Nikon Bob

Story code: M/F, MM/F, Unfaithful Wife, Size, Pain, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Object Insertion

Now there is something you don't see round here every day, flash car, international number plates and the third time it has driven past the house, it all added up to one thing, lost driver! I didn't usually get involved, I am the kind of woman who is incredibly shy, I chose to live in a village that was two miles off the main road just so that I didn't have to interact with strangers, fourth time he's passed, there is only one road into the village, once you get into the labyrinth of narrow streets with one cottage looking exactly like every other, it could take a while to find that one road leading back to civilisation.

Fifth time, the driver is looking very angry, no, frustrated, he's driving along looking at his watch rather than where he is going, I realise that the number plate is Irish, the seven series BMW is a little large for our narrow lanes and, sixth time passed, well he didn't quite make it to six times past, he's hit a large pot hole, only one hand on the steering wheel because he's trying to make a phone call on his cell phone. I could have told him that a cell phone wouldn't work down in the valley, but if he was higher up, he probably wouldn't have needed his cell phone, if he was higher up, he would have been on the road out of the village.

Well, what with the pot hole, the lack of concentration and driving one handed the large BMW 'jinked' to the left, that wouldn't have been a problem if the road had been a normal width road but as it was a village road at the end of the universe there wasn't any room for the car to jink into, no room at all, just the front of my car, which acted as an efficient break, even though the BMW had an engine the size of a John Deer 9430T, it only moved my car a few inches, then there was the huge cloud of steam as the German radiator split.

It was no good, I was going to have to go out and talk to the man, he was on his own in the car, he looked very large, and even more angry than he looked, sorry, frustrated, than he looked as he had been driving around the village. I pulled my cardigan closed, held it closed, I knew that it was my defence mechanism, my husband told me over and over again that I used my ugly, heavy cardigans as shields to keep the rest of the world at a distance.

The man took an age to get out of his car, his offside wing had been pushed back just a half an inch but that was all it took to close the gap with the driver's door, giving the door nowhere to go as he tried to open it. By the time he had forced the door open and climbed out from under the air-bag which I have to say, had deployed with spectacular efficiency. I was ten feet from him when he noticed me, my hands grasping each side of my cardigan, wrapping myself tightly in the comforting wool, hiding as much of myself as possible. "Is this your car?" His voice was thick, heavy Irish brogue, he didn't so much talk as sing, he had a rich baritone voice. I just nodded in answer to his question.

His phone was at the side of his head again, he had pressed the green button and was listening for a dialling tone, "It won't work here, there's no service in the valley!" Even to me my voice sounded weak and feeble, hollow somehow, definitely lacking compared to the richness of the strangers voice. I thought he had missed my comment as he was still huffing and puffing into his phone, he looked at the thing, stabbed a huge finger at the red button and then the green again before returning the phone to his ear. I thought that he was going to throw the phone on the drive, he moved his hand two or three times as if he was going too, before turning the power off and, with a resigned look on his face and a shrug of his shoulders he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.

"Would you have a phone that I could use to call the breakdown company?" I was still standing ten feet away from the man, if he was in any way receptive he would have spotted that I was trying to keep as much distance between us as possible, I did have a phone, of course I did, so far from the rest of the planet you just had to have one, but it was inside my house, my home, my private space!

"Excuse me Miss, do you have a phone? I need to call the AA!" The man looked down at my car, "I'm going to have to call my office too, they'll have to talk to our insurance company about sorting your car out as well as mine. So, can I use your phone?"

I looked at my car, "You'll be lucky, the free rock concert finishes in less than an hour, the roads will be blocked for hours, it's the same every year!"

I guided the man through to my hall, the only phone in the house lived there, "Hi, Bob here, I'm not going to make my appointment, can you get Mr Underhill's number from my rolodex and tell him I've had an accident and will have to reschedule. . . Yes, an accident. . . " I walked through to the kitchen, my husband wouldn't be home tonight, he wouldn't even try, he knew that I hated to be alone at night but on the weekend of the rock concert, if he could he tried to stay home but if he had to go to work, he made sure that he had a B&B lined up in Milton Keynes so he didn't spend all night on the road in a twenty mile long traffic jam. I put the kettle on the range, it took ages to boil but then I, or should I say we, were in no hurry. I sat at the kitchen table, Bob walked in, "They'll ring me back when they have any information, you know, when the breakdown truck will be here!"

"Tea or coffee?"

"Tea please!"

Bob suddenly noticed the wall behind me; there were twenty landscapes, all various local points of interest that I had photographed over the years, "Good photographs, did you take them?" I nodded my head, "You're quite good, I'm a professional, I know a good photograph when I see one. Why aren't there any people in your photographs?"

"I don't take portraits; I don't really like to photograph people!"

Bob looked out of the window, "I'm surprised you actually see any people around here!"

"That's why I live round here, I don't really like people!"

"I'm sorry that I crashed into your life then!"

The phone rang, it broke a long silence that had developed between us, I picked it up, listened for a second and then handed the phone to Bob. He looked worried as he spoke on the phone. Bob was larger than life but as he talked on the phone he seemed to shrink, the colourful brogue in his voice strained, less the lilting Liffey and more the stagnant canal. The Rock concert and the traffic problems it caused had forced Bob to look for an alternative route to his appointment and now it was preventing the breakdown service from reaching him, the thing is, the kind of cars that the 'head bangers' and 'Hippies' used to get to out of the way concerts weren't what you would call mechanically sound, there were twenty-five broken down vans littering the countryside for miles around, not only requiring rescue but also blocking the narrow country lanes too, causing jams that stopped the breakdown services reaching them, a vicious circle, the worst thing was, well, another complication was, the AA sent their mechanic the vehicle details in order of their reporting in, not in the order that the mechanic would reach the breakdown. Confusion was definitely raining, to the point that there was no guarantee that Bob could be rescued at all today.

"I'm going to need to find a hotel or local B&B, they can't guarantee to get here at all tonight!"

I just laughed, "They estimated the concert had three hundred thousand people here for the weekend, not all of them were sleeping in their cars or tents, my husband had to book his hotel four months ago and he's twenty miles away!"

"I'd never use a hotel if I was only working twenty miles from home!"

I knew what Bob meant and it caused me to chuckle again, "Johnny has slept in his car at the roadside two years on the trot because the roads were too jammed to get home, he tries to organise things so that he can have the weekend off but if he can't, he just books a hotel!"

I made another drink for us both and Bob started to tell me about his work, he obviously thought that I was a kindred spirit as I was a keen photographer too. He had missed an appointment to photograph a model, a woman, a young, pretty, naked woman. Bob laughed out loud, "I have a gold key in the car, a huge thing, I'm supposed to photograph one of the country's top models, Naked with just the large golden key to hide herself behind. Gold Key Rescue, all the breakdown cover you'll ever need! If only they had started working over here already, I'd get preferential service from them to get me to the house!"

Bob had started to talk about the subject he loved and the music had returned to his voice, I could hear the Emerald, almost see the green fields of Ireland as he talked, I started to drift away slightly, I spent years without hearing another voice other than my husband's, I actively avoided people whenever I could but Bob, crashing into my life the way he had, being forced on me as it were, I wasn't running from him, in fact, quite the opposite, I had never met anyone so, well, the only term could be, 'larger than life' and I was melting into my seat as he explained his commission to me.

"Most agencies would have just taken a stock nude, in a studio, like a 'wham bang, thank you mam' sex act!" I blushed at Bob's reference to sex and as I blushed he smiled at my discomfort, "Then they would Photoshop in the Edwardian house and the Aston Martin, two hours in the studio and another on the computer all done and dusted for a grand but the agency that Gold Key Rescue engaged to handle things took me on and so far it has been a no expense spared operation, even getting me to come over here to use a genuine Edwardian manor house and, so I'm told, a brand new DB9 in the drive for me to drape the model over. Oh God, Amy will still be trying to get to the house!" Bob took over my phone again and was arranging for his office to try and head the model off, keep her in London until the shoot could be rearranged.

"You were right; Hotel Booking Services has confirmed that the closest hotel room available tonight is in Leicestershire, looks like I'm going to be spending the night in my car tonight!"

"You won't be very comfortable, I don't think your driver's door will close and the car isn't at a very good angle for sleeping in!" Our thoughts were disturbed by the sound of a hooter in the lane outside. There was a tractor behind Bob's car that couldn't get passed and another car behind that which was hooting because it couldn't pass. I looked, "Another lost soul, the Espace isn't from round here, like you, caught up in the concert traffic and lured into our village's spider's web of streets and lanes!"

The tractor had a twenty ton trailer on the back and there was no way of it being able to reverse around the lanes to get back to an alternative route to the farm, Bob helped the driver, Paul Kinch, the farm labourer, to unload a few bales of hay while I helped the Espace driver to reverse around the snaking lane and pointed out the only way out of the village, "Fucking hell, I've been past that turning five times already, sorry, I'm just so late!" I waved the driver off on his way, Bob and Paul stacked the hay bales to block off the lane either side of the blockage so that no one else would be trapped.

Bob had removed his jacket to lug the bales around and now he was standing there in what had been a pristine white cotton shirt, wet with sweat, trying to close his car's door, it was like an injured violin or double bass as it squeaked and groaned but steadfastly refused to close, "It's totally fucked!" Bob's head ducked into his shoulders as he realised that his exclamation had been audible to me, "Sorry love!" 'Love', 'Love', I got a shock, it wasn't that no one had ever called me love before, whenever you dip into Leicestershire loads of people called you love, just as Nottingham people called you 'me duck'. I had just never been called Love by someone quite like Bob, never with the richness and feeling of that accent!

Now there was a dilemma, I really was incredibly shy but I wasn't stupid. Bob couldn't sleep on my drive in his car, there was no way for Bob to get out of my village unless he walked out, there were no hotel rooms available in a twenty mile radius, I wanted to offer Bob a bed for the night, no, stupid, not my bed, my spare bed, in the guest bedroom. I know, I know, I've never had a guest stop before but I did have the room if ever I had one.

Bob took charge, "I don't suppose I could stop here could I? I can sleep on the sofa or even the floor!"

I jumped in a little too quickly with my response, "I have a spare, well, a guest room!" Bob smiled at my hasty reply; I could see on his face that he was reading me like a book.

Bob decided that while he was still hot and sweaty he would take his valuables out of his broken car, he made several trips back and forth while I watched, he brought his laptop in, opened it and started it loading up while he went back to the car to bring in his camera boxes and the rest of his belongings. I ran Bob a bath as he made several trips out to his car and back and while he used a piece of a fallen tree branch to try and push his cars door as tightly closed as possible. I watched the screen on Bob's laptop while he was checking through his large Aluminium camera case. The wallpaper was a nude, a very tasteful nude photograph but nude all the same, then I realised that it wasn't the first time that I had seen the photograph but when I had seen it the girl's breasts and lower body were covered with a huge bottle of perfume. There had been a hint, through the amber liquid, of the body hidden beyond, so I had seen some of Bob's work in the past.

Bob rummaged through his camera box, "Here it is, I knew I had it somewhere!" Bob was holding a coil of wire with a telephone plug on one end and a socket on the other, he went into the hall and unplugged my telephone and inserted his lead in the wall socket, then he uncoiled the wire out into the living room, there was plenty of wire left, the phone would probably reach all the way into the bedrooms, then Bob placed the phone on the coffee table in the middle of the room before taking his chair again.

Bob took out his Nikon camera body, I recognised the model instantly, a D3x, without a lens or battery it would cost around six thousand pounds, I was a keen photographer and would have loved to own something like that, Bob attached a battery pack and then opened another Aluminium camera box that was full of lenses, he took out a fifty millimetre lens, I owned a similar lens, I had thought I had been very extravagant when I had paid fifty pounds for the lens, the one that Bob was locking on to his camera had cost him ten times that amount.

It suddenly dawned on me that Bob was preparing his camera to take a photograph, and the only thing around that he could photograph was me. I broke the housebound Olympics record for the high jump from the seated position. I cleared the arm of the chair and was in the kitchen before Bob could get in his shot. Now, as any student of bio-mechanics will tell you, if you sit around on the couch all the time and suddenly expect seventy muscles to contract fully in a fraction of a second without warming them to the idea it causes pain! I didn't feel anything until I stopped running in the kitchen and the adrenalin flooding my system started to diminish and then there was such a stinging pain, all the way down the left hand side of my body, from just under my arm to my knee.

I was gasping for breath, from the sudden exertion but also from the pain in my side, I was doubled up over the sink when Bob caught up with me laughing, "Wow, what was that all about?"

"I thought that you were going to take my photograph!"

"Well I was going to, but I didn't think you'd mind, not with you being a keen photographer too!"

"I am a keen photographer but no people, never people, and especially never me!"

"You look in pain?"

"I am!"

"Want my advice?"

"What, on photography?"

"No, your pulled muscles!"

"What is it?"

"Aspirin, Paracetamol or Ibuprofen and a hot bath to sooth the muscles from the inside as well as the outside in!"

Bob made sense but it suddenly dawned on me that I had invited Bob to spend the night in my spare room without really thinking things through, things like the fact that the only bathroom in the house had no lock on the door, I needed something to ease the pain but it would mean being naked in the house with a total stranger. "I don't have anything like that!" I didn't really have much choice, I had to take a hot bath as I had no painkillers, so up I went to the bathroom. I had run a bath for Bob but hadn't put any cold water in it, I cooled it a little but left the water as hot as I could stand it and even though it was even more painful to climb over the side and into the bath, once in the bath the heat in the water started to ease the pain slightly.

The bathroom door suddenly opened and Bob walked in, "Sorry, I heard the water running and didn't think it would have been full enough for you to have got in the bath yet!" I was frozen to the spot, all I had was a face cloth to cover myself with and I didn't have the conscious ability to use it to hide any part of my body, "I found some painkillers in my car!"

Bob held up a glass of water and a packet of pills for me. Bob didn't seem the slightest bit concerned or interested in the fact that I was naked, I hadn't even put any bubbles in the water to hide anything from view. Eventually I came to my senses slightly, "Do you mind, I'm in the bath naked?"

"Not at all, I'm around naked woman all day long, I have to say that you look better than most though, more real and far more feminine than my usual 'size zero' models!"

I still wasn't doing anything to cover my totally naked body, as I took the glass of water and two little white pills from Bob. I can't say if it was the fact that I was still in shock at Bob walking into the bathroom without knocking, if it was that I was so turned on by the situation or what, but instead of hiding my modesty I took the two pills without even looking to see what type of pills they were. Bob was now sitting on the toilet which was behind my head so I couldn't actually see him, the thought crossed my mind, 'Is he actually using the toilet, I had heard the top cover lift off and hit the flush pipe from the overhead tank and realised that he was sitting on the toilet seat as if he was using it but here his trousers up or down?

Bob was talking to me, it didn't matter what he was saying, the words were totally unimportant, just his thick brogue, his lilting and lyrical accent, I was being hypnotised listening to his words but still trying to hear if there were any give-away signs that he was using the toilet while I was in the bath. I was starting to relax, the music in Bob's voice or the heat in the water or even the painkillers were making me drowsy, I just forgot all about the fact that I was still naked, still uncovered and Bob was still in the room with me. I jumped with shock when I felt Bob's hand on my shoulder, the fug of drowsiness lifted momentarily and Bob's words came back into focus, "You are still far too tense, neither the water nor the painkillers will work on their own you know!" Bob's hand was starting to massage my shoulder and slowly I started to relax again, a second hand joined the first, Bob had to be sitting sideways on to the toilet now which meant he was looking over the top of my head and down over my naked body.

I lost track of time as Bob massaged my shoulders, I didn't resist him as he pushed my body forward and began to massage further down my back, I didn't even worry when his fingers turned around my sides and touched the sides of my breasts. Bob moved his attention to my lower back, massaging the soft tissue that had been the most painful after my jump over the arm of the seat I was sitting in. He pressed a little harder as his fingers dug into the muscles either side of my spine, the muscle pain was disappearing but the pressure on my back was sliding my bum down the length of the bath, I could have stopped myself by just tensing my knee muscles but I didn't.