Lingerie

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.

I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...

She looked at the images again on the Fabulous Lady website, they were just so beautiful that they made her heart pound. There was the bullet bra, the waist cincher, the corset, the suspender belt and the knickers, there were so many of each to choose from, and then there were the stockings, such fine denier and such an array of colours, she didn't know where to start.

She took a deep breath and decided to start at the top and work down, compiling one outfit in one colour, and then a second and so on. Each outfit would be different. First, the bra. It didn't need to be padded she thought, she was already big enough thank you very much, her D cup did not need any assistance. The first one that she liked was half sheer lace at the top and a satin at the bottom of the cup.

White, she decided, her first outfit would be white, she picked her bra and entered her size. A pop up came on her screen asking for measurements. She tutted, put her computer down and went to her sewing basket and retrieved her tape measure, one side was in inches, the other in centimetres. As she went back to pick up her computer, she realised she would need to take her bra off to do the measuring properly.

She tutted, removed her blouse, a cream sheer blouse that she had bought from a vintage clothing company, and then her uplift bra, every girl needs a little help she had decided. She sat down and picked up the computer again, the screen saver dark screen had cut in and her laptop was acting like a mirror and as she looked at it her breasts stared back at her in reflection. "Gosh" she gasped.

She looked at the first measurement it wanted, band size, well, that was easy, 'ensure that you are standing straight when you take the measurements' the instructions said. She tutted again and stood up, and measured under her boobs, she did it twice to make sure and smiled when both measurements were almost the same. So her Band size was thirty four. She entered the figures.

Bust size next. She measured, again twice, and came up with thirty eight, actually a tad under. She entered the figure. The next information it wanted was nipple placement, three options, upwards, forwards or downwards, hers were definitely forwards. How strange she thought, she had never been asked that before. She entered the details and sat down.

Bra selected, she decided that she would go for knickers next, again in white. There were so many to choose from. She liked a pair that had an almost sheer front panel and lace side panels. She worked her mind through all the various options, discounting the Gee immediately, and then the Bikini and Boylegs were the next to go. She decided on a high rise, a medium rise across the tummy, high coverage on her Bum and a narrow width on her hips.

The next question fooled her as to why they would want it, thigh gap. The options were small, medium or large, large was classed as greater than four centimetres, she had no real idea so she said medium.

After the knickers it was a case of selecting a cincher, or waspie and then also a suspender belt, and then stockings, she decided to go with the lowest denier that they did. She looked at the Basques and was rather taken by one that did up at the front, once you had tied of the ties on the back. She had selected her outfits and then selected one each in red, white and black. Gosh, quite the investment.

She received an email from the Fabulous Lady lingerie company, their designer would like to offer her a visit and discuss her choices. Several samples would accompany the designer and may well be offered free of charge if the fitting is correct and if the fittings applied to the lingerie chosen for the order. The order would arrive seven to ten days after the designer fitting. There was no charge for this service as her address was within their catchment area.

Wow, she had never heard of such a thing, she wrote back asking for the name of the designer and what was the proposed date. The name, Leslie Lewington was indicated and the proposed date was the coming Thursday. Gosh, that was so soon. She emailed back accepting the proposal.

Oh gosh, oh gosh, wow this was a surprise. She needed to ensure that her crotch was tidy, hairs trimmed and of course conditioned after washing. She would need to sort out her finest underwear to wear when the fitter arrived, and of course, she presumed the fitting would take place in her bedroom where there were full length mirrors, and so it needed to be spotless.

She had the rest of today and all of tomorrow. She decided that today she would sort out the lingerie stroke underwear, to wear for the fitting. But first she would need a shower before she tried on any underwear that she might wear on Thursday, and before the shower she needed to trim, and before all that, she had to remove her clothes.

In her bedroom she first went through her lingerie draw, all she needed for Thursday was bra and knickers and something to hold up stockings, and of course a pair of matching stockings, and heels, you needed to wear heels when you had stockings on. She went with a blue set from Agent Provocateur, long being a favourite brand of hers, she had a good selection.

Underwear selected, she stripped and looked at her crotch in the mirror, gosh her hair was so untidy. She went into the bathroom and got a towel to stand on and back in the bedroom, she placed it on the floor in front of the mirror. From her 'personals' cupboard she got her trimmer and razor and a pair of sharp hairdressers scissors.

She stood looking this way and that, scissors in hand, and snipped any errant hairs, and then deciding there were no more, she selected her desired hair length on the clippers and switched the razor to on, carefully and slowly running through her hair until everything was the right length. She then removed the clipper attachment and using just the razor, she trimmed the edges of her hair until it was a neat line. Looking in the mirror she had a perfect triangle. She smiled, this was not for a man's admiration, not yet, no, this was for the designer, the man, she hoped, would come later.

Satisfied that she had done all that she could to her hair, her garden as she called it privately, she knew that any irritation would be gone by Thursday, it was time to shower. Still naked she padded across the landing to the bathroom and switched on the shower, giving it a minute get warm and stabilise, older houses with older plumbing could be erratic in their water flow management.

Satisfied that she would neither be scaled or frozen, she stepped under the water stream. She squirted shampoo onto her hand and then rubbed it into her garden, swiftly moving her fingers to ensure a good lather. She left it to percolate whilst she showered the rest of her body, her finger stimulating streams of pleasure when it brushed against her clitoris, her willpower forcing her to resist, and then her bladder called for attention.

She tutted and stood her feet further apart, she wasn't getting out just for a wee, she relaxed and then, as her flow started, she squeezed, her yellow flow mixing with suds and quickly dissipating down the drain. She sighed a sigh of satisfaction when she had finished and used her hands to scoop water over her fanny to rinse it.

"Douche", my God, "I need to douche," she said to herself, "I can't have any fanny aroma on Thursday. She turned down the flow on the shower and unscrewed the shower head. She squeezed gel on to the end of the hose, and then crouched with her knees bent, pushing the hose between her labia and into her fanny, gently rotating it to allow the gel to lubricate.

The water from the hose felt funny in her fanny, and she knew that the pressure was low enough not to cause her any harm, and after thirty seconds, she withdrew the hose. With the shower head reattached to the hose and the pressure returned to normal, she turned the hose on herself to wash away any residual suds from around her opening.

The spray caught her clitoris and she nearly collapsed, the moment of pleasure was intense, as was the orgasm that exploded through her, her knees almost giving way as the rivers of pleasures stampeded through her body. She stood leaning on the wall, her breath gulping, she chided herself, this was not the way it was meant to be, certainly not.

Her composure restored she turned the shower off and began patting herself dry with the towel. Satisfied that her body was back under control, and that she was dry, she returned to her bedroom and started to put on the lingerie that she had chosen for Thursday, first the suspender belt, and then the knickers over the straps, and then the bra.

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she looked good she decided, perhaps a tiny bit too much bulge just above her mons, but apart from that, yes, good. She took the lingerie off and put it on the dresser to wear on Thursday, until then it would be standard supermarket cheap bra and knickers, couldn't risk getting the good stuff soiled.

Thursday seemed to take an age to arrive, she was pacing the house, she cleaned her bedroom twice, the vacuum seemed on all the time, and she even changed the linen on the bed, just in case it had an odour that she couldn't detect. She showered at six AM. And again at eight in case she had perspired. She used nearly a whole roll-on antiperspirant.

Finally at nine she was ready. Her suspender belt first, and then her bra, then her knickers, tucking the suspenders down and hanging out of the bottom of her knickers. Then she sat and roll on her stockings, the best she had from What Katy Did, wonderful 15 denier stockings in blue with a seam up the back of the legs which she took an age getting straight.

Over the top she put her white Yves St Laurent dress, mid length, flared and low cut. 'I should be going on a date,' she thought, 'not simply getting selected for lingerie.

Her front door bell chimed. She took a huge gulp of air, exhaled and went an opened it. A man stood there with what looked like a suitcase. A man?

"Miss Shirley Eaton?" He asked.

"Er yes, that is me," she replied confused.

"Good, I am Leslie Lewington from Fabulous Lady, I am here with your sample and trial items."

She was shocked, she had just assumed it would be a woman, I mean, do men actually size women for underwear?

"Oh, okay. Right."

"I am sorry madam, the office did tell you I was coming, no?"

"Yes, sorry, look, I assumed a woman, I'm sorry, I was just unprepared for a man."

"Okay, I am sorry about that, that is a shame as I have your samples here."

Shirley took a deep breath. "Yes of course, you must come in, please."

She stood back from the door and Leslie Lewington stepped through carrying his suitcase.

"Let's go through to the kitchen and I can make a cup of tea, and then you can show me the products."

"Yes, of course, thank you, that is most hospitable of you thank you again."

They went through to the kitchen and Leslie Lewington put his suitcase on the table as Shirley flicked the kettle on.

"How do you want your tea Mr Lewington?" Shirley asked.

"Oh, Leslie please, there is no need to be formal when you are about to look at the finest underwear in the world," and he flicked the catches on his suitcase, lifting the lid and locking the folding stays at each side. Inside Shirley saw layers of tissues and tantalising glimpses of garments between.

"Oh, I am almost afraid to make tea in case I spill it."

"Oh dear," he said, "are you prone to spilling your tea?"

"Well, no, but then I am not usually flustered."

"I am sure that you will be fine Shirley, I may call you Shirley, yes?"

"Yes, of course."

Shirley put tea bags in the mugs, she knew she should have got leaves, but she forgot just after she thought about it. 'It will have to be bags,' she thought. She handed Leslie a mug of tea and then she left hers on the work surface to cook down, she didn't quite trust herself in the proximity of his case.

He took the top layer of tissue out of the suitcase and then rolled out a pure white cotton sheet on the table. And then from below another layer of tissue he took out a pale pink bra, a waspie with suspenders and matching knickers.

"This is the first collection that I wanted to show you. It is all sized around the measurements that you gave us, obviously in some places it may not fit as we did not ask you for that measurement."

Shirley went over and looked closely, feeling the fabric, so soft, so sheer, so beautiful.

"God this is so much nicer than what I have now." She said her hands holding the waspie.

"What do you wear now," he asked, "you know, for those special occasions?"

"I have some Agent Provocateur, which I have on today, that is my main special occasion lingerie."

"Excellent, nice brand, I do however, think that you will find ours is a little superior. May I see your current lingerie and see how it is fitting you? I am quite familiar with Provocateur, and I would like to see how it holds and forms around your body, would that be acceptable?"

'Goodness' she thought, what to do? 'Oh, for goodness' sake,' just imagine it is at the beach and I am in my bikini.'

"Yes of course. Do you want to look here or would somewhere else be more convenient?"

"Oh Madam, where ever you feel comfortable, I will work with you."

"My bedroom then, there is a full-length mirror then and you could put your samples on the bed." She had a moment of frisson, what was she doing? She was inviting a stranger into her bedroom.

"Give me a moment Shirley and I shall pack away the samples and then I will follow you up."

He placed the sample underwear items back in the case, each between layers of tissue, closed the case and then waved his hand in a 'after you' motion. Shirley led the way down her hallway, up her stairs and into her immaculately clean bedroom. She sighed with relief; she hadn't spent as much time cleaning the kitchen as she had her bedroom and oddly she felt more at ease in her bedroom than her kitchen.

She watched as he placed his case on her bed and took out his white sheet and then the pink lingerie. He turned to her and smiled. "All ready," he said.

She turned from him, for some reason facing him whilst she undressed would be wrong. She put her hands behind her back and undid her dress. She slipped her dress off and placed it on a hanger in her wardrobe, before turning to face him. Oh gosh, his eyes were staring.

"Is everything alright?" she asked with worry in her mind.

He seemed to shake his head a little before answering.

"Oh yes, goodness, you are beautiful, and you do wear that lingerie well, just a few issues I can see."

Her heart skipped, she hadn't expected to be complemented on her looks, but issues?

"Issues? What sort of issues?"

"Well Shirley, we would make your knickers a much better fit, especially here underneath."

His fingers waved in front of her fanny, hardly a hairs breadth away, his fingers were moving directly beneath her crotch.

"Oh?" Her voice almost a gasp.

"Oh yes Shirley, you see there is too much fabric, it bunches up between your thighs, this gives an uncomfortable experience over time, and is also, aesthetically not the best look especially if it is a special occasion. Correctly sized across your perineum is a service that we can offer."

"Gosh," she had said, she had never thought about it.

"We would also," he added, "adjust the sheer band to correctly sit above your vulva, finishing where your vulva starts, again a much more aesthetic look for the special occasions. It would of course reveal your hairline. Some of our lines also have a sheer rear, if that would be your preference."

'My God,' she thought, 'there is so much to this.'

"To correctly assess and design the under area, we would need to know your size underneath, the size between your thighs, basically your thigh gap, much more accurately than small, medium or large."

"Oh, goodness." She had never measured that, and she wasn't sure if she could, her knickers just went there, she had never previously considered bunching underneath.

"Would you like to try the samples on and see how you think they feel and look?" He asked looking at the pink lingerie on the sheet on the bed.

"Er, yes, of course."

"Shall we try the bra first?" He asked as he turned and picked the bra up to hand to her.

"Yes of course," she said and forgetting who was in the room with her she put her hands behind her back and undid her bra, shucking forwards and taking it off and placing it on the top of her dresser. He handed her the sample bra which she put around her waist with the catch at the front, fastened it and then rotated it so that the catch was at her back, she pulled it up and dropped her breasts into the cups and then adjusted their sit.

"You see," he said, "how much better that fits for you. Your bust sits perfectly in the cups, this is because they are cut for your perfect nipple location and is there is no straining, and if I may put this delicately, in those moments where your nipples harden they will be much more comfortable, more at ease, you will hardly notice your bra is on."

She moved around, leant forwards, twisted to each side and leant back. He was right, whilst she could feel the straps and the pinch at the clasp at the rear, there was hardly any feel at the front, especially around her nipples, which she was surprised to discover seemed to be in the state he mentioned.

"You are right, I am amazed."

"Now, what do you want to do next, the knickers or the suspender belt, I would suggest the knickers, but that is your call. Many women these days are using self holding stockings, whilst they are a nice innovation, I do not believe that they have the security or aesthetics of suspended stockings.

She nodded, she agreed with him. "I'll just do my suspender belt next," she said as she started undoing the clips holding up her stockings. She eased the suspender straps up through her knickers and then took the belt off, taking the new pink one that he offered her. She put it on, fed the straps under her knickers, which did necessitate pulling them down a little at the front, she hardly noticed that she had revealed herself to him.

After she had re-clipped her stocking and adjusted her knickers, she pirouetted in front of the mirror, yes, subtle, but these did sit much better on her.

"That design of waspie suspender belt enhances the stockings, although Shirley, may I suggest that you have shorter stockings, those are a little high on the leg." He reached forward and ran his finger along the top of her stocking on her left leg. "The stockings should finish here," he said, as his finger brushed her leg some two inches lower than her existing stockings. "I would also suggest a finer denier, for the aesthetics of course, and one must not forget how a finger or hand on the leg would feel with the finer denier."

She was already shivering from his first touch, his second touch had made her feel quite unnecessary, and she was wondering if she dare take off and change her knickers. This was so odd, this man was not her date, yet his touches and proximity made her feel as if he was, she knew that she was becoming moist. She would use a tissue, he must be used to such actions, he would understand.

"And finally Shirley, in this design, there are the knickers. Now these are mid to high sided, they have fine sheer fabric over the bottom and in the panel below your waist." He handed her his sample knickers.

She slipped her knickers off and using a tissue from the box at the side of her, she wiped herself. "Just in case," she said, "I would hate to spoil the samples."

He simply smiled and watched as she put on the pink knickers, completing the sample set. "Now Shirley, what do you think of those?" He asked as she turned in front of the mirror, twisting from side to side as she looked critically at the knickers and at the lingerie as a whole.

"They are so comfortable," she replied, so pleased that she had trimmed her garden, it was quite visible through the sheer fabric above her fanny.

"Now," he said stepping forward, "this area can be adjusted depending on whether the hair is full, trimmed like yours, or removed. The depth of hair will affect the lay of the fabric and so we would adjust the tension in the front panel." His finger was running over the fabric as he spoke, moving from side to side and outlining the panel in question.

Shirley swallowed heavily, his touch had been gossamer like and had ignited her pressures.

"Now, underneath," he said, his fingers between her thighs, "this area, is where we would adjust the gusset banding to ensure no rucking. This sample is relatively tight and smooth," his finger running across her gusset, Shirley swallowing hard again, "but a little tighter would be much better."

She gasped and squeezed her thighs, trapping his fingers, pressing them hard against herself.

"Are you alright Shirley?" He asked, "is there anything I can do to make you feel better," his fingers wiggling, their contact with her fanny through the almost impossibly thin fabric causing her pleasures to flow like the waters over Niagara falls. She couldn't speak, it took all of her will power to relax her legs and let his fingers free.

"As you will have experienced," he said as he ran his fingers from her perineum across and upwards along her crease, "there is exceptional sensitive feel in this area, exactly what you need on those special occasions." His finger went back underneath and ran along the gusset hem against her left thigh, "and in this area it is essential that the sizing is correct to avoid chafing."

She gasped loudly and her pressures blew, she could not help herself and she screamed, her orgasm thundering through her, she gripped his shoulders to steady herself and then fell forward, pressing against him, his erection all too obvious as they pressed together.

"God, I am sorry, what must you think of me," she said as her chest heaved.

"Oh Shirley, I think that you are a most sensuous woman as you have just proven, there is only pride to feel, don't feel in any way bad. And I think that you could tell the effect that you created in me, I myself was surprised, I see many women in various stages of undress, I have never been affected like this before, I can only apologise for being unprofessional."

She knew what she needed at this moment and it was not her underwear, she needed what he had in his. She gripped his hard dick through his trousers and looked him directly in the eyes.

"I think you need to move your case, off the bed" she said as she moved her hand, wanking his hardness.

He stepped back, and as he turned away from her a smile appeared on his face. He put the sheet in the case, closed it and placed it on the floor. More composed he turned and faced Shirley. He began to undo his shirt buttons and then his trousers belt. As he pulled his shirt off his back Shirley stepped forward and pushed his trousers and underpants down, revealing his dick in its glory.

She pushed him back onto the bed and pushed her knickers down and straddled him, holding his dick in her hand she lined him up and lowered herself, his dick sliding into her wet fanny, her stockings covered legs either side of him. Oh God, she needed this, she had no idea how much, she was surprised at how aroused she had been just talking lingerie and when he started touching her, she had not been able to resist, she had to have him.

She eased backwards, his dick burying deeper inside her, his rim scraping her insides, her fanny walls squeezing and tightening around him. She rocked forwards, his dick sliding inside her, emptying, almost completely out of her, and then as she rocked back his dick filled her again. He had his hands at her side and he flipped her onto her back and pulled his dick from her.

He reached into the pocket of his trousers laying on the floor next to the bed and pulled out a condom. He ripped the packet open and in a moment had it covering his dick. He looked down at her and in one move thrust hard into her, she gasped as his dick drove into her fanny. He was going harder and faster than she had when she was on top, her mons smarting under the hammer jack onslaught, the slaps and grunts echoing around her bedroom.

Her pressures were building again, pleasures were flooding her body and electrics fizzing in her groin as he fucked her relentlessly, a fuck unlike any that she had ever known. Harder and harder he went, punishing her fanny, the end of his dick slamming into her depths, his hands pressing down on the mattress either side of her.

He grunted, pushing hard into her and holding, she felt the condom swell inside her as he ejaculated and her own orgasm erupted, she screamed, she dug her fingernails into his back, her heels flailed on the bed and then she slumped, muscles relaxing, nerves easing, and her breathing returning to mere gulps and gasps.

He picked up the one thing that he had left on the bed. "The final part of your outfit," he said, "is this choker, let me put it on, it will finish things for you."

"We have a body sir," the voice on the phone said, "IC1 female, age around thirty."

"Okay Christine, where?"

"Twenty Four Simminds Avenue sir."

"I'm on my way." He went into the kitchen where his wife Emily was preparing lunch. "Sorry sweetheart, I have to go, work."

She knew the score, and she knew that it was probably something extremely serious to have disturbed him on a Sunday. She would still cook Sunday dinner, but she would eat hers alone and his would go on a plate into the fridge for whenever he could find ten minutes to eat it.

"Okay DCI Bentley, go do your thing, and I will see you when I can, I'll plate your food up and put it in the fridge as usual."

Chris Bentley bent forwards and kissed his wife. "You are one in a million my love," he said as he swept up his keys from the work surface where he kept them, years of investigating crimes had taught him never to keep keeps within reach or sight of the front door. He left and unlocked and then got into his police issue Volvo, turning on his blue beacons, and hurried across to Shipley to meet up with his Detective Sergeant, Christine Jackson.

There was tape across the road and as he pulled up a uniform moved the tape allowing Chris to drive closer to the scene and park up. He flashed his badge to another uniform on the door and as he was entering the house he was met by his DS.

"Morning sir," she said, "body is upstairs in the front bedroom."

"Okay, what have we got?"

"SOCO are in there now Sir," he had seen their van and so already knew that. "Obviously they won't confirm anything until they get her back to their place, but it looks as if strangled during sex."

"So, accident or premeditated, that is the question, manslaughter or murder."

"Yes sir."

He followed her up to the bedroom. Two SOCO officers stepped outside whilst he entered. In the room a woman lay on her back, her legs apart. She was wearing a pink bra and suspender belt, what looked like matching knickers lay on the floor by the bed. Around her neck was a pink strap, very tight around her neck, digging in, squashing her neck. It looked to be made of the same material as the lingerie.

"Okay Christine, talk me through it."

"Sir, okay, her name is Shirley Eaton. Her sister came round to visit as she hadn't heard from her for a few days. Used her key to get in, and found her like this, she had come upstairs thinking her sister had overslept. No one around, nothing suspicious until she got into the bedroom."

"Right. Find out from the sister if Shirley had a boyfriend or anyone regular. Get uniforms to go to all the houses in the street. I want CCTV and video doorbell footage from every house for the past seven days. Her phone?"

"Wiped sir, SOCO thinks he used her face as the unlocker and then did a factory reset. Same with a computer we found downstairs."

"Okay get them to the tech boys, see what they can recover. The must be something on them that the suspect feared would identify him. Also, get onto her ISP and see what we can get in terms of browsing history and calls and texts."

"Sir," Christine said and she went down to arrange the uniforms whilst Bentley stayed and surveyed the scene. He looked dispassionately at the woman lying on the bed. It looked, although he never presumed, that she had died during intercourse, possibly as a result of strangulation, possibly from the choker around her neck.

Not an expert of lingerie, but what she was wearing looked high end. There was other lingerie in a pile on top of the dresser, odd to have two sets out when she was entertaining a lover. There were no physical signs of violence that he could see on her body, so, perhaps this started off as consensual. Satisfied that he had taken in what he could from the scene, he allowed SOCO back to complete their investigations.

Upstairs was unremarkable, a spare bedroom, tidy, perhaps used by friends when they stayed over, it didn't look as if it had recently been used, he noticed some dust on surfaces. A third room was just used as a general store, boxes, bags and suitcases, all relatively tidy, and he couldn't even begin to fathom her method of organisation. He guessed that she would have know what was where.

Downstairs there were two mugs washed and left on the draining board, and no other signs of use, everywhere looked clean, very clean, as if it had just been cleaned. Perhaps Shirley had cleaned the room as she was expecting a visitor. The conservatory was open but he could se nothing that caught his eye.

"Sir," Christine said as she rejoined him.

"Front room," he said and Christine led the way. They stood just inside the doorway and scanned the room. Bentley saw something, "there he said," pointing at the sofa.

Christine went across, her hands covered in latex gloves, and from under a cushion she pulled an iPad, the edge spotted by Chris' keen eyes.

"Get that to the Techies, see what they can get from it, I am particularly interested in her internet history and email history.

He cleared SOCO to remove the body and went outside where the sister was sitting in her car, a female police officer standing at its side. He tapped on the window, the sister opened the door and got out.

"Hello, I am DCI Chris Bentley, this is DS Christine Jackson. Shirley is your sister?"

"Yes." She had obviously been crying but was now more in control of her emotions.

"When was the last time that you spoke to her?"

"Wednesday, I said I might pop round and see her today."

"Okay. Do you know if she had anyone special in her life?"

"No. No one. She mostly dated men for a few weeks and then tired of them. She was an eternal optimist that she would meet the right man, but so far, not."

"Okay, thank you. Is there anything that you can think of that I might need to know?"

"No. Nothing."

"Okay, well, we have your details, you can go home now. Will you be okay to drive or do you want to call someone to come and collect you?"

"I don't live far, I'll drive myself."

Bentley stepped away leaving the uniforms with the job of extricating her car from the melee of police vehicles blocking the road.

"Let's get back to the office Christine, nothing more to be gained here."

Looking at the street, things were about to get busy, the victims sister was trying to get out, the private ambulance for the victims body was trying to get in, he had to get out, Christina had to get out, and there were more uniforms arriving for the door to doors.

Back in the office they set up an incident board. Christine had copied a photo of Shirley Eaton that she had seen at the house and she printed that off and place it at the top of the board.

"We've got precious little at the moment Christine."

"True, but we have the CCTV to come from the street, that might give us something, and then there are the SOCO returns, DNA, finger prints all of that may give us something."

"Look, it's Sunday, it will be tomorrow before we get anything. Go home, and we'll regroup in the morning when the data starts coming in, I have a feeling the next few days may well be long ones."

"Sir."

"Wasn't expecting you back so soon Chris," his wife said as he walked in.

"No, I need something to go on and until the lab results and local CCTV come back, we have nothing, but that'll start coming in tomorrow."

"Long days this week then."

"Yes, I am afraid so."

"Sit down, I'll heat up your dinner."

"Thank you sweetheart."

As he sat and waited or the magic microwave to do its business he ran through what he knew about the case, basically nothing. A woman is dead through what appears to be consensual sex and seemingly nothing to point to the perpetrator. The sex may have been consensual, but he doubted the death was. Until the local CCTV had been trawled, there was little there, until SOCO had anything on the body in terms of DNA, there was nothing there.

Emily came back in with his tea, time to switch off, perhaps they would watch Midsummer Murders this evening, a better option than the reality of Shipley murders.

Christine came in to the office carrying two coffees, one she put on Bentley's desk the other in front of the computer screen on hers. She logged on and looked through her emails.

The body of Shirley had been cleansed, and DNA destroyed, there was some scrapings from under the fingernails that would be tested for DNA. The techies had recovered a lingerie website off the iPad, but nothing yet from her phone or laptop. There was one partial finger print from the front door that matched seven possible suspects on the national database, but only one lived in Yorkshire. There were a number of CCTV downloads in her inbox.

She printed out a map of the street and started going through the files, she started with the video doorbell of the house opposite, it had caught a white Seat car on Shirley Eaton's drive, the registration number was only a partial due to an obstruction when the car parked. She logged on to the DVLA system and entered what she got back, it showed five possibles in the Yorkshire district, twenty four further afield.

She put in the name of her nearest potential Yorkshire suspect to see what car he had registered. A white Seat. Interesting.

"Sir," she said as Chris walked in, "we have developments."

He raised an eyebrow and picked up the coffee from his desk. "Thanks," he said waving the coffee cup, "fire away, what do we know?"

Her body had been cleansed, no real chance of DNA, but the samples from the rest of the house are being analysed, it may take a day yet."

"Okay, well, with all the police dramas on TV these days, most perpetrators have a pretty good idea how to cleanse a crime scene. I assume a condom for the intercourse, but we won't be able to detect any use because of the cleanser."

"No sir. There was a partial print on the front door. It matches a number of people nationally but only one locally, a Raymond Allerton. The Doorbell video from the house opposite gives a white Seat car during the potential time of the incident."

"Okay that is something."

"Yes, and Raymond Allerton, one of the possibles for the finger print, owns a white Seat."

"Okay, well in the absence of anything else, lets focus on him for now, let's see what supporting evidence we can find for him. Why is he in our database?"

"Accused of rape, which he denied, but accepted a lesser charge of sexual assault. He served two years of a five year sentence, let out early last year as part of the freeing up prison spaces by the Government, sir."

Chris knew not to say anything, his views on that piece of Government wonderfulness were well known, yet another example, possibly, of a criminal let out early to re-offend. If indeed it did prove to be him."

"Any images of him on the street?"

"No sir, the CCTV stopped recording as the car parked up. We don't have an image of the driver."

"Cause of death confirmed yet?"

"Sir, yes, strangulation. It seems the choker once applied could not be undone, and it had been pulled so tight as to block airways. It would have been slow and somewhat scary I would imagine."

"Yes, I think you are right."

"There was also bruising on her arms that could have resulted from her being held down."

"Leads us to think not a consensual sex act gone wrong."

"Sir."

"Anything else?"

"Sir, she was browsing lingerie sites on her iPad. The main site, Fabulous Lady, that she was using seems to be inoperable now."

"Okay, right, well, we need details on that, find out form the hosts who was accessing it and IP addresses involved, also, look on the web archive and see what was on there."

"That's not all sir, her emails were backed up on her iPad."

"And, sir, there is a conversation from the Fabulous Lady company arranging a meeting with their designer a Lesley Lewington for Thursday, at the time the white Car was seen on her drive."

"Okay, but Leslie Lewington is not one of the partials for the print?"

"No sir, nor is he in the database, he has no record."

"Okay, so need to track him down, we do not know if he is connected to the case, but it is odd that the web site of the company he worked for has ceased on the day, or very close to the day, that a woman buying his merchandise is found murdered. Right, tracking him down is a priority."

"Sir."

The postmortem initial findings came through. Death by asphyxiation caused by a wrapping around the victims throat that impeded breathing. Bruising on the upper arms consistent with being held down or restrained using hands. Evidence of sexual activity, but no vaginal or anal tearing. No evidence of foreign DNA, further detailed analysis will be taken. Full report to follow within five working days.

He went through the CCTV footage and found one from a camera near the beginning of the street that had a reasonable face capture as the Seat was turning into the road and before the sun shone on the screen and making visibility of the driver impossible. He took a screen grab of the face and printed it out. He also passed the image to the face recognition software, giving the name of their primary suspect as a filter to try.

"Sir," Christine said a few hours later, "sir, the IP address for the lingerie site, it is held in the Philippines."

"Damn, not much help there then," Bentley said.

"No sir, but it was paid for by a UK Credit card. I have the banks security officer on hold."

"Excellent, we need the name of the account holder and details." Bentley felt as if progress was being made. The only fly in his ointments was that the names of the person in the car and their primary suspect did not match.

More time passed as the bank prevaricated over the address of the account holder, eventually it was provided. The same address that their primary suspect had registered when he left prison. Again, it did not bring them closer to the person driving the car. A search of the council database showed that a Raymond Allerton lived there. That got them closer, but not to Lesley Lewington.

"Let's bring him in for questioning," Bentley said to Christine, "and then we can concentrate on the mystery Leslie Lewington, perhaps we may yet shed light on it. But Allerton is looking very interesting."

They headed off to the address for Raymond Allerton, a search warrant having been obtained after about an hours delay, it was now just after six in the early evening, it would be another late night. He knew Emily would understand.

The house was a semi detached house on the outskirts of Bradford, not an especially upmarket area, a deal of rubbish and waste in the streets, and a few seemingly abandoned cars. The pulled up outside the target address, a white Seat on the driveway, it's numberplate matching the partial that they had from the CCTV. Uniformed officers waited at the side whilst Bentley knocked on the door.

"Mr Raymond Allerton?" Bentley asked.

"Who is asking?" The man who opened the door said.

Bentley showed his police ID, "DCI Chris Bentley and this is DS Christine Jackson, we would like a word with you."

"I'm busy," the man said and started to shut the door. Bentley pushed the door open.

"We have a warrant to search your house." He pushed past the man and was followed by Christine, and a number of uniformed officers. Christine directed the uniforms to start the search.

"Now then Mr Allerton, shall we have a chat?"

They took Allerton into the front room, Allerton looking nervous and edgy."

"Are we likely to find anything we shouldn't Mr Allerton," Bentley asked.

"God no."

"I see, well then you have nothing to worry about. Can you tell us where you were on the morning of Thursday the twentieth of this month?"

"What, no idea, I don't keep a track of things, why should I?"

"We have your car on CCTV in Simminds Avenue in Shipley, can you recall why you would have been there?"

"I don't even know where that is," he said.

"I see Mr Allerton. Could you tell us what you do for a living sir?"

"Nothing I am between jobs."

"I see."

A uniform came into the room and Christine turned to have a word with him.

"Mr Allerton, could you give us the unlock code for your computer?"

"What no, I don't have to do that. I want you to leave now, I have done nothing wrong."

Bentley showed Christine the image that he had from the CCTV, it was unmistakably Allerton.

"Raymond Allerton, I am arresting you on the suspicion of the murder of Shirley Eaton on the morning of the 20th of this month in Simminds Avenue Shipley. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand what I have said Mr Allerton?"

Christine approached with handcuffs and Allerton held his hands forward. A uniform went with Christine and put him in the back of a marked police car. Bentley looked around the house, there was a sewing machine in a back room and fabrics and laces of various colours, exactly the sort of material for ladies' underwear. A computer was on the desk nearby. He had the computer collected and sent to the techies for unlocking.

Christine had the unlock code for the computer from Allerton, she had explained how much easier it would go for him in court, if of course it went that far, if they could show that he had assisted them, rather than hindered them. The computer revealed the email correspondence with Shirley and confirmed to them that Leslie Lewington and Raymond Allerton were one and the same person. They had their man. He wouldn't be killing anyone else anytime soon.