sally as the monotone voice on the phone called for attention. J sat up and looked around seeming none the worse for wear. Looked over at Sally and exclaimed, “Passed out, I think that’s your job in that outfit. Jesus Sally what’s with the hair and that waist, that’s just amazing, no that’s impossible. Sally bent towards her friend and kissed her on the cheek. “Come on lets get me out of this, I think we have had enough excitement for one night. Sally stood and pulled J to her feet, looked into her eyes and asked if she was ok. J just stared at the gold corset and tiny waist, not really knowing what to say. “I’m not sure what happened to me it is just a blank. Pass the wine and then I will unlace you. That looks a little too tight to me. Sally picked up the bottle of wine and poured J a big glass full. “I’ll have the red I think.” Don’t leave me” pleaded J” “OK this will do” and Sally looked agog as red wine poured from the bottle she had just filled J white wineglass with. Quick as a flash she knocked it over onto the brown carpet so J would not notice “What the hell was going on”

With J recovering on the sofa Sally reached round the back of the corset to loosen the lacing. The lace hung to the floor and struggling to reach behind she eventually pulled the top loop of lace between the two top eyes and the lacing pulled through her fingers. Slowly the corset relaxed the grip on her waist and the busks at the front could become unclipped. With a big sigh Sally held the corset and skirts in her arms and carefully placed them back in the bag. Folding the top over as if to seal in the traumatic last ten minutes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked J who carried on sipping the wine as if her life depended on it. “OK, still a bit fazed but I will be fine, Where did you put the wig?”

Sally placed her hand onto her short bobbed hair and pulled a face as she lied, “It’s in the kitchen, I took it off as I was on the phone. You really gave me a scare. I told the emergency centre you had recovered and they recommended you visit the doctors tomorrow. Hubby will be here in a minute to take you home”

The knock at the door gave her the perfect timing to get rid of J to her protective husband and he gave her a little glare as they left. Wrapped in the dressing gown she had grabbed earlier Sally sat down on the sofa in the empty flat. What the fuck had just happened? The evening was meant to be fun, not some bloody nightmare where her best friend almost died. Well, with the evening ruined Sally took the only possible action. The same action she had taken many an evening, she picked up the wine bottle and ran a steaming hot bath. Alone in the tub she could wash away her troubles and blur any that were stubborn enough not to be washed down the plug hole. The steam helped clear her mind and the wine caused her heart to race and mind to wander.

With the bottle gone and the warm fluffy white towel wrapped around her she headed back to the lounge. She shook the towel from her head wrapped like a turban over her bob and ran her fingers through to straighten the hair. It flicked over her ears and the activity caused droplets to fall over her neck and back. Sally shivered and sat up suddenly. She felt drawn to the bag once more; her hands were shaking and clammy as she once again pulled the corset from its hiding place. Taking a deep breath more for strength than anything else, she grasped the corset and wrapped it around her waist clipping the busks together once more. The chiffon skirts flowed around her naked skin and a tingle spread across her arms and chest. The cold metal seemed to warm quickly against her damp skin. With the clasps clipped together Sally straightened the corset on her body and reached behind to grab the golden laces hanging from the middle of the back of the corset. Crossing the opposite sides over she pulled at the laces bring her arms forward like a rowing stroke in reverse. The lace moved easily and Sally carried on the movements taking up the slack. Yard after yard came through her hands as she fought to get to the moment where she could tighten the laces to reduce her waist. Beginning to feel like a failure, the realisation the laces had come untied from the corset began to dawn. Sally tried to look over her shoulder at the eyelets but a mass of curly black hair blocked her view. Sally almost went to move it out the way before she froze. With the laces in her hands she flicked then behind her and slowly walked over to the mirror. The sight stunned her into a yelp. It could not be, it just could not be happening. Hot bath, too much wine, was a mistake. Sally blinked and looked again at the vision in the mirror. The jet-black hair tumbled over her shoulders to reach the top of the corset, Well the top of her breasts actually, full and round they swelled over the top of the corset rising and falling in quick succession following her erratic breathing. The corset nipped down to the tiniest waist Sally had ever seen then angled out at 90 degrees to flow over her hips and relent to the skirts flowing beneath. Sally reached down and closed her hands completely around her minute waist. How could this be possible? She rotated to get a side view and saw the tiny waist turn like a bobbin on a spindle. Unbelievable! Sally took a step closer to the mirror to see the gold and white corset in every detail. It’s ornate scrolls scattering the light. She reached up to brush the hair from her face when she noticed something else had changed.

Her face was fully made up with the blackest eye shadow and the reddest lips painted into a pout. Her eyes stared past the huge lashes and looked into her own in a face she almost did not recognise. For the first time in years she felt at peace. The desperation and depression that had haunted her was gone, she felt serene, beautiful and powerful. Looking down at her hands she felt a tremble as the scarlet red nails curled over the ends of her fingers in bloody talons. Had Sally caused J’s collapse? Hands on her amazing waist she strode over to the window which overlooked the road. In the dull light thrown from the only working street lamp she could make out a cat sliding down the road in the shadows. Pointing at the animal she whispered to herself “Stop” the Cat carried on regardless of the pathetic attempt to control its life “Shit” she cursed and she turned away from the window feeling rather foolish with herself. What was she thinking, one bottle of wine and she was the all-powerful sorceress vengeful and destructive. What an idiot. Closing the curtain once more she reached behind her to find the knot of the laces. The fingernails caused a few problems but eventually Sally prised herself out of the corset and returned it to the bag. It seemed so odd, the time taken to put this thing on and then take it off was an age. With the corset and skirts safely packed away and put at the back of her wardrobe she sat at the dressing table to get rid of the make up before she hit the sack. Staring back at her from the mirror was Sally. Normal Sally, bobbed hair and pink peach lips looked back. This was crazy. How had? what was? oh never mind she thought and slid into bed.

The next morning Sally felt refreshed after the best night’s sleep she had enjoyed for ages, Even after the shock of J’s collapse it only seemed to help the slumber.

Sally grabbed some toast and tea before slipping on her suit for work only stopping to put on a pair of stockings she had kept for a special occasion that never arrived. Today the fiddley suspender belt seemed worth it and together with the heels she would never normally wear for work she skipped down the stairs and out into the street. Looking forward to work was a strange reaction as Ned was bound to ask how the dressing up has gone. Sally’s thought the best thing would be to lie and once the bus had arrived the ten-minute journey to the office would be just long enough to concoct a plausible story.

The bus stop outside the flat saved the walk and in the heels she had selected it was possibly a good saving grace. The bus was always late and as Sally waited in the chill wind her eyes glanced over the road to a brown pile on the pavement opposite. It looked as though a pile of leaves had bunched up but as she squinted it became apparent it was a pile of faeces the biggest she had ever seen.

Now Ned had caught her eye she knew from the look that he must be full of questions. She would have to wait until lunchtime before she could fill him in on all the details. She adjusted her glasses to cut out the glare from the screen and began logging accounts. Ned was a very quiet guy, at 5ft 6inches he was 2 inches shorter than Sally and today’s heels meant that was now 6 inches shorter. He had a slight build and looked like he needed to bulk up bit but then powerful men gave Sally the creeps ever since her encounter with Simon. He was cute in a strange way. Sally was possibly jealous, as nothing seemed to phase him. He worked in a hectic office and yet commanded some air of respect.

The clock slowly climbed to 1.00 o clock and the office buzzed as people grabbed their coats and jackets scurrying to the lifts. Sally picked up her lunch and wandered over to the coffee machine area where a few chairs and a single sofa had been placed for a cosier lunch than the office could provide. She smoothed her skirt down over her legs feeling the little bump of the suspenders clipped to her stocking tops, a smile broke across her face as she remembered how she had felt this morning when she dressed.

“A penny for them” asked Ned as he sat down beside her. Sally held her brown paper lunch parcel then placed it on the table as the rustling of the bag gave away her nerves. “Hi, how are you today” Sally asked as she glanced up to meet his steel grey eyes.

“I’m fine. How did last night go? Well I hope” he inquired

Sally felt a blush rush over her skin, she knew she could not fight it as that would only make it last longer.

“Can I ask you a question?” she looked over her horn-rimmed glasses as the words felt their way through the bright red lips.

“You are not wearing the corset so, yes you can ask me anything”

Sally sat back in the chair and stared at Ned. He was far too forward; she needed more time to get her head around last night before this conversation carried on. A plan hatched in her mind to delay the moment, to divert the conversation to a mundane subject. Control was required and a great deal of tact and swiftness of thought. “What?” even she was shocked as the word came out?

Ned took the opportunity with both hands. “You had an experience last night. I guessed you would. Those good in heart will have happenings when they wear blessed clothing. No, let me explain. If you were bad at heart or was out for your own interests you would have worn the corset today. I do not know how you would have covered up the skirts or anything else but you would have come into work and used your powers for your own good.

Sally felt a little guilty as she had though about that very thing. The shock of last night had left an impression hence the heels and stockings.

“You mentioned powers, what do you mean?” inquired Sally innocently.

“Playing dumb really does not suit you. All you need to do is understand things have changed for you. A victim no longer, but do not be tempted to go down a road you cannot turn back from. This weekend the guys have a get together in the forest. It’s a get to know each other feast on the Saturday night then on the Sunday morning a larp battle. Home for evening tea! Interested?”

Sally could do no more than nod with a smile; this guy understood somehow the terrors and traumas she had gone through. He seemed to know her well enough to know this strange thing that was happening to her wearing the corset would not change her or cause her to become vindictive. He seemed to know all about her, or did he.

Wednesday evening arrived without too much trouble; work took its toll and Sally found sleep came to her easily. Only a couple of days to go before the weekend event. With the agenda laid out in glorious detail it would appear the two days were planned with military precision. Thursday morning found Sally waiting at the bus stop thinking of Ned’s outfit. What special powers did he have? A smile slowly spread across her face as she pictured him in a pirate’s outfit complete with knee boots and swashbuckling sword.

Over the next two days various outfits burst into Sally’s mind, some more ridiculous than others, some more daring than others. Well her outfit was sexy; maybe his was the same.

Friday night Ned walked her to the bus stop and arranged the meeting for the following day. Everything would be provided for Sally including accommodation in her own wooden lodge with bedding and food and drink. “Just bring the outfit and a pair of wellies. It can get a bit muddy on the tracks to the clearing. Pick you up at your stop at 12 midday” instructed Ned as he turned away. Sally stepped up on to the bus and began the journey home full of apprehension and a ting of loneliness as Ned disappeared in the gloom and the night.

Sally checked the corset and skirts in the suitcase she had decided to take. She checked them again and then again. It seemed pointless but with only one thing to remember it took over her whole mind. Should she try it on again before the Sunday? Should she try it on now? Amazingly her hands shook as she reached into the case and pulled out the hard cold steel feeling corset. The chiffon skirts blew out of the case brushing her arm. A shiver ran down her back and the corset was returned to the case. It was a silly thing to be doing, how foolish would she look in the middle of a wood surrounded by a load of nerds in rubber horned hats and plastic swords. No this could not happen. This was ridiculous. Sally sipped the glass of wine and stared at the closed case. Galvanised she downed the full glass and went to bed. Saturday would soon arrive.

Part two soon

STRAIGHTLACED

1.

Malcom Entwiste was frustrated. He always had a back up plan. Now he found himself approaching his 42^nd birthday and was dreading it. OK. So he had done well by himself, but was still not happy with his current situation. He was a designer by nature, well, that was a bit of a lie. He was a thief. Many years ago he had sat bored rigid in a classroom lecture listening to stories of Leonardo De Vinci and how hundreds of years ago he had invented the helicopter and other fanciful creations. Centuries ahead of his time he was attacked by the church and an outcast for most of his life. The teacher droned on and on explaining how ideas had fallen like rain from the great man and if alive today in current times he would possibly have been the richest man on earth. Malcom suddenly became interested and sat up in his hard wooden chair. It was not long before he slumped back in his seat disheartened to learn most brilliant inventions have been patented and were untouchable from exploitation. He dropped into a daze that day in school, only to be awoken by the lunchtime bell. The thought he had all those years ago had served him well. As a designer he had learned his trade well and worked for most of the giants of the industrial world, General Electric, ICI, Cable and Wireless. Why was he a thief? Malcolm realised good old Leonardo had the concept of flight but no technology to produce a prototype. 21^st Century earth had a multitude of new technology but very few fresh ideas. He looked at every design problem, scanned the historic records for solutions and matched the two in such a way as to divert the patent office official’s investigations into his work. Most was done under the umbrella protection of the corporation he was working for at the time. He was always part of the solution but not the whole. These collaborations in design and materials had made him very successful in his field and lined his bank account in a healthy manner.

So why was he frustrated? Well, he had crashed into mid life crisis in a major way. With two failed marriages behind him due to his incessant workload, his third rebound marriage was looking shaky.

Gabriel was a stunning 28. Good looks and constant reminders from work colleagues that she was years younger than Malcolm put him ill at ease. Gabriel or Gabby as he liked to call her, was full of life and had the gift of beauty and the ability to spend money in equal measures. Recently she had taken to playing tennis and constantly droned on about Mark the club tennis pro. His backswing was a joy to behold apparently. Malcolm always laughed at this, it was he who had masterminded the revolutionary racket Mark used to great effect in the US Open before the design became available to all players. It was grafted from a Mongolian technique for stringing powerful bows that could shoot arrows hundreds of yards millennia ago. The project had become a great earner and he still received royalty cheques. Sad then, the money now drove his wife down to the tennis club in her Mercedes. He was losing his grip on the relationship and his mind. If only he could control Gabby.

2.

Malcolm drew his knees up to his chin and folded his arms around his legs as he sat alone on his sofa in his study of their substantial house. Malcolm was having a thought. “Control Gabby?” He had controlled the braking system of a championship formula one racing car using fluid technology devised by the ancient Greeks. He had controlled the temperature of the nose cone of a fighter jet pulling 10 g using material composites used in house building in the glorious Egyptian Pharaoh’s empires. He had controlled the flow of ions in a particle laser beam stolen from Nazi experiments into Atomic weapons. “Would it be possible to control a woman? This question must have been asked a million times by men thought out history.” He had the experience, the technology, and the desire to solve any problem. He dwelt on the thought and a smile slowly spread across his face. History would show him the way and modern technology would provide the key.

Malcolm took his tried and trusted formula for success and applied it to his latest problem. His research library was the key although on this occasion controlling women did not at first appear to have been conquered. He browsed hundreds of archives and slowly began to see a thread developing. Each example was examined and then discarded as a dead end of exploration. The ancient art of foot binding by the Chinese deemed too barbaric, although tempting. That would slow her down on the tennis court, no skipping up to the net to kiss Mark the wonderful tennis pro. “Oh Mark you are so strong. Your serve is just too much for me. You really know how to make a girl HOT.” Yes that would slow her down, but Malcolm really did not see how he could sell her foot binding. She was vain and she wore incredibly high shoes in the name of fashion but, no crap idea. Malcolm knew when an idea had no legs. It was how he had been such a success, his ability to select a solution, but also, to dismiss ideas before they wasted too much time. Ideas are like that if you get passionate over them. You find yourself defending an idea rather than examine the problem objectively. Lose that objectivity and you are doomed.

Rings applied to the neck of African tribe’s woman. Interesting, but afraid not in vogue at the moment and he could not see a controlling factor other than disabling. No, his control had to be complete and subtle. If a control had been applied to the race known as women in the distant past, it was complete control. For the women of today to get to their unrivalled position of power in society in today’s world there must have been a revolution of some sorts to break the position. Their intelligence had not just appeared; they had evolved alongside man. To think their power had only just dawned over the last eighty years was a foolish thought. Something had held them back. After searching for women’s revolts though out history he realised he was looking too far into the past. The 1960’s saw massive changes in women’s lives and the burning of the bra campaigns stirred something in his mind. Underwear, no surely not, a simple cantilever cloth construction that was a brassiere cannot have played a role in this conflict. Yet he, yes he, should not ignore the facts. There in the historical records was a picture of women stood around a burning bra, cheering. Personally he could not see how a bra could control a woman. It had little impact on the body and the size seemed to get smaller over the fashion years. Gabriel certainly used her push up bra to wonderful effect. Maybe they burnt them because they were so badly made. He was puzzled, as a designer he had thrown out many prototypes. Did they burnt them as a symbol or were they uncomfortable. In the photograph they looked stiff and had uncomfortable boning. Wait just a minute, boning. Malcolm quickly turned back through the resources. Tracing the fashion clock back to the turn of the century he found just what he was looking for in 1897. The timing was perfect; it matched exactly with women getting the right to vote all over the world. Development was required, the design was an old one and some of the materials he noted were not only hard to come by but also protected. Malcolm sat down and stared up into the night sky. He was satisfied he had found a solution and he knew where the next months would be heading. Ultimate control would be his. He was going into the corset business.

3.

The cunning Victorian’s had the design almost perfect, certainly as a fastening and quick release mechanism the busk could not be beaten. For practicality and robust design it was perfection. So perfect it fact he was amazed and dismayed he had not already stolen it for various projects away from clothing. The lacing system required work. Months and months of work.

The problem to overcome was the lacing. Victorian and some of the modern copies he had purchased in secret all finished by coming through two or four final eyelets. This put enormous strain on these final delivery points leading to stress of the lace and the material around the eyelets. Lacing was a long laborious process as the lace was progressively tightened. Malcolm was not an impatient man and he could see how slowly lacing up a tight corset could be very erotic. The women would become slowly squeezed tighter and tighter. As an engineer he had to look at the practical side and he was after speed and control. Slowly lacing the corset made the pressure on each eyelet greater and greater and thus made the task of final tightening increasingly difficult. The gap between the two lines of eyelets getting progressively closer made the lacing more and more difficult to achieve. Malcolm favourite part of his life. He had found a design flaw that required a solution. .

The old method gave the corset stability when it was unlaced. It was a foolproof method of lacing. The lacing was pulled out through the eyelets and the corset was held in its two major halves until it was wrapped around the body and clipped by the busks. The front required holding in case the busks came undone until the laces were pulled tight enough to hold them firmly locked in position. To tighten the laces to find a busk undone must have been very frustrating as it was almost impossible, no impossible to clip a missed busk after tightlacing the corset.

The first solution was to adapt the busk so they locked in position. This was a simple task and he placed a small drop down catch over each pin as it connected. This would ensure the pin would not move back into the bigger hole. Clever and as all of his ideas stolen. This time from an old gate catch he had seen at Ironbridge Industrial working museam Nr Telford. There, busk sorted out, now to those laces.

Problem one was the laces were at different tensions throughout the length of the back of the corset. The waist naturally gave little problem to reduction; it was the bone area of the ribs and hips that would resist the compression. At these areas the tension on the laces would be greater and most corset lacing he had investigated had shown the back of the corset further apart at the top and bottom. Malcolm looked in greater detail at the height of corset fashion to see if this problem had been solved and whether he could steal yet another idea from Victorian England.

Straight laced was an expression he had heard many times without dwelling on the actual meaning. He just took it to mean austere and pious, forthright, with out sense of humour. None of the factors he wanted to reproduce in Gabriel. He wanted submission and obedience. After research he found three possible theories to this saying. One was the corset was laced in a special way so the laces at the back of the corset were straight i.e. horizontal. The laces were not criss crossed at the back, this happened inside the corset and the criss cross was not visible to the eye. This took careful lacing and tightening by a maid. So wealth was a factor and with wealth sometime came austere forthright etc. The second explanation of straightlaced made Malcolm more interested. The two lines of eyelets were laced to achieve two vertical lines that were straight hence straight laced. This must have been difficult unless the corset was very well measured, again wealth reared it head. Sayings always emerged from insults thrown by working classes to the landowners and factory bosses and wealth must be the reason for this insult. Straightlaced just meant stuck up, snooty. The night was dark and still as Malcolm rubbed his eyes and stared at yet another smokey old slide produced on historical web sights. Of all the ladies he had looked at, not a single one was smiling.

He shivered in anticipation as he typed two words into the search engine. Corset. Smile. Instantly he found the definition of straight-laced he had been searching for.

Two Straight laced ladies from the Victorian era looking very stern and without a sense of humour. The tittle of the old photograph encapsulated every thing Malcolm had been looking for. The article described that the ladies looked stern and would you have a sense of humour laced that tightly The waist had the appearance of the narrow straight’s of Gibraltar. Of course the sailors looked at a map of north Africa and the fashion of tight lacing and used the expression Straight laced. It would be enough to wipe the smile from any girl’s face having such a compression around the middle. Yes, there was a certain young wife he wanted to erase a grin from. Straight laced, he could never have used that description of Gabby but he was about to change all that. Or at least his latest project would.

Galvanised into action Malcolm realised he had spent far too much valuable time on research and not enough on development. A working model was required and Mark 1 would soon be in operation.

4.

So straight laced it would be. The laces had all passed through the eyelets in the past, he had other ideas. Malcolm vastly improved the lacing system by means of tiny pulleys and fine wires. The corset would be laced in a revolutionary way. A single lace would pass through two opposite eyelets and then move though a central spine out of the back of the corset. This central spine floated away from the back of the corset and was only attached as the wires passed through the single hole and on to a pulley. As the small-geared pulley drew the two ends of the wire through the central hole the pressure on each eyelet pulled the two sides of the back of the corset together. The breaking strain of the wire was 60 kilos. Malcolm estimated he would need 30 eyelets on each side of the corset. Each pulley would wind the wires closer and closer, but would some how be independent of each other. He thought of a central spindle running up the back of the corset powering all the 30 pulleys. This was going to be tricky. Most corsets he had seen allowed some differentiation from top to bottom and without the detail of vital static’s from his wife it would be difficult to pre determine. All night he paced the room. He, the great designer was stumped. As the sun rose slowly over the meadow it glanced across his computer screen causing him not to notice the beauty of the moment but tut in frustration. The screen glared a yellow glow as he struggled to see the screen. After some minutes as he waited for the sun to disappear into the gloom and smog of the sky he realised it was going to be one of those glorious days. She would disappear off to the country club for another smashing game of tennis with Mark. He stood up more frustrated with his lack of sports prowess than the sunshine but as he let down the blind he stopped. Pulled it up again then let it down again. Up. Down. Up. Down. Brilliant a locking cam system. “Oh what a wonderful morning” he thought as he smiled at the birds and rabbits scurrying across his lawn. Today he did not worry about their invasion from the meadow to his pristine lawn. He waved his hand at them to bid them good morning and dropped the blind like a modern day guillotine.

The material was the next consideration. Most he had examined in the historical museums has lasted the test of time, but the tendency to split or rip at the major stress points pointed to an area of improvement. Malcolm had past experience in this field as he had stolen an ancient weaving technique far too advanced for the race who developed the intricate weave. Modern materials made the triple directional material flexible and not elastic. The skin used in aerospace to iron out any flaws in construction. Ballooning was the first to benefit Malcolm bank balance with a virtually indestructible material that could be stitched in the normal balloon construction. It was light and strong to the point of taking an intrepid balloonist to the edge of space.

Colour? Questioned Malcolm. Black would look too threatening. Red too tarty. He remembered that awful underwear set he had brought her early in the relation ship. He was not going to make that mistake again. He was not going to ever make a mistake again. He decided on purple with black edging then changed his mind to red and black stripes. He liked red and black it was clean and clinical and signalled danger. The pulley system would be chromed and the wires stainless steel. Construction would begin as soon as he could assemble the key components. His research unit could manufacture all the pulley system and the seamstress at the Balloon Company could stitch the two corset panels with internal boning and eyelets and busks. Margaret owed him a favour as improvements on her sowing machine during a visit to the factory meant she could do her work at a greater speed in half the time in fact. Malcolm had never mentioned to the chargehand about the improvements and neither had Margaret. Yes, she would help him thanks to the bonus system she fleeced every week.

He nodded to himself as he set out the drawings of his creation

Margaret had been more than helpful. The panels she had lovingly stitched felt strong in Malcolm hands as he twisted them to feel their inner strength. At first he thought he had made a mistake on two counts. One. Margaret knew the strengthening bones and busks were for a corset even though Malcolm had tried to convince her that’s is what they looked like but it was actually to hold a quick release fuel tank on a top secret project he was working on. She was the height of discretion but he went very red when she looked over the top of her glasses and said “Yes Malcolm of course. You are a very lucky man to be so inventive?” The other reason he was worried he had made a mistake was the boning was very heavy once stitched into the fabric. He had noticed in his research early corset makers had always been men because of the strength required in manipulating the heavy twill cloth and whalebones. He guessed his control requirements also made gentlemen become a little more inventive when it came to designing tight lacing.

The back eyelet post and the tiny pulleys had been made at the design facility machine shop without the feminine interrogation he had received at the balloon factory. The stainless steel flexible strip with the eyelets was an engineering feat to be proud of and the tiny pulleys and wire griping cams were far beyond Malcolm expectations. The pulleys were to be turned by a bank of tiny servomotors powered by the latest in compact batteries. They were charged up and the voltage output was only required for a period of 20 minutes loading time. Malcolm had most of the workings calculated to the finest detail but he was still nervous as he placed the corset around the fibreglass mannequin he had purchased two weeks earlier from a department store closing down auction. He had been ribbed by his fellow bidders when he raised his hand and breathed a sigh of relief as he drove away from the loading bay with his heavy dumb companion dis assembled in the boot

It took him a while to take the legs arms and heavy body through the garage and into his study and assemble the arms and legs onto the metal pins sticking out of the body section. The mannequin was about the same vital statistics as Gabby Bust 34 waist 24 and hips 34 He wrapped the corset around the hard body and clipped the busks together. As each clasp closed the little lock down plate clipped it into position so it would not fall loose. The wires hung limp on the back and the centre spine hung down between the mannequin’s legs. Malcolm walked over to the desk and picked up the remote control. He pushed the button on the handset and the spine hanging down twitched with a whirr. “Good” he thought. “At least we have motion”. Malcolm walked over to the silent guinea pig and picked up the spine to make sure the wires would not tangle. He held it away from the corset and pushed the button again. The spine almost jerked out of his hand as it pulled its way to the back of the corset and soon was pressed against the mannequin’s back. He stepped back as the motors whine changed to a groan. The wires began to squeal in the pulleys and the material began to creak in protest. Malcolm took his thumb from the button on the remote control. Stillness fell across the workroom only interrupted by the latent creaking of the material still adjusting to its new shape tight around the mannequin’s form. Malcolm slowly walked around the motionless body form. He was pleased. The busks were holding firm in the front of the corset and the wires had run through the eyelets so only a small gap remained in the back of the corset just visible either side of the central post. He estimated the corset could close another six inches before the sides butted up against each other. Fully closed the corsets waist would be at 14 inches. A tremor ran though his mind as he normally placed a multitude of measuring instruments on any experiment so he could evaluate the design and understand any loading on areas that may require strengthening. He had been careless with this prototype and now regretted his haste in building the corset. Something inside stirred as he looked at the female form he had created. His finger moved towards the control button. Animal instinct made his heart beat faster as he stepped away from the instrument he had created. He could not control a smile through gritted teeth as he pressed the button. In his mind Gabriel ran towards the net and kissed Mark over the barrier. His finger pushed harder on the button and the pulleys and wire complained in a squeal. Malcolm was brought back into the room as a loud bang made the remote control jump out of his hand. Dust and debris surrounded the mannequin. He stepped forward cursing himself for the lapse of concentration. He had just ruined weeks of work and the return to the balloon factory would be embarrassing. He guessed the eyelets had undergone an irreversible structural failure. They had parted from the main body of the fabric and the corset was destroyed. As the dust cleared he could not at first find the breakage. As he placed his hand on the dummy head he was shocked to see it roll on to the floor as the shoulders of the fibreglass mannequin collapsed into the body. He doubted what he saw. The corset was intact and had crushed the dummy to dust. “Straight laced” he smirked.

5.

Malcolm was always over the top in his search for perfection and he wondered if the corset would be enough to bring his wife under control. He knew how she loved fashion and with the correct approach he could get her to wear his creation. He wondered if he should add a collar to give him total control. The construction would be the same as the corset its self just on a smaller scale. It would be tight on her neck and just the right length to keep her head tilted upright. Maybe he was going too far but he was aroused in his work and proceeded with the design and manufacture of the neck corset. It seemed tricky, as the neck was not as flexible as the waist. Thirteen inches should do the trick and only 4 inches wide. Fully closed it would go to thirteen inches. “Unlucky for some” Malcolm quipped to himself.

So the corset and neck corset were finished and lay on his workbench. They certainly had a strange power and he reached over to touch there hard yet soft forms. At last he would gain control of her. She would do as he pleased and would have no longing to skip off to the Tennis club in this outfit. He flipped the remote control in his hand. Black for the corset and Blue for the neck corset. He touched the remote button on the black hand set and the motors sprung to life. The corset twitched on the bench in protest. It longed to be around her body squeezing and closing on her.

Malcolm sat upright and focused on the job in hand. He had indeed invented a corset but how was he to get her to wear it. Fancy dress was the best option. The golf club held one every November to fill in that awful blank between September and Christmas. He spun his chair around to the desk and pushed the mouse into the mat. The screen flickered and burst into colour. She was going to wear a corset, that much was planned but how or what would he go as?

He entered the web and began to search. A thread or link would soon jump out at him. 1860 no earlier, no later. He explored every avenue of deceit. Isambard Kingdom Brunel 1806 to 1859 was a hero of Malcolm’s a great engineer and a son of another genius Mark Isambard Brunel. His picture had adorned Malcolm’s office for years. The tall hat and distinguished beard made a great Fancy dress character and so suitable for himself. He searched for his partner or wife but he was not having much luck. Well, he was the great inventor so he would invent one. Who would be the Posh and Beck’s of 1850. The greatest inventor and the greatest nurse Florence Nightingale 1820 to 1910. When Flo was 28 Issy would have been 42. Well bless my sole! Hang on a minute. They had just uncovered a new series of pictures of the great nurse. Many including Malcolm had thought of her as a matronly lady of expanding hips and waist to match. To nearly everyone’s surprise she had great style of the period and a very tiny waist. So, all he had to do was have a word with the steward at the club to use the 200 years of the golf club to celebrate hero’s through the ages and his plan was almost set.

“Christ Malcolm, if only you got so passionate about other things” Gabriel was again rushing her toast in order to get down the tennis club. “I cannot see me as Florence Nightingale. If you want me to dress up as a nurse you only had to ask” Oh and buy me another Cartier she thought silently. Malcolm stuttered, it was all going horribly wrong. The club had the posters printed and he knew Gabby was always up for a party. He had mentioned he was thinking of going as a great inventor and mentioned he was the David Beckham of his age. He knew she would ask the question who was his Posh but he had not expected the burst of laughter when he mentioned who she could be. “Are you saying I’m fat. The lady and the fucking lamp. You must be joking. I will be a laughing stock.” She exploded.

He explained the age and how she was surprisingly fashionable. He pointed out he had done his research and the dress was ordered from Fairygothmother. It was at this point she fired the passionate jibe and left. Malcolm was flustered and in a panic. He had failed at the key moment.

6.

He spent most of the day reliving the breakfast conversation. Playing the scenario over and over in his mind. He had blown it, he had not worked into his plan the image of the nurse and he had also not worked out Gabby had that warped fixed picture in her mind. Would he just insist the dress was ordered and that he had repeated twice the waist measurement required was 17 inches. Maybe that would get her attention. Maybe he would just wait for the huge petticoat and crinoline to be delivered and try to win her round with flattery. He bit his lip feeling the blood run into his mouth. He had messed up and there was no way out. He would have to rethink the whole plan. If he put the operation back to the New Year. The rest of the day was a waste. He could not focus on any of his ongoing projects and he could not bring himself to take the corsets out of the long steel box he had carefully placed them in.

It was three-o clock when Gabriel came home. Freshly showered and wearing the tightest jeans and crop t-shirt she flung her tennis kit across the floor. She knew he hated that as it skidded over the kitchen tiles. “Well! Malcolm I give you ten out of ten for initiative” His heart sank, someone had blabbed about his most recent work. “ Oh?” he asked as if not interested. “Come on, no reason to be shy. You have been visiting some strange web sites have you not?” The uncontrollable blush swept over him as he slowly looked up from the table. “Darling!” she skipped towards him and planted a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Fairygothmother! I have looked at their site and the dresses are beautiful. It will be an honour to accompany you to the ball” she held out her arm and he stood to accept it. His heart was racing and his mouth was dry. As he took her arm she spun away as if dancing the waltz and slipped her cute bum up onto the kitchen worktop. “I had no idea she was such a babe?” Malcolm stepped forward to try to strengthen his new position and grasp the moment” I tried to tell you this mor….” “Well all you had to do was show me a picture. Lucky for you Mark has a Degree in History at Cambridge, He told me all about her. What a lady! Oh and what a waist” Malcolm felt the wound in his lip leak more blood around his teeth.

The darkness of despair clouded over his every thought over the next few days. He felt the relationship was over and Gabby’s intimate conversation about the dress had dirtied the whole event and months of planning. One word from Mark and she was swung around to wear anything. Even a happy go lucky carefree girl would crush herself into a corset on his whim. Well he would show her what control was all about. His mood lifted when the dress arrived. He could show his wife he had great taste and style. He shook slightly as he opened the enormous box. In the layers of tissue he found the black material of the dress and wiping his hands on his trousers he leant forward and carefully lifted it from the box. Tissue paper fell to the ground as more and more material followed from the packaging. He held up the dress but he was so close to it the vast amount of material almost smothered him and there was no way he could get a good look. He tried to put it back in the box but it was now full of air and slumped to one side like a lifeless doll. He returned with a coat hanger and found the neck of the dress, carefully he placed the hanger under the shoulder pads of the dress and lifted the ensemble out and up hooking the hanger onto the top of the doorframe. He stepped back to get the full impact. The huge crinoline inside the dress flared out past each side of the door and the sleeves hung limp from the hanger. Malcolm walked back to the dress to release the waist section as it was still folded up somehow. He was mistaken, as he pulled each side of the waist he was shocked to discover that was the full size of the dress made to look even more minute because of the billowing petticoats. Things seemed to be getting better. He was becoming more in control. He would show her the dress tonight. Four days before the party.

7.

As normal Gabby came in from tennis and took a shower. It was four in the afternoon and Malcolm had taken most of the day to prepare. She had left for tennis as usual at eleven that morning. He was in his study / workshop and had made sure every surface was clean and dusted. The black dress hung at the far end of the room against a dark wall. He knew the waist would startle her and that was not the plan. He wanted her to wear it to the ball. He wanted her to step into it and he would run the zip up the back. He would kiss her on the neck and they would dance the night away. Passion and romance would return to their loveless marriage and he would be back in control. He would crush the spirit out of her and she would thank him for giving her the most enviable figure the modern world had ever seen.

He could hear her calling. He always made her lemon tea when she returned and they discussed the day. Gabby’s tea was next to him in the study. Gabby knocked on the door “ Mal are you in there?” she called through the door. He was protective of his designs and Gabby had never been into the room. Malcolm walked over to the heavy door and swung it open. “Come in your tea is in here” She looked surprised and stepped into the room like a child into a magical sweet shop. Her eyes wide and blinking.

“What is the special occasion darling?” Malcolm walked over and stood in between the dress and Gabby. He was shaking ever so slightly as he spoke, he hoped the tremors in his voice were undetectable. “Your outfit for the ball has arrived” he whispered as he stepped back to point at the dress.

Gabby stepped forward. She was in her dressing gown from the shower although as normal she had put fresh underwear on. The robe dropped off her shoulder as she twitched her arms it fell to the floor. He looked away then looked back. She had the most amazing body even though she always picked fault at it. She was truly beautiful in his eyes; the problem was she was also beautiful in every ones eyes. “That is the most stunning gown” her hands brushed the fabric and pushed at the skirt to feel the petticoats spring back under the material. “May I try it on now?” It seemed such a stupid question that she would ask to try an item of clothing on but such was the detail and shape of the dress it was no longer just a dress, it was a work of art. It was to be treasured and handled with care. Suddenly she drew back as if burnt by the fabric. Gabby had just fallen down the same hole Malcolm had when he first looked at the dress. The waist was not folded as at first thought. That was the waist! Gabby turned with venom. “How the fuck am I supposed to wear it you idiot. It is miles too small” Malcolm knew this was going to happen but the anger was far above the expected. It was anger mixed with disappointment. Was it because Mark would never see her as the belle of the ball? He would never know, he was far too calm for that. The disappointment was expected and he waited until she was just about to turn out of the room before he made his move. In a slow and deliberate voice he softly spoke “ My dear that is not the whole outfit. Ladies of that era always wore several layers.” Gabby was not for turning on this issue as she spat back “ So if it is too small now how am I going to wear anything underneath it. I thought you were intelligent?" Boy she was angry.

Malcolm doubted this was going to work. He reached under his desk and pressed a button. At the far end of the study a spotlight came on to reveal his invention. Gabby was storming for the door when she stopped dead in her tracks. Her head turned to look at the corset then turned to look at Malcolm. Was that a smile or a sneer, he really was not sure, he just stood motionless waiting for the next move. If it was towards the door he was finished. If it was towards the corset he had work to do. Gabby pulled the dressing gown off the floor and slung it over her shoulder. She started to walk towards the door and then a flash of realisation passed over her face. “Your latest invention then Prof” she smiled. Malcolm felt a bulge in his trousers as he walked towards her. Prof was his pet name. She had not called him that for months. He knew he was onto a winner. The corset was mounted on a stand. Not a mannequin as that may have lead to comparisons. A problem the dress had already experienced.

“Would you like to try it on?” he asked in a stern but mickey taking playful voice. The dressing gown dropped to the floor to give him his answer.

He carefully picked up the corset and wrapped it around her body. She shuddered as the cold heavy cloth and steel boning touched her glowing skin. “Sorry I should have warmed it up first” he whispered as he clipped the top busk together and swung the locking mechanism to fix it into place. The corset wires were very loose at the back and so normal busks would have kept coming un clipped without the gripping tension of the laces. He then stepped around to face Gabby but he did not look up. He was busy. The rest of the busks clipped into place and he held on to the front to hold it in position. It was a perfect fit, covering the breasts and finishing just below the hip bones. She had wiggled out of her bra as he had fixed the busks. Her thong was left in place and now trapped on by the corset

“Not your normal line of work Prof. Been holding out on me? Hiding hidden talents?” Gabby was back to her warm self. Joking and smiling. Confident. “So where is the lacing machine? I just know you have some wild invention with cranks and cogs and wheels. You lock me in it and turn a handle. Is that how it works?”

Malcolm looked at her over his glasses. “Do not be so sure I have not got some menacing machine hidden away” He opened the draw of his desk and pulled out the remote. He rolled it in his hand as it savouring the moment and drawing out the tension that drifted into the room. “This is the 21^st century not the 17^th. Here take this and enjoy” He passed the remote to her and walked behind. “The red is to tighten the green is to release. Be gentle with the buttons.” Gabby held the remote with a disbelieving look. “You are joking?” She felt behind her to feel the flat strip of metal housing the pulleys. Malcolm had modified the shape so it now measured 2 inches wide and 3/8 inch thick. An achievement he was very proud of. He had reduced the strip by hanging a motor off the bottom of the corset. It would be covered by the petticoats and would not increase the waist measurement when the corset was tightened. It looked a little strange, like a tail with a lump on the end. The motor could be removed once the corset was tightened if it did get in the way.

8.

Gabby pressed the red button gently and the motor span into life. It made her jump but Malcolm held her still. The line up was important when the corset tightened. Gabby pressed the button again for a longer time and the corset began to tighten around her. “Clever boy. Prof what does this go down to? What size?” Malcolm knew the question was coming and lied. “Twenty two inches”. “Will that be enough to get in that dress?” she asked obviously as she pressed the button again. “Of course” he lied again. The dress was 17 inches and the corset would go down to 14 inches. “The corset will give you plenty of room.

Gabby pressed the button again and the motor began to strain. The corset began to creak as the stitching found its own tightness in the cloth. “Ok I think that is tight enough can you help me into the dress now” Gabby started to walk over to the dress and stumbled with the corset gripping her hip bones. The remote slipped out of her hand and skidded across the floor hitting Malcolm’s foot. “ But dear you are not tight enough yet.” His tone changed. “No where near”. He picked up the remote and pointed playfully at her waist. His thumb slid over the black plastic until it rested on the red button. His eyes glazed over as he pressed the button sending Gabbys head back in shock as the corset passed the 22 inch mark. “Stop it dam you I told you it was enough” Her hands grasped her waist as she turned towards him. “ Give me that or I’ll poke it up your arse” She strode over to him and took it out of his hand. As she did so she caught her reflection in the mirror. She enclosed the remote in the palm of her hand and swayed over to image of herself. “Nice job Prof but just don’t push it. Get me into this dress” Gabby walked over to the dress and took it from its hanger. She lowered it on to the floor and adjusted the top as best she could. It was difficult to bend over so her arms reached out to arrange the petticoats so she could step through them and on to the floor. “Come on help me” she called. “You have not seen my next surprise. He walked over to her and held the neck corset in his hand. “Same principle, same operation” Gabby smiled and took the corset from him. Turned it in her hands and looked at the locking busks. Malcolm stood close and looked into her eyes. “Why darling this is a little unexpected. If you had told me you liked this sort of thing we could have had some real fun much earlier.” Gabby twisted in her corset trying to get a little more comfortable. “Do you like what you see Prof?” she asked.

He nodded, she looked amazing. He felt the blood surging through his veins. He was not sure how he felt. He was confused, his heart beat pounded in his ears. He felt a little dizzy. The adrenaline rush made him feel randy but shaky. “How does this go on. Does it clip together like the corset? Where is the remote?” Malcolm was already at the draw. He pulled out the blue remote and dashed back to Gabby. He could feel her breath on his face. Her breasts heaved up and down in the corset. “So it just clips across the pins and a quick push of the button to tighten accordingly. Gabby took the corset and lifted her head to pass it around her neck. She fidled and pulled but could not line up the pins and locking hinges. “Let me help you” Malcolm stepped forward to place his hnds on her neck when she leaped back from him. “ Don’t stand on the dress you idiot I will get it in a minute” Gabby let out a sigh “ It’s no good I will put it on later once the dress is on then you can help me” Malcolm paniced he knew the dress would be a struggle and he needed to get control of her with the neck corset before he cold really tighten the corset on her waist. “Look let me show you. Give me the corset” Malcom took the corset and placed it around his neck. He held up his chin and fastened the three busks and then trumphiantly locking the fourth. “See there is a knack to it” He had made many mistakes over the past few months. Corsets had blured his mind and this was no exception. When he had taken the neck corset from Gabby he had inadvetenly sawpped it for the remote. Gabby breathlessly spoke, “Your’re right it fits perfectly do you not think? I said do you not think!” Gabby pushed the red button on the blue remote and the neck corset whizzed into life. Malcolm jumped as he stepped back from her. She still stood in the dress unable to pull it up and put it on. It splayed around her, misting her legs. She looked like a goddess on top of a cloud. Her erect posture, her head held back in a laugh as she winked at him. “Now be a good boy and help me on with the dress” Malcolm tried to nod as he scurried to her feet and grabbed the dress. He pulled it up and she grabbed hold of the dress like a lifeline. With a little wiggle she pushed her hands through the sleeves made more difficult with a remote in each hand. Gabby pulled the dress up over her shoulders and turned to Malcolm for further assistance. “Well zip me up Prof” and she turned away from him to reveal the lace mechinism and gaping back of the dress. Malcolm suddenly realised the 17 inch waist on the dress was a mistake. The corset would never pull Gabby in that tight. “Problem?” she quized.

Malcolm panicked and tried to pull the dress together to no avail. “I am afraid you will have to go tighter on the corset. The black remote. Push the black remote.”Gabby having relaxed in her new shape pressed the red button and the corset ground into motion. “How much further?” she asked “Oh about two inches” Malcolm lied. Gabby had been at twenty two inches for a while now and she had just moved to 21 inches. The dress needed another four inches for the zip to fasten to the seventeen inch waist dress. Gabby felt round the back of the dress and her fingers explored the gap. “ I told you this was too small you moron. I am never going to get in this dress and Mark is never going to see me in it.” she sobbed.

“Just try to go a little closer. Just try a little harder”

Gabby spun round and pointed the blue remote at him. “Try a little harder. Let’s see how you like it” Her finger pushed the button on the blue remote and Malcolm’s head shot back in pain. “Stop I can’t breathe.” “Join the fucking club” sneered Gabby as she dropped the blue remote on the desk. “What was the idea Malcolm? Get that neck corset on me. You must be out of your mind. How does it feel. Never mind. You put it on you so you must enjoy that sort of thing. I need to get this thing off and get back to the drawing board. Obviously your vision has let you down this time inventor man. Now how do I get this thing off. Red for on. Green for offffffffffffuck! What is going on” Gabby pressed the green button again and once again the corset tightened further.” Fuck what is going on” Gabby pushed the red button in her confusion and again the corset tightened. “Oh very clever. Come on how does this thing undo.” She spat. Malcolm stood up and walked towards her. He glanced at the desk but with the neck corset tight on his neck his glance was seen and interpreted. Gabby grabbed the blue remote. “Oh very clever the green button on this one releases both corsets. Smart move” Before he could speak through his restricted throat Gabby pushed the green button on the blue remote and waited for her corset to be released. Malcolm let out a gasp as he dropped to the floor holding his neck. His face red then blue.

Gabby threw the remote down on the floor and recoiled in horror as Malcolm gasped for breath. “Both together. Yes both buttons together. Of course, how stupid had she been? Gabby pushed both buttons at the same time and the corset closed even tighter. Malcolm’s head swam as he slowly choked. The neck corset was making it difficult to breathe and think. He watched as Gabby paced the room. The wide dress flowing out behind her. Her waist tiny but hidden under the undone dress. She turned towards him and dropped to her knees. He could see her blurred face looking down at him. She was panicked. Holding up the blue control she waved it in his face. “Tell me how I am going to get this corset off. I can hardly breathe. It’s crushing my ribs and my hips ache. My legs are going numb. Now tell me how to get it off or I swear I will press this button until your head pops!”. Malcolm could only point to the door and croak” Don’t go out the door. Ring the Fire brigade they will get you out”. Gabby leant back in disgust. I’m laced up in your contraption and you think I am going to call a load of Firemen to laugh at me. Fuck you!” With this she stood up in a swirl of cloth she pressed the button on the remote and the corset tightened it’s grip on Malcolm’s neck. As she walked away he noticed the zip could now be done up on the dress. In a blur he stood up and staggered towards her. He stumbled into her back as she was trying to use the phone to ring Mark. He would know what to do. Malcolm grabbed her waist and tugged at the zip. It shot up her back over the smooth metal spine of the corset. “For Christ sake Malcolm get away from me. Malcolm stumbled back, he knew he was not long for this world. “I’m sorry I just wanted you back” No words came from his mouth. The speech rattled around his head as he saw Gabriel storm towards the door. He held out his hand as he fell. Gabby spun round to see her dead husband lying on the floor.

9.

“What an idiot” she thought as she walked through the door into the kitchen. The corset was so tight it would be difficult to cut off without hurting herself. That idiot had done up the zip and she reached around to try to undo it. Her fingers grasped at the zip; the corset was so tight it was preventing her from reaching the back of her neck with her hands. She could not cut the dress it was beautiful and she would still go to the ball. Mark would just love her in this. He had resisted her advances so far but this dress would do the job. No man could resist her. She pulled open the draw of the kitchen where the knives were kept. Empty! Just a note. “If you are reading this my darling then we are over. I am sorry to do this to you but the dress had a 17-inch waist. The corset will go to 14 inches but I guess you will never see that. Goodbye my love. Malcolm XX.”

Gabriel was stunned 17 inches. Unbelievable she walked over to the full-length mirror in the kitchen and slowly spun round. Inventor dies in sad sado accident. She wrote the headline in her head. His fortune is mine. 75 million pounds. She held her waist as she laughed. It hurt but that made her laugh even more. She stepped towards the mirror and heard a strange click. She looked around to see a red beam of light crossing the doorway of the study. “What the…… Oh no no you bastard, you fucking bastard.” The corset wired into life. The sensor beam set on a five-minute delay had activated the controls. No safety switch, no reverse. The corset closed on its victim. Crushing her hips, ribs and stomach in an inescapable vice. Gabby held on to the wall. If she stayed still she might make it on the rollercoaster down to 14 inches. The waist of the dress hung limp as the corset left it’s tight confines behind. Gabby gasped for breath, the pain was unbearable. She took one more step towards the study door before she grabbed the air as her spine shattered inwards. Gabby was dead before she hit the floor.

Malcolm always had a backup plan.