Switched on love

&;#65279;Every Friday night there is 'this' man who enters my
living room, I allow him into my
semi secluded world without his total awareness, for many 'tune' into
his power without realizing just what they may be letting themselves in
for. I synchronize into his once a week phenomenon knowing without fail
that he will be there at the other end of the line; there to cheer my
loneliness. 'We', his regular listener's all share that certain
something, from boredom to isolation or just a sheer appreciation of
the good clear Rhythm and Blues that he likes to play as he unknowingly
courts us. Whichever I find his being in the corner of my living room
something of a novelty. As I can, if I wish, pick up the phone and call
him. That is, speak directly to this man who brings such comfort and
warmth to a gloomy
moment. Of course I know that I have to share him with all the others
but to me, although I hear him mentioning their names, I feel that I
am, an intimate part of 'his' family of strangers; but most all I feel
that 'he' is just mine. Mine alone.

So it is that the 'Radio man' uses some mystical spell to get us to
join into his little games, but I often wonder, do those other
listener's really join in and dance around the room as he asks?; or are
they really as mad as me?. But then again I think of the exercise which
has it's benefits. If only he knew, if only he could see!.

My senses slowly ease as the spell he cast from the magical machine
just flows with the
vibrating sounds that entice the unawares to do as he asks. Sometimes,
I may share the
magic with a friend or member of my own family. It's then that we drink
to his health, a good bottle or two of Californian white or some other
sweet tasting wine and enjoy the
madness that the idiot makes of himself!. I can hear him now, as he
starts to join in,
singing along with the record he's playing. He sings out of key of
course. You could hardly expect him to be perfect but then again that
is just what his charm is, as you find yourself helplessly humming or
singing along too. I'm sure that those who have heard think that we're
all quite mad but to tell the truth this madness is totally infectious,
as it allows you to release the pressures of everyday life here within
the snug privacy of your own home.

Then as it approaches the midnight hour his voice changes with a
seductive hint of things to
come. It is then that I begin to feel his sexual fingers that permeate
from his voice that send
the slow trickle down my spine. My mind lingers, overcome with thoughts
of just what I would do if he was really here with me. I curl up with
my pillow and listen as he whispers the sweet nothings in his powerful
overtones as he shares his musical world with us, his listeners. All
the while he makes you feel as if you are his sole listener, each
record lending it's meaning to something not quite here nor there. I
wonder just what this man would think if he knew the power that he has
at his fingertips?. A power which I knew would one day take him to a
place he might not wish to be.

It was during the month of May, as the seasons tipped and shed it's
Winter bleakness for a Spring kick. When the sun rose each day and
gently warmed the earth, it's heat intensifying with each setting moon.
As I took advantage of this peaceful period by daily arranging myself
on the sun lounger on dry days and tucked in a comfy chair on wet,
where I could scheme and plan for summer solstice and my time.

Unlike the other listeners, I was not in the slightest surprised when
'the Radio man'
suddenly vanished from our air waves. There had been only hint's
concerning his total disappearance in the week running up to his normal
show but I had taken great care in my planning, even down to cancelling
his milk so that it would not mount up on his door step thus
eliminating any inquiring neighbour's attention. I even wrote carefully
worded letter to his employer's, saying that he was taking an overdue
holiday, explaining that a member of his family had been suddenly taken
ill and needed him. I was cautious. I didn't want to make anyone
suspicious about what I was up to.

They made an announcement the night of his regular show to say that
'the Radio man'
would not be doing his normal show and that Paul who often helped 'the
Radio man' was to
take his place. The other regular listeners began to protest and phone
into the studio to
complain. Their expectations had been running high, after all he'd
promised us all a
special night; a celebratory one with extra prizes and bags of
fun.

It just wasn't the same without him. Even if his replacement, Paul
tried hard to fill the gap but in the end he informed 'us' listener's
repeatedly, that he had no news to give on 'the Radio Man's' where
about's, as no one knew where he'd vanished to. It was a mystery he
told them. It was only then that I felt a tinge of guilt, I yearned to
phone and put them all out of their misery.

I could feel Paul smile as he played records new to the air alongside
those of which were the 'Radio Man's' specials but when he offered the
listeners the chance to solve the mystery and phone in with possible
suggestions as to where he might be found, did I finally begin to
giggle as I listened as their humour stretched to the limits. Some of
their suggestions nearly hit the mark.

'He'd been abducted by aliens and taken to Mars', one said. Surely they
knew men are
from Mars and women from Venus, the planet of love!. I wanted to phone
in and when I did so as to simply request a specific record that I had
specially delivered to the station earlier that day. It was not really
my kind of music but it's sentiment was what I wanted to bring home. A
CD by Leonard Cohen. The track I asked for - 'Light as a Breeze'. I
told Paul that if he would play it for me and that if 'the Radio Man'
was out there listening then he'd more than understand, and then
perhaps he'd have the answer to the mystery. I didn't tell him that
'the Radio Man' had often refused to play it for me.

It was then that I looked across the room to 'the Radio Man' who lay
tied up, naked on the bed and watched his reaction as we listened to my
request. The hypnotic sexual voice of Cohen as he pours out my
objective brought a smile of understanding from my captive. Slowly, I
moved across the room, all the time holding his blue cast smiling
glaze, as I slowly loosened his ties and slid my hand down his bare arm
to his chest, his breathing hastening as he tingled with a sudden urge
which I watched grow with sheer delight. I could taste the salt of his
skin as I brushed the side of his face with my lips and took full
advantage of his position and as the heat of that day lingered as the
fast approaching twilight of the solstice we were immersed into the
passion to which we finally succumbed.

This little cottage, hidden away by high trees and far down a long and
winding lane was just
the place to take him, secluded and not well known. I had used two
pairs of hand cuffs and shut his mouth with a wide piece of parcel
tape. I'd even gone to the length of putting a old clothe sack over his
head so that he couldn't see where he was been taken too. It had been
easy to get him into my hired car.

Whilst he'd been on air, I had arranged for a skip to be left in such a
position that he was
unable to get to his car and of course my being in the disguise even
Compo from 'Last of the Summer wine' would have been made up with my
Nora Batty look - a -like. He hardly expected me to be any kind of
threat to him. The dusk's darkness helping to give my disguise even
more genuineness, it was as easy as that. The rest, well, like any man
he was so unprepared for??.

All I did was pretend to reach over him to the glove compartment, so as
to hand cuff him to
the door, he jumped, then started to laugh, thinking that it was some
kind of joke. In his supprise I used the second pair of cuffs to hold
both hands together, he was astounded. Even more so when I lent forward
and pretended to go to kiss him, instead I gently placed a wide band of
tape over his mouth. A look of worry only then crossed his face which I
gently covered with a sack. I put the radio on and we moved away into
the darkness of open country side, no one the wiser to what had
occurred. After what must have seemed like hours I turned the car into
lonely lane that led to the cottage.

Slowing down I pulled off the false glasses and removed the wig I had
used loosening the
band that held my own hair and shook it, feeling glad at last to
nearing home and safety. Getting him from the car had at first seemed
hard but by loosely tying his legs and undoing his trousers, he
couldn't run any where without falling over. Keeping the sack over his
head, I led him into the darkened cottage and through to the bedroom.
Loosening one hand I was able to cuff it back onto one of the bars of
the brass bedstead. I left him while I put the car away into the
garage. Tomorrow I would take it back and get my own car but for now, I
moved towards my captive and removed what must be by now a restriction,
everything!.

It was amazing how no one noticed him gone but there again no-one had
reported him as
missing not for the first few days. It was only when someone from his
office tried to contact him that they realised that he was missing but
by then it was too late. I was the only person who knew where he was
and I'd made sure that there was no way in which he could contact
anyone, nor them contact him except of course through myself. So I was
able to keep him with me for a whole week, without anyone finding
us.

He had tried to escape the once but he hadn't been successful so I had
to taken further
precautions against a further attempt. I had hidden all of his clothes,
everyone of them and he was forced to ware a large bath towel which he
wrapped around his waist as he was
allowed to roam around in living room, backwards and forwards like a
caged animal during the periods when he wasn't tied to the bed. I fed
him good food and kept him supplied with bottled ale that had been
chilling all day in the fridge. I was grateful that the sun still shone
and that the patio took most of the heat directly. Slowly, I was able
to allow him outside to lay on one of the sun lounger's, his naked skin
pleasantly covered in perfumed sun cream which I had spread with eager
pleasure so as to stop his skin from burning. Even so there was a
sunshade at hand. So I waited. I had him all to myself and the thought
crossed my mind as to how jealous the other female listeners would feel
if they knew.

He'd smile at me and say that he would have to go to back to work one
day, that I couldn't
keep him tied up forever but for some reason apart from at night when
he couldn't seem to
sleep or settle, he was very happy, contented. Even though I had a well
stocked fridge and plenty of fresh food, of course I'd had to go to the
end of the lane to collect the milk and post some mail, but whilst I
did this I'd leave him happily tied to the bed. It was a lovely bed he
said with it's old fashioned well kept brass head board and soft
mattress. The day after he was supposed to have his show was when he
finally stopped getting restless and started to relax and enjoy his
stay. By then he had been in our cottage for eight days.

The children arrived on the ninth day of our isolation. They'd all
smiled and pulled his leg
as they found their father draped in a towel sitting on the patio,
sipping yet another glass of 'Old Speckled Hen', his nose nudged into a
book. Time to give him back to his clothes and make him the world's
again, they teased me. Paul, our eldest son smiled. The show had gone
well but the studio had been bombarded by regular listener's, all
wanting to know where he was and asking when he'd be coming back.

Our cottage. How easy it is to relate this place as ours. Mine and 'the
Radio mans'. The bed, the radio, the lane; but how strange to say that
this is just the case. It's been ours for over twenty five years of
marriage and this is just one of the extremes I've had to go to just to
stop him so as to give him a break from his workaholic life-style. But
most of all it's one of the many lengths to which I've had to go to
just to make him mine for one small holiday.

Ours has been the most unusual of marriages anyone could have, I had
brought the children up while he had slowly turned into a workaholic.
The music, his other mistress; the community radio station his hobby; a
relief from the pressures of his work. We'd separated more than once
but just could not live without each other, satisfying our needs
through our rampant contact, within our hidden love nest. So I had
taken the radical step motivated by his need. Here in our holiday home
brought through my work, high up in the Welsh mountains I knew that we
could hide from the world for a short spell and celebrate our
anniversary in peace and not with those intimate strangers who listen
to his show.

Paul, our eldest son took his father's place on the radio with the easy
ease he had inherited
from his father. We knew 'the Radio man's' listeners would be
devastated by his sudden
disappearance, but the Radio station had been wanting change and the
pressure had been mounting upon us all, so this abduction would
possibly prove 'the Radio man's' worth. So it was that we waited with
baited breath in seclusion as the demands for his return to the air
waves began and I was able to take back time, to use it to replenish
our joint spiritual
needs.

I apologised to our son Paul for not letting him know sooner about my
plan to abduct his
father from the Studio but if I had told him, he would have been unable
to keep the secret
and my scheme would never have worked so well.

Looking at 'My Man' and seeing the relaxed look of total contentment
framing his face,
scaring him half to death on that first night had been worth it. He had
also not been aware of my plan but I needed time with him and time was
something we needed now. Soon the children would be leaving to go their
own ways and again we could take the bliss of the deeply cushioned
brass bed as we ventured back into that recaptured time of love.