Good Neighbours M/MF

[SextonBlake]

Margaret parked her car and lt herself into the house, hanging up her jacket and making herself a cup of tea before sitting down in the living room. It had been a busy week at the bank where she was branch manager and she was looking forward to a quiet weekend. Forty-five she lived alone since her divorce four years earlier and her two children were both away at university. She was wearing a white silk blouse, knee length charcoal grey skirt, black stockings, black leather high heeled, every inch the professional woman.
She lived in a quiet suburb of Cardiff and was on good terms with her neighbours, John and Barbara. She'd seen their nineteen year old son Mark that morning as she left for work. Apparently his parents were going away for the weekend with his younger brother and sister but he was staying home so he could go to a concert at the Cardiff Arena that afternoon.
That conversation came back to Margaret as she glanced out the window and saw that Mark's car, his pride and joy, was still in the driveway. That was odd, as he had said he was going to drive over to the Arena. She decided to go round and just check he was okay.
Margaret walked round to the front door - and then noticed it was slightly ajar. This was really odd - she knocked and the went in "Hello Mark, is everything okay?" hen she heard strange noises coming from upstairs, an odd sort of faint "MMMPPPPHHH". She walked upstairs - and then stood on the landing in complete shock. Mark's bedroom door was open and he lay on the bed, wearing only a pair of tight fitting. He was also tied and gagged, his ankles crossed and bound, a gag covering the lower part of his face, and his arms clearly bound behind his back.
"Mark, what on earth?"'. She ran forward to untie him - and then a figure wearing a balaclava helmet grabbed her from behind. An arm encircled her waist, pinning her rms to her side, and a hand in a black glove was clamped tightly over her mouth. A second figure emerged and grabbed her legs, she was picked up and carried into the bedroom as she squealed and struggled helplessly.

[WhereAmI]

I smell the beginning of a kidnapping in progress. I so love a good, well thoughtful kidnapping.