"Pauline! We've slept in! Can you get up, love? Give me a hand, please."

His wife opened a sleepy eye and looked at him. Then both eyes opened wide, and she flung the bedclothes off her body and swung her legs out of bed. Her long silk night-gown swished around her body as she strode into the bathroom on her long, shapely legs, and he heard the sound of her peeing a moment later. The lavatory flushed, and she returned.

"Right," she said, decisively. "I'll get you some breakfast ready while you dress, and then I'll drive you to the station. You haven't time to walk this morning, and if you take your car, you'll only have to waste time parking it." Without waiting for his agreement, she went downstairs.

Ten minutes later, washed, shaved and dressed, he ran downstairs and took the piece of toast she held out to him. Picking up the car keys he ran outside to the garage, and backed the car to the front door. Still dressed in her night-gown, Pauline dashed out of the house, locked the door, and jumped into the passenger seat. The car shot off, spraying gravel as it turned straight into the road at the bottom of the drive, barely slowing down. Luckily, nothing was coming, and Jim drove to the station in record time. As he pulled into the unloading area in front of the little suburban station from which he commuted every day, he saw his way was blocked by a large delivery van, making him turn into a little bay between two walls before the unloading area proper. Then he heard the announcement of his train over the loud speaker. He had made it. He turned to his wife and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Bye darling. Thanks for your help. See you tonight." So saying, he leapt from the car, raced through the gate, flashing his wallet containing his season ticket, and disappeared. She could just see the train slip out of the station. Carefully she climbed over from the passenger seat to the driver's side, negotiating the gear lever with difficulty. She leaned forward to switch on the ignition. Like a cold shower, realisation swept over her. Jim had taken the keys with him!

Pauline, after the first rush of adrenaline, took stock of her situation. She was seated inside a car outside of the station. The car could be dead-locked from the inside, so she was safe - a very important factor, since she was wearing only a flimsy night-gown and a pair of house slippers. She had no keys, either for the car or the house, the whole set being on one ring in her husband's pocket. Her husband was on his way to London, but to an unknown destination - he was going to a meeting, not to his office. His secretary would probably not know where the meeting was, because it was all to do with some very private negotiations. Anyway, there was no phone in the car. Her husband would not be back until late evening.

Fighting back the panic, she thought hard. There was nothing in the boot to help her, no anorak or coat. Anyway, she couldn't open the boot. Relief flooded over her. She was on the station forecourt. She simply had to wait until she saw a police officer, and then attract his/her attention. She smiled to herself, thinking that wouldn't be difficult - she only had to flash her tits - and then disappointment flooded in. Jim had been forced to pull off the main unloading area, between two walls where the chances of her frantic signals being seen were practically nil. She grinned, and slapped her hand on the steering wheel where the horn was. Nothing! Of course. It only worked with the ignition switched on. Now the tears started. She could see no solution other than to get out of the car and walk round to the main concourse, dressed only in a pair of slippers and a see-through (but admittedly long) night-dress......(cont)