Victoria was a fine, Christian wife.
Every Sunday, she and her college professor husband and three well-behaved young kids would walk to a church near me. Tall and slender, she would have deserved the term willowy but for her full breasts, which she tried to hide with loosely fitting blouses and jackets.
She was always stylishly dressed. In summer she affected wide-brimmed summer hats from under whose brims she could shyly look at you with her clear, trusting blue eyes.
She was in her mid-thirties and, despite bearing three children, she had managed to retain her figure. She had long dark blond hair and at only a couple of inches shorter than my six feet, was altogether a striking looking woman
Her husband was a puzzle. He was quite a bit shorter than her and wasn't blessed with good looks. He clearly doted on her but that wasn't enough to explain how he had managed to persuade this beautiful creature to marry him.
We lived in a small town in England and so had met socially at one or two affluent but rather restrained parties, her husband always in tow. They seemed very affectionate towards each other and did everything together.
And that was the problem: she was rarely alone. Predators succeed best with the strays. Like the young waitresses at my golf club, entering the adult world of work whilst unsure of themselves and lacking in confidence. Offering a mature helping hand was something I was skilled at, leading them carefully, gently, step by step to the bedroom.
Or the younger women working at my security firm. Ambitious, desperate for promotion, where else could they seek help but from me, their boss? The things they could be persuaded to do for a little extra money and a new job title.
But Victoria was neither a stray nor vulnerable. Mentally I went through my bag of tricks but couldn't think of a way to even get her alone. I resigned myself to lusting after this gorgeous woman from a distance.
Sexual success is often about luck and one day fate dealt me a winning hand.
The phone call came on a Friday afternoon. My security firm offers a CCTV network for high end shops around the county. The feeds from all the cameras come to our control centre in a nondescript trading estate. Jim was the guy checking the feeds and he happened to live in the same little town as me, though in a much less prestigious property. It was pure luck that he was on duty.
"You'll never guess who we've caught this time, Boss," he said. "I think you'll recognise her. Check feed 15."
Being the owner, my position in the company was way too stratospheric to bother checking feeds, so this must be something unusual.
My big screen split into six smaller views, each from a store camera. It was an up-market shop in the nearby city selling very expensive clothes and accessories.
"It's only Mrs. Travis," said Jim.
And indeed, it was. Her tall, elegant figure was moving slowly through the aisles. Good old Jim had set the video up so I didn't have to wait long to catch her in the act. Full face to the camera, the brief look of guilt and excitement on her face almost comic, she slipped a trinket into her pocket. Quickly recovering her poise, she walked calmly out of the shop, every second caught on one or more of the cameras.
"Who'd have believed it?" said Jim. "It's the stuck-up ones that are the worst."
Jim was pretty much wrong about all of that. Poor people stole far more than the rich. And, though Victoria had a rather posh accent, which might at first make you think she was a snob, there was an earnestness and naivety about her. She was a nice woman but she clearly had a big problem. That made her vulnerable.
"She needs help, Jim. I'll have a quiet word with her myself and get back whatever she stole."
"It was a pendant worth a couple of hundred. We've got her bang to rights but, whatever, you're the boss, Boss."
There was only one family called Travis in our town and I found her number easily enough even though it was ex-directory. Firewalls like that are made of butter to security companies like mine.
"Hello," she answered in the slightly tentative, slightly shy way she had.
"Mrs Travis? Victoria. This is Tony Marlow, we met at Terry Ure's party. About a month ago. He lives right next door to me."
There was hesitation. If I wasn't selling something, what did I want? "I think so," she said. "Tall and dark haired with a beard. I mean not like a Father Christmas beard. Closely trimmed."
"Yes, look, the reason I'm calling you is because of a rather delicate matter. You see, I own and run a security firm and we monitor Leona's boutique on Upper Parliament Street. We have CCTV footage of you taking a pendant without paying. I just wanted to sort things out."
She just wasn't good at this. Her intake of breath was almost theatrical. Then silence. I guessed all her chickens had suddenly come home to roost.
"Hello," I said.
"Yes, I'm here. Just a little surprised. I'm rather absent-minded. Look, I'll take it straight back to the shop."
I sucked in my breath, like you do when faced with a difficult task. "No can do, Victoria. As soon as I identified you, I was duty bound to contact the police. I haven't done it yet but they need to be involved."
I could hear short, shallow breaths. "Look Mr. Marlow... Tony. This has been a terrible mistake. Can't we work something out? Not over the phone. You say you live next to Terry's place?"
"Yes, the house with the oak tree in the front garden."
"I tell you what, why don't I come over to see you tonight after work then we can sort this all out?"
Sometimes the prey walks straight into your trap all by themselves.
She looked good. Grey top and grey skirt, elegant shoes, her long hair swept back.
I don't like obvious, so this expensively-dressed schoolmarm look was hitting the mark.
She was trying to hide her fear but just couldn't carry it off. She was like a frightened fawn lost in the forest, perhaps sensing the tiger near.
We sat down on a sofa, going through the CCTV footage several times though, even after the first showing, she realised how comprehensively she'd been caught.
