Part Six - Adam Adamant

The initial results from the Civic Offices were not promising. The youthful, bespectacled clerk behind the enquiries desk was not very forthcoming, though what he did tell them confirmed that David Felding no longer owned the shop premises, having sold it around the time that he received his lottery win.

The new owner was registered as a Ms Arabella Drake, so much he could disclose as being a matter of public record and the business rates were paid by bankers' order, annually. However, no amount of cajoling, even by the persistent Adam, who seemed to have a way of eliciting details in most circumstances, could persuade the pasty faced nonentity to divulge an alternative address for Ms Drake.

`Perhaps we could leave a letter with you, for forwarding?' Adam suggested. The clerk looked dubious.

`I don't know,' he muttered. `It's very irregular. We have rules about this sort of thing.'

`I'd be very grateful,' Martine purred, leaning forward and forcing herself to smile as enticingly as she knew how. The clerk's eyes grew round and the light glinted on a bead of perspiration that had suddenly appeared on his brow.

`Well, er - ' he stammered. `P-perhaps if you'd like to drop back with a communication, I'll see what I can do.'

`If you'd pushed him just a wee bit harder,' Adam said, when they were once more out in the sunlight, `he'd have turned over the key to the filing rooms.'

`I thought everything was computerised these days?' Martine countered. `You, of all people, should know that.'

`Well, his master disc, then,' Adam laughed.

`As long as it's his floppy and not his hard drive,' Martine grinned.

`I doubt he can tell the difference, now,' Adam said, steering her into the open doorway of a pub. They ordered drinks and retreated to a vacant, oak panelled booth. `Now then, what are you doing for the rest of the day?' he asked, when they were settled on opposite sides of the rectangular table. Martine lowered her eyes.

`I - I'm afraid I'm a bit tied up at the moment,' she said. Adam grunted.

`Sounds promising,' he joked. `But surely you can get an hour or two free. Dinner, perhaps?' Martine continued to stare down at her drink, but her head was filled with the image of his tight jeans and the promising bulge at his crotch as they had walked together. Fiercely, she gave herself a hard, mental slap.

`No,' she said, just a little too vehemently. `I'm afraid not. I'm sorry,' she continued, in a gentler tone, looking up at him once more, `I didn't mean to sound so rude. It's just that I have - well, I have a lot on at the moment.'

`So I'd noticed,' Adam said. `That coat is very sexy, but aren't you just a bit warm underneath all that leather?' If only you knew the half of it, Martine thought. Aloud, she said:

`I must have thin blood, I guess.' She paused, picked up her glass and sipped at the brandy and dry. `Listen,' she went on, changing the subject, `shouldn't you be looking after your stall, or something?'

`No, my brother and his girlfriend took over, just after I first spoke to you. We take it in turns and today was my day to pull out and set up. Then I do the morning and they show up for the last few hours and then strip down and put away for the night.'

`Oh, I see.' All sorts of conflicting emotions were hammering around inside Martine's head. She looked across at her companion and could not help but laugh inwardly at the ludicrousness of the entire situation, wondering if he would have been so quick to latch himself onto her quest had they met only a couple of days earlier and knowing the answer to that one beyond question. But then, two days ago she would have had no need of tracing the new owner of the mysterious little shop anyway.

`Tell me to get lost, if you'd prefer,' Adam said. `I mean, I'm assuming a lot. For a start, there must be a boyfriend somewhere, I'm sure.'

`No, no boyfriend.' Without realising it, Martine had stressed the syllable "boy", but Adam had not missed it. She saw his eyebrows twitch just a little.

`Ah, I think maybe I understand,' he said, sitting back in his seat. `Pity.'

`You don't understand anything!' Martine snapped. `Just 'cause a girl doesn't have a boyfriend, doesn't mean diddly squat!' Adam seemed quite taken aback.

`I'm sorry,' he said. `It's just that from your tone, I assumed - '

`Well, you shouldn't assume. I live with a girl, or at least, I used to live with her, but it's not what you think. We're just friends who happen - oh shit, why am I bothering to tell you this anyway? It's none of your damned business!'

`No, it isn't,' Adam said, calmly. `You're quite right and I apologise for assuming anything at all, but you can't blame me for fancying you. You do happen to be bloody gorgeous.'

`Oh yeah?' Martine felt her colour rising. `So you look at a pretty face, see blonde hair and your dick starts to swell, is that it? Ever bothered wondering about the mind that's behind that face?'

`Of course I do,' Adam protested. `It's just that - '

`Blondes with big tits are your bag, huh? Well, Mister Adam, go find yourself another bag and don't try anything with me.' The words hung between them like Damocles' sword and the air was almost humming, but then, without warning, Martine found herself giggling uncontrollably. Adam's brow furrowed, perplexedly, but it was several more seconds before he spoke.

`I don't understand,' he said, at length. `What's so funny?' Martine wiped a tear from her eye and coughed, struggling to control her amusement.

`No, you wouldn't understand,' she agreed. `But then, I'm not sure anyone would. It's just that I never thought I'd ever hear myself saying anything like I just did. Now, just shut up and buy the bimbo another drink. And try to keep your mind above your middle.'

By the time they parted, Martine had found herself agreeing to meet Adam back at the pub at nine thirty that evening. She tried convincing herself that it was the only way of getting rid of him, but had that been the case, why was she genuinely contemplating keeping the date? Or was she? Her brain was fighting with itself as she slid into the back of the taxi, though she didn't fail to notice the driver's eyes as he caught sight of the thigh length boots when the front of her coat slid apart.

Damn this outfit, she thought, fiercely. It was bad enough being female, without being forced to walk around dressed like a slut under the coat. Typical male reaction and she knew that the old Marty would have been the same. One glimpse of these legs in these boots and his male hormones would have been turning somersaults. Instead, her new female hormones were in heated conference over the darkly good looking Adam and, to her horror, Martine knew that her body was winning its battle with her brain.

`Where've you been?' Kerri demanded. `I expected to find you here waiting for me and it's well after five now.'

`I tried a bit of sleuthing,' Martine told her and related the events of the afternoon. Before she could stop herself, she also found herself telling her former girlfriend about the market trader with the impending university degree.

`It's a good job you've got me to look after you, then,' Kerri said, grinning from ear to ear. `You have turned into a right little miss hot pants, haven't you?'

`Who said anything about that?' Martine protested. `I only went for a drink with him. After all, he had been pretty helpful.'

`Oh yeah? And is that why your eyes are shining like two little buttons when you talk about him?' Kerri turned to the table, on which she had deposited two large, black and silver carrier bags. `Just get out of that coat and come over here, you soft tart.'

Slowly, Martine unbuttoned the front of the long coat and let it slip from her shoulders, catching it and draping it over the back of a chair. Deliberately, she let her hips sway even more deliberately than the heels necessitated, as she crossed the room, the tops of the boots rustling against the micro length leather skirt that she had selected that morning, though why she had not chosen something a good deal more conservative, she no longer knew.

Kerri had not moved meanwhile, but now she crooked a finger, summoning Martine closer to her.

`Turn around and face away from me,' she ordered. `We need to save you from your hormones, I think we both agree on that.' Hesitantly, Martine turned her back on the now taller girl and made no effort to resist as Kerri drew one of her wrists behind her back, not realising what was intended. By the time she did, it was too late. The double click of the handcuffs snapping shut had an air of finality to it.

`Hey! What's this?' Martine spun round, tugging at the steel bands that now encircled her wrists, but it was to no avail. `Oh, come on, Kerri, not this!' she protested, but Kerri was not in the mood to argue, nor to concede anything.

`It's not permanent,' she said. `Just to keep you under control whilst I sort the important bits out.' She reached out a hand, palm open, and stroked it across Martine's left nipple. Even through the fabric of her blouse and the imprisoning corset beneath, Martine felt the peak swell and stiffen. A small cry rent from her throat and she tried to back away.

`No, don't!' she wailed. `This isn't fair.' She wriggled and squirmed, but Kerri was relentless, pursuing her back until she was trapped against the wall, molding and kneading both breasts mercilessly. Martine's eyes rolled upwards into her head, until only the whites were visible.

`Time to release some steam, before your boiler blows,' Kerri crooned and suddenly the fingers of her right hand were inside the elasticated leg of Martine's panties, probing for the warm slit and finding it with unerring accuracy. `Or do you want me to stop, still?' Kerri teased, one finger touching on the pulsing clitoral bud. `Go on, you horny bitch, tell me to stop - if you can!'

But Martine couldn't.

`You can't seriously expect me to wear this all day long!' Martine wailed, as Kerri finally released her from the handcuffs. The thin steel bands of the chastity belt were covered in rubber, to prevent chafing, Kerri had explained, but the rigid embrace of the device was unyielding and the tiny prong which slipped inside Martine's vagina made its presence only too obvious.

`You could at least have cut this bloody thing off,' Martine complained. `It's doing all sorts of unbelievable things to me.'

`That's supposed to stop the belt from being moved to one side or the other,' Kerri said. `And the slit underneath is wide enough for you to pee. Just make sure you dry everything thoroughly, otherwise you'll get sore. Now, put some knickers on over it.'

`Oh, come on, Kerri, please! Take it off me.'

`No fear. It's for your own good,' Martine said. `I mean, if you're going to insist on meeting this bloke tonight, that's about all that'll stand between you and his cock. Your willpower certainly won't!'

`Ugh!' Martine shuddered. `Don't even talk about it. The thought of that makes me feel all queasy.'

`And yet you've agreed to a date with this Adam?'

`Well, yes. I mean, no. It's not exactly a date.'

`No? You're meeting a bloke in a pub and then going on for dinner. I call that a date.'

`Well, that's not how I see it. Adam was very helpful this afternoon and he knows loads of people around the market. He might prove very useful. He said he'd ask around and see if anyone else can remember seeing that shop open.'

`And he didn't ask you why it was so important?'

`Well, I told him I'd paid for a new dress and hadn't received it.'

`Did he believe that?' Kerri cocked one eyebrow.

`No reason he shouldn't. He did think it was peculiar that a shop should appear and disappear so rapidly, but then so do I.' Martine picked up the PVC panties Kerri had removed from her earlier and stepped into them, closing the zip so that the fabric was drawn snugly over the imprisoning bands of the chastity belt.

`Oh, this is bloody ridiculous,' she groaned. `What if he notices this?'

`I've got a calf length leather skirt you can put on over the top,' Kerri offered. `I reckon it's all the leather that turns this Adam on. You're going to have to find a good explanation for not taking off your gloves to eat.'

`Not necessarily. Loads of women wear formal evening gloves at dinner.'

`Yeah, but those are hardly Knightsbridge swank. More Soho slut.'

Martine scowled. `Just shut up, will you!' she snapped. `Don't forget, it was you who got me into this mess in the first place.' She turned away and stalked across the room on her high heels, her hips swivelling provocatively, despite her best efforts to control their movement. Kerri let out a sigh.

`You know,' she mused, `I'm beginning to wish I'd put that outfit on myself. God, but you've got a fabulous body now. That waist can't be more than twenty inches ... and that hair!'

`Listen,' Martine said, halting at the door to the bedroom and turning back, `this body maybe great on a woman, but it's not so great on me. You seem to be forgetting something. Underneath all this, inside, I'm still a man.' Kerri pursed her lips, thoughtfully.

`Maybe I'm not the only one who keeps forgetting,' she said, half under her breath. Martine, however, heard her clearly enough and shot her a venomous look as she disappeared into the adjoining room.

Adam was already waiting when Martine nervously pushed the door of the pub open. He nodded to the barman and then turned to look her up and down, his eyes gleaming with approval.

`You wear a lot of leather?' he asked, when they were eventually settled into the same booth they had used earlier that afternoon. Martine nodded.

`I like the feel of it,' she said. It was an honest enough answer, for, even as Marty, she had found herself very much attracted to the fabric. `And it looks smart, I think.'

`Not to mention sexy,' Adam agreed. He reached across the table and took Martine's right hand in his. Her initial reaction was to snatch away, but she stopped herself with an effort of will, reasoning that such a move would ruin the atmosphere before the night had started.

But why should that worry you and what the holy hell are you doing here anyway? Maybe Kerri had a point? She shifted her position slightly, feeling the pressure of the crotch band against the mound of her vulva and the insistent probing where it slid between her moist lower lips. Something in her expression must have betrayed her discomfort.

`Everything okay?' Adam asked. `You don't look too happy.' Martine had a sudden flash of inspiration.

`Girl problems,' she muttered. `It's that time of the month, if you know what I mean?' That should put him off too close an exploring expedition. Adam nodded and smiled, sympathetically.

`I understand,' he said. His thumb was slowly stroking her gloved knuckles, his forefinger rubbing gently in the palm of her hand. `These gloves must have cost a pretty penny,' he ventured. `I've never seen anything like them. Not even a seam showing.'

`They were a gift,' Martine replied. `From a girlfriend.'

`Pretty good friend, then,' Adam commented. `Wish my friends would buy me presents like that.'

`What? leather gloves?' Martine gave him a challenging stare. Adam didn't flinch.

`Sure, why not?' he agreed. `I happen to like leather, too.'

`Is that why you started chatting me up earlier?' Adam laughed.

`Not quite entirely,' he said. `I think I'd have chatted you up, as you put it, if you'd been wearing an old sack. You happen to be exceptionally beautiful.'

`And make a nice ornament for your arm?'

`That's not fair. You don't know me.'

`And you don't know me,' Martine pointed out. `So I'm not kidding myself it was the power of my mind that interested you.' Adam released his grip on her hand and sat back.

`There's always got to be a physical attraction to start with,' he pointed out. `I mean, I'm not a mind reader, so until I do get to know you, it's only the physical chemistry that I can go on. Sure I fancy you, but then who wouldn't?'

`Well, thank you for the compliment, I'm sure,' Martine said. `But I have to tell you, whatever my appearance might suggest to the contrary, I'm not an easy lay and I intend to keep my knickers on all night.'

Not that it would make much difference if I didn't, she thought, grimly. Fuck you, Kerri. That's about as close to a fuck as -

Shit! What am I saying? Whatever's the matter with me?

She reached for her glass and gulped a mouthful down in a most unladylike manner, spilling some onto her chin as she did so. Damn it! She was starting to wish she wasn't locked into this infernal belt, Adam's close presence triggering off all sorts of reflexive responses somewhere deep inside. She took out a tissue and dabbed herself dry, mumbling an apology as she did so.

Kerri had been quite right. Without the restraining influence of the chastity device, there was little doubt she would have ended up, legs splayed, impaled on Adam's cock and groaning for more. Her brain - the residual male part, anyway - might be saying no, but the rest of her body was aching for release. She would have to bring the evening to a premature close, or the torture would send her insane.

`Did you have any luck about that shop?' she said, tucking the damp tissue away and changing the subject. Adam shook his head.

`Not really,' he confessed. `Terry Maitland reckons he saw it open one Monday, a couple of weeks back, but I reckon he was having me on.'

`Oh? Why's that?'

`Because what he described wasn't what I think you were looking for.' Adam coughed, picked up his pint and emptied half of it in two large swallows. `He reckons it was a sex shop, with all sorts of strange bits and bobs in the window. Reckons the council must have closed it down straight away, which was why it never lasted. The local council are a bit funny in that way.'

`Oh.' It was a possibility Martine had not considered before. Yes, maybe that was it. Maybe someone had opened up the shop without permission, or a licence and the grey suit brigade had come storming in threatening legal action. But then surely that chinless wonder at the council offices earlier would have known about that? Or had he known and decided that his "vow of confidentiality", or whatever they called it, prevented him from saying anything?

She looked at Adam, who was regarding her quizzically.

`Okay,' she admitted, `so it was a kind of sex shop, but then buying really good leatherwear can be difficult and - '

`You don't need to explain anything to me,' Adam said, waving his hands defensively. `I'm not your dad. But at least we know that the shop was there at some time and, if they were kicked out by the council, odds are that they've moved elsewhere. If we can find a new address, we might get your money back yet.'

`We?' Martine echoed. Adam grinned.

`Well, I guess I'm presuming, but I'm kind of interested on your behalf, now. Plus I don't like shysters who give the market, or even the area, a bad name. Life's hard enough anyway, what with the competition from all the big supermarkets. Our trade is dying and it doesn't need any extra nails banged into its coffin.

`Now, can I be rude and ask you how much this outfit has ripped you off?'

This outfit? Well, this outfit has ripped me off for a lifetime and deposited me in a body that's trying to get itself fucked at every opportunity now. But that wasn't what Adam had meant by his use of the word "outfit", as Martine knew only too well..

`Enough,' she said, simply. Adam nodded.

`In other words, mind my own business,' he said. `Fair enough. But the amount isn't important anyway. It's the principle.' He took another mouthful of lager. `But if you'd rather I kept my nose out altogether, I'll understand.'

It's not keeping your nose out that bothers me. But even that's not all of it. Why do I find you so bloody attractive to be with anyway? Even if bloody Kerri had sewn me up, I'd still find you nice to be around.

`No, it'd be rude to turn down any offer of help,' she said aloud. `I'm not sure where I should start anyway.'

`Well, we could try that skinny berk in the council offices again. Perhaps if you talked to him alone? He was positively drooling over you.' Martine recoiled.

`That's a horrible thing to suggest,' she said. `That's - that's immoral. I'm not flaunting myself for anybody.' Apart from maybe regaining the body I used to have ... maybe.

`I'm not suggesting you should do anything immoral,' Adam countered, smoothly. `But if you fluttered those eyelashes a bit and pouted and spoke nicely to him, he might be persuaded to bend a few rules. Now, where would you fancy eating? There's an Italian place about five minutes walk from here, or there's a new Indian just opened in Station Street.

`Or,' he continued, `my car's parked just across the road and we could always drive out of town. I know a couple of really good places.'

I just bet you do.

But Martine still found herself sitting in the front passenger seat of a three year old Mercedes sports car not ten minutes later, as they sped out into the darkness of the country night.

* * *