Chapter 25: Dumb As Soup

Fara had arrived at the Detention Centre, just south of the Thames at the old Oval Cricket Ground, for her interview with Jim. She had found the prospect daunting at first but she had agreed because she felt responsible to some extent for having encouraged Jim. At the same time, she knew that she had not controlled him as well as she now knew she might have done.

“It’s just through here, Miss Dangerfield,” a uniformed officer of the Detention and Rehabilitation Service shepherded Fara along a corridor between heavily locked cell doors. “He’s in the interview room at the end here. Anything that’s said is recorded, so if you can get him to say anything we’ll have it on tape. I can come in with you if you want. Otherwise, I can wait outside in the corridor.”

Fara was feeling determined. The amusements with Bernard the night before had left her feeling that she could succeed with anything she put her mind to.

“I think that will be best.” Fara stopped outside the door to the interview room. She had thought a lot about this moment and the impact it needed to have, if she was to get Jim to start being co-operative. She lowered the big round sunglasses from her forehead over her eyes. It wasn’t that it was bright in the cell block, quite the reverse, it was more about the look she wanted to achieve.

She was wearing a round-necked black dress with short sleeves and a knee-length pencil skirt. A string of pearls around her neck and a pair of pearl earrings were the only items of jewellery. Black sheer hose, low-heeled black shoes and a pair of wrist length black gloves completed her outfit... “I look,” Fara had thought with satisfaction when she had looked at herself in the mirror after dressing, “a bit like a bitchier version of Audrey Hepburn.” Her mother would have said that Fara looked like a younger version of herself, which was just what Fara intended.

She nodded to the guard to open the door. As she stood in the doorway, Jim looked up, “Phyllis, I...” he began.

“No it’s not Phyllis you half-wit, it’s me.” Fara pulled off her dark glasses.

“Fara. Oh!” Jim looked confused as recognition dawned. “It’s all a big mess. I just wanted to be with you. No I mean, Phyllis. I wrote to you. She told me...”

“She didn’t tell you anything Jim. Anything you think she said, you’ve made up.”

“But the way she looked...”

“What? Didn’t they teach you any history in 10th grade? Men stopped thinking that fifteen years ago. You don’t get the right to decide anything like that. What does it matter how she looked? She wasn’t looking that way for you. If you had any more brains you’d be as dumb as soup. Now, you owe me an apology.” She put the dark glasses back on and adopted a haughty pose, determined to intimidate Jim as far as she could...

“I’m sorry Fara.” Jim’s response was automatic.

“Not like that. Like you mean it. Like you maybe understand just a tiny bit how wrong you’ve been. Like how you apologised after I caught you with that vodka. Only nicer, ‘cos this time you’ve been even more stupid.” Fara was confident about confronting Jim in this way. When she had pantie-gagged him and hung the vodka bottle dangling from his cock, she had known that he was as much affected by his own response to her actions as by anything that she had said. Now, with the benefit of her Kòngzhì Rén training, she knew that Pressure of Humiliation would be an effective tool where Jim was concerned.