Chapter 2

We slept right through until the clock radio woke us at 6:30 the next morning.

“Oh shit,” Stacey cried as she was shocked awake by a loud song on the radio.

I hit snooze, it wouldn’t matter if I was a few minutes late for work.

“Did we really fall asleep while we were having sex,” she giggled as we snuggled together for a few minutes.

“I think we did,” I replied.

“That was some early evening of love making, Karl. I’ve not had such nice sex for a long, long time.”

“Me either, I don’t remember ever having such good sex.”

“I just realised, we didn’t have any dinner last night, I was going to cook you pasta carbonara.”

I patted my belly, “I think it’ll do me good to miss a meal once in a while.”

“You forget, mister, you’ve got a new bedroom-based exercise regime now, you need to boost your calorie intake, not cut it.”

“Ahh, yes. I guess I’ve still not come to terms with you actually wanting to be with me.”

“Karl, my love. We’re fated to be together, I feel it in my bones. I’m comfortable with you. I can’t remember ever feeling so comfortable with anyone before.”

“You could make the pasta tonight.” I suggested.

“Mmm, I could. My new clothes arrive today, so I’ll be going home when they arrive. I cook better in my own kitchen. You could come to mine tonight, I’ll show you what I do with all the rooms in my huge house.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb you if you have, you know, work to do.”

“What do you think my work involves?” she laughed.

“Well, I don’t know...”

“I stream a couple of times a week on my fan page, and sometimes I do a general chat stream on Twitch, no overt sexiness there, just chatting and a Q&A with fans. I make videos on You Tube, trying on outfits, talking about my favourite books and films, again, no overt sexiness, but plenty of bouncy boobs when I’m trying on clothes, the bouncy boobs are vital to keep the stream counts high. Most of the time when I’m not streaming, or planning a stream, I’m planning photo shoots, or doing my finances. Oh wow, I’ve an idea, how are you with a camera?”

“Err ... I can use one.”

“Awesome, most of my shoots are static, you know. There’s no photographer, just me, my phone and my cameras on tripods, I shoot with a little remote control and it’s not ideal. I think you can be my photographer on my next shoot. I have it planned, I was going to do it Sunday night, but I never managed to get home Sunday night, did I.”

“Ahh, no.”

“Super, so that’s all sorted, I’ll go home, get dinner prepared, you come down after work and I’ll show you around my little empire.”

“OK, that sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, while I remember, that laptop I was using yesterday. You don’t take it to work, do you?”

“Which one was it, the MacBook Air?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to use the MacBook Pro.”

“Mmm, yeah I sometimes take it if I need to run tests and things somewhere we don’t have a PC, or for meetings.”

“Ahh, OK. Maybe you need to move the photos I left for you onto a different computer, some are a little ... err ... not safe for work, especially when work is a school.”

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll take it with me today and copy them off onto my phone, my office is locked so no-one will see anything.”

Stacey looked at me nervously, biting her bottom lip.

“Some of the pictures I’ve given you are from when I was 18, so they’re legal and everything, but they are rude, and I might have been in 6^th Form at the time, some of them were taken in school.”

“OK, as long as you’re OK with me looking at them.”

“Oh yes!” Stacey replied brightly, “I’m happy for you to see them, it’s just, well I grew up around here, you know, and you work in the biggest school in the area, so where do you think I went to school?”

“Ahh, I see.”

“You don’t quite see it all yet, there’s teachers who taught me who still work there, and I’d rather nobody connects Stacey King with Anastasia Georgiou. I’ve been very careful that my two lives don’t intersect.”

“Ahh, now it makes sense!”

“What makes sense?”

“I forgot to mention this. When I was chatting to Martin Pride yesterday, he called you Anastasia. I thought it was odd, but then I thought Stacey and Anastasia, they’re similar, so I forgot all about it.”

“Anastasia is my real name.”

“Well, don’t worry, nobody will find out your secret identity from me.”

“Thank you, my love, I know I can trust you. Now I think it’s time for you to get up,” she added as the radio came on again.

Stacey had breakfast ready for me again as I came downstairs, cereals, toast and coffee, perfect.

“Your real name, it’s Greek, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, yes,” Stacey replied as she licked marmalade off her fingers, “from my dad’s side of the family, his father came over after the war and married an English girl, my gran. My dad also married an English girl, so I don’t really have any Greek characteristics, apart from my real name.”

“Why did you change it, I love the name Anastasia.”

“So do I, but I changed my name online because, well, it’s not wise for an online sex worker to make herself traceable in the real world. As nice as my paying fans are, some of the people who follow me on Twitter and Instagram are, well, fucking weird is putting it mildly.”

“Ahh yes, I see.”

“That’s not the only reason I don’t want my real name getting out online. My parents know about what I do, mum’s fine with it, dad’s not exactly over the moon, but he’s OK. I had to tell them after, you know, after I was attacked. I didn’t tell them at first, but after what Jason did, it wasn’t fair for him to have that knowledge and keep it secret from mum and dad. He’s been really smashing about it, him and all his mates, they’ve told no-one. And do you know something else? None of them follow me anywhere online. They know what I do, and they’re not curious about what I look like naked.

“I guess they could lurk on my Twitter or Insta, but I don’t post nudes there. No nipples, no twinkle, that’s my rule for open social media. Saves me the hassle of getting my accounts locked if someone complains.

“Anyway, my immediate family know about my online work, but my aunts and uncles, and my neighbours, they don’t know, and I’d rather they didn’t find out. The lady next door, Molly, she’s such a sweetie, she’s like 90 or something and she helps me with the gardening. I love her to bits. I’m sure she’s curious about what I do for a living, especially when I’m taking saucy selfies in the garden all afternoon. She keeps telling me what a wonderful figure I’ve got, and I need a good man to take care of me. I’m sure she’ll be delighted when she meets you.”

“I look forward to meeting Molly,” I replied as I finished my coffee.

Stacey handed me a flask of coffee and hugged me tight.

“It’s early days yet, Karl, but I’ve got a good feeling about this,” she whispered before kissing me tenderly.

“So do I, Stacey, a very good feeling.”

“You know where you’re going tonight?”

“Under the railway bridge, 200 yards along on the right, the big house with the circular drive.”

“Yes! That’s the one. I’ll pack a bag for you, in case you want to stay a couple of nights, or weeks.”

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“You’d better go, or you’ll be late.”

“I can be a few minutes late on a Tuesday,” I smiled.

“I feel like a teenager again, Karl, I love it.”

We kissed again on the doorstep then I dashed out to my car and drove to work, where I spent the day thinking about luck, fate, and fortune.

On Sunday I was only going to have a single pint with lunch, but as I was about to leave I decided to have a second. It’s not like it was good beer this week, just the usual. If I’d left after that first pint I’d have been at home long before Stacey crashed her bike. I’d have been none the wiser about the accident and Stacey would have been sitting on the verge until the farmer drove past to check his sheep in the late afternoon.

There’s a chance she’d have hobbled to my house, as there’s no other houses close by, and she could see it from where she fell.

I really don’t believe in fate, but I suspect Stacey is right, fate led me to spend an extra 10 minutes in the pub having that second pint.

I had a couple of meetings in the morning, the first with my line manager to discuss next year’s capital expenditure requirements – I needed to replace a lot of old PCs and a couple of network switches, along with the huge Adobe bill I worked out yesterday – then with the school business manager to persuade her that we really do need all that money.

After the meetings, which went better than I expected – my manager advised me to add 30% to the budget request, then the business manager trimmed it by 25% so we’re back where we started – I made a coffee and sat down with my phone and MacBook and set about moving the photos from one device to the other.

The first few photos were from yesterday, Stacey had saved me a few more from her naked wander around my garden, including a selfie with a curious cow from the neighbouring field.

Then I was treated to a few photos from the lounge, maybe when she was chatting to her fans on her live stream, because she was masturbating with some of my kitchen utensils in a few of the photos, front and back simultaneously. I think I need more than a new wooden spoon, that spatula is going in the bin as well.

After the new photos she’d given me some glamour and cosplay photos, she plays a very good Velma and Catwoman. There’s a lot of girl / girl shots in the collection, these I marked for further viewing.

I didn’t see any shots from her boy / girl video, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t give me any, as I don’t think she enjoyed that shoot at all, maybe she’s deleted everything.

The last folder was called ‘Extra hot 18-year-old Stacey’ I double checked my door was locked before I opened this folder.

The first few photos were your typical bedroom selfies, practising poses, checking outfits. A lot of these were fully clothed but showed impressive amounts of cleavage.

The next few were naked photos, straight topless photos, then some showing her pussy, and a couple playing with a dildo and butt plug.

Stacey is not exaggerating; she is very hot in these photos. After the bedroom shots we swap to the school grounds. She must have had a friend with her here, as the photos were all hastily captured flashes of boobs, bum and pussy. In a few I can see staff looking over, checking what they were doing, although I don’t think they would be able to see anything.

The last few photos were very interesting, a teacher had caught Stacey and her friend in action, the successive snaps showed Mr Turner approaching them, he looked angry at first, but the very last photo showed him clearly leering at Stacey’s naked breasts.

I checked the EXIF data on the last photo, she’d been using an iPhone 3GS, the photos were low res but decent quality, I jotted down the date the photo was taken then had another look at the image. Yes, his eyes were looking at Stacey’s boobs, and he was smiling.

John Turner would have been head of Science back in 2010 when these photos were taken. These days he’s a Deputy Head with his eyes on the larger office next door.

The bulk of the data we hold on students is cleared from the main database 5 years after a student leaves, it’s sent over to an off-site archive where it’s basically kept forever. As network manager I have access to the archive, so I mounted the remote drive for 2010 and checked Stacey’s record. I wasn’t looking for academic data, I was looking for any records from a specific date in April 2010.

I rolled backwards and forwards a few days either side in case the date on her phone was wrong, but there was nothing there. Stacey’s behaviour record was clear.

Interesting.

I moved the photos across to my phone, and while they were transferring, I picked up my landline and phoned Stacey.

“Hey Stacey, thanks for the photos.”

“Did you enjoy them?”

“I did, very much. I especially like the 18-year-old Stacey photos.”

“I thought you would, 18-year-old me was very pretty.”

“I’m phoning because of the last few photos.”

“Oh yes, any reason beyond my sexy smile and perky boobies?”

“Yes, the reason is the second person in the photos, a Mr John Turner. Do you remember him.”

“Do I remember him?” she replied, sounding a little angry, “Of course I remember him. He gave me and Amelia three days detention for taking those photos.”

“That’s what I was wondering, there’s no demerit points or detention on your record.”

“There won’t be, the detention was in his office, with the blinds closed. He definitely hoped something would happen, but we disappointed him badly. He did get to stare at the two prettiest girls in school for an hour while we tidied his office. Lots of bending needed so he got a view of our arses and cleavage.”

“He’s still at school you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t mention this too him, but you could maybe use it as blackmail if he turns on you like he turned on me and Amelia. I’m sure you know what he’s like, Karl. Be careful, he seems all sweetness and light on the outside, but inside he’s a very bitter man who bears a grudge forever.”

“Thanks for the warning, Stacey. I’ll keep it in mind.”

I’d been digging around in the 2010 archive while we were chatting, just having a nosey. It was a few years before I joined the school, so it was interesting looking at the old documents.

In the Marketing folder I found a media folder, “Oh I’ve found the 2010 prom photos.”

“Oh my god, really. Can you bring them home, I’d love to see my prom dress again, it was amazing, Amelia’s mum made our dresses, they were so pretty.”

“I shouldn’t really, but nobody will know if I copy them over to my phone.”

“Brilliant, I’d love to see everyone again. We had so much fun at the prom. Mr Turner tried it on again that night, Amelia and I denied him once more.”

Once the photos were moved from my laptop to my phone, I plugged my phone into my desktop PC and copied the prom photos over.

The rest of my day was spent scheduling updates and servicing projectors, working entirely on autopilot as my mind was still trying to rationalise the Stacey situation.

I couldn’t understand someone quite as beautiful as Stacey wanting to spend time with a plain looking, slightly overweight IT geek. I don’t think she’s playing me, the sex last night was amazing, and she has been so tender and loving. Paula never made me coffee in the morning, or breakfast, and only blew me on my birthday.

Why was I trying to persuade myself that the best thing that had ever happened to me wasn’t real?

Natural pessimism, and an innate belief that when something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

I was so sure this was all an elaborate joke I paused as I reached my house that evening, should I just pull in, park up, lock the door and forget the last few days ever happened?

Don’t be silly, I told myself, what’s the harm driving on to Stacey’s house? Really, what’s the worst that could happen?

She could laugh in my face and slam the door.

I can live with the disappointment if that happens.

At least I think I could.

Ahh, what the fuck, I told myself as I put my car into gear and drove on to Stacey’s house.

The front door opened as I parked up, Stacey appeared and tossed me a small remote control as I climbed out.

“Push button 3, you can park in there,” she called out, “I’ll get you a set of keys cut tomorrow.”

Ahh, this is not what I expected, I told myself as I started the car again ready to reverse into the third garage – she has three garages!

I couldn’t resist opening all three doors, a red Mini Cooper S and a silver Porsche Boxster lived in the other two bays, perfect Stacey vehicles.

The front door was standing open when I returned from the garage, I could hear singing as I stepped through the doorway, and smell cooking.

This is actually happening, I told myself as I wiped my feet on the doormat then walked towards the sound of Stacey’s singing.

“You have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you, I was in a band at school. Although Amelia was the singer and I played drums.”

“That’s amazing, were you any good?”

“We were just getting good when I had to quit.”

“Why did you have to quit?”

Stacey cupped her boobs, “I found it awkward drumming once these puppies started to grow, they kind of got in the way.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure the music fans around here appreciated my resignation, their replacement drummer was much better than me.”

“Ahhh, I bet they weren’t as much fun to watch.”

“We were artists, we weren’t there to satisfy the male gaze,” Stacey laughed, “actually, I’m not sure even I believe that. Four fit girls in a band, Until Erin replaced me none of us knew what we were doing. After she joined, she gave the band focus and Amelia started guitar lessons, they were quite good by the time they split up when we all went to different universities.”

“That’s a shame, about you all going to different universities, and about the band splitting up.”

“Yeah, but that’s what happens. I went to Birmingham, I had plans to be an engineer, but the course was so far beyond my capabilities I swapped to Media Studies and English Lit. I think I had too much fun at University, I didn’t concentrate enough on my course, I still passed, but I should have done better. What did you do, Karl?”

“I did Computer Science with Maths at Leeds.”

“Did you enjoy University?”

“If you measure it with my grade, then I suspect I had less fun that you did, I got a First.”

“Oh wow, aren’t you a smarty pants. Did you have some fun though, you didn’t just sit there for three years and study.”

“Mine was a four-year course, and yes, I had some fun, plenty of nights at the Brudenell, I saw a lot of good bands there.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Karl, and even more glad you got a First, that’s amazing. Did you see a band called Autumn Hearts?”

“I don’t know, what were they like?”

“Four fit girls, a tall redhead on vocals and lead guitar, a blonde girl on keyboards, a brunette on bass, a very cute girl on drums, she usually had her head shaved almost bald.”

“Ahh, your old band. You know, I think I did see them support Wild Beasts,” I replied, trying to think back to my second year, I was seeing a girl called Joanna at the time and she loved indie rock.

“That stands to reason, Wild Beasts were from just up the road in Kendal.”

“Did they have a song called something like You’re Just a Stain in my Diary Now?”

“Hahaha, yes! I wrote that one! About a bastard who left me in KFC and went off with some skank he met at the bus stop. Quite an angry song, that one.”

“Oh wow, small world.”

“Did you like them?”

“From what I can remember, yes, they were fun, not the best band I’ve seen, and quite chaotic, but we all had a good time.”

“Did you like Amelia, the singer?”

“Mmm, yes, she was quite cute I think.”

“She was more than cute, she was my girlfriend until we all split up to go our separate ways, that time you saw them would have been their only tour I think, after our A-levels and before we all went to university. Damn, if my boobs had waited a bit longer to blossom, we’d have met 12 years ago.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have gone to Birmingham, and we’d have passed like ships in the night.”

“That’s right, now we’re meeting properly and neither of us has plans to disappear any time soon.”

“Well, I’m going nowhere.”

“Neither am I. I’ve got this house exactly as I want it, so I’m definitely going nowhere. Talking of my perfect house, would you like a tour?”

“Yes, I’d like a tour.”

“Great, we’ll start downstairs.”

“I thought we were on the ground floor, I don’t remember going upstairs at all.”

“Ahh, the land at the back is lower than the front, so there’s a lower floor at the back of the house, that’s where I’ve put my gym, sauna and TV room, there’s a great view across the fields to the hills across the bay.”

“OK, lead on tour guide.”

“Do you think kids still write in diaries?” Stacey muses as we walked downstairs, “I used to write in my diary every night, all my thoughts, the people I met, dates, dating disasters, you know. That’s why I wrote that song, Ryan Morecroft was the love of my life for a whole week until he dumped me for Victoria Bottomley. Where do girls pour their thoughts if they don’t have a diary?”

“The notes app on their phone?” I offered.

“Yeah, but it’s so impersonal, you can’t use different colour inks from your 10-colour pen to fully express your feelings, and you can’t cross your enemies’ names out so hard you rip the paper. Nah, the notes app is no substitute for a proper diary with a lock.”

The stairs led straight into a small gym area, with floor to ceiling windows looking out over the fields below, and beyond the fields, the hills across the bay.

“It’s a shame I can’t see the sea,” Stacey said sadly, “but apart from that, it’s a great view when I’m on my bike or the cross-trainer. On a clear night it’s lovely when I turn my lights off and look out at the stars.”

“I bet it is.”

“So, if you want to trim that tummy a bit, you’re more than welcome to join me here.”

“I thought you liked my tummy,” I replied in mock horror.

“I do sweetie, but there’s no harm in toning yourself.”

“You’re right, and I’ll be happy to join you in the gym.”

“I’d like you as my gym buddy, it’s lonely being on my own, but I hate going to the gym in town, because the stares from the guys there make me feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s such a shame, I’ll try not to stare at you.”

“You’re allowed to stare at me, silly. You do it properly, you look at me and appreciate what you see, the other men, it’s like they want to eat me or something. It’s really unsettling. Anyway, just so we’re clear, you can look at me all you like.”

“Thank you.”

“Super, so, through there we have a sauna and shower, for after the gym. On the other side is my TV room, let’s have a look, I love my TV room, and it’ll be so nice to share it with someone.”

Stacey pushed the door, which opened with a whoosh, a tell-tale sign of a soundproofed door. Bloody hell, what kind of a sound system did she have in here?

We stepped inside and the door whooshed shut. The room was completely dark, no lights anywhere, not even the LEDs from a device on standby or a phone charger. The silence was as complete as the darkness.

Stacey brushed past me and flicked a light switch.

The darkness was replaced by a series of dim lights along the wall, even these dim lights seemed bright after the darkness.

Now I could see, I first spotted the black leather seating, a comfortable looking two seat sofa and two armchairs on the front row and a 4-seat sofa behind.

The end wall was taken up by a huge TV screen, it looked to be twice the size of my TV.

“I thought about getting a projector, it would have been a lot cheaper,” Stacey told me, “but the man at the shop said this TV would be better quality, with deeper blacks and brighter colours. I didn’t have chance to test them side by side, but I decided you can’t really go wrong with a Sony TV.”

“There’s 8 seats here, do you invite many people round to watch films?” I asked.

“Ahh, well, I thought about it. The room is long and narrow, so it made sense to have two rows of seats. Then I had second thoughts. Molly next door is too old for the kind of films I like, and the neighbours on the other side have kids, and, well, I don’t want kids running around the house. Some of my rooms aren’t exactly family friendly, if you know what I mean, there’s stuff I’d rather kids didn’t see.

“Also, I don’t want my neighbours to know what I do for a living. They think I’m a nice respectable woman. I give to the PTA at both primary schools, and to the church at the bottom of the road. I give because I want to, as well, not because I want people to like me. I don’t want to disappoint them, you know.”

“I bet the dads at school would be happy to see your work.”

“Probably,” Stacey laughed, “and some of the mums are gorgeous. It’s not that I’m ashamed about what I do, I absolutely love my work. It’s that I don’t want people gossiping about me. Don’t get me wrong, I bet there’s all sorts of rumours about me, you know, where I get my money and stuff. I’m OK with that, really. What I don’t want is people talking about my sex life. I can’t be having people I see in the street, and at the shops, fantasising about my sex life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. I can’t imagine how weird it must be, talking to someone who’s seen you naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked, is it weird talking to me?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. It would be weird talking to someone you’re not intimate with who’s seen you naked.”

“Oh yes, I see what you mean. Mmm, yes, it would be very weird borrowing Jim next door’s tree trimmer if he’d seen me shoving a big plug up my bum the night before. Oh no, that’s wrong. I like Jim, but not in a sexy way. His wife is called Lesya, she’s Russian I think, or maybe Ukrainian, she’s stunning, and their little girls are gorgeous, and very polite. Anyway, I’d rather they don’t find out about my work.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I told her sincerely.

Stacey smiled, “I just knew I could trust you, Karl.” She told me before kissing me tenderly. “Shall we look at the rest of the house, then we can have dinner. I’ve made a carbonara pasta bake. I hope that’s OK.”

“It smelt amazing when I came in, so I don’t see how it could be disappointing.”

“After dinner, we can come down here and make out like teenagers as we watch a movie, would that be fun?”

“I imagine it would be. I’ve never made out with anyone in the cinema.”

“Oh man, you’ve missed out big time. I could put something really raunchy if you like, then we can really get down and dirty.”

“That sounds even better,” I replied as we headed back upstairs.

Stacey showed me the lounge first.

“This room is totally safe for guests,” she told me as I looked around the huge room that was the full depth of the house, easily 30 feet long with a L-shaped 6-seater sofa and more seating dotted around.

The focal point of the room was another large TV, this one hung on the wall over a disused fireplace, the fire replaced by a display of logs and dried flowers.

“I sometimes have Lesya and the girls round to watch TV, but they stay on this floor. Thinking about it, we could have them round to watch a movie downstairs, couldn’t we.”

I liked the ‘we’, Stacey subconsciously including me in the decision.

“I think so, there’s a toilet downstairs isn’t there?”

“Oh yes, there’s one in the shower room next to the sauna.”

“And there’s a toilet on this floor?”

“Yep, there’s one under the stairs.”

“So there’s no need for anyone to go upstairs, is there.”

“I guess not, but would I sound weird, insisting they stay downstairs?”

“It probably won’t come up, if they ask for the toilet then you point them at the nearest one. If they play outside and get dirty, they can use the downstairs shower. If Lesya or Jim asks, you just say upstairs is your sleeping and work area, so you’d rather they stay downstairs.”

“That should work, thank you,” Stacey replied as we left the lounge. “The other main room down here is empty at the moment. It’s got a really nice wooden floor, so I’m thinking of turning it into a dance fitness room, or maybe, mmm, if we do start inviting people round, we could turn it into a proper dining room...” Stacey paused, literally scratching her head as she thought, “yes, I think we’ll turn it into a dining room,” she mused as we headed for the stairs, adding “toilet is there,” as she pointed below the stairs.

The stairs opened on a u-shaped landing the ran the width of the house and down either side, with three rooms in front of us, with a couple of rooms either side and behind.

“Let’s start on the left, shall we,” Stacey said as she stepped to the left and turned to the room behind.

She opened the door and we stepped inside, where I saw a messy room with a couple of work tables, some workshop shelves piled with boxes, rolls of fabric against the walls, plastic drawer units, cardboard boxes.

“This is my workroom,” Stacey told me as she started pointing this way and that, telling me about the costumes and dresses she’s made.

“Apart from my TV in the basement, and my cars, obviously, I think these sewing machines are my most expensive possession. Textiles was the only A-Level course I really took an interest in. I was tempted to go into fashion design, but mum pushed me towards engineering, and I did kind of fancy a career in engineering, especially gearbox design. I’ve no idea why, but that part of an engine really fascinates me. I think it’s maybe how each part has to mesh together properly, or everything goes horribly wrong.