A PLETHORA OF HEATHERS
I calm my face and force myself to walk gracefully as I go to the camera room to see what Jonathan had for me. Another Heather? I can scarcely believe it. What is it about today? Were my stars aligned? Or was it just sheer random luck? Is my horoscope exceptionally auspicious today? I’ll have to find out and make sure it happens again and again.
Jonathan is there, waiting, a big smile on his face. He starts the recording as soon as I arrive. She’s magnificent. I watch her get out of her car and walk towards the entrance. This girl has money and class, her clothes alone attest to that. Smart, standard professional clothes which bode well, but I must calm down. This is just an indication, I know. She might have had nothing else to wear that morning. Her hair is professionally shoulder length, straight and light brown. Nothing special, unfortunately, but obviously well groomed. Her face is gracefully and expensively understated. Above average in looks.
But it’s her body that catches my attention. Well, it’ll catch anyone’s attention. Tall and toned, she’ll dominate most places with her body alone. She’s a couple of inches above six feet, if I’m any judge, and perhaps slightly less without heels. The way she carries herself is powerful and dominating. She obviously trains for something. I wonder what.
I watch her enter before switching the sound on in order to hear that initial greeting.
“Heather Burn,” she says after Lylia’s greeting. Another Heather. And this one is the Heather of all Heathers. She’ll be my favourite. She’ll receive special treatment. I don’t know what that special treatment will be yet, but it’ll be really special.
I watch Heather Burn being escorted directly to the private booth and silently congratulate Lylia for spotting the laptop and correctly inferring she needs privacy. I make a mental note to tell her this personally.
I watch, fast forwarding as necessary, as she orders, then eats her main course. I wonder briefly what she was typing before dismissing it as unimportant. After all, she isn’t going to return to her old life now, but it’s exciting to see her behave as if she is. Getting on with the minutiae of her life. Notes for tomorrow’s meeting and feeding herself belong to her old self—she just doesn’t know it yet. But I do. That thought is so exciting.
I wait until she finishes her meal before introducing myself.
“Hello. I’m Heather Littlebottom. I own this restaurant. May I have a word?”
“Yes, of course.”
I sit down opposite her. “First of all I want to give you this.” I hand over a voucher “It’s good for a free meal. I find it to be an effective incentive for people to return and, after that, they do tend to return and pay.” I smile when I said that. I find that works best.
“Thank you. That sounds to be good business practise. I must say, this restaurant is different from most others I’ve attended. It’s excellence is most unexpected in this area and catering to the clientele you have. You have discovered yourself an amazing niche I never even considered.”
“Thank you so much. To be honest, I deliberately try to be different, to stand out, and to give extreme value to my customers. I’m truly glad you appreciate this. Now, the reason I’m interrupting your work is to ask you to help me by taking a small survey. It’s been timed at just over four minutes.”
I saw her resignation at this.
“Oh, as it’s only four minutes, OK then.”
I smile as I stood and usher my troops in.
Me and Yvettia enter when told to, smiling at the target as we’d been trained. I scoot around the table to sit at her right hand while Yvettia takes her left. Heather sits back in her place, not quite opposite the target. I have the clipboard, so I talk first.
“Would you mind giving us some personal details, please? Just name and address and the reason you’re in this vicinity. It’s fine if you want to remain anonymous though.”
“Heather Burn. I live in Scottdale and I’m here to see a client.”
I write that down. “Thank you. That’s most helpful.”
I don’t say more because that’s Yvettia’s cue to yank her hair back and spray her throat, which she does. I wish that was my duty. I like doing that. As soon as she’s sprayed, I move in close and grab her arm as well as wrap my left leg around hers. Yvettia does the same on the other side. She tries to speak and then shout, but no sound comes out. That’s one of the things I love about this job. Being close enough to see the fear erupt in their eyes turns me on—hard. I know Yvettia feels the same.
We had both trained extensively for moments like this. Long hours in the gym had built our muscles in order to subdue people easily. But this one also has muscles which show as she struggles like all the rest. We’ve difficulty in keeping her still enough for Heather. In the end, we both end up with two arms around each of her arms and two legs controlling each of her legs.
She quickly relaxes and looks at Heather. Then, in an effort to surprise us, she struggles again when she hoped we had relaxed as well. This is clever of her and I determine never to let my guard down with this one. She relaxes again when it doesn’t work. Turning her head to look straight into my eyes, she makes a lunge for my arm with her teeth. It doesn’t work, but it’s a close thing. She isn’t to know sudden pain or shock won’t loosen my grip. I’ve been well trained, as has Yvettia.
I watch Heather closely, she’s a little surprised when my muscle enter, but not suspicious and turns to Marlie when she speaks first. I note she doesn’t give her full address when asked, but only the district where she lives. That doesn’t matter too much. I’d get that from her bag’s contents, or later when she’ll tell me anything I want to know.
I’m particularly watching for her reaction when her hair is pulled back and she’s sprayed. That scene is absolutely delicious and I always remember each one, no matter how long ago it was. I’m overdosing on this scene today.
She doesn’t disappoint. The look on her face when her head is pulled back is priceless. I hope the cameras capture every last twitch. They have to. There’s far too much at stake for them to fail now.
Her struggling makes everything at least an order of magnitude more intense. This Heather has definitely trained at something that includes her arms. Martial arts, perhaps? Swimming? Gymnastics? Something along those lines. It definitely wasn’t running or athletics or anything similar. Her arms are just too strong. I suck in the view and commit it to my permanent memory there and then. I’ll never forget taking Heather Burn.
It takes a small while, but she’s eventually subdued sufficiently for me to proceed. She stares at me.
I’m breathing heavily when I stop struggling and stare at that woman. My lawyer’s brain has automatically decided my actions before I even think them out properly. I’ve no chance against these two heavies and I’m just tiring myself out. This is serious and I need to watch out for any flaw in their tactics and exploit it immediately and mercilessly. I don’t know what or where any flaw will be, but that’s the point. If I can work it out beforehand then they’ve already done so and corrected it. I need to concentrate like I’ve never done before and act on instinct, as I’ve done more than once in the courtroom. Those times were with words and arguments, but it’s the same principle. I allow myself a quick lament I’m a swimmer instead of a martial artist, but I quell that thought immediately. The situation is what it is and I’ll never extract myself from it if I indulge in false hope or wishful thinking.
I stare at the woman opposite—sitting there calmly, taking all this in. I need to be able to describe her if I ever get to the police, so I apply myself.
It.s early evening, too soon, really, to be wearing the evening wear she is, but I suppose her restaurant job would demand it. She’s of average, or below average height and wearing a black strapless dress that emphasises her breasts. It’s obviously an expensive dress but I can’t identify the designer.
She sits there entranced as I continue checking her out. Opera gloves in matching black adorn her hands and arms and what at first sight appears to be a large, ancient Egyptian style, heavy necklace sits on her shoulders rather than hangs around her neck. I thought, at first, that’s a mistake, but, even now, I see I’m wrong. It suits her perfectly. This is one of those effects that takes time to register. This woman has class, even if she is going to jail for a very long time. I hope she enjoys herself in there.
She’s still just staring at me as if she’s some sort of vampire. This is creepy. Any thoughts I had of this being merely a robbery are definitely dispelled right now. If I get out of this it will only be through my own efforts. I haven’t taken any such cases, so I don’t have any specific experience, but you don’t belong to a successful law firm that does take these cases on without absorbing some of the more disturbing aspects about such people. I’m surprised she’s female though. I know the majority are male.
Her eyes dominate her face, being on the large side naturally. This feature has been cleverly enhanced by her use of makeup, making her eyes the focal point for anyone looking at her. I know from experience that something this noticeable has a tendency to encourage observers not to notice much else, so I force myself to see her fully. I’m glad I do, for I normally wouldn’t have noticed her mouth and Mona Lisa like lips, which are both on the small side. She has left them like that and didn’t make any effort to enhance them, although she had prettied them up. Her chin is small and pointed and she still isn’t saying anything. She just stares at me.
Large dangly earrings fall from under raven hair, which is longer than it looks as she has piled it up in a bun. Her whole hairstyle initially looks as if she hasn’t attended to it for a while but I knew as soon as I saw it it’s deliberate and it takes effort and maintenance to pull this look off.
Eventually she moves and takes out a cigarette holder which she fills slowly and deliberately. Putting the holder to her lips she sucks as it when it’s lit by her flunky. Taking a deep inhale she has the trick of inhaling and expanding her breasts at the same time, giving off a not so subtle sexual signal. Still staring directly at me she leans forward and places her elbows on the table just behind and to one side of the poppy arrangement there. Her right hand holds the holder with her fingers open and straight. It looks as if the holder is balanced in the palm of her hand, but, on reflection it could have been held by her thumb which I can’t see. She leans further forward exposing more of her breasts to me as she cups her small pointed chin in the palm of her left hand. Eventually she looks at one of her ‘staff’ and I see her shake her head. She presses some buttons on her phone.