TAMARA MAKES A WITHDRAWAL

Post by **esercito sconfitto** » Sun May 15, 2016 6:40 am

TAMARA MAKES A WITHDRAWAL

CHAPTER 1 – IN WHICH TAMARA TRIES OUT A NEW TOY

Bridget Powell, Audit Senior in the City office of an international accountancy firm, unlocked the door of the garage which comprised most of the ground floor of her fashionable mews maisonette. It was seven thirty in the morning and she had at least a one hour drive to the motor way service station where she was to meet her colleagues to discuss the project which should occupy them for the next two days. Her firm had been asked to audit the procedures at a branch office of the New Venture Banking Group. Two juniors from a regional office had been given the task of assisting Miss Powell and it had been agreed that the three should meet in the Chervil Restaurant so that they could get to know one another before beginning the day’s work. Bridget flipped the up-and-over door and waited until it had finished its journey to end flush against the roof of the garage before she bent down to unlock the boot of her car. She lifted the lid of the boot and placed her audit case inside. Bridget closed and secured the boot and edged around the side of the car to unlock the driver’s door. She climbed behind the wheel and settled in her seat. Placing the key in the ignition, she started the engine: and, as she recounted afterwards, that is all she really could remember until she came to, several hours later, tied up in her underwear in the boot of the same car. She had a vague recollection of a gloved hand reaching from behind to clamp across her mouth and a sharp prick beneath her right ear, but really nothing else.

“Nice underwear” approved Tamara as she ran her fingers through the lace of Miss Powell’s slip. Miss Powell was now securely bound and gagged in the boot of her own car where Tamara had placed her after removing her victim’s suit and blouse. Tamara was pleased with the morning’s activities so far. She had hidden in the back seat well of Miss Powell’s car and had emerged from her hiding place immediately the car’s engine, the sound of which would have deadened any noise from Bridget, had started. She had clamped her left hand across her victim’s mouth and fired her new toy, a poison cartridge pen, into the space beneath Miss Powell’s ear. Bridget had gone out like a light. Tamara was pleased with her latest gadget. She had heard about the poison cartridge pen through the circles in which she moved and had made it her business to acquire a specimen from a doting East European diplomat who was besotted with Tamara. It cost Tamara a night of simulated pleasure, but she was a convincing actress, having been the star of the amateur dramatic group at her very expensive Swiss finishing school, and succeeded in persuading her gullible diplomat that he was second to none, would put James Bond to shame, and could outdo Lothario and Don Juan together. In truth, Tamara felt she had seen guinea pigs which were better endowed, but she had kept this thought to herself while she was performing her ‘Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes! Darling! You are so good!’ act. After all, there was a poison pen at stake …In the morning, whilst her ambitious lover was in the bathroom, Tamara took the opportunity to lace his bedside drink with a powerful laxative: she thought his efforts deserved a special treat. His important meeting with the Ambassador later that day turned out to be rather episodic and career limiting. So it came to pass that Tamara acquired a new toy. Used carefully, it was a very effective tool, as her latest victim had discovered.

While still out of sight within the seclusion offered by the garage, Tamara had gently pushed Bridget’s slumped form onto the floor of the car and climbed over from the back seat to position herself behind the steering wheel. She had gently reversed the car out of the garage, paused to use the control which activated the garage door and then drove to a secluded spot where she was able to change into Bridget’s outer clothing and lock her unconscious victim, by now securely bound and gagged, in the boot of her own vehicle. Tamara then drove to the supermarket car park where she abandoned Bridget’s vehicle before retrieving her own which was parked nearby. Before leaving, she rechecked the boot of Bridget’s car to ensure it was securely locked, then silently mouthed ‘Have a Nice Day’ to her hidden victim. Not that Bridget could hear her, of course: she was out for the count and would remain so for several hours. Eventually she came to and, by banging on the lid of the boot, attracted attention to her plight. A rather dishevelled Bridget was rescued after the police arrived to prize open the lid. She had tried to explain what had happened, but found it rather difficult to remain equable standing in the middle of a busy car park in her underwear with a growing band of enthusiastic admirers gathering around. Eventually, somebody produced a coat and Bridget was taken to the police station to make a statement.

Tamara smiled as she studied her reflection in the window of her car as she unlocked the door. Bridget’s clothes fitted her quite well. Tamara could have dressed in her own clothes for the operation in hand, but it would have been easy to make an unwitting mistake with her attire. The firm of accountants had a strict dress code and it would have been foolish to place herself in jeopardy simply because she had chosen to wear the wrong colour blouse. Besides - Tamara smiled to herself – she enjoyed stripping her victims, particularly if they were attractive young business women: that was fun – one of the perks of her profession…

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ****** ~~~~~~~~~~~~

9 across. Honeyed notes in any language (6). Tamara drummed her teeth with the end of a pencil as she studied the cryptic crossword clues on the back of the broadsheet. She had arrived at the Chervil Restaurant fifteen minutes earlier and had ordered a light continental breakfast. Her contact in the accountancy firm had provided Tamara with details of the arrangements which Miss Powell had made to meet the two juniors at the motorway service station. He had assured Tamara that the girls had not met the audit senior before and had little idea what she looked like. Tamara hoped she would be able to play a convincing role. The success of her plan depended upon it. She glanced at the clock on the restaurant wall. They should arrive in about ten minutes. Tamara stirred her coffee and returned to her crossword.

9 across. Honeyed notes in any language (6). Letters one and four were already provided by other solutions: M--O--. Um…Honeyed notes. Tamara tussled with the clue. Honeyed notes…In any language…What’s honey in French…? Miel. In Italian…? Miele Latin…?Mel. The penny dropped. Tamara began to fill in the blanks: M-E-L-O-D-Y. Tamara gave a double take as she realised what she had written. MELODY. She cringed. This was spooky…As if on cue, the door to the restaurant opened and two familiar figures entered. The new arrivals looked around for somewhere to sit and chose a vacant table at the other side of the room. One of them glanced very briefly in Tamara’s direction and gave a barely noticeable nod of recognition. It was Harmony.

Tamara sipped her coffee, replaced her cup gently in its saucer and turned her attention to the toast. The door opened again and two young ladies, smartly dressed in suits not unlike the one which Tamara had requisitioned, entered. They came straight over to Tamara’s table and introduced themselves.

“Hello! You must be Miss Powell. I’m Diane…”

“And my name is Helen” her companion announced cheerfully.

Well, at least they can read concluded Tamara, fingering the name badge which was pinned to her coat. I wonder if they can write – and answer the phone at the same time? She wondered sarcastically to herself.

“We saw you through the window and thought you must be who we were looking for.” volunteered Diane.

Tamara smiled appreciatively. “Won’t you sit down?”

The two audit juniors took the remaining chairs and ordered their breakfast from the waitress who was hovering nearby. Tamara ordered another coffee at the same time.
The two girls brought Tamara up to date with the local office scandal which seemed to revolve around a partner who was considered ‘quite dishy – but dangerous’. Tamara listened politely with half an ear, being a little distracted by the exciting sound which Helen made when she crossed and uncrossed her legs, which she seemed to do frequently. It seemed to complement the exquisite discrete perfume which Helen wore. Tamara had always found the rasp of nylon on nylon a truly evocative pleasure. It spoke of warm summer evenings; of a lover’s hand fingering her suspender belt; of a … “Stop it, Tamara!” she hissed to herself. Diane’s blouse had also distracted. The top button was unfastened – probably deliberately – and the casual gaze was inevitably drawn to the edge of a lacy white bra.

The office gossip covered, the three discussed briefly the programme they would follow to carry out the task ahead. Glancing at her watch, Tamara bought the conversation to an end. “We had better move on” she reminded. “It shouldn’t take us long to get to the bank from here. Where is your car parked?”

“It’s the blue one over there” said Diane, pointing to the far side of the car park.

“Why don’t you go over and wait for me while I attend to the bill? I’ll charge it to my account”

“Oh, thanks. See you shortly, then” Diane smiled back.

“No problem!” Tamara assured. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen Melody and Harmony leave the restaurant. Tamara was pleased that Harmony, at least, had been paying attention to what was going on.
Tamara gestured to the waitress and asked for the bill. While it was being prepared she studied the two audit juniors as they walked across to their car, deep in conversation. They had taken no notice of the two ladies who were busy studying a road map at the far side of the car park until the lost travellers approached the two auditors to ask for guidance. Then, in a scene which a casual onlooker would have found curious, the four women climbed into the auditors’ car.

“There you go, dear” The waitress had produced the bill.

Tamara cringed. She hated the expression Go where, for Christ sake? She opened her wallet and produced a banknote. “Keep the change”

“Ooh! Thanks! Have a nice day!”

Tamara cringed again.

Tamara opened the main door to the restaurant and stepped outside. She took a deep breath of the morning air as she looked across the car park. The auditors’ car was just pulling out towards the exit. Tamara recognised Harmony behind the wheel and Melody sitting in the passenger seat alongside her sister. Melody had swivelled round and was looking at the two rear seat passengers. She appeared to be pointing at them. They, in return, seemed to be shuffling uncomfortably in their seats. Tamara frowned, puzzled. Then she grinned as she realised what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ **** ~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAMARA MAKES A WITHDRAWAL

CHAPTER 2 – IN WHICH MELODY GOES DUCK HUNTING

Harmony studied her sister’s pose. Melody was slouched in the old armchair. She was dressed in a powder blue business suit; one recently vacated by a junior auditor who was currently tied up, indisposed, in the room next door. Melody’s leg dangled over the arm of the chair and swung gently to and fro as she hummed contentedly to herself. It had been a long time since Harmony had seen such a look of deep contentment on her sister’s face. In fact, she would have to go back to the time, many years ago, when Melody had received a Bonny Parker doll for her birthday, for Harmony to recall a time of comparable joy in her sister’s life. Melody had wanted a Bonny Parker doll to play with her Ma Barker doll. Their parents had taken note and eventually it came to pass that her wish was fulfilled. But right now Melody was holding up and studying the object which had just brought such joy into her life: a pair of yellow duckie panties.

“Well, I see you have just achieved another ambition. You are now the owner of a pair of yellow duckie panties.”

“Great, aren’t they?” glowed Melody.

“Well, at least it’s made you happy. But I must say the former owner didn’t seem too happy to part with them.”

“Oh, she didn’t seem to mind too much” lied Melody.

“Yes, I could see how thrilled she was by the look of utter horror on the poor girl’s face as you peeled them off her. I bet she was wondering what you were going to do to her next: obviously convinced she was about to become the victim of a predatory muff surfer, I suspect.” Harmony reminded her sister as she reflected on the removal of Helen’s panties. Melody had begun by tying Helen’s hands behind her back. She had then knelt in front of her to secure her ankles. Before doing so, however, Melody had lifted Helen’s slip and began to study her panties in earnest. The expression on Melody’s face would have worried anyone, let alone a helpless victim who was lying with her hands secured behind her back. Melody could hardly contain herself. Little Ducky Panties! She had then slowly slid her hands upwards along Helen thighs, hooked her thumbs under the legs of her panties, and, grasping the garment with both hands, she gently tugged them free and lowered them to Helen’s knees. Pausing, Melody had grinned and blown her victim a kiss before lowering the panties to her ankles. Then, with the sort of care one devotes to the handling of precious china, Melody had eased first one foot, then the other, free of her latest trophy.

Well, I gave her mine to replace them. Exchange is no robbery.” claimed Melody.

“She didn’t seem very thrilled when you put them on her.”

“No. Can’t understand that” claimed a puzzled Melody.

“Perhaps she was offended by the way you gave her a wedgy” suggested Harmony “Besides, they weren’t very clean were they?”

“Well…” blushed a guilty Melody.

“When did you last do any washing? I saw you this morning: you went to your panty drawer and it was bare. Then I saw you rummaging in the laundry basket and pull out a pair of panties which had been there for goodness knows how long”

“But I cleaned them up first” pleaded Melody.

“Yes, I saw the way you ran the vacuum cleaner over them”

“Exactly!”

“And the way you lost your grip and had to rescue them from the dust bag.”

Melody looked down and blushed again. No wonder Helen hadn’t wanted to wear them.

Harmony changed the subject – slightly. “So if Helen is wearing your panties and you’re holding hers in your hand, what are you wearing now?”

Melody stopped swinging her leg and abruptly sat up straight in the chair with both feet firmly on the floor. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, looking worried.

“Good job I found these, then, isn’t it?” said Harmony, producing a pair of black panties.

“Where did you get those from? I didn’t know you carried spares”

“I don’t usually, but one of our guests did” explained Harmony. I found them in her handbag, so you’re in luck” she said, tossing the garment to her bare bottomed sister.

Everything had gone according to plan. In the car park Melody and Harmony had approached the young auditors with their ‘we’re lost, can you help us’ routine and lulled them into a false sense of security so that they were quite shocked when Melody produced her PPK and told them to get in the back of their own car. They were even more distressed when told to take off their skirts and sit quietly. They had driven a short distance to the disused warehouse where Diane and Helen were ordered out of the car and forced to walk a short distance to the warehouse door, carrying their skirts in their hands. It was during this short trip that Melody had noticed Helen’s choice of undergarments and had grown quite excited. But she didn’t want to rush things; she knew that Harmony would want to play their favourite game of ‘guess the colour’.

The door to the warehouse closed behind them and Melody, gesturing with the barrel of her PPK, directed their two victims into an empty office where they were ordered to place their skirts on the back of a chair.

“Hands behind your heads”

Diane and Helen looked at each other for support and slowly complied with Melody’s demand. They stood facing their captors feeling utterly vulnerable and humiliated.

“Well, what do you think, Sis?”

Harmony hated it when Melody slipped up by revealing their relationship: it just provided another clue to their identity. She took a deep breath and made a note to bring up the matter at a later date; right now she was enjoying herself too much to mar it by arguing with Melody. Harmony looked first at Diane, and then turned her gaze towards Helen. They both wore beautifully cut business suit jackets, white blouses and very attractive white slips. Perhaps their employer disliked the liquorice allsorts effect of black slips and white blouses.

“Well,” Harmony began, “I suppose the company dress code demands white cotton panties. Perhaps nylon or silk undies are considered an acceptable alternative. What do you think?” Harmony asked, turning to her sister.

“Yes, you are probably right. I bet their employer is very strict about what they should wear” Melody replied.

“Is that right?” Harmony asked Diane, taunting her victim “Does your boss tell you what colour panties you should wear. Does he have to have a look to check? Do tell us.” she demands.

Diane was flushed with embarrassment and turned to glance at Helen. “No, there is no company policy about underwear” she began to reply “we have to look smart”

“So what colour panties are you wearing?” smiled Harmony with a look which encouraged an immediate response.

“Actually, they are white” Diane stuttered, turning a deep red.

Harmony smiled. She turned her gaze to Helen. “And yours?” She demanded.

Helen shuffled with embarrassment. “They are white, too” she replied.

“Plain white?” Melody prompted excitedly.

“They’ve got some little yellow ducks on them” Helen replied, close to tears.

“Turn around” Harmony demanded

The two audit juniors did as they were told.

“Now bend over and touch your toes”

The two girls slowly bent over and reached down for their toes. Their jackets rode up and their slips stretched tautly across their buttocks, emphasizing the outline of their panties. Melody could hardly control her excitement as she gazed enraptured at the feint outline of little yellow ducks.

“They’re right, you know: they didn’t lie to us” interrupted Harmony, nudging Melody from her semi-stupor. “O.K. Stand up and take off your jackets and blouses.”

Melody had just finished straightening her skirt after pulling on her new pair of black panties when a knock came at the door of the warehouse.

“That’s probably Tamara” said Harmony. “Go and see will you?”

She listened while Melody went to the front of the warehouse and peered through a spy hole. The door was opened and someone entered. Harmony recognised Tamara’s voice as she followed Melody back into the office.

“Everything went according to plan I hear.” Tamara smiled as she admired the sisters in their new attire. “What did you do with Diane and Helen?”

Melody walked over to the door of the adjacent office and opened it fully so that Tamara could see the result of their handiwork. Diane and Helen were stripped to their slips and now tied facing each other with their arms and legs wrapped around one another. They were cleave gagged and bound with cable ties.

Tamara smiled approvingly. “Good, that will keep them quiet for a while. Give them a chance to get to know one another really well.”

Melody closed the door and locked it.

“Time to move on” announced Tamara looking at her watch. “Now you both know what to do. I’ll just run through the main points again to make sure we haven’t overlooked anything. But remember – always allow for the unexpected.”

“Yes, Tamara” the sisters responded in unison; and Tamara began to go over the plan again.

TAMARA MAKES A WITHDRAWAL

CHAPTER 3– IN WHICH YVONNE PROVIDES THE ENTERTAINMENT

Tamara never ceased to be amazed at people’s willingness to take others at face value. If you looked right, sounded right and acted right, you could get away with blue murder. Or bank robbery at least. It had been quite simple: Tamara waited until she saw one of the tellers gaining entrance to the bank by tapping out the key code on the security pad near the front door. Before the teller had an opportunity to close the door, Tamara was standing in front of her with her best smile on display, her identity card in her hand, and a rehearsed speech on her lips.

“Hi! I’m Bridget Powell, auditor from Head Office. We’re expected. These are my colleagues, Diane and Helen.”

“Oh, Hi! We heard you were coming. You’d better come in. The manager’s office is over there.” replied the teller, reassured by the company suits, ID cards and the innocent looks of the faces of the three women in front of her. After all, women didn’t go in for robbing banks: it was always men in striped jerseys and masks carrying bags marked ‘SWAG’.

“Thanks” Not that Tamara didn’t already know where the manager’s office was, or the staff rest room, or the safe, or the time of arrival of the key staff. She had made it her business to research the job thoroughly to avoid any obvious pitfalls. The unpredictable pitfalls she played by ear. Following the obliging teller into the bank, Tamara and Melody turned and made their way towards the administration office while Harmony slid behind the tellers’ counter.

The office manageress had been very welcoming, but cautious, as one is when being visited by an auditor. However her caution was focused by the fear that something untoward would be discovered in the books, rather than by any suspicion that the visitors might not be bona fide. This was unfortunate and, as it transpired, rather embarrassing for the manageress and her secretaries.

The office manageress smiled as Tamara placed her audit bag on the table. “What would you like to look at first?”

“Well,” began Tamara, smiling as she undid the catches of her bag “I think we could begin by taking a look at you and your two lovely secretaries in your underwear.” Tamara replied as she pulled the Skorpion from its hiding place.

Tamara left Melody in charge of the staff in the administration office and turned her attention to the staff rest room. She had done a quick head count on the way into the bank and realised that someone was missing. There had to be three in the office – there were, and four others in the rest of the bank. She had noted that the manager and his assistant were behind the counter talking to a teller, so that left one unaccounted for. There were two customers as well, but Melody had surreptitiously jammed the door and turned the sign on the way in, so there shouldn’t be any more people entering. As Tamara approached the rest room, the door began to open and the missing teller emerged.

Tamara smiled to herself as she warmed to the task ahead. This was going to be fun. For her, that is: not for the hapless victim emerging from the rest room. Yvonne Hastings (as her name badge announced) was having a quiet cup of coffee when she was alarmed by the sharp commands from the other side of the door. Anxious and curious, she opened the door of the rest room to be confronted by Tamara’s machine pistol and the sight of a flustered Miss Lee, the young secretary seconded from head office, scuttling past with her hands on her head and her shirt tail flapping below the hem of her smart jacket. Stunned, Yvonne turned very cold.

“Good Morning, Miss Hastings” Tamara began in her best patronising tone “I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances” she lied. You will of course have been on the bank robbery procedure course, I trust, and will know exactly what to do on these occasions?”

A puzzled and extremely frightened Miss Hastings was barely able to nod confirmation.

“Excellent” approved Tamara. “Can you remember what you were taught?” she enquired “Perhaps you would like to refresh your memory and tell me” Tamara continued, turning the screw a little further as her hapless victim cringed in expectation.

“To remain calm and follow instructions” Yvonne volunteered, her voice shivering in anticipation.

“That’s about right” Tamara confirmed. “As you can see, we are making a withdrawal. I should like you to play your part. Please put your hands behind your head and move out onto the floor of the bank.”

Yvonne raised her hands and clasped them behind her head as instructed. Tamara grew excited as Yvonne’s jacket rode up and bounced against the top of her skirt as the very attractive girl walked across the floor. Tamara glanced at the zip on the back of Yvonne’s skirt and licked her lips in anticipation.

“That’s far enough” said Tamara. Yvonne had paused by the prone figures of the two customers who had been forced to lie on the floor. Yvonne started, her stomach churning. She recognised one of the customers as the student who had earlier been standing at the exchange counter waiting to change a traveller’s cheque. Yvonne was puzzled at first, struggling to comprehend what it was that was different about the girl on the floor, her mind disorientated and unwilling to acknowledge that the girl no longer wore her jeans and yes, they really were the student’s panties she was looking at. The other customer was the assistant from the high class jewellers next door. Always smartly dressed in a business suit except on this occasion, she appeared to have lost her skirt. Lying on the floor a short distance away, Yvonne saw the skirtless office manageress, her unfrocked secretary and Miss Lee from head office, who was displaying her suspender belt and panties beneath her shirt tail a little while ago. Out of the corner of her eye she could see what appeared to be three sets of bare legs behind the tellers’ counter.

Tamara smiled at the look of incomprehension on Yvonne’s face. She was enjoying this. “Well now, Miss Hastings I am sure the guys would like to know what you are wearing today. In fact, I suspect they have often wondered. So, while we are emptying the tills, you can entertain them with a strip-tease; but for a hors d’oeuvre you can whet the audience’s appetite by telling them what you are wearing today.” Tamara taunted.

Yvonne turned crimson. “But…”

“Oh, I insist” rebutted Tamara. “I can understand your reluctance, but think of the joy you are bringing to others. It’s quite easy: just start at the outside and work inwards. Stop when you get to – well, any item which is rather personal to ladies shall we say. Let me get you started. We can see you are wearing the standard uniform of blue skirt and jacket, but what lies underneath?” she encouraged.

“A white blouse”

“Ah, yes. And very nice it looks too” complimented Tamara as she almost absent mindedly unbuttoned the front of Yvonne’s jacket with one hand and began gently to scribe little circles with the barrel of her Skorpion with the other over the prominences at the front of the exposed garment.

Yvonne shuddered.

“Please continue” prompted Tamara

“I’m wearing a white slip…” Yvonne stammered.

“How nice! Lacy, I hope?”

Yvonne didn’t answer. She chose to treat the question as rhetorical: it would be answered shortly in any event.

“Go on…”

“Suspender belt; nylon stockings” Yvonne volunteered.

“And?”

“Bra and panties.

“What colour? Tamara insisted. It’s important that you should tell us. You must realise your colleagues like to know these things”. Tamara assured in a matter-of fact voice as if she was giving directions to a confused motorist. In truth, Tamara was so revelling in the humiliation she was inflicting on her young victim she had almost allowed it to take her mind off the purpose of her visit.

“Psst!” Tamara looked up. Harmony was glaring at Tamara from the other side of the tellers’ counter. Her face was like thunder. She began to mouth inaudibly “What the F--- do you think you are doing?!” Harmony had the greatest respect for Tamara and her undoubted skill at planning and executing an operation, but she also knew that Tamara had a weakness for humiliating young, attractive, business suited ladies and, not for the first time, had had to bring Tamara back to the task in hand. Harmony was enjoying the floor show as much as the others, but was very conscious that time was of the essence and she didn’t want to get caught because Tamara was on a roll. Fortunately, Tamara and Harmony had developed a deep relationship by now and Tamara never took umbrage at Harmony’s stewardship on the rare occasion when Tamara seemed to let her excitement carry her away.

Tamara glanced across at Harmony and nodded as if to say ‘O.K., don’t worry.”

“I…I don’t remember” faltered a stammering, flustered Yvonne wishing she was somewhere else.

“You are wearing some panties, I trust? Not lying to us?” Tamara taunted, warming to her task as the arch humiliator. She ran her finger tips along Yvonne’s buttocks, feeling for the tell-tale ridge. “Ah, yes, you are definitely properly dressed” Tamara confirmed as she slowly and deliberately explored the edge of Yvonne’s panties. Yvonne instinctively recoiled but found somehow she was almost wanted to join in as a willing victim. She realised that she found Tamara’s attention strangely attractive and aroused feelings which were unusual and forbidding. Tamara moved closer so that Yvonne could sense her warm breath. Then, very gently, she kissed her lobe and gently ran the tip of her tongue over Yvonne’s ear.

“You smell very nice today, Darling” Tamara whispered “Time to take off the skirt…”

Yvonne started to open her mouth to say something, but she realised she was wasting her time pleading and besides, something inside her demanded to be humiliated. She removed her hands from behind her head and unbuckled her belt. Reaching behind, she unbuttoned her skirt and pulled down the zip. It jammed. Yvonne feverishly tugged at the zip until it was free and then, tucking her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt she slowly lowered it to the ground and stepped out of the crumpled garment.
“Pick it up and put it in the bag.” Yvonne flushed. “That’s right; you can welcome the police in your underwear: I’m sure they will enjoy the experience.” Tamara confirmed.
Yvonne bent down to retrieve her skirt, blushing even more as she realised that Tamara could not have been left in any doubt that her victim was indeed wearing a pair of white panties which displayed prominently through the lacy white slip. Yvonne also realised that the customers and other staff members had stolen a sly glance in her direction as she was disrobing. A fact which had not escaped Tamara’s attention.

“Enjoying the floor show, folks? Almost worth losing your pants for!” she laughed.

“Right. On the floor” Tamara gestured.

Yvonne assumed a prone position next to the customers and made a futile effort to adjust the hem of her jacket before Tamara snapped “Put your hands on your head!” Yvonne did as she was told, raising the hem of her jacket a few inches in the process. Tamara smiled in satisfaction. She was really enjoying this.

Tamara felt a slap on her shoulder. It was Harmony.

“Come on. We’ve cleared the cash drawers and emptied the safe. Let’s go”

“He’s here” Melody called from where she had been looking out of the window. She had just seen Bruce pull up outside with the taxi which he had acquired for the initial part of the getaway.

“O.K. Let’s go” With that, Tamara picked up her bag and followed Melody and Harmony out of the bank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ** THE END ** ~~~~~~~~~~~~