Chapter 2

I did not have to think long, before receiving an email from one of the estate agents, suggesting a particular building as a bargain that might fit my requirements. I had a look at the data they offered.

It was a former stone-built warehouse conversion, smack in the middle of the industrial area of their city.

I became more interested as I read on. It appeared that the developers had viewed this rashly as an up-and-coming area when a recently discovered oil reservoir would soon have production drilling and come on-stream as a producing field. There would be well-paid expert staff searching for quality rental accommodation for as long as their employment lasted at the site. The idea was that such short-term residents weren’t looking for a home with a garden and garage and possible swimming pool in the back yard, all normally aimed at the average-size family with children. What these potential residents’ target would be was a well-appointed flat, for one or sharing, in a building protected from vandalism while they were away at their work; like a hotel but without the extra expenditure that a hotel would ask for. All the additional family pluses that add to value were naturally absent, cutting the costs of the rental.

The idea was sound, and their costings probably accurate, but their timing wasn’t.

The developers had started their conversion in anticipation, and took the opportunity to make one of the many apartments in the layout into a showhouse, indicating what the buyer could expect from his purchase. That extensive show house, deliberately chosen to be the largest apartment in the block, was the only accommodation actually completed and furnished; the others were left as bare walls and doors until each buyer was found, then each would be designed to suit the client.

The showhouse was at an upper level of the building, to keep it away from street noise and fumes. Approached only by an elevator, this made it extremely exclusive, aimed at top executives.

As the surrounding environment was not an ideal view, the apartment windows were placed at high level only, to provide daylight but no sight of the outside and conversely no view of the inside, assuming you had access to another building opposite. It was a clever design feature, one which appealed to me for my purposes.

What was more important to the choice was that the oil development came to nothing when the oil price plummeted, making exploitation unviable. As a direct result the market for such accommodation dropped to near zero. The converted warehouse no longer had any potential clients and became instead a white elephant sitting unwanted in an industrial district that had no attractions for the normal buyer. The developers had even approached the local authority to suggest purchasing the building for their purposes, but the local councillors had made a similar bad decision and purchased more land to sell to housebuilders who never arrived. The council budget was overstretched as it was, so another building had no attraction for them. They did not see sense in taking on someone else’s debt burden, thank you.

The estate agent further reported that the building had been sitting empty for more than two years without a single known offer to buy, not even a request for viewing, and suggested that an offer marginally below the already much reduced asking price might be successful. I agreed with that assessment, and arranged a viewing of the property by myself and Mr Emerson. A quick call to him confirmed his willingness to attend the viewing, and I booked us for the date and time suggested.

I had other ideas about the future, and considered many options.

Haircutting and styling would not be possible without outside contact, so the girls could learn some hairdressing if I bought an instructional dvd for my computer (which would not be connected to the internet for the duration). A supply of sanitary pads for the females could be preplaced in the apartment, as could all the normal consumables for a houshold – toilet rolls, paper kitchen towels, cleaning materials, and so on. Grocery products could be ordered by phone and delivered to the front door for me to take inside. I could easily attend to putting out the household waste bin for emptying as needed.

Thinking about women’s needs, they probably had their own supply of birth control pills. Should I do anything about replacements? That idea sparked off a chain of thoughts about control measures including sex. I decided that I would probably need to have sex with them, as they were already sexually active with their friends and thus expecting such regular male attention as a life norm.

Stopping them from expecting to have gratuitous sex in the future would be a desirable outcome, so if I was fulfilling that desire to engage in sex, I might also manage to make it difficult for them to get more sex in future. Pregnancy would probably help in putting off male admirers, but how to get them to dispose of their birth control pills? Another search revealed that fake pills were available online, but few had the same packaging as real pills. It would require more research to see if substitute pills were possible.

Suddenly the best solution came to me. Its simplicity was breathtaking: remove the ladies’ handbags for the travel part, and simply dispose of them or stash them somewhere until the program concluded. They had no need of their handbags while incarcerated; losing their pills held within would be an ‘unfortunate’ bit of collateral damage, with no means of replacement by them.

Control was not just physical, but mental. Giving them that ‘under control’ feeling would be important, so the carrot and stick idea might work with clothing options. Inside the apartment, if the temperature was maintained at a comfortable level, I might be able to leave them without any clothing at all for some time, perhaps except for slippers. Then I could offer clothing items in return for improvements in behaviour.

Start with panties as an initial reward (specially valuable for when their periods hit), then a bra next, followed by a skirt. A top or a dress might be the final piece of clothing to recognise success inside the apartment. Would tights or socks be seen as a suitable reward? Shoes for inside wear? That would mean access to a shoe box, for one pair of shoes was never enough for a woman. She needed a choice, but only flat-heeled shoes to keep their height down as a part of the control plan. Possibly the available choices might include a change of panties and bras if sought as rewards for good behaviour.

More to think about, it seemed.

The day of the viewing arrived, and we drove down in Mr Emerson’s large car, to be met at the door by a representative of the estate agency. He introduced himself as John Crown, and I introduced myself as James without mentioning my surname, but treated him always as ‘Mr Crown’ to establish a social distinction that did not merit his first name as usable.

“My colleague is Archibald. We both work for the company interested in purchasing if the price is right and if the building adequately fulfils our needs. We have our doubts, I assure you, as we never expected to be looking in an industrial location for office accomodation.”

Crown blinked at our limited identity information, and our stated limited interest in the property, but continued with unlocking the steel front door. Moving inside, we found ourselves in what might eventually be a large and impressive vestibule, but at present was bare walls and several doors. We were moved over to a modern elevator door.

Crown assured me, “The electric power is switched on for our visit today, otherwise we would be in darkness. The elevator is almost silent in operation. The indicator lights up for each floor level as we arrive. Each apartment on every floor has its own power connection and meter.”

I added, “If the other apartments existed, that is. This appears to have one apartment in an otherwise empty building.”

He responded nervously, “Of course, sir. I recognise that. I am using the data supplied by the owners, for this description. It was intended to allow each buyer to decorate their apartment in an individual fashion to suit their tastes. Electric wiring would be run according to how many sockets and their locations within each room. The developers intended to install the wiring after consultation with the purchaser.

We are going up to the single fully furnished apartment which is set up as a show house You see, it was intended to illustrate how all the planned apartments could look. It is on the third floor.”

“Any reason for that choice of floor?” Archie asked.

“The ground floor was considered to be the most susceptible to vandalism, should someone break in. Without power, they would be unlikely to climb the stairs to this level, particularly if the building appeared empty. Of course, with such strong walls and a good entrance door, there has been no break-in, ever. The other factor is noise. Any street noise and noise from industrial processes nearby would be almost nil at this height, considering the thickness of the exterior walls, added to by the apartment walls. All windows are naturally double glazed, which adds to the sound attenuation.”

Both of us nodded in approval, and at the third floor we stepped out into another vestibule with three doors leading off. One was the show apartment, which Crown opened with an ornate key.

“Sorry about the key, but it was the one supplied by the owners. You can change the lock to suit yourselves. The other doors are a vacant apartment and the emergency stairwell, which is completely enclosed by concrete walls for fire safety. It is designed with fresh air input at ground level and a heat-operated smoke exhaust point at the roof, so the residents would have safe, smoke-free, passage to the street level in any fire incident that might occur.”

The door opened, and the apartment lights were already on. We were standing in the lobby of the apartment, with a set of coat hooks on one wall for men’s coats and hats, and a tall cupboard on the other side for hanging ladies’ outside wear such as coats and hats. A shoe rack was also there, to allow a change of footwear before entering the apartment proper. All were currently empty.

Having pointed these facilities out, Crown unlocked the next door, revealing a long corridor with room doors off it on both sides. Each door had a label to identify it: Study 1, Study 2, Games room, Bathroom and shower 1, Bathroom and shower 2, Bedroom 1, bedroom 2, Bedroom 3, Bedroom 4, kitchen, dining room. At the end of the corridor was the Lounge.

“Gentlemen, this apartment was designed as the largest and most generously appointed apartment, to attract the wealthier patron who might have guests staying. It has more rooms than any other might have in the building, and has been furnished appropriately. Please take a look inside the rooms.”

Jimmy and his C.O.O. did exactly that, and gaped at the luxurious bedrooms with complete en-suite facilities, dressing table, queen-sized bed, bedside tables and bedside lights. The study rooms, with walls of a soothing cream colour, held computer tables, bookshelves, angle-poise lamp, desk chair and a comfortable lounge chair each.

The Games room was large enough for a pool table, large screen TV monitor and a digital games unit. For those of a less digital bent, there was a complicated games table with a chessboard inlaid on top and a pair of drawers, one on each side, which held sets of draughts, chess, and other games pieces with the necessary playing boards such as Monopoly.

The bathrooms had the requisite large bath, of sufficient dimensions to accommodate two consenting adults, and the shower was of a similar nature in its dimensions. There were two washbasins for guests, in case two adults or an adult and child wanted to wash their hands and face and brush their teeth.

The kitchen was fitted with all the necessary white goods, standard height worktops and adequate amount of storage cupboards with expensive-looking door facings. Next door was the dining room, and a pass-through door allowed direct serving from the kitchen.

The dining room boasted a 12-place dining table and associated padded dining chairs, with a long breakfast bar down one wall for laying out extensive breakfast choices. Probably one of the bedrooms might house a live-in chef for the top-quality meals demanded by the owner.

They finally moved into the lounge, which was divided into two discrete sections: one having a large wall-mounted TV, ranged round by several deep armchairs flanked by small occasional tables for a laying out a drink, newspaper or book; the other section having an octagonal table and ornate chairs for feminine discussion – known to men as ‘gossip’ - and a couple of sewing boxes and a magazine rack for women’s magazines. Each section was lit seperately, the light angled to suit its usage.

Every room had been painted in pastel shades, with each bedroom featuring its own colour scheme. The kitchen was a simple white; The games room was a gentle brown, while in the lounge the male area had a pale blue contrasting with the pale pink of the female section.

“Well, I am rather impressed with this apartment, Mr Crown,” exclaimed Mr Emerson. “What do you think, James?”

I replied, “Most encouraging for the rich patron that it is aimed at. Pity such patrons are not in evidence. I presume there is the essential air-conditioning throughout?” My question brought the expected response.

“Yes, indeed. The air conditioning unit is housed at the top of the building, to keep the noise level subdued, indeed not heard at all at this level. The ducting between is top quality, I am assured.”

“Thank you, Mr Crown. May I have a look at the specification of the warehouse walls and roof, and other relevant architectural details?”

Crown riffled through his wad of documentation, and discovered the data sheet.

“Here you are, Mr ... I mean James. All the details showing what a fine structure the original warehouse was from the start. It was put up in 1920 with the intent of lasting for a century of use. It has almost achieved that remit, and with style.”

My perusal of the technical description gave me no cause for concern; if anything, my confidence was increased that this building suited our requirements. There was even a structural surveyor’s report from two years ago that gave a glowing status for the converted warehouse and the attention to detail in the new roof over the warehouse. Not even a hurricane should bother this building.

“Archibald, have you any other questions to raise about this building, other than the over-blown price?”

“No, James. I think I have seen enough. The offer price will have to reflect the poor site location of the building, and the lack of previous interest. I think ten per cent lower than the present asking price will have to be what we can offer. I see no possibility of anything better, given our present budget restraints. Can you convey that to the principals, Mr Crown? My colleague will be the purchaser of record on behalf of our company. I expect the owners will be glad to have this finally off their hands.”

Mr Crown was swivelling between disappointment at the low offer, and his delight at a possible sale at last. He reduced his response to a simple, “Yes, sir. I will do that. I presume I should send our client’s response to James’ e-mail address?”

Emerson looked at me for a reply, and I said, “That will be satisfactory, Mr Crown. Assuming our offer is accepted, I will be in touch about taking over the property: the keys of the building and all relevant papers that we will need to register the change of ownership with the local authorities and the utility providers.”

“That is what we would expect to happen, James.”

We all retreated to the foyer downstairs once Crown flipped the power switch for the apartment as we stood in the open elevator. It had its own power source.

I asked a final question. “What about the fridge and the freezer? Surely the owner would want these kept on when he is out of the apartment for some time?”