Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
by Harry
"Now is it bihovely thyng to telle whiche been the sevene deedly synnes, this is to seyn, chiefaynes of synnes. Alle they renne in o lees, but in diverse manneres. Now been they cleped chieftaynes, for as muche as they been chief and spryng of alle othere synnes."
(Chaucer)
We deal, in this profoundly moral tale, with the sin of Avarice. (Moral or not, clothes will be shed, eager young bodies will be passionately fondled , tongue will seek out tongue and silky smooth SKIN will be exposed to view.)
PART THE FIRST
Veronica Harmsworth was not as happy as she would wish. She had a two bedroom flat in Hampstead High Street, the result of a legacy consequent upon the death of a rich aunt, and a good job in the City. BUT... Times were hard nowadays. Working in the Square Mile was rather like being in the trenches on the Western Front. People all round her were falling. Of course, they did not die when they fell - merely collected handsome redundancy packages, but it was still a sort of death. Her own time might come sooner than she thought.
A year ago her life had been hectic but carefree, a daily round of frenzied dealing and lunchtime and evening conviviality. Now it was different. There was less to do, but no one wanted to look idle. Liquid lunches had been eschewed and all stayed late at the office, despite having so little to do. It was not a nice life. How she longed to be out of it all!
That was why the little notice in the local free newspaper caught her eye. "Independence! Freedom! No more nine-to-five! Be a millionairess!"
There was a telephone number to ring. Veronica picked up the phone and keyed in the number. Engaged. Well, it bloody would be, wouldn’t it! She tried three more times with the same result. Oh, well! Probably a hoax anyway! One more go! "Brr Brrrng Brrrng Hello, how can I help?"
"Oh!" Veronica had hardly expected to be successful and was temporarily at a loss.
"I’m phoning about the ad in the Camden News. About being a millionairess! I think it might suit me, actually! I suppose it‘s all a joke, but I‘m so bloody fed up with life right now, I‘m game for anything!"
"Game for anything, eh?" replied the thin reedy voice on the other end of the line. It was the kind of antediluvian tone that could be coming from another age.
"Well - I’ve spoken to a few people already, but I didn’t much like the sound of any of them. You sound like a breath of fresh air. Half of those other buggers were bloody foreigners - cheeky sods! May I have your address and phone number? I‘ll be in touch in the next few days."
She did as the old gentleman requested, giving him her details, and replaced the telephone, her heart aflutter with a strange excitement. She told herself it was all nonsense. But there was something in the back of her mind that KNEW she was on the brink of opportunity and great adventure.
She looked at her antique grandfather clock. It was ten-thirty. Time for a quick one at the "Flask". She pulled on a sweater. It was early in the month of April and the evenings were still a little on the chilly side. In a few minutes she was at her destination.
She pushed her way through the door of her favourite pub. Somehow, as she looked around the familiar bar, the place seemed pregnant with life. The very smoke-filled air around her reeked not only of stale beer and tobacco, but of adventure. Even the ever drunken and ever aggressive Bertha, that raddled blonde with the chip on her shoulder, was unable to jolt her out of the euphoria which she had experienced ever since speaking to the old man on the phone.
As luck would have it, there were none of her usual friends here tonight. She took her drink over to the large round table in the corner and a man asked politely if he might join her. She smilingly assented and he sat in one corner, immediately taking out a book, into which he buried himself, leaving Veronica alone with her thoughts.
Of course this thing was just a hoax of some kind! People just don’t go around handing out one million pounds to perfect strangers. She had met a few millionaires in her time and they were as tight-fisted a bunch of skinflints as ever walked the earth! Of course, there were exceptions to every rule. Maybe someone with more money than he/she knew what to do with; or someone with a stricken conscience was finding a way to do a bit of good to someone.
As she continued to muse about the future, she noticed that the man opposite was casting surreptitious glances at her. She began to feel awkward; finished her drink and left, noting that the fellow had returned to his book. Funny. She hadn’t seen him before and at this time of night most of the customers were regulars.
That night she was tormented by strange dreams. In one of them, she found herself in the middle of a huge field and running for her life to escape from mortal danger. If only she could reach the fence and jump over in time she might escape, but fast as she ran, the sound of pursuit grew louder and the refuge seemed to be no closer. When she woke up she was sweating and the bedclothes had fallen in a heap onto the floor. She had awakened late and would have to forgo her morning jog. This put her in a bad mood for the day.
As her day wore on, events did nothing to improve her spirits. Work was as flat as ever. Business was dead as the dodo and she knew that she would be sitting around trying to look busy for very little longer. Almost certainly she would figure in the next round of redundancies and the soul destroying task of finding another and almost certainly less remunerative job would begin.
When she returned home, there was a letter waiting for her. She did not recognise the writing and opened it wondering who it was from. It was on Savoy Hotel notepaper. After reading the first few words, she had to sit down. It was from the mysterious would-be benefactor!
"Dear Miss Harmsworth" it started. "With regard to my recent advertisement and your kind expression of interest, I wonder if you would be good enough to visit me at the above address on Wednesday week. I look forward greatly to meeting you.
Yours sincerely,
Andrew Vane-Clatworthy."
Andrew Vane-Clatworthy! Veronica knew all about him! Did she ever know all about him! The grandson of a Victorian entrepreneur who had turned on its head the old dictum about rags to riches to rags in three generations! He had come into control of the family businesses in his twenties and massively increased their turnover. Golly! He must be pretty ancient by now! Hadn’t been seen in public for years, but was still rumoured to control his multifarious business empire with a rod of iron! And HE was the man who was giving away money by the million! Wonders never cease!
She got onto the phone immediately to James Clarkson, a contact of hers, reputed to have forgotten more about the world of business and finance than any ten others knew between them. Thank goodness he was in tonight!
"Hi there James, Veronica here! Yes I know it’s been a long time... e really must get together sometime... Left it too long. Actually I had a reason for phoning (when did she ever NOT have a hard practical reason for phoning her friends!). It’s about Andrew V-Clatworthy. What’s he been up to lately and what sort of a guy is he? I know he’s a legend, but a recluse. Anything you could tell me to put flesh on the bones, so to speak? It really would be appreciated old sport!"
Several minutes later she put down the phone, very little the wiser than when she had picked it up. The old man had been rumoured to be in poor health and depressed that he had no suitable heir to pass his empire on to after his death. It seemed that one of the largest major concerns to be in family hands would soon pass into the control of the faceless men. But - added James, he was not thought to be about to pop off just yet! One thing did worry her. Although par excellence a man of his word who had never been known to go back on any agreement whether written or verbal, he was thought to have a mischievous and almost sadistic streak in him, showing itself in a love of practical joking. Just what I thought, mused Veronica.
Five days remained before her appointment. She tried to contain her impatience and concentrate on the ever more dreary round of work and leisure, aching to know how her meeting would turn out.
PART THE SECOND
At long last Wednesday dawned and Veronica was standing in the foyer of the Savoy Hotel. A flunkey appeared and escorted her to Vane-Clatworthy’s suite. He ushered her in and left, closing the door silently behind him. The old man was sitting in a very comfortable looking armchair and motioned Veronica to sit opposite him on a rather less comfortable chair.
"A young woman like you doesn’t need too much ease, not like arthritic old me!" he chuckled wheezily.
She looked at this living legend closely, although at the same time trying not to stare rudely. She was a good mannered girl - always had been. He was certainly old and she could see that his reference to arthritis was no passing quip. The poor man was obviously crippled by this most distressing of maladies. But, old and infirm though he was, there was nothing feeble about the way he looked at her out of those pale blue eyes. He was obviously a man who missed nothing and was used to being obeyed. He motioned again, this time towards a drinks cabinet, and she saw again how terribly deformed his fingers were.
"Get us both a drink, my dear. If you wouldn’t mind, that is. It’s such a devil of an effort to move an inch some days. Sorry not to be doing my duty as a host!"
Veronica murmured that she was delighted to help and did as requested. The old financier opted for a gin and tonic and Veronica for a mineral water. She was not a great imbiber, and despite her necessary conviviality, she never indulged in the way so many of her male (and female) colleagues were wont to do.
She sat down again, sipping occasionally and waited for him to come to the point. This he did with no further ado.
"Well, young lady. I am a busy man and you are a busy woman. I am willing to give you the sum of one million pounds on condition you perform a series of tasks for me a week from today. I will send you instructions in good time. I never go back on a bargain and I think I can say the same of you. Straight as a die - saw it the minute you walked through the door. Shake hands and we’ll meet again after your task is done. Remember to make the whole day free a week from now!"
Veronica grasped his deformed hand as gently as she could by way of sealing their bargain and her strange host rang a bell by his side. She soon found herself back in the Strand, at last believing that a fortune was soon to be hers! One worry at the back of her mind was about the nature of the tasks she would be asked to perform. She hoped they would not be too hard, but she was a resourceful young lady and felt quietly confident, if slightly nervous.
She went back to work and applied herself to her duties, with half her mind on the future. Soon she would be leaving all the uncertainties of this world of economic down-turn and redundancy threats. What would she do with the money? She would certainly not be content with investing it and living on the interest. Not likely! This would be the springboard to some kind of business enterprise of her own! She spent the six days before her appointment with destiny going over a variety of options. On the whole she was inclined to leave England and invest in some kind of tourist/leisure enterprise in Spain or Portugal. The fact that she had a task to perform before all this could be realised was increasingly irrelevant as far as she was concerned. She would be up to whatever he wanted her to do!
PART THE THIRD
And finally, the great day was here! She woke that morning feeling sick with fear. What if she blew it and ended up at the end of the day in the same hole as at the beginning? She was shaking so much that it took her twice as long to get ready as usual. She decided not to go for customary morning exercise run today. Her instructions might arrive while she was still out of the flat.
At six-fifteen the doorbell rang. She answered the bell and was handed a package by a uniformed representative of one of the more superior kind of delivery firm. She had to sign for the package. She took the parcel inside and opened it. Inside there was a letter which she opened and read. The rest of the package consisted of shoes and clothes and one small packet. The letter told her that she was to dress in these clothes and no other.
SO! Off came the clothes she had so recently put on. Off came the tights and the smart business suit and the sensible shoes and even more sensible underwear. On went the most awful clothes she had ever worn in her life!
Instead of ordinary underwear, nice navy blue comfortable passion killers, she was supposed to don some form of swimwear. Totally unlike any swimming costume she had ever worn before! Usually she favoured one-piece swimsuits of a conservative cut which failed to accentuate those fine thighs of hers - or any other of her not inconsiderable charms. This two piece bit of exiguousness was something she would not as a rule be seen dead wearing! The top was not too bad, although it did fail to cover her breasts in the way she would have liked and in some mysterious way accentuated her cleavage in a manner completely new to her. None of her previous clothes had ever done this for her!
Her twin mammary glories were more glorious than she could ever remember them as she contemplated the effect in her bathroom mirror. The two bosoms seemed about to burst out of the restraining fabric at any second and as she moved she saw them almost ripple. How could she go out like that? Looking like a tart?
It seemed that her day was about to include a visit to some swimming facility. If this were indeed so then she would probably cause a near riot! The colour was not to her liking either. Such a bright - almost fluorescent - shade of red. As for the bikini bottom, once she had worked out how to put it on, she realised, as she stroked her posterior, that it was what is called a "thong". She had heard of these things before and even seen, to her disgust, a woman wearing one once. And now she was wearing one herself and probably going to be seen in public so doing! And the same shade of red - what there was of it. Ghastly!
She continued to gaze at herself with increasing horror. The material was strong enough, but of an amazing delicacy and subtlety of texture. Each individual curl of her pubic hair seemed to be bursting through the material and announcing its presence to the world with shameless, brazen pride.
Having put on her underwear for the day, she turned her attention to the remainder of her clothing, but before she could put them on she noticed the other smaller package and opened it. It was a make up kit. Veronica did not habitually wear a lot of make-up and certainly nothing like the lipstick and nail varnish that this kit contained. Red was obviously to be the theme of the day - and how!!
She carefully put on the lipstick and stepped back a step to look at the effect. She almost fell through the floor. The natural pallor of her face showed up the bright red lipstick to great effect. No chance of passing virtually unnoticed today!
She had not worn eye make up for years - not since she had been a slightly giddy teenager, and so had to take more care over this.
It was the toe and fingernails that caused her particular distress. She was not one to adorn these particular parts and certainly not with the garish tints that now bedecked them.
She looked at the letter again. Oh dear. She had a horror of having her hair cut, (culdn’t stand people touching her) but she never wore it long - always tightly done up. Now she was bidden to let it fall down about her shoulders and half way down her back, almost to her posterior. Some girls would have loved to have such a profusion of golden hair, but Veronica, the undemonstrative and perennially understated Veronica, was not keen to advertise her charms so blatantly. As she stared at herself, she hardly recognised what she saw. Something inside her stirred and it was mainly, but not entirely, shame.
Well! So much for the make-up and underwear. Now to don the outer garments. Such as they were!
PART THE FOURTH
Veronica Harmsworth had just been given a parcel of clothes to put on, before embarking on a day of trial which, she hoped, would see her at the end, a rich and independent woman. A woman of substance.
The underwear had pained her greatly. It was swimwear - of a somewhat unusual sort. The kind of thing some bimbo on the make might wear in order to entice some sad bastard of a rich, but not very attractive, man. Her flesh had literally crept as she had put these items on. With loathing and disgust she had looked in the mirror at her obscenely attired body, seeing some caricature of herself staring back at her. What people will do to be rich!
After making herself up, she then turned to the three remaining items (shoes count as one item).
The skirt was a lulu! Bloody hell, I can’t go out wearing this, she thought! (But then the £ signs flashed up before her eyes!)
She had heard about slit skirts before now. But this one had TWO slits! And they went a very long way up. It reached on her to just below the knee. And it also was a very aggressive shade of red.
And then! The TOP! Sleeveless and white with broad horizontal red stripes, it buttoned up not far enough to cover her cleavage. Veronica was never one for bare arms, even in the height of summer - which this was not, it being early April at the time. It also left her midriff exposed, as was the fashion nowadays. She resigned herself to feeling quite a breeze in that area when she finally came to venture forth later on in the morning.
No tights or stockings had been provided and this was another source of distress, for our heroine was most fastidious in this regard, refusing ever to be publicly bare-legged.
The outfit was completed firstly by a pair of open toed and very high heeled shoes of the most incredibly impractical nature. The sort of thing one could not walk in, but merely totter. The final item was a shoulder bag.
She surveyed the overall effect and sighed sadly. She was certainly going to earn her million in a most embarrassing way!
She read the letter again. It instructed her to be at the Café Rouge at 9.30 am, where she was to order coffee and toast and await further instructions. She still had over an hour to wait and spent it reading the paper, which had just arrived.
Finally she realised that the time was nearly up. She must venture forth and go to the Café Rouge. This early in the morning she was almost the only customer as she tottered precariously into the place on her impossibly high heels. She sat in the furthest corner, hoping to avoid being seen from the street and ordered coffee and two slices of anchovy toast. By keeping her legs together, she was able to avoid exposing too much of her thighs, but there was nothing she could do to hide her brightly painted toes from view.
On her way here she had indeed felt the chill against her stomach as well as her unprotected legs. The breeze had blown her long blonde hair and flimsy red skirt about a fair bit and many a passing male pedestrian had experienced a welcome boost to his morale as he spied her handsome lily white legs shown up to such effect by her unaccustomed and eye-catching footwear. The red shoulder bag only served to enhance the general tartiness of her appearance on this memorable day.
As she waited for her breakfast to arrive, she rubbed her bare arms and shivered slightly, feeling the goose bumps as she did so. With a cup of coffee and some warm toast inside her she began to feel better. She waited and looked anew at the morning paper. She had been there for twenty minutes when a young boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen, came in and started to distribute flyers to the few customers. Veronica was about to wave him away when the youth winked broadly at her, fished an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over. She recognised the handwriting and her heart began to work overtime as she hastened to open it.
The letter read as follows: "Before you leave here, remove one of your shoes and leave it on the table at which you are sitting. You will go the "The George" and catch the 10.18 168 bus to The Elephant and Castle."
There was more, relating to her conduct when on the bus. This made her heart sink. But, first she must catch the bus. If she missed it, her dream of wealth would have come to an early end.
"The George!" She had never heard of the George! And she had only a vague idea of the 168’s route in any case. She always caught the tube of a morning and rarely traveled by bus.
"Excuse me, but where is The George," she asked a man sitting at the next table.
"Never heard of it" he replied. "Nowhere near here, I don’t think."
She looked at her watch. Only just over fifteen minutes to find out where to go and then get there! Oh, shit!
Just as she about to surrender to despair, another man, sitting near the door chimed in.
"There is a pub that used to be called the George - but not for years, now! It’s called "The Rat and Parrot" nowadays. Bloody stupid name! I call it cultural vandalism changing the names of long established inns like that! Absolute disgrace!"
He looked as if he was going to continue in this vein and Veronica interrupted.
"Is it near here and can I get a 168 there?"
"Oh, yes. Just go down the hill and it’s just after the junction with Pond Street. The 168 comes up Pond Street and turns left. Stops just outside the George - I mean Rat and Parrot!"
Realising that she might need to hurry, she thanked the man and prepared to leave, paying her bill and making for the door. Then she remembered her shoe and went back to her table, removing it and putting it on the table as directed. The half-dozen or so customers stared open-mouthed as she walked lop-sidedly to the door and left.
PART THE FIFTH
As soon as she left the café, the breeze caught again at her hair and skirt, one particularly nasty gust lifting the red garment almost waist high for a second, revealing her legs in all their majesty. It was possible, at that moment, for the discerning observer to spot that she wearing a thong. A workman, toiling away at some roadwork or other, whistled appreciatively. Veronica blushed.
She looked down the hill and at her watch. Not much time if she were not to miss the bus! She put her best foot forward and this was no easy matter. Normally shod, she would have made the short distance to the George in minutes, but with one foot bare and the other clad in the high heeled monstrosity that she was forbidden to remove, it was a nightmare.
As she struggled, cold no longer, but perspiring freely, she saw to her horror that a bus was toiling up Pond Street and she still had a little way to go. Running was an imperative if she were not to miss out on the dream of a lifetime! Those who had the privilege to witness her hurried progress were to remember to their dying day the sight of a pretty young woman, her golden hair streaming behind her and her fine young legs revealed for all to see. They would relive in their minds’ eye the lurching and gyrating gait of this unlikely vision as she ran towards the bus as well as the look of relief on her face as she made it with only a split second to spare.
She paid her £1 fare to the driver. This gentleman was a middle-aged West Indian, whose impassive features betrayed no sign of any inner surprise the sight of this lady might have occasioned. She walked or limped to the back seat as the letter had instructed and sat in the middle of it. The next bit was very hard for her to do and it was only with a massive effort of will power that she obeyed the instruction.
She had been told to sit with her legs crossed and so she crossed her legs as detailed by her mischievous benefactor! The unshod leg was to be crossed over the other and this she accordingly did. Of course, her skirt slid sideways to reveal her thighs in their entirety.
I should mention at this point that Veronica was tall for a woman, some five feet eleven inches in fact. It might be of further interest to the reader to know that her legs formed a proportionately above average part of her height. In other words, she had lovely legs and plenty of them! Although the sun had not touched these milky white thighs at all this year so far, the lack of a tan was more than made up for by the delicate tracery of blue veins which adorned that satin smooth and warm surface.
I should further add that Miss Harmsworth was an active and fit young lady who ran, swam and worked out as frequently as her work permitted. The fruits of all this exercise were plain for all to see, as, with her calf muscle pressed against her knee, the fine long shin bone on her raised leg was accentuated in the most appetizing fashion. Add to this the sight of her bare foot - a foot unblemished by callouses or deformity thanks to a childhood and early youth spent going for ever barefoot in rural South Africa - with its red painted toenails as it bobbed about in keeping with the bus’s movement along the pothole covered streets, and it will become clear to the reader that the other passengers had a visual treat of the utmost richness as they glanced up the aisle at the seated lovely and her deliciously displayed wares.
It was only by incessantly and silently repeating, mantra like, the words "One million Pounds, One million Pounds," that the embarrassed Veronica was able to keep her composure and steel herself to continue with her ordeal.
She had only just begun to master her emotions and forget her embarrassment when at Chalk Farm a large Afro Caribbean youth boarded the bus. This young man wore jeans and trainers which would have cost a Third World peasant two years wages and a spotlessly clean white vest, despite the coldness of the day.
"At least I’m no longer the only one around herewith bare arms!" thought our avaricious heroine. "I suppose the vain man is anxious to show off his muscles." Whether or not this was the case, the fellow certainly had some pretty impressive muscles to show off! He was well over six feet tall - probably six-four, she estimated, and big with it, although without an ounce of fat on any part of his magnificent body. And this black Adonis came and sat next to her!
It was now that Veronica remembered the rest of the instructions relating to her bus ride. She was to speak to nobody and not react in any way to anything that was said or done to her. She sat impassively, staring straight ahead, by a gargantuan effort of will not looking at the magnificent masculinity beside her.
Ignoring this gentleman became more difficult as he flashed a brilliant white smile at her and said, "Hi, Missy! Sure has turned out nice!"
Her discomposure was further accentuated when a large black hand descended on to her thigh and began to caress it in a methodical and expert manner. ‘No reaction - that’s what the orders said,’ she thought despairingly. Still she sat still and stared ahead, unsure what her reaction would be if she were allowed to make one! At first she had been inclined to slap the impertinent hand, as well as the grinning face to which it was attached. As the massage went on, however, a small part of her was slightly inclined to enjoy the experience and regret that she was unable to show her appreciation!
The bus arrived at Camden Town and she hoped that this still largely unwelcome fellow passenger would disembark, but was disappointed. The groping did not cease, but rather increased in intensity and she finally became utterly enraged both at this man’s insolence and her own inability to do anything about it. Just as her patience was being tested to destruction the bus reached Euston. Still this awful person did not get off and persisted in his attentions. She could smell his musky body odour next to her and funny things were happening in the area sheltered by her thong!
Just as she was sure she could take no more a large white man boarded. He ambled along the aisle and stood looking down at the mortified Veronica and her tormentor. After a few seconds he spoke - if his coarse tones could be properly described as speech, that is!
"'Ere you - tike yer bleedin’ ‘ands orff the lidy - you bloody coon! Filthy bastard! You want that dirty black nose spread all over that ugly face?"
Veronica’s companion replied with a wealth of obscene inventiveness, that the other fellow could go and get f*cked (among other things).
She cowered inwardly while remaining outwardly calm. She had never had two men fight each other over her before and was half hoping that this situation would soon be remedied! Her money was on the guy in the white singlet!
But the appearance of the newcomer apparently persuaded the other man to back down. He was also a huge fellow and very muscular, although less athletically built. Whatever the reason, Veronica’s tormentor soon got to his feet and went to sit upstairs. Her rescuer sat down next to her and made no effort to speak - to her immense relief.
At Waterloo, the first man came downstairs and got off, followed closely by the second. Veronica saw with surprise that they were both walking away laughing and chatting like old friends. A put up job, obviously! She wondered what further surprises the old practical joker had in store for her!
Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Veronica
by Harry
The story so far
Veronica Harmsworth had answered a tempting advertisement and accepted the eccentric Andrew Vane-Clatworthy’s offer of one million pounds in return for the performance of certain services to be rendered on a Wednesday in April. She had already found that great embarrassment was in store for her before she could finally grasp the coveted cheque in her hot and sweaty hand.
She had endured a highly humiliating ride on a 168 bus, being obliged to sit in a prominent position with her luscious and lovely legs exposed for all to see from the tip of her brightly painted toes right up to her shapely hips. A lewd and unpleasant man had sat next to her and fondled her. Another man had almost started a fight over her. Truly, her cup of embarrassment was full to the brim and running over today!
PART THE SIXTH
At Waterloo, the two large men had disembarked and Veronica prepared to enjoy the short remainder of her journey in relative peace. Most other passengers had left the vehicle by now and only two remained - a pair of elderly Japanese tourists who very politely refrained from looking in her direction. One stop before journey‘s end, this couple rose to get off. The lady nimbly ran up to Veronica and smilingly took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to her, bowing gravely and with extreme politeness. She rejoined her husband and both departed, leaving Veronica as the sole remaining passenger.
Before she herself had to disembark she opened the envelope and took out the enclosure. It read simply, "Remove your remaining shoe and carry it to Conti’s Café in Borough High Street. You will order a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich and await further instructions. I hope you are enjoying your day!" ‘Oh - very bloody funny,’ she thought with unaccustomed savagery!
It was great relief, though, that she read this latest instruction! Any more hobbling around as she had on her way to the George would have effectively finished her! The feel of the dirty pavement under her feet did not please her, but she soon realised that a childhood spent barefoot had been excellent preparation for her walk this morning and she soon found herself walking briskly and enjoyably. After a while she even began to hum to herself. The day was bright and sunny for the present, but a chill easterly wind was blowing and her skirt continued to misbehave to her continuing though increasingly resigned displeasure.
It was about twenty minutes before noon when she got to the café and by this time she felt in dire need of refreshment and something to eat. Although this place would doubtless be very busy before too long, it was still reasonably quiet. She drew her newspaper out of her bag and tried to make a start on the crossword. The coffee arrived after a couple of minutes and she nibbled away and sipped, trying to make sense out of the cryptic clues. Today was obviously not a good one for her brain and she made slow progress.
After twenty minutes she began to wonder if she had perhaps mistaken the name of the café and looked again at the letter. NO. No mistake, but this was a long wait!
Just as she was beginning to think something had gone terribly wrong with the old man’s arrangements, a disheveled man staggered into the café and came over to her, with the manager hot on his heels, obviously anxious to eject him. Before he could be cast back out into the increasingly busy street, he dropped a greasy and crumpled envelope on the table before her. No sooner had he discharged his obligation to the ancient financier, than he was very forcibly ejected.
Veronica felt a pang of pity for him and went to the door to see if she could thank him and maybe offer some help, as he looked to be one of life’s unfortunates in a big way. She just had time to see him walk briskly over the road and get into a very smart car, which promptly drove away - another put up job! She went back to her table and opened the envelope.
"Dear Veronica (I hope I can presume to this familiarity?)
"Would you please be so good as to finish your no doubt welcome meal and refreshing cup of strong tea. After you have done so I wonder if you would like to walk over London Bridge and make your barefoot and I feel sure charming way to The Lamb Tavern in Leadenhall Market. Order a large brandy and go and sit upstairs. Please do not fail to pass a friendly word or two with the good lady behind the bar! Before paying your bill and leaving this café, do be sure to toss your remaining shoe casually over the counter, taking care not to hurry out, but walk away slowly and with great dignity.
"Yours truly,
A V-Clatworthy"
At least she wouldn’t have to cart that horrible shoe around with her any more. Good riddance to it!
She did as directed tossing it with casual nonchalance over the counter, to the amazement of the Italian owner/manager. The clatter as it fell noisily on the floor made her wish to run out as fast as her long supple legs and bare feet could carry her, but she recalled the injunction to move slowly and with dignity.
Outside in the street, she turned right and made her way North over the River Thames. The icy wind was blowing straight upriver and seemed determined to blow right up between her legs, freezing her to the marrow as well as blowing the doubly split skirt in all directions at once, flapping noisily away like the Union Jack on her office flagstaff. A policeman passed her, going in the opposite direction. She felt sure he was about to arrest her for indecency, but he continued on his majestic and impassive way, without so much as a sideways glance at the goodly expanse of female flesh that was causing so many others to turn their heads in sheer amazement.
Once over the bridge, the wind abated a little, but it was still strong enough to raise a myriad of goose pimples and kept lifting her skirt to sometimes almost eye level. She prayed that none of her colleagues or business acquaintances would see her. If they did she was sure she would die from very shame!
She turned off Gracechurch Street into Leadenhall Market and soon found the Lamb Tavern. It was not one of her favourite watering holes, being too far away from her place of work. She had been there a few times and had always liked the place as well as the small Victorian market with its fish and poultry shops, now sadly being replaced by boutiques and Coffee houses.
The Lamb was not too crowded and for a change she had time to look at a photograph on the wall behind the bar. It was a picture of the late John Wayne, standing beside what appeared to be the staff in the same bar that she was in.
"I didn’t know he was ever here," she exclaimed to the barmaid. "When was that?"
"Oh, yes! He was in a film called "Brannigan." It was about an American cop who pursued a killer over here. There was a scene filmed in here."
"Yes, I remember now," said Veronica. Silly of me not to recognise this place in it! Wasn’t there a fight scene in which the place was smashed to bits?"
The lady laughed and said that that particular scene had been filmed in the studio using a mock up - not the pub!
Having thus obeyed her benefactor by chatting to the bar lady, she walked up the spiral iron staircase to the upper floor and sat down. She sipped her brandy and soon began to feel the effects. As I have mentioned Veronica was not really a dedicated drinker, being in the habit of making a very small drink go a very long way. Those readers who do not know what I mean when I say that the effects of a strong drink on those unused to spirits can be profound and mood changing, had better try it out for themselves. I have neither the time nor the inclination to waste on giving a description myself.
Suffice it to say that a degree of mellowness began imperceptibly to steal over her. She relaxed and stretched out her long legs, crossing her ankles and sighing with more content than she had felt thus far all day. She took another and longer sip, coughing slightly and feeling warmth and complacent contentment permeate her entire being.
"I wonder what comes next?" she thought.
PART THE SEVENTH
The lunch hour time was well advanced by now and the bar was beginning to fill with the usual mixture of sober suited City men and women. The women were all smartly and decorously dressed, in stark contrast to the brazenly and scantily attired Veronica with her striped sleeveless blouse, bare abdomen, voluptuous cleavage and scarlet slit skirt. Many glances were directed in her direction. Thank Heaven none of the other drinkers were people she knew!
With the fumes of her brandy doing their relaxing work, Veronica had failed to notice how the skirt was slipping off her legs, revealing again that wealth of milk white skin that had so enlivened the journey of dozens of passengers on the 168 bus earlier that day.
"Is there anybody sitting here?" Veronica glanced up sharply, her euphoria temporarily dissipated. A tall young man, not quite so smartly dressed as most of the other customers, was standing over her, a glass in his hand and smiling politely.
"No. I’m alone, do sit down."
The man did as invited and proceeded to take some papers out of his attaché case. Soon he was immersed in them and seemingly oblivious to the cleavage opposite him at eye level and the length of bare leg and bare feet stretched out below him. Veronica returned to her contemplation of the immediate future. She saw that her glass was nearly empty and downed the last of the brandy with some regret that there was no more left. That drink had been just what her shattered nerves had needed!
No sooner had she put the glass back on the table than the young man raised his eyes from his papers and fixed her with a blue eyed gaze of startling directness.
"Can I get you another? I’m about empty myself" he pointed to his own glass. "What would you like?"
"Oh. It’s very nice of you! I don’t know if I should have another. I’m not exactly my own boss today, I’m afraid."
"I’m sure Andrew would love you to have another, my dear. Brandy, wasn’t it?"
"Andrew" asked Veronica waveringly.
"Yes. That’s right! Andrew Vane-Clatworthy. My boss. Asked me to keep an eye on you for a minute or two. Can’t have an attractive young thing like you drinking alone, can we?"
The young man disappeared back downstairs and was soon back with a pint of Special Bitter for himself and a large brandy for her. A VERY large brandy for her! She stared at her refilled glass with no little concern. Whatever she was still to be asked to do later on, she hoped that a visit to a swimming pool would not be on the itinerary. She knew it was unwise to swim whilst under the influence. But what was the swimwear in aid of, she wondered anxiously?
The man introduced himself as Douglass MacTavish of That Ilk. "Call me Douglass." he told her with grand condescension.
"What does ‘That Ilk‘ mean, Douglass?" she asked. She had often wondered.
"Oh! It just means that I take my name from a place called MacTavish. The MacTavish of MacTavish - that’s yours truly. I like the skirt, by the way. But then - I would, since it was I who chose it, along with the rest of your outfit!"
She spluttered at this, being in the process of taking a rather large sip at the time. The young man was by her side in a trice, ready to administer help if she seemed in danger of choking, but she soon recovered, thanking him for his concern.
As soon as she had cleared her throat, she gasped croakily. "I can’t say I think a lot of your taste in clothes - or women, come to that if you go for the sort of girl who wears this kind of thing!"
Douglass laughed heartily at this, his ruddy face a picture of honest mirth.
"I can’t say exactly what sort of girl I ‘go for’ as you put it! I suppose that outfit is a bit revealing, but that was what I was instructed to get you. I think it suits you - seriously I do! You repress yourself the way you dress, both for work and leisure! Don‘t you feel just a little bit more alive today, even after the first stages of your ordeal? Come on! Admit it - this is fun in a way as well as bloody embarrassing - right?"
Veronica blushed half in anger and half because she knew there was a germ of truth in what the man had just said. Yes! It was a revelation to her to see what she was capable of doing. The power of greed!
Douglass continued. "I hope you get a bit of sun on those legs this summer! They’d look great with a rich deep tan. I bet you had one all the year round when you lived near Jo’burg as a girl. What happened to you when you came to England to change you? Mind you - I quite like your skin as it is today, especially after all that fresh air it’s had blowing over it! Very tasteful!"
She ignored all this and asked. "How much worse does it get today, Douglass? I suppose I get to display this excuse for a swimsuit at some stage of the proceedings?"
He laughed again - even more merrily this time.
"Indeed you do, my dear. Indeed you do!" After getting these words out, his amusement became so intense that he was bereft of speech for some minutes. Finally he recovered; his healthy young face redder than ever.
"Yes, my dear, strait-laced and conventional Veronica. You get to display that creation soon. Very soon!"
PART THE EIGHTH
Veronica had been enjoying her chat with Douglass until his mention of the swimming gear and its coming revelation to a watching world. It was a cold day outside, something which the warmth of the Lamb Tavern had almost, but not quite, caused her to forget. This chat with another, and friendly, human being was a welcome change from her day thus far.
As I have said earlier, Veronica was not one to display her charms too blatantly and openly. She would dress decorously even in the summer, never exposing much of herself. Even in her work-outs and jogging sessions she would wear all-enveloping Lycra exercise wear. Only at the swimming pool would she let her bare arms and legs be seen, and then she was mostly under water.
She would never shower with the other girls and women, preferring to go home and do this in privacy. Ever since the fifteen year old Veronica had come to England to complete her education, she had been becoming more and more prudish. What had happened to her today would obviously have embarrassed most women but, for Veronica, it is difficult to exaggerate the awfulness of her mortification and shame.
That was why the conversation with this tall and very aristocratic gentleman with his artless knack of putting people at their ease had been such a welcome relief to the ultra-embarrassed girl. Then he had told her she was soon to display her swimwear to a watching and wondering world and had collapsed into paroxysms of helplessly abandoned mirth.
Finally he recovered and wiped the tears away from his eyes, apologising for any distress he might have caused. He turned the conversation deftly to other matters. He was obviously highly knowledgeable about current financial and business trends and events, including the downturn of business in Veronica’s own chosen field. He sympathised with her discontent and unease at her immediate job prospects.
Then he switched to the subject of the theatre and asked what shows she had seen lately. When he heard that she had not been to the West End in years he slapped her playfully on the hand. "Well - we must surely do something about that! All that wealth of the world’s finest talent to be seen day by day and you stick at home or in the pub! Shame on you, my girl! I’ll be in touch after today is over! We must go to a few shows together - if you like?"
Veronica said she would very much like and the chat paused for a few minutes as both enjoyed a spell of convivial silence. Then Douglass looked at his watch and whistled.
"Wow! Time certainly goes fast when you’re enjoying yourself! Time for you to get your next instructions. Here you are. I’ll wait while you read them and then be getting along."
He produced one of the by now familiar envelopes from his brief case and passed it to her with a friendly and sympathetic smile. She opened it and read the following:-
"After your revivifying drink and no doubt pleasant conversation with the excellent MacTavish ( a very able and delightful gentleman, as you no doubt realise by now), I fear that the time has now come for you to venture forth and present that fair and beauteous body anew to the rude gaze of the wondering and delighted hoi polloi. How sad that the weather on this, your great day of destiny, has proved to be less than ideal for the exposure of that tender flesh to the elements!
"Would you please be so kind as to go to the Ladies and restore the ravages which time and several cups of tea and coffee etc. have done to your make - up - and at the same time, remove your blouse. As you make your stately and dignified way down the stairs and leave this most excellent of establishments, you will hand the discarded garment, with a warm smile and friendly word or two, to whatever smartly dressed City Gent is standing nearest the door. Leave the Market and walk north up Gracechurch Street and along Bishopsgate. Do not hurry. Further directions will be given to you, all in good time.
"Yours most sincerely
"Andrew V-Clatworthy
"PS I have hugely enjoyed watching the videotapes of your earlier adventures! You have shown great style and élan thus far. I really like the skirt - I expect you will miss it when the time comes for you to part company with it!"
Douglass was watching her as she read this, seeing with amusement her face lose its pallor and become redder with rage and shame. Finally she put the letter in her shoulder bag along with the others and went over to the Ladies. Douglass got up and bid her farewell for now. She hoped that she would see him again. He was just about the one and only decent thing that had happened to her all day!
Once inside the small ladies’ room she quickly complied with the first part of her new directions. As she leant across the washbasin she saw her breasts ripple and shimmer with the movement. She told herself by way of comfort that removing the blouse would not really expose a lot more of them. She had already shown far more of herself than ever in her young life before. It took only a few seconds to restore her make up. It certainly was eye-catching she thought again!
And then came the first difficult bit. Button by button she undid the blouse, until it hung down exposing the remainder of her stomach and chest to view. She looked at herself and quivered in horror. This was the City! The heart of the Nation’s financial and business life, a place with a thousand years of tradition! And she was about to parade half naked before a phalanx of respectable business men and women. Oh - the sheer awful shame of it all! And then the thought of the million pounds came to her rescue and her courage and resolve were restored.
It was only with an effort that she was able to make herself remove the blouse altogether. As she folded it up and prepared to leave after first relieving the strain on her bladder, she passed another and older woman on her way out. This good lady stared angrily at her. "I think you’re in the wrong pub, you tart! Try Browns in Shoreditch - you’d go down a treat there - bloody whore!"
Her face burning with shame at this, Veronica walked across the floor over to the staircase, watched by some approving men and disapproving women who were enjoying a lunch time drink or two. One couple was kissing each other with great enthusiasm, until the man espied Veronica and diverted his attention to her, to the fury of his lady companion. There was the sound of a face being loudly slapped and a chair being roughly pushed back, scraping over the floor; and the angry woman pushed past Veronica, giving her a look in which a venomous rage predominated and quickly left the pub. The poor young man looked about three times as embarrassed as even poor Veronica was feeling.
Before she went down the stairs she had time to hear a man’s voice call out to the young ex kisser, "Never mind, old chap! It’s worth a slap in the face to get a good look at that chick. By Jove, it is - glad my wife’s not around to cramp my style!"
"CHICK! So I’m a bloody chick, am I?" she thought as she began her slow and dramatic descent to the ground floor. "Never mind, it’s worth it if I get the million smackers tonight!"
PART THE NINTH
By this time it was well past one o’clock and the lower floor bar was crowded with city workers all talking away nineteen to the dozen and raising Cain as is the way of things at these times. As Veronica’s perfectly formed and beautifully arched bare right foot with its scarlet painted toenails came into view, those drinkers nearest the staircase ceased talking and looked to see what female charms were to follow this wondrous extremity. Although our heroine was scrupulously adhering to the instruction to move slowly and with dignity, they did not have long to wait. With each downward step, the skirt parted to reveal those, by this time, much viewed thighs and calves with their well toned muscles and complete absence of that curse of the female sex, cellulite.
When the trim and equally well toned stomach, together with its sweet and utterly adorable navel, came into view, more and more people noticed her and the Babel of chatter began to fall away with an accelerating diminuendo until by the time the flawless breasts, looking as if they wanted nothing better than to burst out of their delicate lacy prison , the better to proclaim their glory in all their lovely entirety, were presented to the patrons’ astounded gaze, there was total silence for maybe the first lunch hour in the Lamb’s long and honourable history as a place of refreshment and brotherly conviviality.
When, finally, Veronica’s head with its marvelous covering of golden hair arrived to complete the picture there were one or two voices raised to break the silence, including one muttered exclamation from a man whom Veronica did not see or hear - fortunately for her peace of mind, such as it was by this time! "Bloody Hell! What DOES our Veronica think she’s playing at! So this is the important business that forces her to ask me for the day off! I‘d never have thought she had it in her! Maybe I won‘t sack her, after all! That‘s much too nice a sight not to have around the jolly old place!"
She was so utterly frozen inside herself by the horror of what she was doing that she almost forgot that she must hand her blouse to one of the customers, with a friendly word and smile. Just in time she remembered and looked at the group of men standing nearest the entrance. It did not take her long to make up her mind and she handed the red-striped monstrosity to the tallest of them. He was a man in his fifties, with wavy graying hair which made him look very distinguished, and one of those long Roman noses and jutting chins which she had always admired in men - almost an older version of Douglass, she thought.
"Hi there - lover boy! Like something to remember me by?" And, with these amazing and utterly uncharacteristic words, she thrust the blouse into his free hand, at the same time stepping on tiptoe and lightly kissing his cheek, leaving a trace of vermilion where her lips had briefly rested. She could see that the man was almost as embarrassed by this as was she! With a parting smile of incredible sweetness, she ruffled his hair in an affectionate manner and left.
"I never knew you had friends like that, Jim!" one of the red-faced man’s companions joked as the door swung to behind the departing Veronica.
"I don’t - worse luck!" replied the still blushing, but highly gratified Jim. "If only! I should be so lucky!"
His companions indicated their disbelief, calling him a sly old dog. Then they, in common with all the other drinkers, resumed their delightfully interrupted conversation.
Meanwhile Veronica was just emerging from the crowded market and walking, as enjoined by the maliciously humorous Vane-Clatworthy, along Gracechurch Street. She walked slowly as she had been directed, and began to feel colder and colder. She hadn’t found the sleeveless blouse, now being laughingly passed from hand to hand in the Lamb, much of a protection from the weather, but now that it was no longer enclosing her upper body, she realised that its loss had made a huge and very unwelcome difference to her state of bodily discomfort. If only she could hurry and generate a bit of heat!
She had not gone too far when what she had long dreaded happened.
"Are you alright, Miss?" The very tall policeman looked down from a great height, even at the tall and slender Veronica. He looked concerned.
"Oh, yes! Quite - thanks, Officer. Never felt better!"
"It’s not a warm day today, Miss. I thought maybe you were in some kind of trouble. And it’s not exactly the way people usually dress round this part of the City. Still - you’re not showing any vital parts and what you are showing is very nice to see, if you don‘t mind my saying so! Take care, now, and mind how you go!" The constable proceeded along his southward path and Veronica continued northwards, wondering when she was to receive her next instructions. She pressed slowly on, relieved that she had not been arrested on the spot. Thank heavens the wind was not whipping her skirt up into the air any more! She was not quite sure what the sight of her exposed butt cheeks would have done to this supremely tolerant officer of the law, and had no wish to find out!
The encounter had raised a flush in her face and caused a rush of blood to her body surface doing something to drive away the feeling of cold. Even so, she was completely covered in gooseflesh and as she stroked one arm with her other hand, the surface felt like sandpaper, so erect were all the little golden hairs which covered it.
Even though she was not walking very quickly, she could feel her breasts move up and down and imagined very vividly how they must be looking to passers-by. She was receiving many glances, some amused, some admiring and a very few disapproving. Bit by bit she was becoming aware that she had power to cause devastation in many a male breast! It was a good feeling in a way, but still insignificant when compared to her continuing shame, humiliation and embarrassment. "One million pounds, one million pounds, one million lovely pounds" she muttered under her breath.
As soon as she had passed the Broadgate office complex and Liverpool Street Station, the area became progressively and rapidly seedier and more run down. This was unfamiliar territory to her, quite unlike the smart offices and leafy suburbs that were her usual milieu. The reactions of the men she passed became increasingly more forthright and richer in good old Anglo-Saxon monosyllables than those of the more well bred City workers.
"Fuck me! Look at the arse on that!" cried one delighted horny handed son of toil, reminding the poor girl that the wind was blowing harder once again and doing its wicked work of revealing her handsome firmly rounded rear to the appreciative gaze of the London proletariat. Who dares to say that the workers of the world have no sense of beauty or ability to cherish and value the finer things of life?
PART THE TENTH
Veronica’s journey through the capital had led her from Hampstead to Southwark and now, after a somewhat bibulous sojourn in the heart of the Square Mile, she was making her barefoot and ever more exposed way towards Shoreditch. Many complimentary, if somewhat earthy and obscene, comments had been passed in tones loud and clear enough for her ever burning ears to apprehend. It was nice to be approved of, she reflected, but the terms in which that approval was expressed left much to be desired!
Outside a shabby looking public house she saw a man standing and handing out notices to passers-by. As she drew level with him, this person drew an envelope form his pocket and handed it to her. Thank Heaven! She had been thinking she must have taken a wrong turning. By this time she was well and truly in the midst of a part of London she had rarely, if ever, seen before. Veronica, as she looked around her at the crumbling seediness of this blighted region, could well imagine how this kind of area had been the exclusive preserve of pimps and gangsters since time immemorial!
Thanking the man with her never failing courtesy and inbred politeness, she walked on, opening the envelope as she went. It read "My dear lovely Veronica! I do so hope you are enjoying today as much as I most certainly am! Will you please be so kind as to keep on your northward way until you come to that ever bustling and cosmopolitan area called Shoreditch. You will espy ahead of you, once you come upon Hackney Road, a pub which goes by the simple and honest name of "Browns". I would like you to make your sweet way into this unique establishment and buy a glass of cider shandy and a ham sandwich. (I feel that you may have already imbibed a little too freely of the more intoxicating beverages!) Do not feel obliged, on account of me, to comply with any unwelcome demands that might be made of you. If you wish to do so yourself, however, please feel free! You must be ready to move on after three hours rest and recreation in this place! Yours ever A V-Clatworthy."
Three hours. That would bring her up to just after five in the evening. She only hoped that the place in question would be not too noisy and ghastly. Young as she was, the exertions of the day had begun to take their toll on her and she would dearly like to rest and nap for a while. Her feet were beginning to feel very sore after their long walk and the effect of the cold wind against her skin had been severely to deplete her reserves of energy. Yes! She could certainly use a break right now!
And then the words, spat out with such venom, of the other woman in the ladies room, came back to her! What had she said? That’s right! "Try Browns in Shoreditch - you’d go down a treat there - bloody whore!"
Suddenly the thought of spending a few hours in this place seemed a little less attractive. It was obviously no place for a respectable lady. But! She had ceased to be a respectable lady, the moment she had agreed to this ever more shameful bargain. She had never seen Marlowe’s Dr Faustus, but, if she had, the moral would by no means have been lost upon her!
She had, however, shaken this infernally malicious ancient’s hand, and felt in consequence, that she was ineluctably obliged to see the thing through to the end. So on she went, her feet slapping onto the pavement as she picked up speed and sent the blood flowing through her veins to warm her chilled body just a little. Soon she was at the nineteen thirties building called "Browns".
She noticed that opposite the pub was a church. She saw something on the church notice board that greatly interested her. "THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS - A Series of Lent Lectures. Next Wednesday The Right Reverend Vernon Vane-Clatworthy will talk about "Avarice" at 3.30 pm All Welcome." She recalled that her benefactor's only surviving relative, a distant cousin, was a Bishop.
"Well, I don’t suppose I’D be all that welcome, not dressed like this!" thought a rueful Veronica. She remembered that she had always worn a hat in church in the past. Now she was scarcely decently covered at all! Shame overcame her once again and she hurried across the road to go into the pub and find out what new horrors were in store for her.
The moment she entered the place she realised that she was in the kind of den of iniquity that she had heard her male colleagues talk about from time to time.
The whole place was filled with a pulsating rhythm that hurt her ears. At one end of the room was a small stage upon which a lady even more scantily dressed than she was "dancing". It was a grossly suggestive dance that this woman was performing and it was clear from the glassy stares of the group of onlookers, that it was reaching a vital stage. Sure enough, within seconds of Veronica entering the place, the last remaining item of clothing, apart from a pair of plastic shiny thigh length boots, was whipped off exposing her shaven pubic mound to view. There was a ripple of applause from the watching throng.
The "lady" then approached the edge of the stage, squatting lewdly and gave the men in the front row an opportunity to view in clinical detail those parts referred to - in this case ironically! - as "Private." Veronica could not bear to look any longer as the woman gently massaged her slit with her right hand index finger that she then pressed against the lips of one of the onlookers, an elderly gentleman who obviously thought that Christmas had arrived over eight months early this year!
She walked over to the bar. As she did so another, only slightly less undressed female brushed against her and hissed menacingly in her ear. "You don’t work here. Trying to muscle in on our territory? Watch out for that pretty face, sister!"
Veronica smiled nervously and assured the young person that she was merely a customer, come to buy a drink and a sandwich. This only half convinced her interlocutor, who slid away muttering threats under her breath.
The barmaid stared at her in disbelief. "You sure you’re a customer, dear? You look like you want a job here, the way you’re dressed!"
"Yes. A cider shandy, please and a couple of ham sandwiches."
She looked around for somewhere to sit, preferably as far away from the loathsome spectacle being enacted on stage as possible. As she stood waiting for her food and drink to arrive, she felt a hand lightly placed for an instant on her shoulder.
"Hello, again. Having an interesting day?" spoke a cultured and very pleasant voice. She looked round and was astonished to see the black stud from the 168 bus earlier in the day! He was still wearing his spotless white vest and he still looked a dream with his splendid muscles and trim athletic body. She felt herself give a little at the knees, although, frankly, he wasn’t really her type!
"Oh. Hello. I wish I could say it was nice to see you again. As it is, in answer to your behaviour earlier on - take that!" and she slapped his face - hard. The man made no move to retaliate and apologised to her for the way he had so horribly fondled her thigh earlier on.
"I was just obeying instructions - as was my partner. Don’t think I enjoyed what I was doing. I’m not really much of a ladies man, if you get my drift. Not my scene at all, ducky!"
"You mean, you’re..."
"That’s correct my dear! I’m as queer as the proverbial three dollar bill! That makes me an ideal guy to employ around here as a bouncer and general minder of the girls. I‘m not likely to try to handle the merchandise!"
"And the other fellow - the one who pretended to challenge you to a fight. Him too?"
"Indeed he is. He’s called Jerry and he really does talk in that awful coarse Cockney way. Such a rough man - but I do like him! And he gets pretty rough with me on occasion, especially if I’m a naughty boy - but I love it really!"
As he said this, Veronica saw more and more clearly the effeminacy of the man and she felt deep sorrow at such a waste of two such splendid guys as these well built macho looking fellows. ‘Hells bells,’ she thought, ‘it’s not as if you come across magnificent specimens like this every day, and when you do they’re a couple of fairies!’ She refrained from saying so, however, owing both to her own ingrained politeness and the fashionable politically correct liberal views picked up over the years by keeping bad company in trendy Hampstead.
The man, who had meanwhile introduced himself as Reginald, escorted her over to a table set in a bit of a recess. She thanked him and asked if he would care to join her for a few minutes. He might be gay, but his muscles were still great to look at!
"Where did you go to school Reginald?" she asked. "And I’m sorry I slapped you! It was just so frustrating this morning not being allowed to do anything about it. Actually, in a way I quite liked it, even if you didn’t!"
"I should hope you did! And my school was Winchester, followed by Balliol. I think I may be a bit of a disappointment to my dear old Ma and Pa to say nothing of the jolly old Alma Mater! A man with a First in Classics working as a bouncer in a far from elite establishment such as this! To say nothing of my sexual orientation being the worst crime in the book as far as my family is concerned! But - we‘re none of us perfect, are we?"
"But - don’t you have any ambition?" asked a surprised and very interested Veronica, forgetting for a while, her own semi nudity and the sleazy surroundings she was in.
"I can read Plato, Homer, Euripides and Sophocles in the original - to say nothing of Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus & Co. Can you claim as much?"
"No" She felt a little ashamed of herself for her materialism. Her University education had been strictly career oriented and she had never had much time for art or literature. She loved music, but had sadly neglected even that interest, having a promising soprano voice which she had failed to develop despite the high hopes that had once been held for her. Maybe money isn’t everything, she half thought. Still - with one million pounds in the bank she would be able to broaden her interests a bit in the months and years ahead.
"I bet you were a Rugby Blue" she said looking again at his incredible physique with an aching sorrow that no woman was ever to enjoy that wonderful body!
"Oh, yes! That and rowing and Cricket. Best fast bowler of my generation, although I say it myself. I wasn‘t such a bad boxer, either. Comes in handy here on occasion!"
She settled back in her seat and sighed once again. Such a terrible waste. The world was a funny place, so full of the most bitter irony!
by Harry
The story so far
Veronica Harmsworth had answered a tempting advertisement and accepted the eccentric Andrew Vane-Clatworthy’s offer of one million pounds in return for the performance of certain services to be rendered on a Wednesday in April. She had already found that great embarrassment was in store for her before she could finally grasp the coveted cheque in her hot and sweaty hand.
She had endured a highly humiliating ride on a 168 bus, being obliged to sit in a prominent position with her luscious and lovely legs exposed for all to see from the tip of her brightly painted toes right up to her shapely hips. A lewd and unpleasant man had sat next to her and fondled her. Another man had almost started a fight over her. Truly, her cup of embarrassment was full to the brim and running over today!
PART THE SIXTH
At Waterloo, the two large men had disembarked and Veronica prepared to enjoy the short remainder of her journey in relative peace. Most other passengers had left the vehicle by now and only two remained - a pair of elderly Japanese tourists who very politely refrained from looking in her direction. One stop before journey‘s end, this couple rose to get off. The lady nimbly ran up to Veronica and smilingly took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to her, bowing gravely and with extreme politeness. She rejoined her husband and both departed, leaving Veronica as the sole remaining passenger.
Before she herself had to disembark she opened the envelope and took out the enclosure. It read simply, "Remove your remaining shoe and carry it to Conti’s Café in Borough High Street. You will order a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich and await further instructions. I hope you are enjoying your day!" ‘Oh - very bloody funny,’ she thought with unaccustomed savagery!
It was great relief, though, that she read this latest instruction! Any more hobbling around as she had on her way to the George would have effectively finished her! The feel of the dirty pavement under her feet did not please her, but she soon realised that a childhood spent barefoot had been excellent preparation for her walk this morning and she soon found herself walking briskly and enjoyably. After a while she even began to hum to herself. The day was bright and sunny for the present, but a chill easterly wind was blowing and her skirt continued to misbehave to her continuing though increasingly resigned displeasure.
It was about twenty minutes before noon when she got to the café and by this time she felt in dire need of refreshment and something to eat. Although this place would doubtless be very busy before too long, it was still reasonably quiet. She drew her newspaper out of her bag and tried to make a start on the crossword. The coffee arrived after a couple of minutes and she nibbled away and sipped, trying to make sense out of the cryptic clues. Today was obviously not a good one for her brain and she made slow progress.
After twenty minutes she began to wonder if she had perhaps mistaken the name of the café and looked again at the letter. NO. No mistake, but this was a long wait!
Just as she was beginning to think something had gone terribly wrong with the old man’s arrangements, a disheveled man staggered into the café and came over to her, with the manager hot on his heels, obviously anxious to eject him. Before he could be cast back out into the increasingly busy street, he dropped a greasy and crumpled envelope on the table before her. No sooner had he discharged his obligation to the ancient financier, than he was very forcibly ejected.
Veronica felt a pang of pity for him and went to the door to see if she could thank him and maybe offer some help, as he looked to be one of life’s unfortunates in a big way. She just had time to see him walk briskly over the road and get into a very smart car, which promptly drove away - another put up job! She went back to her table and opened the envelope.
"Dear Veronica (I hope I can presume to this familiarity?)
"Would you please be so good as to finish your no doubt welcome meal and refreshing cup of strong tea. After you have done so I wonder if you would like to walk over London Bridge and make your barefoot and I feel sure charming way to The Lamb Tavern in Leadenhall Market. Order a large brandy and go and sit upstairs. Please do not fail to pass a friendly word or two with the good lady behind the bar! Before paying your bill and leaving this café, do be sure to toss your remaining shoe casually over the counter, taking care not to hurry out, but walk away slowly and with great dignity.
"Yours truly,
A V-Clatworthy"
At least she wouldn’t have to cart that horrible shoe around with her any more. Good riddance to it!
She did as directed tossing it with casual nonchalance over the counter, to the amazement of the Italian owner/manager. The clatter as it fell noisily on the floor made her wish to run out as fast as her long supple legs and bare feet could carry her, but she recalled the injunction to move slowly and with dignity.
Outside in the street, she turned right and made her way North over the River Thames. The icy wind was blowing straight upriver and seemed determined to blow right up between her legs, freezing her to the marrow as well as blowing the doubly split skirt in all directions at once, flapping noisily away like the Union Jack on her office flagstaff. A policeman passed her, going in the opposite direction. She felt sure he was about to arrest her for indecency, but he continued on his majestic and impassive way, without so much as a sideways glance at the goodly expanse of female flesh that was causing so many others to turn their heads in sheer amazement.
Once over the bridge, the wind abated a little, but it was still strong enough to raise a myriad of goose pimples and kept lifting her skirt to sometimes almost eye level. She prayed that none of her colleagues or business acquaintances would see her. If they did she was sure she would die from very shame!
She turned off Gracechurch Street into Leadenhall Market and soon found the Lamb Tavern. It was not one of her favourite watering holes, being too far away from her place of work. She had been there a few times and had always liked the place as well as the small Victorian market with its fish and poultry shops, now sadly being replaced by boutiques and Coffee houses.
The Lamb was not too crowded and for a change she had time to look at a photograph on the wall behind the bar. It was a picture of the late John Wayne, standing beside what appeared to be the staff in the same bar that she was in.
"I didn’t know he was ever here," she exclaimed to the barmaid. "When was that?"
"Oh, yes! He was in a film called "Brannigan." It was about an American cop who pursued a killer over here. There was a scene filmed in here."
"Yes, I remember now," said Veronica. Silly of me not to recognise this place in it! Wasn’t there a fight scene in which the place was smashed to bits?"
The lady laughed and said that that particular scene had been filmed in the studio using a mock up - not the pub!
Having thus obeyed her benefactor by chatting to the bar lady, she walked up the spiral iron staircase to the upper floor and sat down. She sipped her brandy and soon began to feel the effects. As I have mentioned Veronica was not really a dedicated drinker, being in the habit of making a very small drink go a very long way. Those readers who do not know what I mean when I say that the effects of a strong drink on those unused to spirits can be profound and mood changing, had better try it out for themselves. I have neither the time nor the inclination to waste on giving a description myself.
Suffice it to say that a degree of mellowness began imperceptibly to steal over her. She relaxed and stretched out her long legs, crossing her ankles and sighing with more content than she had felt thus far all day. She took another and longer sip, coughing slightly and feeling warmth and complacent contentment permeate her entire being.
"I wonder what comes next?" she thought.
PART THE SEVENTH
The lunch hour time was well advanced by now and the bar was beginning to fill with the usual mixture of sober suited City men and women. The women were all smartly and decorously dressed, in stark contrast to the brazenly and scantily attired Veronica with her striped sleeveless blouse, bare abdomen, voluptuous cleavage and scarlet slit skirt. Many glances were directed in her direction. Thank Heaven none of the other drinkers were people she knew!
With the fumes of her brandy doing their relaxing work, Veronica had failed to notice how the skirt was slipping off her legs, revealing again that wealth of milk white skin that had so enlivened the journey of dozens of passengers on the 168 bus earlier that day.
"Is there anybody sitting here?" Veronica glanced up sharply, her euphoria temporarily dissipated. A tall young man, not quite so smartly dressed as most of the other customers, was standing over her, a glass in his hand and smiling politely.
"No. I’m alone, do sit down."
The man did as invited and proceeded to take some papers out of his attaché case. Soon he was immersed in them and seemingly oblivious to the cleavage opposite him at eye level and the length of bare leg and bare feet stretched out below him. Veronica returned to her contemplation of the immediate future. She saw that her glass was nearly empty and downed the last of the brandy with some regret that there was no more left. That drink had been just what her shattered nerves had needed!
No sooner had she put the glass back on the table than the young man raised his eyes from his papers and fixed her with a blue eyed gaze of startling directness.
"Can I get you another? I’m about empty myself" he pointed to his own glass. "What would you like?"
"Oh. It’s very nice of you! I don’t know if I should have another. I’m not exactly my own boss today, I’m afraid."
"I’m sure Andrew would love you to have another, my dear. Brandy, wasn’t it?"
"Andrew" asked Veronica waveringly.
"Yes. That’s right! Andrew Vane-Clatworthy. My boss. Asked me to keep an eye on you for a minute or two. Can’t have an attractive young thing like you drinking alone, can we?"
The young man disappeared back downstairs and was soon back with a pint of Special Bitter for himself and a large brandy for her. A VERY large brandy for her! She stared at her refilled glass with no little concern. Whatever she was still to be asked to do later on, she hoped that a visit to a swimming pool would not be on the itinerary. She knew it was unwise to swim whilst under the influence. But what was the swimwear in aid of, she wondered anxiously?
The man introduced himself as Douglass MacTavish of That Ilk. "Call me Douglass." he told her with grand condescension.
"What does ‘That Ilk‘ mean, Douglass?" she asked. She had often wondered.
"Oh! It just means that I take my name from a place called MacTavish. The MacTavish of MacTavish - that’s yours truly. I like the skirt, by the way. But then - I would, since it was I who chose it, along with the rest of your outfit!"
She spluttered at this, being in the process of taking a rather large sip at the time. The young man was by her side in a trice, ready to administer help if she seemed in danger of choking, but she soon recovered, thanking him for his concern.
As soon as she had cleared her throat, she gasped croakily. "I can’t say I think a lot of your taste in clothes - or women, come to that if you go for the sort of girl who wears this kind of thing!"
Douglass laughed heartily at this, his ruddy face a picture of honest mirth.
"I can’t say exactly what sort of girl I ‘go for’ as you put it! I suppose that outfit is a bit revealing, but that was what I was instructed to get you. I think it suits you - seriously I do! You repress yourself the way you dress, both for work and leisure! Don‘t you feel just a little bit more alive today, even after the first stages of your ordeal? Come on! Admit it - this is fun in a way as well as bloody embarrassing - right?"
Veronica blushed half in anger and half because she knew there was a germ of truth in what the man had just said. Yes! It was a revelation to her to see what she was capable of doing. The power of greed!
Douglass continued. "I hope you get a bit of sun on those legs this summer! They’d look great with a rich deep tan. I bet you had one all the year round when you lived near Jo’burg as a girl. What happened to you when you came to England to change you? Mind you - I quite like your skin as it is today, especially after all that fresh air it’s had blowing over it! Very tasteful!"
She ignored all this and asked. "How much worse does it get today, Douglass? I suppose I get to display this excuse for a swimsuit at some stage of the proceedings?"
He laughed again - even more merrily this time.
"Indeed you do, my dear. Indeed you do!" After getting these words out, his amusement became so intense that he was bereft of speech for some minutes. Finally he recovered; his healthy young face redder than ever.
"Yes, my dear, strait-laced and conventional Veronica. You get to display that creation soon. Very soon!"
PART THE EIGHTH
Veronica had been enjoying her chat with Douglass until his mention of the swimming gear and its coming revelation to a watching world. It was a cold day outside, something which the warmth of the Lamb Tavern had almost, but not quite, caused her to forget. This chat with another, and friendly, human being was a welcome change from her day thus far.
As I have said earlier, Veronica was not one to display her charms too blatantly and openly. She would dress decorously even in the summer, never exposing much of herself. Even in her work-outs and jogging sessions she would wear all-enveloping Lycra exercise wear. Only at the swimming pool would she let her bare arms and legs be seen, and then she was mostly under water.
She would never shower with the other girls and women, preferring to go home and do this in privacy. Ever since the fifteen year old Veronica had come to England to complete her education, she had been becoming more and more prudish. What had happened to her today would obviously have embarrassed most women but, for Veronica, it is difficult to exaggerate the awfulness of her mortification and shame.
That was why the conversation with this tall and very aristocratic gentleman with his artless knack of putting people at their ease had been such a welcome relief to the ultra-embarrassed girl. Then he had told her she was soon to display her swimwear to a watching and wondering world and had collapsed into paroxysms of helplessly abandoned mirth.
Finally he recovered and wiped the tears away from his eyes, apologising for any distress he might have caused. He turned the conversation deftly to other matters. He was obviously highly knowledgeable about current financial and business trends and events, including the downturn of business in Veronica’s own chosen field. He sympathised with her discontent and unease at her immediate job prospects.
Then he switched to the subject of the theatre and asked what shows she had seen lately. When he heard that she had not been to the West End in years he slapped her playfully on the hand. "Well - we must surely do something about that! All that wealth of the world’s finest talent to be seen day by day and you stick at home or in the pub! Shame on you, my girl! I’ll be in touch after today is over! We must go to a few shows together - if you like?"
Veronica said she would very much like and the chat paused for a few minutes as both enjoyed a spell of convivial silence. Then Douglass looked at his watch and whistled.
"Wow! Time certainly goes fast when you’re enjoying yourself! Time for you to get your next instructions. Here you are. I’ll wait while you read them and then be getting along."
He produced one of the by now familiar envelopes from his brief case and passed it to her with a friendly and sympathetic smile. She opened it and read the following:-
"After your revivifying drink and no doubt pleasant conversation with the excellent MacTavish ( a very able and delightful gentleman, as you no doubt realise by now), I fear that the time has now come for you to venture forth and present that fair and beauteous body anew to the rude gaze of the wondering and delighted hoi polloi. How sad that the weather on this, your great day of destiny, has proved to be less than ideal for the exposure of that tender flesh to the elements!
"Would you please be so kind as to go to the Ladies and restore the ravages which time and several cups of tea and coffee etc. have done to your make - up - and at the same time, remove your blouse. As you make your stately and dignified way down the stairs and leave this most excellent of establishments, you will hand the discarded garment, with a warm smile and friendly word or two, to whatever smartly dressed City Gent is standing nearest the door. Leave the Market and walk north up Gracechurch Street and along Bishopsgate. Do not hurry. Further directions will be given to you, all in good time.
"Yours most sincerely
"Andrew V-Clatworthy
"PS I have hugely enjoyed watching the videotapes of your earlier adventures! You have shown great style and élan thus far. I really like the skirt - I expect you will miss it when the time comes for you to part company with it!"
Douglass was watching her as she read this, seeing with amusement her face lose its pallor and become redder with rage and shame. Finally she put the letter in her shoulder bag along with the others and went over to the Ladies. Douglass got up and bid her farewell for now. She hoped that she would see him again. He was just about the one and only decent thing that had happened to her all day!
Once inside the small ladies’ room she quickly complied with the first part of her new directions. As she leant across the washbasin she saw her breasts ripple and shimmer with the movement. She told herself by way of comfort that removing the blouse would not really expose a lot more of them. She had already shown far more of herself than ever in her young life before. It took only a few seconds to restore her make up. It certainly was eye-catching she thought again!
And then came the first difficult bit. Button by button she undid the blouse, until it hung down exposing the remainder of her stomach and chest to view. She looked at herself and quivered in horror. This was the City! The heart of the Nation’s financial and business life, a place with a thousand years of tradition! And she was about to parade half naked before a phalanx of respectable business men and women. Oh - the sheer awful shame of it all! And then the thought of the million pounds came to her rescue and her courage and resolve were restored.
It was only with an effort that she was able to make herself remove the blouse altogether. As she folded it up and prepared to leave after first relieving the strain on her bladder, she passed another and older woman on her way out. This good lady stared angrily at her. "I think you’re in the wrong pub, you tart! Try Browns in Shoreditch - you’d go down a treat there - bloody whore!"
Her face burning with shame at this, Veronica walked across the floor over to the staircase, watched by some approving men and disapproving women who were enjoying a lunch time drink or two. One couple was kissing each other with great enthusiasm, until the man espied Veronica and diverted his attention to her, to the fury of his lady companion. There was the sound of a face being loudly slapped and a chair being roughly pushed back, scraping over the floor; and the angry woman pushed past Veronica, giving her a look in which a venomous rage predominated and quickly left the pub. The poor young man looked about three times as embarrassed as even poor Veronica was feeling.
Before she went down the stairs she had time to hear a man’s voice call out to the young ex kisser, "Never mind, old chap! It’s worth a slap in the face to get a good look at that chick. By Jove, it is - glad my wife’s not around to cramp my style!"
"CHICK! So I’m a bloody chick, am I?" she thought as she began her slow and dramatic descent to the ground floor. "Never mind, it’s worth it if I get the million smackers tonight!"
PART THE NINTH
By this time it was well past one o’clock and the lower floor bar was crowded with city workers all talking away nineteen to the dozen and raising Cain as is the way of things at these times. As Veronica’s perfectly formed and beautifully arched bare right foot with its scarlet painted toenails came into view, those drinkers nearest the staircase ceased talking and looked to see what female charms were to follow this wondrous extremity. Although our heroine was scrupulously adhering to the instruction to move slowly and with dignity, they did not have long to wait. With each downward step, the skirt parted to reveal those, by this time, much viewed thighs and calves with their well toned muscles and complete absence of that curse of the female sex, cellulite.
When the trim and equally well toned stomach, together with its sweet and utterly adorable navel, came into view, more and more people noticed her and the Babel of chatter began to fall away with an accelerating diminuendo until by the time the flawless breasts, looking as if they wanted nothing better than to burst out of their delicate lacy prison , the better to proclaim their glory in all their lovely entirety, were presented to the patrons’ astounded gaze, there was total silence for maybe the first lunch hour in the Lamb’s long and honourable history as a place of refreshment and brotherly conviviality.
When, finally, Veronica’s head with its marvelous covering of golden hair arrived to complete the picture there were one or two voices raised to break the silence, including one muttered exclamation from a man whom Veronica did not see or hear - fortunately for her peace of mind, such as it was by this time! "Bloody Hell! What DOES our Veronica think she’s playing at! So this is the important business that forces her to ask me for the day off! I‘d never have thought she had it in her! Maybe I won‘t sack her, after all! That‘s much too nice a sight not to have around the jolly old place!"
She was so utterly frozen inside herself by the horror of what she was doing that she almost forgot that she must hand her blouse to one of the customers, with a friendly word and smile. Just in time she remembered and looked at the group of men standing nearest the entrance. It did not take her long to make up her mind and she handed the red-striped monstrosity to the tallest of them. He was a man in his fifties, with wavy graying hair which made him look very distinguished, and one of those long Roman noses and jutting chins which she had always admired in men - almost an older version of Douglass, she thought.
"Hi there - lover boy! Like something to remember me by?" And, with these amazing and utterly uncharacteristic words, she thrust the blouse into his free hand, at the same time stepping on tiptoe and lightly kissing his cheek, leaving a trace of vermilion where her lips had briefly rested. She could see that the man was almost as embarrassed by this as was she! With a parting smile of incredible sweetness, she ruffled his hair in an affectionate manner and left.
"I never knew you had friends like that, Jim!" one of the red-faced man’s companions joked as the door swung to behind the departing Veronica.
"I don’t - worse luck!" replied the still blushing, but highly gratified Jim. "If only! I should be so lucky!"
His companions indicated their disbelief, calling him a sly old dog. Then they, in common with all the other drinkers, resumed their delightfully interrupted conversation.
Meanwhile Veronica was just emerging from the crowded market and walking, as enjoined by the maliciously humorous Vane-Clatworthy, along Gracechurch Street. She walked slowly as she had been directed, and began to feel colder and colder. She hadn’t found the sleeveless blouse, now being laughingly passed from hand to hand in the Lamb, much of a protection from the weather, but now that it was no longer enclosing her upper body, she realised that its loss had made a huge and very unwelcome difference to her state of bodily discomfort. If only she could hurry and generate a bit of heat!
She had not gone too far when what she had long dreaded happened.
"Are you alright, Miss?" The very tall policeman looked down from a great height, even at the tall and slender Veronica. He looked concerned.
"Oh, yes! Quite - thanks, Officer. Never felt better!"
"It’s not a warm day today, Miss. I thought maybe you were in some kind of trouble. And it’s not exactly the way people usually dress round this part of the City. Still - you’re not showing any vital parts and what you are showing is very nice to see, if you don‘t mind my saying so! Take care, now, and mind how you go!" The constable proceeded along his southward path and Veronica continued northwards, wondering when she was to receive her next instructions. She pressed slowly on, relieved that she had not been arrested on the spot. Thank heavens the wind was not whipping her skirt up into the air any more! She was not quite sure what the sight of her exposed butt cheeks would have done to this supremely tolerant officer of the law, and had no wish to find out!
The encounter had raised a flush in her face and caused a rush of blood to her body surface doing something to drive away the feeling of cold. Even so, she was completely covered in gooseflesh and as she stroked one arm with her other hand, the surface felt like sandpaper, so erect were all the little golden hairs which covered it.
Even though she was not walking very quickly, she could feel her breasts move up and down and imagined very vividly how they must be looking to passers-by. She was receiving many glances, some amused, some admiring and a very few disapproving. Bit by bit she was becoming aware that she had power to cause devastation in many a male breast! It was a good feeling in a way, but still insignificant when compared to her continuing shame, humiliation and embarrassment. "One million pounds, one million pounds, one million lovely pounds" she muttered under her breath.
As soon as she had passed the Broadgate office complex and Liverpool Street Station, the area became progressively and rapidly seedier and more run down. This was unfamiliar territory to her, quite unlike the smart offices and leafy suburbs that were her usual milieu. The reactions of the men she passed became increasingly more forthright and richer in good old Anglo-Saxon monosyllables than those of the more well bred City workers.
"Fuck me! Look at the arse on that!" cried one delighted horny handed son of toil, reminding the poor girl that the wind was blowing harder once again and doing its wicked work of revealing her handsome firmly rounded rear to the appreciative gaze of the London proletariat. Who dares to say that the workers of the world have no sense of beauty or ability to cherish and value the finer things of life?
PART THE TENTH
Veronica’s journey through the capital had led her from Hampstead to Southwark and now, after a somewhat bibulous sojourn in the heart of the Square Mile, she was making her barefoot and ever more exposed way towards Shoreditch. Many complimentary, if somewhat earthy and obscene, comments had been passed in tones loud and clear enough for her ever burning ears to apprehend. It was nice to be approved of, she reflected, but the terms in which that approval was expressed left much to be desired!
Outside a shabby looking public house she saw a man standing and handing out notices to passers-by. As she drew level with him, this person drew an envelope form his pocket and handed it to her. Thank Heaven! She had been thinking she must have taken a wrong turning. By this time she was well and truly in the midst of a part of London she had rarely, if ever, seen before. Veronica, as she looked around her at the crumbling seediness of this blighted region, could well imagine how this kind of area had been the exclusive preserve of pimps and gangsters since time immemorial!
Thanking the man with her never failing courtesy and inbred politeness, she walked on, opening the envelope as she went. It read "My dear lovely Veronica! I do so hope you are enjoying today as much as I most certainly am! Will you please be so kind as to keep on your northward way until you come to that ever bustling and cosmopolitan area called Shoreditch. You will espy ahead of you, once you come upon Hackney Road, a pub which goes by the simple and honest name of "Browns". I would like you to make your sweet way into this unique establishment and buy a glass of cider shandy and a ham sandwich. (I feel that you may have already imbibed a little too freely of the more intoxicating beverages!) Do not feel obliged, on account of me, to comply with any unwelcome demands that might be made of you. If you wish to do so yourself, however, please feel free! You must be ready to move on after three hours rest and recreation in this place! Yours ever A V-Clatworthy."
Three hours. That would bring her up to just after five in the evening. She only hoped that the place in question would be not too noisy and ghastly. Young as she was, the exertions of the day had begun to take their toll on her and she would dearly like to rest and nap for a while. Her feet were beginning to feel very sore after their long walk and the effect of the cold wind against her skin had been severely to deplete her reserves of energy. Yes! She could certainly use a break right now!
And then the words, spat out with such venom, of the other woman in the ladies room, came back to her! What had she said? That’s right! "Try Browns in Shoreditch - you’d go down a treat there - bloody whore!"
Suddenly the thought of spending a few hours in this place seemed a little less attractive. It was obviously no place for a respectable lady. But! She had ceased to be a respectable lady, the moment she had agreed to this ever more shameful bargain. She had never seen Marlowe’s Dr Faustus, but, if she had, the moral would by no means have been lost upon her!
She had, however, shaken this infernally malicious ancient’s hand, and felt in consequence, that she was ineluctably obliged to see the thing through to the end. So on she went, her feet slapping onto the pavement as she picked up speed and sent the blood flowing through her veins to warm her chilled body just a little. Soon she was at the nineteen thirties building called "Browns".
She noticed that opposite the pub was a church. She saw something on the church notice board that greatly interested her. "THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS - A Series of Lent Lectures. Next Wednesday The Right Reverend Vernon Vane-Clatworthy will talk about "Avarice" at 3.30 pm All Welcome." She recalled that her benefactor's only surviving relative, a distant cousin, was a Bishop.
"Well, I don’t suppose I’D be all that welcome, not dressed like this!" thought a rueful Veronica. She remembered that she had always worn a hat in church in the past. Now she was scarcely decently covered at all! Shame overcame her once again and she hurried across the road to go into the pub and find out what new horrors were in store for her.
The moment she entered the place she realised that she was in the kind of den of iniquity that she had heard her male colleagues talk about from time to time.
The whole place was filled with a pulsating rhythm that hurt her ears. At one end of the room was a small stage upon which a lady even more scantily dressed than she was "dancing". It was a grossly suggestive dance that this woman was performing and it was clear from the glassy stares of the group of onlookers, that it was reaching a vital stage. Sure enough, within seconds of Veronica entering the place, the last remaining item of clothing, apart from a pair of plastic shiny thigh length boots, was whipped off exposing her shaven pubic mound to view. There was a ripple of applause from the watching throng.
The "lady" then approached the edge of the stage, squatting lewdly and gave the men in the front row an opportunity to view in clinical detail those parts referred to - in this case ironically! - as "Private." Veronica could not bear to look any longer as the woman gently massaged her slit with her right hand index finger that she then pressed against the lips of one of the onlookers, an elderly gentleman who obviously thought that Christmas had arrived over eight months early this year!
She walked over to the bar. As she did so another, only slightly less undressed female brushed against her and hissed menacingly in her ear. "You don’t work here. Trying to muscle in on our territory? Watch out for that pretty face, sister!"
Veronica smiled nervously and assured the young person that she was merely a customer, come to buy a drink and a sandwich. This only half convinced her interlocutor, who slid away muttering threats under her breath.
The barmaid stared at her in disbelief. "You sure you’re a customer, dear? You look like you want a job here, the way you’re dressed!"
"Yes. A cider shandy, please and a couple of ham sandwiches."
She looked around for somewhere to sit, preferably as far away from the loathsome spectacle being enacted on stage as possible. As she stood waiting for her food and drink to arrive, she felt a hand lightly placed for an instant on her shoulder.
"Hello, again. Having an interesting day?" spoke a cultured and very pleasant voice. She looked round and was astonished to see the black stud from the 168 bus earlier in the day! He was still wearing his spotless white vest and he still looked a dream with his splendid muscles and trim athletic body. She felt herself give a little at the knees, although, frankly, he wasn’t really her type!
"Oh. Hello. I wish I could say it was nice to see you again. As it is, in answer to your behaviour earlier on - take that!" and she slapped his face - hard. The man made no move to retaliate and apologised to her for the way he had so horribly fondled her thigh earlier on.
"I was just obeying instructions - as was my partner. Don’t think I enjoyed what I was doing. I’m not really much of a ladies man, if you get my drift. Not my scene at all, ducky!"
"You mean, you’re..."
"That’s correct my dear! I’m as queer as the proverbial three dollar bill! That makes me an ideal guy to employ around here as a bouncer and general minder of the girls. I‘m not likely to try to handle the merchandise!"
"And the other fellow - the one who pretended to challenge you to a fight. Him too?"
"Indeed he is. He’s called Jerry and he really does talk in that awful coarse Cockney way. Such a rough man - but I do like him! And he gets pretty rough with me on occasion, especially if I’m a naughty boy - but I love it really!"
As he said this, Veronica saw more and more clearly the effeminacy of the man and she felt deep sorrow at such a waste of two such splendid guys as these well built macho looking fellows. ‘Hells bells,’ she thought, ‘it’s not as if you come across magnificent specimens like this every day, and when you do they’re a couple of fairies!’ She refrained from saying so, however, owing both to her own ingrained politeness and the fashionable politically correct liberal views picked up over the years by keeping bad company in trendy Hampstead.
The man, who had meanwhile introduced himself as Reginald, escorted her over to a table set in a bit of a recess. She thanked him and asked if he would care to join her for a few minutes. He might be gay, but his muscles were still great to look at!
"Where did you go to school Reginald?" she asked. "And I’m sorry I slapped you! It was just so frustrating this morning not being allowed to do anything about it. Actually, in a way I quite liked it, even if you didn’t!"
"I should hope you did! And my school was Winchester, followed by Balliol. I think I may be a bit of a disappointment to my dear old Ma and Pa to say nothing of the jolly old Alma Mater! A man with a First in Classics working as a bouncer in a far from elite establishment such as this! To say nothing of my sexual orientation being the worst crime in the book as far as my family is concerned! But - we‘re none of us perfect, are we?"
"But - don’t you have any ambition?" asked a surprised and very interested Veronica, forgetting for a while, her own semi nudity and the sleazy surroundings she was in.
"I can read Plato, Homer, Euripides and Sophocles in the original - to say nothing of Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus & Co. Can you claim as much?"
"No" She felt a little ashamed of herself for her materialism. Her University education had been strictly career oriented and she had never had much time for art or literature. She loved music, but had sadly neglected even that interest, having a promising soprano voice which she had failed to develop despite the high hopes that had once been held for her. Maybe money isn’t everything, she half thought. Still - with one million pounds in the bank she would be able to broaden her interests a bit in the months and years ahead.
"I bet you were a Rugby Blue" she said looking again at his incredible physique with an aching sorrow that no woman was ever to enjoy that wonderful body!
"Oh, yes! That and rowing and Cricket. Best fast bowler of my generation, although I say it myself. I wasn‘t such a bad boxer, either. Comes in handy here on occasion!"
She settled back in her seat and sighed once again. Such a terrible waste. The world was a funny place, so full of the most bitter irony!
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Veronica
by Harry
PART THE ELEVENTH
Veronica was sitting in a well known striptease pub in the London Borough of Hackney, chatting to a well built and muscular Winchester and Oxford educated black homosexual called Reginald. She had been sexually assaulted by him earlier in the day and robustly slapped his face as soon as she had seen him standing behind her at the bar, but now all was forgiven and they talked for about twenty minutes non-stop covering all manner of topics. He was impressively well informed about the situation in futures trading and sympathised with Veronica over her uncertain career prospects. He knew of her chance of riches if she passed all her tests today with flying colours and wished her well, although at the same time making it very plain that he would never go through such a succession of humiliations for any sum of money, no matter how vast.
Finally a commotion at the other end of the room required his attention and she was left alone. She looked at her watch. Still a couple more hours to spend here. She supposed that Vane-Clatworthy had implied that she might like to get up on the stage herself at some point and let the gawpers see her very own vagina, nestling behind its furry bushy blonde covering! Cheek! Of course, if it had been required by him she would have forced herself. There was nothing she was not prepared to do. A million pounds is a million pounds is a million bloody lovely pounds, after all said and done!
The exertions of the day, the copious drinks of fine old brandy and the cold wind against her skin had all combined to make her very tired and very drowsy. She felt herself slipping away into a deep and welcome sleep, despite the continuing din.
She had no idea how long she had been sleeping when Reginald’s gentle pressure on her shoulder made her wake up.
"Nearly five o’clock, Sleeping Beauty! Time to be moving on."
He handed her yet another envelope.
"Hello again Veronica," read the enclosed note. "I think you should have the good news first, namely that the time has now arrived for you to part company with a skirt the like of which I doubt will ever form part of your wardrobe again as long as you live! The bad news, as you will no doubt have anticipated, being such a superlatively intelligent young woman, is that you will not have anything to wear in its place!
"When you leave this establishment with its sad and seedy clientele I would like you to continue to walk northwards in the direction of Dalston . You will find enclosed, a one day Travel card. Yes! You are to have a ride on the North London Line later today. Put this in that rather vulgar bag of yours and keep it safe. You will be contacted in due course with further instructions. I advise you to walk briskly. It is not going to get any warmer, I fear, as the day approaches its end. Best wishes."
Indeed. She had been expecting to part company with another item before long and was only relieved that her bosom was still to retain its admittedly none - too substantial concealment at least for the time being. She prayed that any further removals of clothing would take place indoors and in conditions of some privacy. As it was, she had a most unpleasant churning feeling in her stomach as she contemplated emerging outside, her posterior virtually bare for all to see!
She bid adieu to Reginald, handing him the red skirt. The old devil was right about that. She would certainly neither miss it, nor buy another as long as she lived! She was proud of her legs all right, especially after the admiration they had drawn from so many people today, but never again would she suffer them to be revealed quite so generously as in the past few hours!
Stepping outside again, she felt more the sensation she had experienced after the loss of that blouse, whose memory was already fading in her mind. Although the wind had been able to nip and bite at her lower limbs at will, bringing the chill of the wintry day to the very seat of her womanhood itself, it had afforded some slight protection and she missed this protection grievously now that it was no more!
If her previous lack of adequate clothing had drawn forth appreciative comments, it was as nothing compared to the reactions she was evoking now that those long, smoothly muscular and graceful legs were totally revealed in all their decoratively athletic glory. The thong was so designed as to show all of her from the hip bone downwards, with only the thinnest slip of material going around her waist. At the rear, there was just the slightest piece of string like material to be seen and many short sighted people coming up behind her thought she was totally uncovered in this region, until they drew ahead of her and, looking around, saw to their disappointment that her front was indeed covered, with just a few wiry wisps of golden hair peeking enticingly out from behind the gossamer-like fabric.
She had hoped that the shoulder bag might serve to cover at least part of her rear end, but it was impossible to keep it from moving about with every step and as a makeshift garment it was worse than useless. It did not, in any case, reach down far enough to cover all over her twin hemispheres, the lower third of her two arse cheeks being clearly visible even when the bag was behaving as she wished it to.
She had not walked more than a couple of hundred yards, when she heard a small child shout. "Mum, I can see that lady’s bum!" She blushed even more deeply at this than at the ribald remarks of the older people.
Veronica was grimly and malevolently pleased to hear the child’s words followed by the sound of a loud and, she trusted painful, smack, which was itself followed by a wail of anguish. "Keep yer dirty little mouth shut, or you’ll get some more - yer bleedin’ little perisher" admonished the young villain’s irate mother!
"Good! Serve the little bastard right!" she spat viciously under her breath. "Ill-mannered brat! I hope Douglass and I won’t raise little horrors like that!"
And then she gasped at what she had just said! Such was her amazement that her terrible shaming predicament was forgotten for a few moments, as she walked hastily onwards. Yes! As she had talked to this handsome young Scotsman, she had been falling completely under his spell, and she knew now that the attraction had been mutual. He had neither said nor done a single thing to show it, but she KNEW! Despite his amusement at what was going to happen to her, he had fallen for her as completely as she had for him. And it had taken her until now to realise it!
This man knew her for the shamelessly greedy woman that she was; and yet he loved her! She had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight before. Now she knew it to be true and with every step her tired feet sprang off the pavement with a renewed life and vigour. She was walking on air!
The sun which had warmed her to some extent had now disappeared for a while and the clouds were thickening fast. Soon a droplet of water fell on her bare shoulder and the wind began to pick up again, cold as ever and without the comfort of the sun to mitigate its effect. She forgot Douglass for now and returned once again to miserable, exposed reality. She recalled an old song, her mother had sometimes sung to herself, called April Love. One line in particular seemed coldly apposite as the shower became quickly more intense. "An April day can suddenly bring showers". Well, this particular April day was sure as hell doing just that! God! As if all the rest of her troubles hadn’t been bad enough. She spotted a doorway and ran over to take shelter until the shower had passed.
She had scarcely had time to shake of the drops of water from her shivering and near naked body when a man came up to her. He whispered "Compliments of Mr. Vane-Clatworthy, Miss. You are not to take shelter, but keep on walking. Sorry, but there is a tight schedule to meet. I’m sure a little wetting won’t hurt a healthy girl like you." He scurried off, his enormous umbrella preventing a single drop from reaching him.
Once more Veronica cursed the man who was to make her rich! What a terrible thing ingratitude is!
PART THE TWELFTH
Veronica had just taken shelter from a sudden downpour, but had been told by one of her elderly benefactor’s watching minions to get back into the rain and not be a baby and a wimp. (Not quite in such a blunt manner, perhaps, but the implication had been obvious.)
"I’ll be the one with arthritis at this rate, never mind that old bastard" she muttered as the rain beat into her face, making her half close her eyes and lower her head, to protect them from the stinging drops. Dimly she became aware that they were a little solid for raindrops and that she was in the midst of a sudden and violent hailstorm! "At least my nipples are slightly protected - for the time being at any rate!" she thought as her entire body was turned an ever brighter pink by the combination of the cold air and the sharply stinging impart of the hail. She glanced down at her fine athletic body and saw the white stones bouncing off her finely toned stomach and well-formed thighs as she continued her painful and dogged walk to a fortune.
The crowds of people, sheltering from this appalling downpour, watched her with amazement, admiration and not a little pity. Poor girl! Obviously either mad as a hatter or stoned out of her tiny little mind! Her lovely blonde hair was drenched and clinging to her back, dripping water down her handsome and jutting bottom, which felt the tickling dribble as keenly, in its way, as her front felt the lashing of the large hailstones.
At least she longer had to listen to the increasingly irritating comments of plain and simple working men as they passed open mouthed and admiringly by her. Fine fellows, the proletariat, but possessing, alas, a sadly restricted vocabulary, for the most part - and she had never been partial to obscenity! There is a limit to the number of times one is flattered by being told one has a "fucking lovely bum, and great tits, darling!"
And THEN! She passed a large plate glass window and saw herself reflected therein. "Golly! What a sight! What a fantastic body, I’ve got!" she excitedly realised as she saw herself stride by!
All at once she felt a surge of pride as she thought how she was braving this terrible storm and taking such a ferocious beating to her almost bare body, while all around her, the fully clothed and protected had scurried for shelter! The shamed and hang-dog air that she had never been able to shake off all day disappeared, never completely to return, even after the initial euphoria had faded. She lifted her head high, put back her shoulders, straightened her back and walked a little taller with every step. She felt like a million pounds now - never mind whether she ended the day owning it!
The hail and rain stopped as suddenly as they had begun and soon the clouds were clearing and the sun shining once again. The street began to fill up with people, emerging from shelter to continue about their business. One such person passed Veronica and slapped her backside sharply making a very loud cracking noise as he did so. It was a deftly delivered slap however and did not sting. The guy must be an expert, she thought! He turned round as he overtook her and grinned in a friendly way.
"Made my day, watching you brave that shower! Makes me feel proud to be British!"
She laughed and told him the pleasure was all hers and was glad to be the means of entertaining such a nice looking fellow! She would never have reacted that way this morning! Whatever was happening to her?
With the drying pavement and the sun shining on her back, she started to return to something like normal. She was still damp and her hair felt as much of a mess as it must be looking. There were hours to go before the day was done and she knew Mr. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy was by no means done with her yet!
What had that letter said? A ride on the North London Line and dressed like this? Well - she was walking along the public highway like this! What difference did it make for her to get on a train? She had only seen one policeman since leaving the striptease pub and he had looked as if he was about to come across and speak to her, but something must have distracted him and he had hurried away, no doubt to deal with something more pressing than a marginally indecent display of flesh.
By this time, she was in the Dalston area. A row of shops was on her right and as she passed a café a man came out and spoke to her in a foreign accent which she half recognised as Greek. "Miss Veronica? Come in, please. We have a nice evening meal for you. Compliments of Mr. Vane Clatworthy!"
Yes. She was feeling a trifle peckish, come to think of it! All she had had all day were a couple of sandwiches and two slices of toast early on. She followed the gentleman into his restaurant. It was obvious that her hunch as to the man’s nationality had been spot on. The décor was very Greek. A mural of the Acropolis adorned one wall and various assorted gods and goddesses, another. A few false Corinthian and Ionic pillars were strewn about between the rows of tables. She was ushered to a table in the far corner.
There were not too many other diners around this early. It was still only a few minutes after six o’clock, after all. No doubt the place would soon be filling up. The few customers who were there at this time did not appear to be too interested in her presence, half nude and with her hair still plastered to her back. She sat down and shivered a little.
Before she could gather her thoughts together, a glass was placed before her, containing a colourless liquid and by it a jug of water. Ouzo! She tipped some water into the liquid, watching, fascinated as ever, by the way it turned from clear to milky white. She was less keen, as ever again, on the taste! However it warmed her up a little and that was the main thing!
Some twenty minutes later, a plate of hors d’oeuvres was place before her. Stuffed vine leaves, taramasalata, Greek Salad. It looked almost enough to constitute a meal on its own, but she was very hungry - surprising herself at her appetite and had demolished them all pretty efficiently by the time the main course arrived, together with a half flagon of Retsina - a particular favourite of hers.
She ate steadily away and soon the pair of red mullet had been picked delicately clean and the rice and vegetable concoction lay next to the fish, appeasing her hunger and giving comfort to her stomach, which she realised to have lost a little of its trimness in the last hour! She also felt tired once again and in need of the use of the bathroom. Mr. Spiro seemed aware of this need and ushered her to a room at the rear of the restaurant.
"The bathroom is over there, Miss Veronica and you may feel like a rest for a few minutes. I will tell you when it is time for you to pay and leave."
Pay and leave! I thought this was with the old bastard’s compliments, she thought! Never mind. She had brought plenty of cash, credit cards and her cheque book with her. She went to the bathroom, did the necessary and rested on the couch. It seemed that she had scarcely closed her eyes when Mr. Spiro was by her side, gently shaking her to rouse her.
"Time to be on your way! But first - you must pay for the nice meal!" He pointed to her bikini top! "Please - you take it off and I keep it as a souvenir of your delightful presence in my humble little taverna!"
‘Oh! SHIT!’ thought Veronica. She was being sent out into the cold night and onto a train - the eyes of dozens of late rush hour passengers would soon be devouring the sight of her naked breasts as well as her near naked bottom. Her shoulders sagged despondently. This, truly, was almost more than she could bear!
PART THE THIRTEENTH
The unctuously smiling Mr. Spiro watched as Veronica’s hands fumbled reluctantly with the last but one item standing between her and total nudity. Looking at the almost liquid quality of her shimmering bosom when restrained by the thin fabric, he was half expecting to see her breasts sag down to her stomach. He was delighted when they remained firm, pointing proudly ahead, the rose pink nipples hard and prominent. How sorry he was not to be going for a ride on that train later on!
He handed her the by now sickeningly familiar envelope. She opened it, trying desperately to keep her hands from shaking and with her stomach performing somersaults. By the time this was over, she would surely succumb to the mother and father of all nervous collapses!
"Hello Veronica my dear!
"From now on things become interesting! You will walk out of the restaurant after first publicly bestowing a grateful good night kiss on the welcoming lips of the good Mr. Spiro, and walk across the road, (being careful not to cause a traffic accident) to the North London Line Station called Dalston Kingsland. Catch a train going in the direction of Richmond, but do not go this far, getting off at the stop called Kentish Town West.
"I feel sure that the dreary lives of the little folk who are forced to travel daily on this route will be immeasurably enriched by the sight of your fair and lovely form as you stand looking like a Greek statue, only so much warmer and more real!
"Try your very, and I feel sure resourceful and competent best, to avoid the prying eyed insolence and officiousness of the Metropolitan Police Service and the British Transport Police. Those fine bodies of men and women, being zealous and conscientious officers might very well feel, if they saw you, obliged to curtail your activities and unwittingly destroy your hopes of financial independence.
"Once out of the station proceed with all due speed to the following address. And knock three times on the door. I provide a simple map for your use.
"Good luck. How sad it would be for you to fail now after coming so far!"
She kissed the smiling Mr. Spiro and left with his valedictory "Kali Nikta" ringing in her ears and the taste of his garlic laden and enthusiastic kiss in her mouth. YUCK! She had always had reservations concerning the use of the tongue at such times! "I bet Douglass’s tongue will be super, though, when HE kisses me!" she thought.
Thank the Lord it was nearly dark by this time and the street was getting less crowded as she made her way to the station, putting her ticket through the automatic barrier and going down to the platform. A few delighted catcalls greeted her sally out of the café and across the road to the station, but the sound of police whistles remained mercifully unheard! There were very few people around and she hoped that she was in luck, hiding herself away behind a notice board intending to remain unseen until the train arrived. She offered up silent and heartfelt thanks for the absence of station staff. Public service cuts aren’t entirely bad, she reflected!
Alas, this was not to be! Had she but known it, the last train had departed only seconds before she arrived onto the platform and the next one was not for another twenty minutes - if it was on time! She looked up at the black sky, with, this being London, only the very brightest of the stars visible. It was going to be a clear and cold night! Already the temperature was falling and the all but naked girl shivered and shook uncontrollably. "HURRY UP train! I’m bloody dying here!" she thought as the minutes passed.
She had been waiting for fifteen minutes when she noticed people were arriving and drifting up the platform in her direction. She shrank back, hoping to avoid detection, but one pair spotted her and came up to see whether or not their eyes were deceiving them. They were young and looked pretty happy to be together, embracing and kissing with touching frequency and intensity - obviously in the first mad flush of youthful infatuation. Lucky pair!
"Are you OK!" said the female half of this love-in!
"Yes and no" replied a shivering Veronica. "I don’t like being like this - not one little bit, but it’s by choice really. It’s a long story. Let’s just say I am doing this for a sort of bet and a lot hangs on my doing as I have to in order to win. Please don’t call the Police! I won’t ever be doing anything like this again - I assure you!"
"Gosh! How thrilling! Isn’t it, Daniel?" said the girl to her boy friend. "Why do we never seem to do anything really daring and exciting like that! I bet you’re pretty cold, aren’t you? Still you‘re maybe used to it by now. You must be awfully brave and really jolly tough, even to think about doing a thing like this!"
Veronica, flattered by this fulsome praise, tried to put a brave face on things and assured them that she was fine - just fine! Daniel was looking at her as if he almost wished to be her boy friend instead of his beloveds. Veronica saw this and mentioned something about doing it for her fiancé’s employer as a favour. Well - it was only a white lie! She fully intended to have Douglass as her life’s partner; she was only jumping the gun slightly!
This had the effect of transferring Daniel’s attention back to the nice young lady, whose name she announced as Gwendolyn.
"What a sweet name!" enthused Veronica, relieved to have a bit of company and to see that they were doing their best to shelter her from the gaze of the increasing numbers of arriving travelers. Then the sound of an approaching train was heard. The couple very expertly kept themselves between her and the rest of the passengers, but when on board she told them that part of her bet was that she should stand up and be seen by all and sundry. She hoped nobody would use their mobile phone to call the police and have her taken off the train before she got to Kentish Town West!
By keeping her rear pressed against the side of the train, she was able to conceal the fact that her bottom was uncovered and only her delectable, firm and gently bobbing breasts were on view. The general reaction was in the main the typical Londoner’s desire not to get involved. Most of them seemed to be looking down at the floor and unaware of her. A few, inevitably, were less polite, and stared incredulously at first and then began to make increasingly rude and graphically explicit comments, of a kind she was well used to by this time!
Finally one of them, a spotty faced and malevolent looking youth, discerned through a fog of inebriation and congenital stupidity, what she had so far kept from view. "Fuck me!" he announced to his friends, "That‘s a fucking G-string, she‘s got on! Her arse is fucking bare. FUCKING BLOODY HELL!! Move around, darling - there‘s a good girl. Let’s have a look at that bum! Cor, FUCK ME!"
Once again, for the millionth time that day, she prayed for a miracle! But there were no miracles being performed today, at least not on Veronica’s behalf!
Finally, she could take no more of this litany of obscenities and moved down the carriage, past the sympathetic Daniel and Gwendolyn and pushed through the connecting door into the next carriage, the delighted jeers of the drunken yob and his equally unpleasant companions ringing in her ears. Here, in the next carriage, there was merely a stunned silence and frosty looks of disapproval. How many more stops, she wondered before this ghastly experience was over?
PART THE FOURTEENTH
The Journey
(1) Canonbury
Veronica had just settled herself against the side of the next carriage, having fled from the taunts of a group of unpleasant youths, when the train started to slow down. Soon the doors opened to let in a bunch of new passengers as the train reached Canonbury. Two of the more disapproving of the passengers got out, not without giving our heroine a final withering glare in which the outrage of the righteous and morally upright was plain for her to see. Beneath this magisterial, if unspoken, rebuke, she cowered visibly. It must have been obvious to all that there was nothing of the brazen exhibitionist about her, merely shame of the very deepest kind.
One of the two people who boarded was a man attired in a saffron robe and bare feet. His head was shaved and there were signs that the razor had slipped several times. His eyes had the glazed look of one who was under the influence of a mood changing and possibly illegal substance. In happier times, Veronica would have considered this person an obvious nut case. She would have silently rued the way the capital city seemed to be more full by the day with such irritating eccentrics. Tonight, though, it was she who was standing out from the crowd - and how!
Something of the same reaction must have taken place in the young man’s mind, for he glared at Veronica as if resentful that her own extraordinary attire (or lack of it) was taking away from him the scandalized condemnation that was properly his. He shuffled off down the aisle and took a seat, facing away from the thong-clad Veronica whose perky breasts resumed their elastic and graceful upwards and downwards motion as the train got under way again.
She looked down at her feet, partly in order to avoid the stares of her fellow travelers. Bit by bit, she was getting to like that toenail varnish! It least it WAS covering of a sort, and she was getting in increasingly short supply of that! The more she looked down at those fine unblemished feet, the more she remembered her childhood, when they had been uncovered from one year’s end to the next. Why had she become so inhibited these past few years?
After today with all its adventures, some of them pleasing and others excruciatingly awful, she was beginning to feel a little more at ease with her body and the admiration it had drawn from so many. She called back to mind that experience in the hailstorm earlier on when she had been stung all over by the wicked bombardment. This memory caused her head to jerk back up and her back to straighten once again. She had only a few more stops to go on this train and, after a quick walk to the address she had been given, all this would be over! Taking courage from this thought, her spirits began to lift and she heard again Gwendolyn’s words. "You must be awfully brave and really jolly tough, even to think about doing a thing like this!"
"YES! I am brave and tough. More than I would ever have given myself credit for," she thought proudly. Now that she was defiantly returning the stares of the other passengers, they looked embarrassed themselves and lowered their eyes.
(2) Highbury and Islington
At the next station, a lot of people got off and a similar number got on. One of the new passengers was a short and rather elderly man, dapper and sharp faced with keen, blue, though slightly bloodshot eyes. Despite the unsteadiness of his gait, the result of an evening spent imbibing, if the reek of whisky were anything to go by, he did not make for a seat, but stood opposite Veronica and surveyed her closely and with obvious approval for a second or two before speaking.
"Saints preserve us! But it is a soight for sore eyes that ye are - indeed it is by the blessed Holy Mother and the heavenly angel hosts!"
Veronica was no Catholic, having been brought up an Anglican (Episcopalian) herself, but she felt somehow, that any mention of the Blessed Virgin in connection with herself in her present state of near total nudity, with her scarlet painted toe and finger nails and vermilion lips, verged on the profane. Accordingly, she tried at first to ignore the fellow. But he was obviously a loquacious and convivial chap - not one to be deterred by Veronica’s disapproving and affronted silence.
"Ah but ‘tis a cold and windy noight for that fair and tender flesh to be exposed quivering and shivering to the elements, and to tink that it is all for the delectation and entertainment of these good people - and all of them looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but where they are, pretending all of them they haven’t seen you in all your celestial glory - shame on their rotten souls. Have none of you Philistines an appreciation of Beauty when you see it!" and here he looked around at the rest of the carriage, waving an arm in a dismissive and contemptuous gesture, at the same time staggering somewhat under the combined impact of his own rhetoric and the drink he had taken on board earlier. Veronica, afraid he might fall, instinctively put out a hand to steady him. Within her, mirth was struggling with embarrassment and beginning to prevail.
He thanked her and clasped her shoulder to steady himself. Veronica was neither surprised nor particularly offended when he seemed reluctant to withdraw his hand once he had resumed a more or less stable and vertical equilibrium. She did not mind when he gently massaged her shoulder and moved his hand a little way down towards her breast, although stopping well short of that delectable protuberance. He was harmless enough and rather charming in his bibulous way!
"Ah, but ‘tis a soft and warm shoulder that ye have to be sure to be sure! May the blessed saints in heaven be praised! And I have to go home to my hard and cruel woife later on - Saints preserve us! Never mind my love! I’ll go away home now and die a happy man - sure I will."
"You don’t look about to die just yet!" laughed Veronica, "And it would be a terrible waste of a lovely man if you did. Don’t even think such things or say them even in fun! It’s been such a pleasure meeting you. Take care, now!"
The train had arrived at the next stop by this time and the little man raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it in a courtly manner. Veronica blushed and giggled. She bent down and lightly kissed his cheek. After administering a valedictory and lingering caress to her bottom, the man staggered out of the train, presumably to return to his long-suffering wife. "I hope she’s not too hard on him for coming home drunk" she prayed silently.
It might or might not have been his intent, but he had done a lot to make her journey less of an ordeal. She looked across at the rest of the people in the carriage and smiled in their direction. A few of them smiled back. How amazing what one pleasantly cheery eccentric can do to break the ice!
(3) Caledonian Road and Barnsbury
Only two people got on the train here and neither paid any attention to Veronica. One of these was a morose looking man, dressed in a long black overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, pulled down over his face as though he did not wish to be recognized. He was immensely tall and walked uncertainly as though he had suffered a stroke at some time. Either that or he was rather the worse for drink. (Or both, of course!)
After sitting down, somewhat heavily and awkwardly, he seemed to fall into a deep sleep and then began to snore loudly. For whatever reason, Veronica found this funny and was unable to keep a straight face. One of the other passengers, a middle aged lady who had scarcely glanced in her direction before, caught her eye and started giggling herself.
As the train slowed down, this lady got to her feet and walked towards Veronica. "You really are very pretty, my dear. I had a daughter very like you, the same golden hair and lovely figure. You remind me of her. Although she was never in the habit of flaunting her charms in the way you choose to, as far as I know, at least! Mind you - if you’ve got it, why not show it off? It’s all gone soon enough."
The train was slowing down rapidly and obviously nearly at the next stop. Veronica saw that the lady was about to disembark.
"You say ‘had’ a daughter like me?" Veronica asked, anxious to make the most of the chance to speak to another human being.
"Yes. She died in a skiing accident a couple of years ago. I have two sons and another daughter, but she was always special somehow. I know a mother shouldn’t have favourites, but if you had known her, you’d see why. I hope you don’t get into trouble, my dear - I suppose it’s some kind of dare or bet?"
Veronica nodded. "Yes. I was offered a pretty large bribe to do this. Sort of like an offer you can’t refuse!"
"Well, I’d say you’ve well and truly earned it! Good luck!"
And with this the doors slid open and the lady stepped out into the night. Veronica hoped she would meet her again one day, but doubted sadly that she ever would. She wondered if she was, in fact, real and whether any of today’s events were real. More and more the whole thing was getting to seem like an ever more bizarre dream. She pinched herself on one of her smooth, firm buttocks and squealed slightly. It was no dream!
(4) Camden Road
A crowd of people got on at the next station, many of them young and in high good humour. Two women and a man stood next to Veronica and grinned in a friendly way, all young and obviously both fascinated and delighted to be looking at such a lovely and near naked body.
"You’ve got some nerve going around like that, haven’t you!" said one of the girls, looking at her goggle eyed. "You could get yourself arrested and thrown in the slammer overnight. Just think of it - lying in a stinking cell on one of those dirty mattresses with nothing between that lovely skin of yours and God knows what germs and all that piss and vomit. Ugh!! Do you have far to go?"
"Kentish Town West" replied our dauntless heroine, relieved that this part of her day was drawing to a close. What the girl had just said had been rather at the forefront of her own thoughts!
"Oh! That’s the next stop. We’re going to Finchley Road - O Henery’s is our next port of call. Then back to jolly old Richmond on the last train. I bet the cops are after you already, you know! Bound to be. Some rotten nosey sod’s sure to have made a complaint. Where did you get on?"
"Dalston Kingsland" replied Veronica. That and all the other stops on this journey would be forever engraved on her memory!
"Shit! There’s bound to have been an alert by now. At this very moment the BTP are racing along in a squad car. Nasty people the Transport Police! Just as well you are getting off soon. Watch out for them at the station when you get off. They’re bound to board this train looking for you soon. My bet is they’ll be waiting on the platform for you - you poor thing! I mean we’re only young once, aren‘t we - I wish I had your nerve - maybe I‘ll strip off now and join you!" The boy with her told her she had better bloody well not if she knew what was good for and the train finally pulled in to the dingy station called Kentish Town West.
With this discouraging warning ringing in her ears, Veronica moved to the door and pushed the "Open" button. She stepped on to the narrow ill-lit platform and completed another stage in her adventure. She hoped that this stage would be brief and herald the end of a very stressful day.
As she got off she saw that the unpleasant boy had also left the train at this stop. Whether it was because he was no longer with his friends, or for some other reason, he was strangely subdued now and walking slowly. She soon overtook him. He scarcely seemed to notice her, to her great relief. To her even greater relief, there was no Police presence on the platform. "Almost at Journey’s End and a million smackers," she thought with premature triumph.
The young girl on the train had been dead right about a complaint being made, and the Transport Police would indeed have been waiting on the platform for her, had they not been delayed by heavy traffic consequent upon another of the ubiquitous road works that seemed to sprout up in a different place every day.
Veronica skipped light heartedly and nimbly down the three flights of metal steps, feeling them hard and cold against her bare feet, out into Prince of Wales Road and straight into the arms of an enormous woman police officer! In a trice this lady had Veronica secured in a powerful and expertly applied grip whose strength made the poor girl gasp.
"My, oh my! Aren’t we the pretty one?" whispered this doughty guardian of law and decency into Veronica’s ear. "Just my type! I think the three of us are going to have ourselves a ball before we throw you in the cells - whether you like it or not! We’ll take you up to the Heath and shag you till your ears drop off! Come and take a look at this Harry!"
Veronica expected to see a man, but instead another and equally formidable lady got out of the squad car and walked towards Veronica, who was now utterly desperate and very, very fearful. The second woman walked up to the helplessly squirming girl and clenched one large and serviceable looking fist in a meaningful and very menacing way!
"Very choice, Terri!" said the lady called Harry. "A bit frisky, though. Let’s do something about that!"
PART THE FIFTEENTH
"You got her OK, Teresa?" asked the woman called Harry.
"Sure thing, Harriet," said the first lady policeman, gripping Veronica so hard and immovably that she could not break free no matter how desperately she struggled - and the terrified girl struggled with all her might. Harriet interposed her body between Veronica and the handful of onlookers and then deftly punched her very, very hard in the solar plexus, causing her struggles to cease immediately! Veronica was engulfed with an avalanche of pure and unalloyed pain of a strength and intensity such as she had never experienced before in the whole of her short life. It had been a wicked blow - the sort of punch that could stop the heart beating. Veronica fought for survival against the agony, knowing that much worse was in store for her - or would be if this pair had their way!
Taking advantage of the near paralyzed state to which she had just reduced her with such efficient brutality, the other woman began to fumble for a pair of handcuffs and was clearly about to secure Veronica when something providential happened.
The unpleasant youth, whom Veronica had noticed leaving the station at the same time as she, had, by now, emerged from the station entrance into the main road. He was still walking slowly and looking pale and oddly dazed, something that Veronica noticed, despite her having more important things on her mind, what with the still undiminished pain from that terrific body punch she just taken. Suddenly the young man leapt into the air, coming down on his head with a crash. He immediately started writhing and twitching in the most horrible fashion.
A couple of other passengers paused in their homeward journey and looked nervously at this threshing and foaming. Then they saw the two policewomen, sighed with relief that they did not need to offer help, and continued on their way. ‘The poor boy.’ thought Veronica, all her loathing for him instantly forgotten, obviously an epileptic and in the throes of a very severe fit indeed.
"You’ll have to go and help him, Harry. Don’t worry!" said Teresa. "I’ve got this little beauty nice and tight. See to him and then we can have a bit of fun with her on the way to the station! I can’t wait for us to have her and those sweet tits to ourselves for a while. We’ll drive back the long way round! You can have her first, Harry, and you won’t need to hurry - we‘ll both of us have plenty of quality time with her!"
"OK Teresa. Don’t let her go, now! I love blondes and I‘m feeling really horny tonight!"
The other woman then hastened to go to the aid of the unfortunate boy and Teresa continued to hold Veronica in what, were I disposed to employ that literary short-cut called cliché, I would call a vice-like grip. Veronica had partly recovered from the blow by this time, although she was still in atrocious and mind-bending pain. She stayed limp and relaxed, hoping that the lesbian policewoman’s vigilance might slacken.
Harriet was obviously having trouble and one blow from the poor unfortunate’s flailing arms caught her on the face, knocking her backwards.
"She can’t cope on her own. You’ll need to help as well," gasped Veronica in a faint voice. Teresa’s answer was a viciously tightened grip, almost breaking Veronica’s arm and causing her to scream in pain.
"Oh! Are we ever going to enjoy ourselves with you when we get you in the car!" she sneered as she continued rhythmically to jerk Veronica’s arm back viciously. "We’ll stop off somewhere nice and quiet and have lots and lots of lovely, lovely sexy fun! I can’t wait to get my hands on those luscious firm tits and my tongue into your sweet mouth and juicy pussy! You won’t mind, will you sweetie? If you do mind, you might get a few very nasty bruises - resisting arrest and all that - to say nothing of a bad fall down the stairs later on! So just be a sensible girl and lie back and enjoy it when the time comes!"
The fit was obviously nowhere near burning itself out and Harriet was sent flying again, obviously unable to control the boy’s thrashing and writhing. He was clearly in danger of doing himself lasting harm and Veronica felt Teresa’s grip loosen as she realized she would have to help.
"Hang on Harry! I’ll cuff her; get her in the car and phone for the paramedics."
At the sound of the word ‘cuff’, Veronica panicked. It was bad enough being held in this expertly applied and unbreakable grip, knowing she was soon to be subjected to an energetically conducted series of disgusting sexual assaults by a pair of voracious and predatory uniformed lesbians. But to be handcuffed! It seemed like one of her very worst nightmares coming true. The sheer blind fear gave her momentarily much the same elemental strength as that possessed by the boy still flailing about on the pavement. She pushed her elbow back and, with more luck than judgment, found the same sensitive spot that the woman called Harry had rather more skillfully located on her body, to such paralyzing effect. Teresa let go her grip and sank to her knees, gasping for breath.
Veronica broke free and ran for her life. Her dream of riches, only a second ago irrevocably shattered, miraculously came back to life! She had not gone a score or so yards on automatic pilot when she realized she was proceeding in the wrong direction and turned back, passing the station entrance again where she saw that both policewomen were now attending to the boy.
Teresa looked up as she ran past, and the murderous look on that far from lovely face told her more clearly than a thousand words, just how indescribably unfortunate it would be for her if she fell into her hands again. An aggravated sexual assault would assuredly be followed and possibly accompanied by more painful impacts from their fists on her face and body. Veronica increased her pace, her tired and sore feet slapping regularly on the ground as they took her further and further from the dreadful pair.
She had heard stories of police brutality before, but as a good member of the law abiding middle classes had given little credence to them. Today was being an education to her in so many ways!
As she turned into the next street she looked around and missed her footing. She sprawled onto the pavement and her knee scraped for several inches before coming to rest. She rapidly picked herself up, little the worse for wear, thank Heaven, and saw that an ambulance had arrived. Though pleased that the poor boy was finally to get the competent attention he needed, she realized, with a sickening and visceral surge of petrifying naked fear, that the couple would now be free to pursue her. Sure enough, a police siren began to sound. Its plangent tones reverberated through the night air. It spoke of doom for Veronica and vengeance, combined with lewdly satisfied lust, for Constables Teresa and Harriet.
She ran even faster, feeling a trickle of blood running down her right leg from a slight graze to her knee. If those two caught her, she knew full well that it would be a lot more of her than her knee that would be bleeding, and bleeding very copiously, before the night was out! On no account must she be caught. Keeping out of their clutches was more important now than all the money in the world!
She was in another street by now, and the house she was making for was just around the corner. As she turned into this further street, she saw her shadow cast by the light of the approaching car. Almost exhausted, she increased her pace with all the desperation of a hunted animal about to be devoured by the hounds - not a bad analogy, she dimly thought.
No 17! There it was at long last, but probably too late! As she staggered breathless up to the front door of the mean terrace house and rang the bell, she heard the car screech to a halt and the doors slam. In two seconds those powerful lascivious hands would be upon her again and this time there could be no escape!
by Harry
PART THE ELEVENTH
Veronica was sitting in a well known striptease pub in the London Borough of Hackney, chatting to a well built and muscular Winchester and Oxford educated black homosexual called Reginald. She had been sexually assaulted by him earlier in the day and robustly slapped his face as soon as she had seen him standing behind her at the bar, but now all was forgiven and they talked for about twenty minutes non-stop covering all manner of topics. He was impressively well informed about the situation in futures trading and sympathised with Veronica over her uncertain career prospects. He knew of her chance of riches if she passed all her tests today with flying colours and wished her well, although at the same time making it very plain that he would never go through such a succession of humiliations for any sum of money, no matter how vast.
Finally a commotion at the other end of the room required his attention and she was left alone. She looked at her watch. Still a couple more hours to spend here. She supposed that Vane-Clatworthy had implied that she might like to get up on the stage herself at some point and let the gawpers see her very own vagina, nestling behind its furry bushy blonde covering! Cheek! Of course, if it had been required by him she would have forced herself. There was nothing she was not prepared to do. A million pounds is a million pounds is a million bloody lovely pounds, after all said and done!
The exertions of the day, the copious drinks of fine old brandy and the cold wind against her skin had all combined to make her very tired and very drowsy. She felt herself slipping away into a deep and welcome sleep, despite the continuing din.
She had no idea how long she had been sleeping when Reginald’s gentle pressure on her shoulder made her wake up.
"Nearly five o’clock, Sleeping Beauty! Time to be moving on."
He handed her yet another envelope.
"Hello again Veronica," read the enclosed note. "I think you should have the good news first, namely that the time has now arrived for you to part company with a skirt the like of which I doubt will ever form part of your wardrobe again as long as you live! The bad news, as you will no doubt have anticipated, being such a superlatively intelligent young woman, is that you will not have anything to wear in its place!
"When you leave this establishment with its sad and seedy clientele I would like you to continue to walk northwards in the direction of Dalston . You will find enclosed, a one day Travel card. Yes! You are to have a ride on the North London Line later today. Put this in that rather vulgar bag of yours and keep it safe. You will be contacted in due course with further instructions. I advise you to walk briskly. It is not going to get any warmer, I fear, as the day approaches its end. Best wishes."
Indeed. She had been expecting to part company with another item before long and was only relieved that her bosom was still to retain its admittedly none - too substantial concealment at least for the time being. She prayed that any further removals of clothing would take place indoors and in conditions of some privacy. As it was, she had a most unpleasant churning feeling in her stomach as she contemplated emerging outside, her posterior virtually bare for all to see!
She bid adieu to Reginald, handing him the red skirt. The old devil was right about that. She would certainly neither miss it, nor buy another as long as she lived! She was proud of her legs all right, especially after the admiration they had drawn from so many people today, but never again would she suffer them to be revealed quite so generously as in the past few hours!
Stepping outside again, she felt more the sensation she had experienced after the loss of that blouse, whose memory was already fading in her mind. Although the wind had been able to nip and bite at her lower limbs at will, bringing the chill of the wintry day to the very seat of her womanhood itself, it had afforded some slight protection and she missed this protection grievously now that it was no more!
If her previous lack of adequate clothing had drawn forth appreciative comments, it was as nothing compared to the reactions she was evoking now that those long, smoothly muscular and graceful legs were totally revealed in all their decoratively athletic glory. The thong was so designed as to show all of her from the hip bone downwards, with only the thinnest slip of material going around her waist. At the rear, there was just the slightest piece of string like material to be seen and many short sighted people coming up behind her thought she was totally uncovered in this region, until they drew ahead of her and, looking around, saw to their disappointment that her front was indeed covered, with just a few wiry wisps of golden hair peeking enticingly out from behind the gossamer-like fabric.
She had hoped that the shoulder bag might serve to cover at least part of her rear end, but it was impossible to keep it from moving about with every step and as a makeshift garment it was worse than useless. It did not, in any case, reach down far enough to cover all over her twin hemispheres, the lower third of her two arse cheeks being clearly visible even when the bag was behaving as she wished it to.
She had not walked more than a couple of hundred yards, when she heard a small child shout. "Mum, I can see that lady’s bum!" She blushed even more deeply at this than at the ribald remarks of the older people.
Veronica was grimly and malevolently pleased to hear the child’s words followed by the sound of a loud and, she trusted painful, smack, which was itself followed by a wail of anguish. "Keep yer dirty little mouth shut, or you’ll get some more - yer bleedin’ little perisher" admonished the young villain’s irate mother!
"Good! Serve the little bastard right!" she spat viciously under her breath. "Ill-mannered brat! I hope Douglass and I won’t raise little horrors like that!"
And then she gasped at what she had just said! Such was her amazement that her terrible shaming predicament was forgotten for a few moments, as she walked hastily onwards. Yes! As she had talked to this handsome young Scotsman, she had been falling completely under his spell, and she knew now that the attraction had been mutual. He had neither said nor done a single thing to show it, but she KNEW! Despite his amusement at what was going to happen to her, he had fallen for her as completely as she had for him. And it had taken her until now to realise it!
This man knew her for the shamelessly greedy woman that she was; and yet he loved her! She had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight before. Now she knew it to be true and with every step her tired feet sprang off the pavement with a renewed life and vigour. She was walking on air!
The sun which had warmed her to some extent had now disappeared for a while and the clouds were thickening fast. Soon a droplet of water fell on her bare shoulder and the wind began to pick up again, cold as ever and without the comfort of the sun to mitigate its effect. She forgot Douglass for now and returned once again to miserable, exposed reality. She recalled an old song, her mother had sometimes sung to herself, called April Love. One line in particular seemed coldly apposite as the shower became quickly more intense. "An April day can suddenly bring showers". Well, this particular April day was sure as hell doing just that! God! As if all the rest of her troubles hadn’t been bad enough. She spotted a doorway and ran over to take shelter until the shower had passed.
She had scarcely had time to shake of the drops of water from her shivering and near naked body when a man came up to her. He whispered "Compliments of Mr. Vane-Clatworthy, Miss. You are not to take shelter, but keep on walking. Sorry, but there is a tight schedule to meet. I’m sure a little wetting won’t hurt a healthy girl like you." He scurried off, his enormous umbrella preventing a single drop from reaching him.
Once more Veronica cursed the man who was to make her rich! What a terrible thing ingratitude is!
PART THE TWELFTH
Veronica had just taken shelter from a sudden downpour, but had been told by one of her elderly benefactor’s watching minions to get back into the rain and not be a baby and a wimp. (Not quite in such a blunt manner, perhaps, but the implication had been obvious.)
"I’ll be the one with arthritis at this rate, never mind that old bastard" she muttered as the rain beat into her face, making her half close her eyes and lower her head, to protect them from the stinging drops. Dimly she became aware that they were a little solid for raindrops and that she was in the midst of a sudden and violent hailstorm! "At least my nipples are slightly protected - for the time being at any rate!" she thought as her entire body was turned an ever brighter pink by the combination of the cold air and the sharply stinging impart of the hail. She glanced down at her fine athletic body and saw the white stones bouncing off her finely toned stomach and well-formed thighs as she continued her painful and dogged walk to a fortune.
The crowds of people, sheltering from this appalling downpour, watched her with amazement, admiration and not a little pity. Poor girl! Obviously either mad as a hatter or stoned out of her tiny little mind! Her lovely blonde hair was drenched and clinging to her back, dripping water down her handsome and jutting bottom, which felt the tickling dribble as keenly, in its way, as her front felt the lashing of the large hailstones.
At least she longer had to listen to the increasingly irritating comments of plain and simple working men as they passed open mouthed and admiringly by her. Fine fellows, the proletariat, but possessing, alas, a sadly restricted vocabulary, for the most part - and she had never been partial to obscenity! There is a limit to the number of times one is flattered by being told one has a "fucking lovely bum, and great tits, darling!"
And THEN! She passed a large plate glass window and saw herself reflected therein. "Golly! What a sight! What a fantastic body, I’ve got!" she excitedly realised as she saw herself stride by!
All at once she felt a surge of pride as she thought how she was braving this terrible storm and taking such a ferocious beating to her almost bare body, while all around her, the fully clothed and protected had scurried for shelter! The shamed and hang-dog air that she had never been able to shake off all day disappeared, never completely to return, even after the initial euphoria had faded. She lifted her head high, put back her shoulders, straightened her back and walked a little taller with every step. She felt like a million pounds now - never mind whether she ended the day owning it!
The hail and rain stopped as suddenly as they had begun and soon the clouds were clearing and the sun shining once again. The street began to fill up with people, emerging from shelter to continue about their business. One such person passed Veronica and slapped her backside sharply making a very loud cracking noise as he did so. It was a deftly delivered slap however and did not sting. The guy must be an expert, she thought! He turned round as he overtook her and grinned in a friendly way.
"Made my day, watching you brave that shower! Makes me feel proud to be British!"
She laughed and told him the pleasure was all hers and was glad to be the means of entertaining such a nice looking fellow! She would never have reacted that way this morning! Whatever was happening to her?
With the drying pavement and the sun shining on her back, she started to return to something like normal. She was still damp and her hair felt as much of a mess as it must be looking. There were hours to go before the day was done and she knew Mr. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy was by no means done with her yet!
What had that letter said? A ride on the North London Line and dressed like this? Well - she was walking along the public highway like this! What difference did it make for her to get on a train? She had only seen one policeman since leaving the striptease pub and he had looked as if he was about to come across and speak to her, but something must have distracted him and he had hurried away, no doubt to deal with something more pressing than a marginally indecent display of flesh.
By this time, she was in the Dalston area. A row of shops was on her right and as she passed a café a man came out and spoke to her in a foreign accent which she half recognised as Greek. "Miss Veronica? Come in, please. We have a nice evening meal for you. Compliments of Mr. Vane Clatworthy!"
Yes. She was feeling a trifle peckish, come to think of it! All she had had all day were a couple of sandwiches and two slices of toast early on. She followed the gentleman into his restaurant. It was obvious that her hunch as to the man’s nationality had been spot on. The décor was very Greek. A mural of the Acropolis adorned one wall and various assorted gods and goddesses, another. A few false Corinthian and Ionic pillars were strewn about between the rows of tables. She was ushered to a table in the far corner.
There were not too many other diners around this early. It was still only a few minutes after six o’clock, after all. No doubt the place would soon be filling up. The few customers who were there at this time did not appear to be too interested in her presence, half nude and with her hair still plastered to her back. She sat down and shivered a little.
Before she could gather her thoughts together, a glass was placed before her, containing a colourless liquid and by it a jug of water. Ouzo! She tipped some water into the liquid, watching, fascinated as ever, by the way it turned from clear to milky white. She was less keen, as ever again, on the taste! However it warmed her up a little and that was the main thing!
Some twenty minutes later, a plate of hors d’oeuvres was place before her. Stuffed vine leaves, taramasalata, Greek Salad. It looked almost enough to constitute a meal on its own, but she was very hungry - surprising herself at her appetite and had demolished them all pretty efficiently by the time the main course arrived, together with a half flagon of Retsina - a particular favourite of hers.
She ate steadily away and soon the pair of red mullet had been picked delicately clean and the rice and vegetable concoction lay next to the fish, appeasing her hunger and giving comfort to her stomach, which she realised to have lost a little of its trimness in the last hour! She also felt tired once again and in need of the use of the bathroom. Mr. Spiro seemed aware of this need and ushered her to a room at the rear of the restaurant.
"The bathroom is over there, Miss Veronica and you may feel like a rest for a few minutes. I will tell you when it is time for you to pay and leave."
Pay and leave! I thought this was with the old bastard’s compliments, she thought! Never mind. She had brought plenty of cash, credit cards and her cheque book with her. She went to the bathroom, did the necessary and rested on the couch. It seemed that she had scarcely closed her eyes when Mr. Spiro was by her side, gently shaking her to rouse her.
"Time to be on your way! But first - you must pay for the nice meal!" He pointed to her bikini top! "Please - you take it off and I keep it as a souvenir of your delightful presence in my humble little taverna!"
‘Oh! SHIT!’ thought Veronica. She was being sent out into the cold night and onto a train - the eyes of dozens of late rush hour passengers would soon be devouring the sight of her naked breasts as well as her near naked bottom. Her shoulders sagged despondently. This, truly, was almost more than she could bear!
PART THE THIRTEENTH
The unctuously smiling Mr. Spiro watched as Veronica’s hands fumbled reluctantly with the last but one item standing between her and total nudity. Looking at the almost liquid quality of her shimmering bosom when restrained by the thin fabric, he was half expecting to see her breasts sag down to her stomach. He was delighted when they remained firm, pointing proudly ahead, the rose pink nipples hard and prominent. How sorry he was not to be going for a ride on that train later on!
He handed her the by now sickeningly familiar envelope. She opened it, trying desperately to keep her hands from shaking and with her stomach performing somersaults. By the time this was over, she would surely succumb to the mother and father of all nervous collapses!
"Hello Veronica my dear!
"From now on things become interesting! You will walk out of the restaurant after first publicly bestowing a grateful good night kiss on the welcoming lips of the good Mr. Spiro, and walk across the road, (being careful not to cause a traffic accident) to the North London Line Station called Dalston Kingsland. Catch a train going in the direction of Richmond, but do not go this far, getting off at the stop called Kentish Town West.
"I feel sure that the dreary lives of the little folk who are forced to travel daily on this route will be immeasurably enriched by the sight of your fair and lovely form as you stand looking like a Greek statue, only so much warmer and more real!
"Try your very, and I feel sure resourceful and competent best, to avoid the prying eyed insolence and officiousness of the Metropolitan Police Service and the British Transport Police. Those fine bodies of men and women, being zealous and conscientious officers might very well feel, if they saw you, obliged to curtail your activities and unwittingly destroy your hopes of financial independence.
"Once out of the station proceed with all due speed to the following address. And knock three times on the door. I provide a simple map for your use.
"Good luck. How sad it would be for you to fail now after coming so far!"
She kissed the smiling Mr. Spiro and left with his valedictory "Kali Nikta" ringing in her ears and the taste of his garlic laden and enthusiastic kiss in her mouth. YUCK! She had always had reservations concerning the use of the tongue at such times! "I bet Douglass’s tongue will be super, though, when HE kisses me!" she thought.
Thank the Lord it was nearly dark by this time and the street was getting less crowded as she made her way to the station, putting her ticket through the automatic barrier and going down to the platform. A few delighted catcalls greeted her sally out of the café and across the road to the station, but the sound of police whistles remained mercifully unheard! There were very few people around and she hoped that she was in luck, hiding herself away behind a notice board intending to remain unseen until the train arrived. She offered up silent and heartfelt thanks for the absence of station staff. Public service cuts aren’t entirely bad, she reflected!
Alas, this was not to be! Had she but known it, the last train had departed only seconds before she arrived onto the platform and the next one was not for another twenty minutes - if it was on time! She looked up at the black sky, with, this being London, only the very brightest of the stars visible. It was going to be a clear and cold night! Already the temperature was falling and the all but naked girl shivered and shook uncontrollably. "HURRY UP train! I’m bloody dying here!" she thought as the minutes passed.
She had been waiting for fifteen minutes when she noticed people were arriving and drifting up the platform in her direction. She shrank back, hoping to avoid detection, but one pair spotted her and came up to see whether or not their eyes were deceiving them. They were young and looked pretty happy to be together, embracing and kissing with touching frequency and intensity - obviously in the first mad flush of youthful infatuation. Lucky pair!
"Are you OK!" said the female half of this love-in!
"Yes and no" replied a shivering Veronica. "I don’t like being like this - not one little bit, but it’s by choice really. It’s a long story. Let’s just say I am doing this for a sort of bet and a lot hangs on my doing as I have to in order to win. Please don’t call the Police! I won’t ever be doing anything like this again - I assure you!"
"Gosh! How thrilling! Isn’t it, Daniel?" said the girl to her boy friend. "Why do we never seem to do anything really daring and exciting like that! I bet you’re pretty cold, aren’t you? Still you‘re maybe used to it by now. You must be awfully brave and really jolly tough, even to think about doing a thing like this!"
Veronica, flattered by this fulsome praise, tried to put a brave face on things and assured them that she was fine - just fine! Daniel was looking at her as if he almost wished to be her boy friend instead of his beloveds. Veronica saw this and mentioned something about doing it for her fiancé’s employer as a favour. Well - it was only a white lie! She fully intended to have Douglass as her life’s partner; she was only jumping the gun slightly!
This had the effect of transferring Daniel’s attention back to the nice young lady, whose name she announced as Gwendolyn.
"What a sweet name!" enthused Veronica, relieved to have a bit of company and to see that they were doing their best to shelter her from the gaze of the increasing numbers of arriving travelers. Then the sound of an approaching train was heard. The couple very expertly kept themselves between her and the rest of the passengers, but when on board she told them that part of her bet was that she should stand up and be seen by all and sundry. She hoped nobody would use their mobile phone to call the police and have her taken off the train before she got to Kentish Town West!
By keeping her rear pressed against the side of the train, she was able to conceal the fact that her bottom was uncovered and only her delectable, firm and gently bobbing breasts were on view. The general reaction was in the main the typical Londoner’s desire not to get involved. Most of them seemed to be looking down at the floor and unaware of her. A few, inevitably, were less polite, and stared incredulously at first and then began to make increasingly rude and graphically explicit comments, of a kind she was well used to by this time!
Finally one of them, a spotty faced and malevolent looking youth, discerned through a fog of inebriation and congenital stupidity, what she had so far kept from view. "Fuck me!" he announced to his friends, "That‘s a fucking G-string, she‘s got on! Her arse is fucking bare. FUCKING BLOODY HELL!! Move around, darling - there‘s a good girl. Let’s have a look at that bum! Cor, FUCK ME!"
Once again, for the millionth time that day, she prayed for a miracle! But there were no miracles being performed today, at least not on Veronica’s behalf!
Finally, she could take no more of this litany of obscenities and moved down the carriage, past the sympathetic Daniel and Gwendolyn and pushed through the connecting door into the next carriage, the delighted jeers of the drunken yob and his equally unpleasant companions ringing in her ears. Here, in the next carriage, there was merely a stunned silence and frosty looks of disapproval. How many more stops, she wondered before this ghastly experience was over?
PART THE FOURTEENTH
The Journey
(1) Canonbury
Veronica had just settled herself against the side of the next carriage, having fled from the taunts of a group of unpleasant youths, when the train started to slow down. Soon the doors opened to let in a bunch of new passengers as the train reached Canonbury. Two of the more disapproving of the passengers got out, not without giving our heroine a final withering glare in which the outrage of the righteous and morally upright was plain for her to see. Beneath this magisterial, if unspoken, rebuke, she cowered visibly. It must have been obvious to all that there was nothing of the brazen exhibitionist about her, merely shame of the very deepest kind.
One of the two people who boarded was a man attired in a saffron robe and bare feet. His head was shaved and there were signs that the razor had slipped several times. His eyes had the glazed look of one who was under the influence of a mood changing and possibly illegal substance. In happier times, Veronica would have considered this person an obvious nut case. She would have silently rued the way the capital city seemed to be more full by the day with such irritating eccentrics. Tonight, though, it was she who was standing out from the crowd - and how!
Something of the same reaction must have taken place in the young man’s mind, for he glared at Veronica as if resentful that her own extraordinary attire (or lack of it) was taking away from him the scandalized condemnation that was properly his. He shuffled off down the aisle and took a seat, facing away from the thong-clad Veronica whose perky breasts resumed their elastic and graceful upwards and downwards motion as the train got under way again.
She looked down at her feet, partly in order to avoid the stares of her fellow travelers. Bit by bit, she was getting to like that toenail varnish! It least it WAS covering of a sort, and she was getting in increasingly short supply of that! The more she looked down at those fine unblemished feet, the more she remembered her childhood, when they had been uncovered from one year’s end to the next. Why had she become so inhibited these past few years?
After today with all its adventures, some of them pleasing and others excruciatingly awful, she was beginning to feel a little more at ease with her body and the admiration it had drawn from so many. She called back to mind that experience in the hailstorm earlier on when she had been stung all over by the wicked bombardment. This memory caused her head to jerk back up and her back to straighten once again. She had only a few more stops to go on this train and, after a quick walk to the address she had been given, all this would be over! Taking courage from this thought, her spirits began to lift and she heard again Gwendolyn’s words. "You must be awfully brave and really jolly tough, even to think about doing a thing like this!"
"YES! I am brave and tough. More than I would ever have given myself credit for," she thought proudly. Now that she was defiantly returning the stares of the other passengers, they looked embarrassed themselves and lowered their eyes.
(2) Highbury and Islington
At the next station, a lot of people got off and a similar number got on. One of the new passengers was a short and rather elderly man, dapper and sharp faced with keen, blue, though slightly bloodshot eyes. Despite the unsteadiness of his gait, the result of an evening spent imbibing, if the reek of whisky were anything to go by, he did not make for a seat, but stood opposite Veronica and surveyed her closely and with obvious approval for a second or two before speaking.
"Saints preserve us! But it is a soight for sore eyes that ye are - indeed it is by the blessed Holy Mother and the heavenly angel hosts!"
Veronica was no Catholic, having been brought up an Anglican (Episcopalian) herself, but she felt somehow, that any mention of the Blessed Virgin in connection with herself in her present state of near total nudity, with her scarlet painted toe and finger nails and vermilion lips, verged on the profane. Accordingly, she tried at first to ignore the fellow. But he was obviously a loquacious and convivial chap - not one to be deterred by Veronica’s disapproving and affronted silence.
"Ah but ‘tis a cold and windy noight for that fair and tender flesh to be exposed quivering and shivering to the elements, and to tink that it is all for the delectation and entertainment of these good people - and all of them looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but where they are, pretending all of them they haven’t seen you in all your celestial glory - shame on their rotten souls. Have none of you Philistines an appreciation of Beauty when you see it!" and here he looked around at the rest of the carriage, waving an arm in a dismissive and contemptuous gesture, at the same time staggering somewhat under the combined impact of his own rhetoric and the drink he had taken on board earlier. Veronica, afraid he might fall, instinctively put out a hand to steady him. Within her, mirth was struggling with embarrassment and beginning to prevail.
He thanked her and clasped her shoulder to steady himself. Veronica was neither surprised nor particularly offended when he seemed reluctant to withdraw his hand once he had resumed a more or less stable and vertical equilibrium. She did not mind when he gently massaged her shoulder and moved his hand a little way down towards her breast, although stopping well short of that delectable protuberance. He was harmless enough and rather charming in his bibulous way!
"Ah, but ‘tis a soft and warm shoulder that ye have to be sure to be sure! May the blessed saints in heaven be praised! And I have to go home to my hard and cruel woife later on - Saints preserve us! Never mind my love! I’ll go away home now and die a happy man - sure I will."
"You don’t look about to die just yet!" laughed Veronica, "And it would be a terrible waste of a lovely man if you did. Don’t even think such things or say them even in fun! It’s been such a pleasure meeting you. Take care, now!"
The train had arrived at the next stop by this time and the little man raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it in a courtly manner. Veronica blushed and giggled. She bent down and lightly kissed his cheek. After administering a valedictory and lingering caress to her bottom, the man staggered out of the train, presumably to return to his long-suffering wife. "I hope she’s not too hard on him for coming home drunk" she prayed silently.
It might or might not have been his intent, but he had done a lot to make her journey less of an ordeal. She looked across at the rest of the people in the carriage and smiled in their direction. A few of them smiled back. How amazing what one pleasantly cheery eccentric can do to break the ice!
(3) Caledonian Road and Barnsbury
Only two people got on the train here and neither paid any attention to Veronica. One of these was a morose looking man, dressed in a long black overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, pulled down over his face as though he did not wish to be recognized. He was immensely tall and walked uncertainly as though he had suffered a stroke at some time. Either that or he was rather the worse for drink. (Or both, of course!)
After sitting down, somewhat heavily and awkwardly, he seemed to fall into a deep sleep and then began to snore loudly. For whatever reason, Veronica found this funny and was unable to keep a straight face. One of the other passengers, a middle aged lady who had scarcely glanced in her direction before, caught her eye and started giggling herself.
As the train slowed down, this lady got to her feet and walked towards Veronica. "You really are very pretty, my dear. I had a daughter very like you, the same golden hair and lovely figure. You remind me of her. Although she was never in the habit of flaunting her charms in the way you choose to, as far as I know, at least! Mind you - if you’ve got it, why not show it off? It’s all gone soon enough."
The train was slowing down rapidly and obviously nearly at the next stop. Veronica saw that the lady was about to disembark.
"You say ‘had’ a daughter like me?" Veronica asked, anxious to make the most of the chance to speak to another human being.
"Yes. She died in a skiing accident a couple of years ago. I have two sons and another daughter, but she was always special somehow. I know a mother shouldn’t have favourites, but if you had known her, you’d see why. I hope you don’t get into trouble, my dear - I suppose it’s some kind of dare or bet?"
Veronica nodded. "Yes. I was offered a pretty large bribe to do this. Sort of like an offer you can’t refuse!"
"Well, I’d say you’ve well and truly earned it! Good luck!"
And with this the doors slid open and the lady stepped out into the night. Veronica hoped she would meet her again one day, but doubted sadly that she ever would. She wondered if she was, in fact, real and whether any of today’s events were real. More and more the whole thing was getting to seem like an ever more bizarre dream. She pinched herself on one of her smooth, firm buttocks and squealed slightly. It was no dream!
(4) Camden Road
A crowd of people got on at the next station, many of them young and in high good humour. Two women and a man stood next to Veronica and grinned in a friendly way, all young and obviously both fascinated and delighted to be looking at such a lovely and near naked body.
"You’ve got some nerve going around like that, haven’t you!" said one of the girls, looking at her goggle eyed. "You could get yourself arrested and thrown in the slammer overnight. Just think of it - lying in a stinking cell on one of those dirty mattresses with nothing between that lovely skin of yours and God knows what germs and all that piss and vomit. Ugh!! Do you have far to go?"
"Kentish Town West" replied our dauntless heroine, relieved that this part of her day was drawing to a close. What the girl had just said had been rather at the forefront of her own thoughts!
"Oh! That’s the next stop. We’re going to Finchley Road - O Henery’s is our next port of call. Then back to jolly old Richmond on the last train. I bet the cops are after you already, you know! Bound to be. Some rotten nosey sod’s sure to have made a complaint. Where did you get on?"
"Dalston Kingsland" replied Veronica. That and all the other stops on this journey would be forever engraved on her memory!
"Shit! There’s bound to have been an alert by now. At this very moment the BTP are racing along in a squad car. Nasty people the Transport Police! Just as well you are getting off soon. Watch out for them at the station when you get off. They’re bound to board this train looking for you soon. My bet is they’ll be waiting on the platform for you - you poor thing! I mean we’re only young once, aren‘t we - I wish I had your nerve - maybe I‘ll strip off now and join you!" The boy with her told her she had better bloody well not if she knew what was good for and the train finally pulled in to the dingy station called Kentish Town West.
With this discouraging warning ringing in her ears, Veronica moved to the door and pushed the "Open" button. She stepped on to the narrow ill-lit platform and completed another stage in her adventure. She hoped that this stage would be brief and herald the end of a very stressful day.
As she got off she saw that the unpleasant boy had also left the train at this stop. Whether it was because he was no longer with his friends, or for some other reason, he was strangely subdued now and walking slowly. She soon overtook him. He scarcely seemed to notice her, to her great relief. To her even greater relief, there was no Police presence on the platform. "Almost at Journey’s End and a million smackers," she thought with premature triumph.
The young girl on the train had been dead right about a complaint being made, and the Transport Police would indeed have been waiting on the platform for her, had they not been delayed by heavy traffic consequent upon another of the ubiquitous road works that seemed to sprout up in a different place every day.
Veronica skipped light heartedly and nimbly down the three flights of metal steps, feeling them hard and cold against her bare feet, out into Prince of Wales Road and straight into the arms of an enormous woman police officer! In a trice this lady had Veronica secured in a powerful and expertly applied grip whose strength made the poor girl gasp.
"My, oh my! Aren’t we the pretty one?" whispered this doughty guardian of law and decency into Veronica’s ear. "Just my type! I think the three of us are going to have ourselves a ball before we throw you in the cells - whether you like it or not! We’ll take you up to the Heath and shag you till your ears drop off! Come and take a look at this Harry!"
Veronica expected to see a man, but instead another and equally formidable lady got out of the squad car and walked towards Veronica, who was now utterly desperate and very, very fearful. The second woman walked up to the helplessly squirming girl and clenched one large and serviceable looking fist in a meaningful and very menacing way!
"Very choice, Terri!" said the lady called Harry. "A bit frisky, though. Let’s do something about that!"
PART THE FIFTEENTH
"You got her OK, Teresa?" asked the woman called Harry.
"Sure thing, Harriet," said the first lady policeman, gripping Veronica so hard and immovably that she could not break free no matter how desperately she struggled - and the terrified girl struggled with all her might. Harriet interposed her body between Veronica and the handful of onlookers and then deftly punched her very, very hard in the solar plexus, causing her struggles to cease immediately! Veronica was engulfed with an avalanche of pure and unalloyed pain of a strength and intensity such as she had never experienced before in the whole of her short life. It had been a wicked blow - the sort of punch that could stop the heart beating. Veronica fought for survival against the agony, knowing that much worse was in store for her - or would be if this pair had their way!
Taking advantage of the near paralyzed state to which she had just reduced her with such efficient brutality, the other woman began to fumble for a pair of handcuffs and was clearly about to secure Veronica when something providential happened.
The unpleasant youth, whom Veronica had noticed leaving the station at the same time as she, had, by now, emerged from the station entrance into the main road. He was still walking slowly and looking pale and oddly dazed, something that Veronica noticed, despite her having more important things on her mind, what with the still undiminished pain from that terrific body punch she just taken. Suddenly the young man leapt into the air, coming down on his head with a crash. He immediately started writhing and twitching in the most horrible fashion.
A couple of other passengers paused in their homeward journey and looked nervously at this threshing and foaming. Then they saw the two policewomen, sighed with relief that they did not need to offer help, and continued on their way. ‘The poor boy.’ thought Veronica, all her loathing for him instantly forgotten, obviously an epileptic and in the throes of a very severe fit indeed.
"You’ll have to go and help him, Harry. Don’t worry!" said Teresa. "I’ve got this little beauty nice and tight. See to him and then we can have a bit of fun with her on the way to the station! I can’t wait for us to have her and those sweet tits to ourselves for a while. We’ll drive back the long way round! You can have her first, Harry, and you won’t need to hurry - we‘ll both of us have plenty of quality time with her!"
"OK Teresa. Don’t let her go, now! I love blondes and I‘m feeling really horny tonight!"
The other woman then hastened to go to the aid of the unfortunate boy and Teresa continued to hold Veronica in what, were I disposed to employ that literary short-cut called cliché, I would call a vice-like grip. Veronica had partly recovered from the blow by this time, although she was still in atrocious and mind-bending pain. She stayed limp and relaxed, hoping that the lesbian policewoman’s vigilance might slacken.
Harriet was obviously having trouble and one blow from the poor unfortunate’s flailing arms caught her on the face, knocking her backwards.
"She can’t cope on her own. You’ll need to help as well," gasped Veronica in a faint voice. Teresa’s answer was a viciously tightened grip, almost breaking Veronica’s arm and causing her to scream in pain.
"Oh! Are we ever going to enjoy ourselves with you when we get you in the car!" she sneered as she continued rhythmically to jerk Veronica’s arm back viciously. "We’ll stop off somewhere nice and quiet and have lots and lots of lovely, lovely sexy fun! I can’t wait to get my hands on those luscious firm tits and my tongue into your sweet mouth and juicy pussy! You won’t mind, will you sweetie? If you do mind, you might get a few very nasty bruises - resisting arrest and all that - to say nothing of a bad fall down the stairs later on! So just be a sensible girl and lie back and enjoy it when the time comes!"
The fit was obviously nowhere near burning itself out and Harriet was sent flying again, obviously unable to control the boy’s thrashing and writhing. He was clearly in danger of doing himself lasting harm and Veronica felt Teresa’s grip loosen as she realized she would have to help.
"Hang on Harry! I’ll cuff her; get her in the car and phone for the paramedics."
At the sound of the word ‘cuff’, Veronica panicked. It was bad enough being held in this expertly applied and unbreakable grip, knowing she was soon to be subjected to an energetically conducted series of disgusting sexual assaults by a pair of voracious and predatory uniformed lesbians. But to be handcuffed! It seemed like one of her very worst nightmares coming true. The sheer blind fear gave her momentarily much the same elemental strength as that possessed by the boy still flailing about on the pavement. She pushed her elbow back and, with more luck than judgment, found the same sensitive spot that the woman called Harry had rather more skillfully located on her body, to such paralyzing effect. Teresa let go her grip and sank to her knees, gasping for breath.
Veronica broke free and ran for her life. Her dream of riches, only a second ago irrevocably shattered, miraculously came back to life! She had not gone a score or so yards on automatic pilot when she realized she was proceeding in the wrong direction and turned back, passing the station entrance again where she saw that both policewomen were now attending to the boy.
Teresa looked up as she ran past, and the murderous look on that far from lovely face told her more clearly than a thousand words, just how indescribably unfortunate it would be for her if she fell into her hands again. An aggravated sexual assault would assuredly be followed and possibly accompanied by more painful impacts from their fists on her face and body. Veronica increased her pace, her tired and sore feet slapping regularly on the ground as they took her further and further from the dreadful pair.
She had heard stories of police brutality before, but as a good member of the law abiding middle classes had given little credence to them. Today was being an education to her in so many ways!
As she turned into the next street she looked around and missed her footing. She sprawled onto the pavement and her knee scraped for several inches before coming to rest. She rapidly picked herself up, little the worse for wear, thank Heaven, and saw that an ambulance had arrived. Though pleased that the poor boy was finally to get the competent attention he needed, she realized, with a sickening and visceral surge of petrifying naked fear, that the couple would now be free to pursue her. Sure enough, a police siren began to sound. Its plangent tones reverberated through the night air. It spoke of doom for Veronica and vengeance, combined with lewdly satisfied lust, for Constables Teresa and Harriet.
She ran even faster, feeling a trickle of blood running down her right leg from a slight graze to her knee. If those two caught her, she knew full well that it would be a lot more of her than her knee that would be bleeding, and bleeding very copiously, before the night was out! On no account must she be caught. Keeping out of their clutches was more important now than all the money in the world!
She was in another street by now, and the house she was making for was just around the corner. As she turned into this further street, she saw her shadow cast by the light of the approaching car. Almost exhausted, she increased her pace with all the desperation of a hunted animal about to be devoured by the hounds - not a bad analogy, she dimly thought.
No 17! There it was at long last, but probably too late! As she staggered breathless up to the front door of the mean terrace house and rang the bell, she heard the car screech to a halt and the doors slam. In two seconds those powerful lascivious hands would be upon her again and this time there could be no escape!
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Veronica
by Harry
PART THE SIXTEENTH
The very second that Veronica touched the bell, the door opened and she immediately dashed through. The lady who had opened the door to her with such providential promptness immediately slammed it shut crisply telling her to run upstairs to the first landing. Something about this woman impressed Veronica. She had an air of efficiency, as of one who had been used all her life to having all situations effortlessly under control. Veronica did as she was told. As soon as she reached the landing, the wall seemed to move and a section of it swung round to reveal an opening into the next house.
"Go through - and hurry!" mouthed the woman silently - virtually obliging Veronica to lip read. By this time the front door was being well and truly hammered by the two police women. The terrified girl obeyed and the wall closed up behind her. She found herself half-way up the staircase of the next house and could see, through the front door, the flashing light of the police squad car in the street outside. There was no sound of knocking on the next door any longer and she guessed the woman must have let the two officers in. The door of the front room opened and out came Mr. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy, looking as frail as ever, but smiling broadly. Today had obviously been a very good day for him! Veronica knew that she ought to be able, empathetically, to share his happiness, but was unable to for some reason!
"Come down, my dear Veronica. What a very dramatic escape that was - the stuff of high drama, indeed! Come on in to the front room and take a seat."
Veronica did as she was told, hoping that the mysterious woman next door would not be forced to reveal her whereabouts. She would put nothing past that crazed and vicious pair and felt herself to be anything but out of the wood, just yet.
The still shaky Veronica sat herself on the sofa and the old man settled himself into a comfortable armchair, smiling at her perspiring and travel-stained body with its grazed and weeping knee.
Five minutes later, the woman and a couple of men came in.
"I think I put them onto a false scent, Sir. I told them she’d run straight through the house and over the wall of that disused warehouse at the rear. They looked as if they might turn rather nasty until Pete and Dud here came into the hall to back me up!"
"Those bitches were going to take me up to Hampstead Heath and rape me," gasped Veronica, still trembling in every limb at the horrible things which that awful woman had been whispering into her ear.
The old man looked at the woman.
"Did you get their numbers, Miss Prosser?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good." replied the aged man. He turned to Veronica and smiled reassuringly.
"Don’t worry, my dear. I have a lot of influence in all sorts of places. And, in any case, their nasty words to you were monitored by one of my many associates. We’ve kept track of you for much of the day, partly for your own safety, but mainly to make sure you obeyed all the instructions. I love all these surveillance devices they have on the market nowadays - so useful and SUCH fun to play with! I don’t think you’ll need to worry about those two again after tonight! The pair of them will assuredly be, to use a vulgar colloquialism, busted, when their superiors learn about their behaviour and I very much doubt that any charges will be preferred against you."
The other three left Veronica alone with Mr. Andrew V-Clatworthy for a short time. He told Veronica to stay seated until she was fully recovered. Miss Prosser came in a little later with a tray on which lay a cup of coffee, laced with brandy, and also a bowl of warm water and some first aid materials.
"Get that inside you, my dear." she said in a kindly voice to Veronica, handing her the cup. "You’ll soon feel better! And I think that graze needs a little cleaning up. What a shame - you‘ve such pretty knees - along with the rest of you!"
Veronica smiled her thanks and took a sip. The lady had been dead right about the drink’s therapeutic effect and she was soon largely recovered. The disinfectant stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had so recently suffered from the psychotic Harriet’s punch to a stomach which still ached from the blow. She saw, looking down, that she was very red and bruised in that region.
As soon as the wound had been treated and the bleeding stopped, Mr. V-Clatworthy motioned his assistant to leave them alone. He put his arthritically deformed hands together and gazed over the top of them at our would-be millionaire heroine.
"And now, I think, the time has arrived for yet another stage of this day of trial and self discovery to begin. Kindly remove your one remaining garment and stand before me in all your glorious nakedness - revealed at last as Nature has always intended. I will take that wisp of red cloth off your hands, my dear. In the few years remaining to me, my increasingly infirm and circumscribed existence will be comforted and enriched from time to time by the sight, smell and touch of a slip of material that once adorned the loins of the most beautiful woman I ever beheld in all my days."
"You’re more than welcome to it," said Veronica a little sharply. Truth to tell, she was beginning to want nothing more than to get all this over with and slide down between the sheets of her own bed in Hampstead. She slipped her one remaining covering over her hips, down her magnificent athletic thighs and along her calves. Finally she stepped out of the red thong, glancing down at her pubic forest, noting how the wiry golden curls were reacting now that they were released from their former restraint - and how she herself was reacting now that at last, all of her was exposed to view!
She handed the thong, without regret, to the eagerly waiting Andrew Vane-Clatworthy - dirty old man! He sniffed appreciatively at the soft and silky material, to Veronica’s great disgust, and placed it, still warm and slightly moist from her body, beside him. He arose none too steadily to his feet and pointed to a small table in the corner of the room.
"Would you please be so kind as to fetch that over, my dear and move your own seat in order that we may sit opposite each other with the table between us? When you have done that, you will find a chess set and board in the cabinet over there. Set up the pieces my sweet. Before you leave here tonight and before the witching hour, you must play and beat me at least once, or your chance of becoming rich will vanish. I feel I should warn you - I am a pretty fair player!"
"I’m surprised that you choose to live in such a down market area as this" said Veronica as she busied herself setting up the pieces for the most important game of chess that she would ever play in her life. Why had she neglected to keep in practice? Too busy making money, of course! And now her rustiness might cost her very dearly. Oh bitter irony!
"I don’t live here, my sweet." replied her elderly host.
"This place is useful to me from time to time - that’s all. Let’s face it; it was providentially useful to you today! And now, you unutterably lovely lady, I‘ll allow you, as my very welcome guest, to be White for the first game. I cannot wait to pit my wits against yours!"
The two leant over the scene of their impending battle, Veronica’s sweet young breasts hanging down over the fine ivory pieces and beautifully inlaid board. The old gentleman bent forward as near to these twin glories as he was to the finely carved pieces on the board. He waited expectantly to see what Veronica’s first move would be!
PART THE SEVENTEENTH
Veronica moved her king’s pawn to start with, and the old man responded in kind. ‘So far so good,’ she thought, as she brought up her queen’s pawn to be next to the other piece. What would he do now? Again, a reciprocal move. She felt the sweat begin to pour off her and her heart rate increase. ‘For heaven’s sake, calm down, Veronica,’ she told herself. After all it was only a game and she didn’t need the money anyway - not a resourceful girl like her.
All day, this thought had been building up. She was capable of making her own way in life. Even if she somehow jumped through all the hoops and cleared all the hurdles this man had put in her path, it was the journey that was important to her now and not the destination, which had imperceptibly retreated into irrelevance as the day had progressed. She would still take his money alright, but she didn’t need it. All that she needed for success in life she had within herself.
He won the first game, although not without a few hairy moments for him, but Veronica was very rusty and sacrificed a pawn in the early stages, failing to gain the tactical advantage from this move that she hoped for. From then on it was a steady battle of attrition in which her position finally became quite hopeless and she resigned, seeing clearly that all was well and truly lost.
Having the advantage of being White gave him the second game also. She looked up at the clock. Plenty of time before midnight and she only needed to win once. Now that it was just a matter of beating him to satisfy her honour and make up for some of the things that had happened to her today, she was calmer now and coldly concentrating on the game, treating it as a mental exercise rather than a life or death struggle.
Game three lasted far longer than the first two and Veronica thought she had him at one point, but he fought back with great tenacity and was able to force a stalemate. Not good enough, but encouraging!
Game four was a scrappy and very unbeautiful game, after which the victorious Vane-Clatworthy murmured sadly and ruefully. "Unworthy of us, my dear. Quite unworthy! I suggest we adjourn in order collect our thoughts and refresh ourselves."
He rang the bell and Miss Prosser came in.
"My lovely opponent and I are in need of coffee, strong, black and sweet. She will help you prepare it, I am sure, as long as you ask her nicely!"
"No need to ask," laughed Veronica, glad to take a break. "I volunteer!"
She got to her feet and saw the momentary surprise on Miss Prosser’s face as her full nakedness was revealed. This good lady quickly suppressed whatever thoughts she might have and smilingly showed Veronica the way to the kitchen.
"While we wait for the coffee to brew, why don’t you go and have a shower, my dear. You look as if you could do with one!"
"And probably smell as if I could," giggled Veronica. "I’ve had a lot of exercise in the last couple of hours and that room is pretty hot."
By the time she had showered and made herself her usual sweet-smelling self, the coffee was ready. As Miss Prosser prepared a tray and a plate full of biscuits, Veronica asked her how long she had worked for Andrew Vane-Clatworthy.
"Since I left school, twenty-three years ago. A fine employer, Miss Harmsworth, but prone to the odd practical joke: like finding out just what people will do for money, for instance - seeing just what they are willing to do by way of sacrificing their dignity and self-respect. Sorry! That was unkind."
"It was unkind, but quite just." replied Veronica. "I would back out of this now, but for the fact that I shook his hand and agreed to put myself at his disposal for the day. But the glittering prize at the end doesn’t glitter any more. I know I can make my own millions without any help from an eccentric philanthropist. And if I can‘t, then I don‘t want them!"
"Well - I advise you to tell him what you just said. But that is your decision, of course. Do you want to hold the door for me, please?"
The coffee was placed on a small table and both players sipped a few drops.
"That’s better! The grey cells are in motion again, after my lapse into catatonia! Shall we resume?"
"Yes, Sir. Let battle recommence!"
PART THE EIGHTEENTH
The old man’s brain certainly did seem to have been rejuvenated by the coffee and Veronica lost three games in a row before her luck began to change. Tiring of her lack of success, she varied her opening in the next game, in which she was Black. The game ended in stalemate and Veronica resolved to pursue the same approach next time. The old boy clearly had great trouble coping with knights. Twice she almost managed to fork his Queen and rook, and she knew this was her only hope of overcoming him.
Once again he asked for a pause, and the now tepid coffee was replaced by some freshly brewed. Once again Veronica stood chatting in the kitchen to Miss Prosser, who tried unsuccessfully not to show how much she liked being so close to the naked guest. Just as they were about to rejoin the old financier, she touched Veronica on the arm. There was an earnest look on her face, in which the nude girl also detected and undertone of longing.
"Don’t think those two brutes who arrested you are typical . We aren’t all predatory - live and let live is the code most of us go by. I can’t say I blame them in a way, though. You are so lovely - so very, very lovely. Coming upon you the way they did must have unhinged them a bit, and I can see why, although I hope they both are dismissed form the force - and they will be!"
"Thank you very much for the compliment!" Veronica blushed scarlet. She returned the older woman’s gesture, placing her hand on her shoulder.
"Do you have a lover, Miss Prosser?" she asked.
"No. I never have done. Mostly I stay celibate. The name is Phoebe, by the way."
"Would you like to kiss me, Phoebe? You have been so kind. I would like it if you did - really I would!"
The other woman needed little encouragement and the pair embraced, tongue seeking out tongue for many long seconds. Veronica had never done this with a woman before and certainly had no intention of doing so again, but found the experience quite enjoyable, nonetheless. Phoebe obviously found it a great deal more than mildly enjoyable! This previously calm and capable lady began to gasp and moan and as their mouths drew apart there was a look of longing on that previously impassive face. She uttered a string of passionate endearments. Then her customary self possession returned and she disengaged herself.
"You’d best get back to the game, my dear. And I hope you do beat him at least once. You’ve still got over an hour! Good luck, and don’t forget to say ‘Goodbye’ when you leave!"
They went back into the front room with the coffee. Mr. Vane-Clatworthy looked up briefly.
"Wipe Veronica’s lipstick off, Miss Prosser. It really doesn’t suit you! But I’m glad the two of you are friends!"
The good lady went the deepest shade of red that Veronica had ever seen anyone go in her life and looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. Infuriated that Phoebe had been spoken to so rudely and that she was the cause of her embarrassment, Veronica walked over to the sideboard, where she saw a box of tissues. She wiped her own mouth free of the stuff and went across to Phoebe.
"Let me wipe it off for you. It’s my fault it’s there in the first place." She did the necessary and then clasped Phoebe in her arms and kissed her again, much longer, much harder and much more passionately than before. Finally she drew back and smiled at the other woman.
"There, I think that was a better effort, don’t you? And try to find a lover. We all need someone to love, each in our own way!"
Alone again, Veronica resumed her seat.
"That was bloody rude of you and quite unforgivable. I hope you apologise to her pretty soon. Her loyalty to you deserves a better reward than that", she hissed in a voice laden with icy fury.
"How right you are, my dear. I will indeed make my peace with her later on, as she knows full well I will! Now, I suggest we get back to the fray. I see that time is marching on, as the saying goes. Only time for a couple more and all will be lost for you. Such a pity!"
PART THE NINETEENTH
It was half past eleven when Veronica had the pleasure of checkmating the old gentleman. He leant back in his chair and sighed.
"A most enjoyable evening, my dear. I am so grateful! You are a talented player, you know! Just rather out of practice. I suggest you take it up again. A wonderful way to meet people. You don’t meet enough, you know. And I really will apologise to the excellent Phoebe, have no fear!"
"Thank you, Sir. I enjoyed the games and I really feel lucky right now to have beaten you even once! You are one of the toughest opponents I have ever had. And you are so right. Well! Is that it? Do I get the money now?
Andrew Vane-Clatworthy laughed in a faintly malicious and disagreeable manner.
"Almost, my dear, but not quite. There remains yet one more task to perform. It will take you until midnight and well beyond, but as long as you complete it before dawn, all will be well."
Her heart sank at this news. All she wanted was to be in her own home and her own bed, stretched out between the sheets and recovering from all her trials of the past day. And there was still more to be done. Oh, shit!
"May I suggest we all three of us have a drink together before you embark on the final home run in this, your pursuit of great wealth? Go and get Miss Prosser in here. Linger with her in the kitchen if you wish - you did her good, I could see that very clearly."
Veronica did as she was told. After that last kiss, she was inclined to leave it at that, having very successfully demonstrated to herself that she was one hundred per cent heterosexual, but when she found the poor lady sitting disconsolately at the kitchen table, red-eyed and obviously not long recovered from a bout of weeping, she changed her mind. ‘The things I do for this woman,’ she thought as she felt Phoebe’s hands exploring her most secret places and her tongue hungrily seeking out the furthest recesses of her mouth.
Finally Veronica broke away from the other lady‘s eager grasp. "Come on Phoebe. That’s all you get from me - ever! Find a lover and don’t be too long about it. Now let’s go and have a drink with the old buzzard! I have to start my final task after that."
"I know." replied Miss Prosser. "You haven’t been told what it is, yet have you?"
Veronica shook her head. "No. I hardly think it can be worse than anything else I’ve been put through today!"
Phoebe shook HER head sadly.
"On the contrary, my dear. The worst part of your day lies ahead. Oh, yes! You won’t like your last task one little bit!"
PART THE TWENTIETH
The housekeeper/secretary/right-hand woman’s rather intimidating and gloom laden words were still ringing in Veronica’s ears as they settled down in the front room. The industrious Miss Prosser put the table and chess board away and the three took their seats. The old gentleman occupied an armchair and Veronica and Phoebe shared the sofa.
Veronica, tired by this time of being the object of the older woman’s lust - never mind that she had been the one to arouse it in the first place - sat right at the end of the settee and noted with dismay that Miss Prosser nevertheless contrived to be close enough to the girl for her to feel her body pressed against her. She breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that at least the still insatiate Phoebe was fully dressed and so at least the naked girl had the consolation of not having to feel bare skin pushed hotly and steamily against her. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy observed Veronica’s embarrassment with a malicious twinkle in his eye and a sardonic smile on his aged and wrinkled face.
"It really is so awfully hot in here, Miss Prosser. An old man such as I needs to be warm but to the hot bloodedness of youth it must indeed be unbearably stifling in here. Why do you not slip out of that awful tweed jacket and blouse? Relax - make yourself comfortable like our pretty young friend here! I seem to remember you have quite the handsomest shoulders and arms of any woman I ever met - until darling Veronica came into my life, that is!"
Miss Prosser, with a word or two of gratitude, responded positively and promptly to this suggestion, in fact Veronica could not recall anyone divesting themselves of their clothing more quickly and eagerly in all her born days. The jacket and blouse were lying neatly folded at one end of the sofa and Veronica was squeezed next to a bra-clad Phoebe at the other - in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye. So she WAS, after all, doomed to be pressed closely against steamy hot flesh! And, by Golly, was it ever steamy and hot!! All the pent up frustration of a life of self denial was to be felt in that body now pressing nakedly and lustfully against hers.
Andrew had spoken truly when he paid that compliment to the charms of his assistant’s body. She did indeed have the finest arms and shapeliest firm and well-muscled shoulders. Despite her being on the wrong side of forty, she was trim and well toned - without a trace of flabbiness. Except for her hands, which were ill cared for and hardened, with chipped and dirty nails, she could pass for a woman in her twenties.
Veronica caught a whiff of the other woman’s body smell and felt herself stirring uncomfortably down below; uncomfortably and almost pleasurably - to her shame and horror. She put her arm around Phoebe and the gesture was returned with the same decisive speed that had just deposited the jacket on the other end of the couch.
"What a charming thing it is to behold the sweet and touching sight of the two of you so happily embracing. Oh, the precious, forbidden and mysterious love of Sappho! Although the last thing I want is to be thought a kill-joy, I must issue one minor caveat. Whilst nothing makes me happier than to observe the simple joy of others, particularly those near and dear to me, I must ask that you endeavour by all means in your power, my darling Veronica, not to leave any stains upon my valuable sofa! I perceive that the cup of your awakening desire is full and begins to run over! No doubt the excellent Miss Prosser will come to the rescue with a tissue - or her tongue. I leave it to the pair of you to settle this delicate matter in what I do not doubt will be an amicable fashion. I must leave you for a few minutes and then we can finish our drinks."
With this, he lifted himself painfully to his feet and walked to the door. As soon as he had gone, Veronica grinned ruefully.
"OK, Phoebe - this is really your lucky night isn’t it? Why don’t you slip out of the rest of your clothes so we can make a proper job of this! And I’m sure you’d much sooner use your tongue to dry me out down there than a tissue, so we’ll take that one as read!"
Once again the decisive Miss Prosser needed no second invitation and Veronica resignedly opened her legs to allow Phoebe to have her fill of her. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling on the whole, although she could not prevent herself thinking how much nicer it would be to have Douglass doing all these things to her - to say nothing of that one supreme and very special thing that Miss Prosser, for all her resourcefulness and demoniac energy, could never do!
It was well after midnight when the ancient and creaking Andrew returned, by which time Veronica was close to exhaustion and bathed in sweat, her hair once more plastered against her shiny, dripping wet back. By this time both of the women had rolled off the sofa and on to the deep-piled turquoise and yellow-patterned carpet, where they continued thrashing about, both of them, by this time, aroused to the same intoxicating level of enthusiasm, until a discreet cough alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. Veronica had learned quite a lot in that hour with Phoebe!
The indefatigable Miss Prosser was obviously good for another few hours, but dressed herself when her employer came back and sat on a separate chair. Veronica was again the sole naked occupant of the room as the three finished off a bottle of wine between them. It was clear that a still desperately lustful Phoebe knew that her fling with Veronica was now well and truly over, at least for tonight.
Veronica hoped that Phoebe would quickly find a lover on a permanent basis. Whoever she was, the chosen one would need to be strong and possessed of extraordinary stamina. Too much more of this and she would need a month’s rest and rehabilitation to recover! And it STILL very definitely wasn’t her scene, although she was forced to confess that she was a lot more adaptable than she would have ever imagined herself to be when she woke up that morning, all those long and eventful hours ago!
Glancing down Veronica saw what her feelings were telling her, namely that the sofa was still in imminent danger of being stained! She walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a pile of tissues. Returning, she arranged them on the sofa beneath her, blushing furiously as she felt the eyes of the other two boring into her back. She wondered which of them would have the tissues as a souvenir after she had departed! Perhaps they would share them! Ugh!
by Harry
PART THE SIXTEENTH
The very second that Veronica touched the bell, the door opened and she immediately dashed through. The lady who had opened the door to her with such providential promptness immediately slammed it shut crisply telling her to run upstairs to the first landing. Something about this woman impressed Veronica. She had an air of efficiency, as of one who had been used all her life to having all situations effortlessly under control. Veronica did as she was told. As soon as she reached the landing, the wall seemed to move and a section of it swung round to reveal an opening into the next house.
"Go through - and hurry!" mouthed the woman silently - virtually obliging Veronica to lip read. By this time the front door was being well and truly hammered by the two police women. The terrified girl obeyed and the wall closed up behind her. She found herself half-way up the staircase of the next house and could see, through the front door, the flashing light of the police squad car in the street outside. There was no sound of knocking on the next door any longer and she guessed the woman must have let the two officers in. The door of the front room opened and out came Mr. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy, looking as frail as ever, but smiling broadly. Today had obviously been a very good day for him! Veronica knew that she ought to be able, empathetically, to share his happiness, but was unable to for some reason!
"Come down, my dear Veronica. What a very dramatic escape that was - the stuff of high drama, indeed! Come on in to the front room and take a seat."
Veronica did as she was told, hoping that the mysterious woman next door would not be forced to reveal her whereabouts. She would put nothing past that crazed and vicious pair and felt herself to be anything but out of the wood, just yet.
The still shaky Veronica sat herself on the sofa and the old man settled himself into a comfortable armchair, smiling at her perspiring and travel-stained body with its grazed and weeping knee.
Five minutes later, the woman and a couple of men came in.
"I think I put them onto a false scent, Sir. I told them she’d run straight through the house and over the wall of that disused warehouse at the rear. They looked as if they might turn rather nasty until Pete and Dud here came into the hall to back me up!"
"Those bitches were going to take me up to Hampstead Heath and rape me," gasped Veronica, still trembling in every limb at the horrible things which that awful woman had been whispering into her ear.
The old man looked at the woman.
"Did you get their numbers, Miss Prosser?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good." replied the aged man. He turned to Veronica and smiled reassuringly.
"Don’t worry, my dear. I have a lot of influence in all sorts of places. And, in any case, their nasty words to you were monitored by one of my many associates. We’ve kept track of you for much of the day, partly for your own safety, but mainly to make sure you obeyed all the instructions. I love all these surveillance devices they have on the market nowadays - so useful and SUCH fun to play with! I don’t think you’ll need to worry about those two again after tonight! The pair of them will assuredly be, to use a vulgar colloquialism, busted, when their superiors learn about their behaviour and I very much doubt that any charges will be preferred against you."
The other three left Veronica alone with Mr. Andrew V-Clatworthy for a short time. He told Veronica to stay seated until she was fully recovered. Miss Prosser came in a little later with a tray on which lay a cup of coffee, laced with brandy, and also a bowl of warm water and some first aid materials.
"Get that inside you, my dear." she said in a kindly voice to Veronica, handing her the cup. "You’ll soon feel better! And I think that graze needs a little cleaning up. What a shame - you‘ve such pretty knees - along with the rest of you!"
Veronica smiled her thanks and took a sip. The lady had been dead right about the drink’s therapeutic effect and she was soon largely recovered. The disinfectant stung a bit, but it was nothing compared to the pain she had so recently suffered from the psychotic Harriet’s punch to a stomach which still ached from the blow. She saw, looking down, that she was very red and bruised in that region.
As soon as the wound had been treated and the bleeding stopped, Mr. V-Clatworthy motioned his assistant to leave them alone. He put his arthritically deformed hands together and gazed over the top of them at our would-be millionaire heroine.
"And now, I think, the time has arrived for yet another stage of this day of trial and self discovery to begin. Kindly remove your one remaining garment and stand before me in all your glorious nakedness - revealed at last as Nature has always intended. I will take that wisp of red cloth off your hands, my dear. In the few years remaining to me, my increasingly infirm and circumscribed existence will be comforted and enriched from time to time by the sight, smell and touch of a slip of material that once adorned the loins of the most beautiful woman I ever beheld in all my days."
"You’re more than welcome to it," said Veronica a little sharply. Truth to tell, she was beginning to want nothing more than to get all this over with and slide down between the sheets of her own bed in Hampstead. She slipped her one remaining covering over her hips, down her magnificent athletic thighs and along her calves. Finally she stepped out of the red thong, glancing down at her pubic forest, noting how the wiry golden curls were reacting now that they were released from their former restraint - and how she herself was reacting now that at last, all of her was exposed to view!
She handed the thong, without regret, to the eagerly waiting Andrew Vane-Clatworthy - dirty old man! He sniffed appreciatively at the soft and silky material, to Veronica’s great disgust, and placed it, still warm and slightly moist from her body, beside him. He arose none too steadily to his feet and pointed to a small table in the corner of the room.
"Would you please be so kind as to fetch that over, my dear and move your own seat in order that we may sit opposite each other with the table between us? When you have done that, you will find a chess set and board in the cabinet over there. Set up the pieces my sweet. Before you leave here tonight and before the witching hour, you must play and beat me at least once, or your chance of becoming rich will vanish. I feel I should warn you - I am a pretty fair player!"
"I’m surprised that you choose to live in such a down market area as this" said Veronica as she busied herself setting up the pieces for the most important game of chess that she would ever play in her life. Why had she neglected to keep in practice? Too busy making money, of course! And now her rustiness might cost her very dearly. Oh bitter irony!
"I don’t live here, my sweet." replied her elderly host.
"This place is useful to me from time to time - that’s all. Let’s face it; it was providentially useful to you today! And now, you unutterably lovely lady, I‘ll allow you, as my very welcome guest, to be White for the first game. I cannot wait to pit my wits against yours!"
The two leant over the scene of their impending battle, Veronica’s sweet young breasts hanging down over the fine ivory pieces and beautifully inlaid board. The old gentleman bent forward as near to these twin glories as he was to the finely carved pieces on the board. He waited expectantly to see what Veronica’s first move would be!
PART THE SEVENTEENTH
Veronica moved her king’s pawn to start with, and the old man responded in kind. ‘So far so good,’ she thought, as she brought up her queen’s pawn to be next to the other piece. What would he do now? Again, a reciprocal move. She felt the sweat begin to pour off her and her heart rate increase. ‘For heaven’s sake, calm down, Veronica,’ she told herself. After all it was only a game and she didn’t need the money anyway - not a resourceful girl like her.
All day, this thought had been building up. She was capable of making her own way in life. Even if she somehow jumped through all the hoops and cleared all the hurdles this man had put in her path, it was the journey that was important to her now and not the destination, which had imperceptibly retreated into irrelevance as the day had progressed. She would still take his money alright, but she didn’t need it. All that she needed for success in life she had within herself.
He won the first game, although not without a few hairy moments for him, but Veronica was very rusty and sacrificed a pawn in the early stages, failing to gain the tactical advantage from this move that she hoped for. From then on it was a steady battle of attrition in which her position finally became quite hopeless and she resigned, seeing clearly that all was well and truly lost.
Having the advantage of being White gave him the second game also. She looked up at the clock. Plenty of time before midnight and she only needed to win once. Now that it was just a matter of beating him to satisfy her honour and make up for some of the things that had happened to her today, she was calmer now and coldly concentrating on the game, treating it as a mental exercise rather than a life or death struggle.
Game three lasted far longer than the first two and Veronica thought she had him at one point, but he fought back with great tenacity and was able to force a stalemate. Not good enough, but encouraging!
Game four was a scrappy and very unbeautiful game, after which the victorious Vane-Clatworthy murmured sadly and ruefully. "Unworthy of us, my dear. Quite unworthy! I suggest we adjourn in order collect our thoughts and refresh ourselves."
He rang the bell and Miss Prosser came in.
"My lovely opponent and I are in need of coffee, strong, black and sweet. She will help you prepare it, I am sure, as long as you ask her nicely!"
"No need to ask," laughed Veronica, glad to take a break. "I volunteer!"
She got to her feet and saw the momentary surprise on Miss Prosser’s face as her full nakedness was revealed. This good lady quickly suppressed whatever thoughts she might have and smilingly showed Veronica the way to the kitchen.
"While we wait for the coffee to brew, why don’t you go and have a shower, my dear. You look as if you could do with one!"
"And probably smell as if I could," giggled Veronica. "I’ve had a lot of exercise in the last couple of hours and that room is pretty hot."
By the time she had showered and made herself her usual sweet-smelling self, the coffee was ready. As Miss Prosser prepared a tray and a plate full of biscuits, Veronica asked her how long she had worked for Andrew Vane-Clatworthy.
"Since I left school, twenty-three years ago. A fine employer, Miss Harmsworth, but prone to the odd practical joke: like finding out just what people will do for money, for instance - seeing just what they are willing to do by way of sacrificing their dignity and self-respect. Sorry! That was unkind."
"It was unkind, but quite just." replied Veronica. "I would back out of this now, but for the fact that I shook his hand and agreed to put myself at his disposal for the day. But the glittering prize at the end doesn’t glitter any more. I know I can make my own millions without any help from an eccentric philanthropist. And if I can‘t, then I don‘t want them!"
"Well - I advise you to tell him what you just said. But that is your decision, of course. Do you want to hold the door for me, please?"
The coffee was placed on a small table and both players sipped a few drops.
"That’s better! The grey cells are in motion again, after my lapse into catatonia! Shall we resume?"
"Yes, Sir. Let battle recommence!"
PART THE EIGHTEENTH
The old man’s brain certainly did seem to have been rejuvenated by the coffee and Veronica lost three games in a row before her luck began to change. Tiring of her lack of success, she varied her opening in the next game, in which she was Black. The game ended in stalemate and Veronica resolved to pursue the same approach next time. The old boy clearly had great trouble coping with knights. Twice she almost managed to fork his Queen and rook, and she knew this was her only hope of overcoming him.
Once again he asked for a pause, and the now tepid coffee was replaced by some freshly brewed. Once again Veronica stood chatting in the kitchen to Miss Prosser, who tried unsuccessfully not to show how much she liked being so close to the naked guest. Just as they were about to rejoin the old financier, she touched Veronica on the arm. There was an earnest look on her face, in which the nude girl also detected and undertone of longing.
"Don’t think those two brutes who arrested you are typical . We aren’t all predatory - live and let live is the code most of us go by. I can’t say I blame them in a way, though. You are so lovely - so very, very lovely. Coming upon you the way they did must have unhinged them a bit, and I can see why, although I hope they both are dismissed form the force - and they will be!"
"Thank you very much for the compliment!" Veronica blushed scarlet. She returned the older woman’s gesture, placing her hand on her shoulder.
"Do you have a lover, Miss Prosser?" she asked.
"No. I never have done. Mostly I stay celibate. The name is Phoebe, by the way."
"Would you like to kiss me, Phoebe? You have been so kind. I would like it if you did - really I would!"
The other woman needed little encouragement and the pair embraced, tongue seeking out tongue for many long seconds. Veronica had never done this with a woman before and certainly had no intention of doing so again, but found the experience quite enjoyable, nonetheless. Phoebe obviously found it a great deal more than mildly enjoyable! This previously calm and capable lady began to gasp and moan and as their mouths drew apart there was a look of longing on that previously impassive face. She uttered a string of passionate endearments. Then her customary self possession returned and she disengaged herself.
"You’d best get back to the game, my dear. And I hope you do beat him at least once. You’ve still got over an hour! Good luck, and don’t forget to say ‘Goodbye’ when you leave!"
They went back into the front room with the coffee. Mr. Vane-Clatworthy looked up briefly.
"Wipe Veronica’s lipstick off, Miss Prosser. It really doesn’t suit you! But I’m glad the two of you are friends!"
The good lady went the deepest shade of red that Veronica had ever seen anyone go in her life and looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment. Infuriated that Phoebe had been spoken to so rudely and that she was the cause of her embarrassment, Veronica walked over to the sideboard, where she saw a box of tissues. She wiped her own mouth free of the stuff and went across to Phoebe.
"Let me wipe it off for you. It’s my fault it’s there in the first place." She did the necessary and then clasped Phoebe in her arms and kissed her again, much longer, much harder and much more passionately than before. Finally she drew back and smiled at the other woman.
"There, I think that was a better effort, don’t you? And try to find a lover. We all need someone to love, each in our own way!"
Alone again, Veronica resumed her seat.
"That was bloody rude of you and quite unforgivable. I hope you apologise to her pretty soon. Her loyalty to you deserves a better reward than that", she hissed in a voice laden with icy fury.
"How right you are, my dear. I will indeed make my peace with her later on, as she knows full well I will! Now, I suggest we get back to the fray. I see that time is marching on, as the saying goes. Only time for a couple more and all will be lost for you. Such a pity!"
PART THE NINETEENTH
It was half past eleven when Veronica had the pleasure of checkmating the old gentleman. He leant back in his chair and sighed.
"A most enjoyable evening, my dear. I am so grateful! You are a talented player, you know! Just rather out of practice. I suggest you take it up again. A wonderful way to meet people. You don’t meet enough, you know. And I really will apologise to the excellent Phoebe, have no fear!"
"Thank you, Sir. I enjoyed the games and I really feel lucky right now to have beaten you even once! You are one of the toughest opponents I have ever had. And you are so right. Well! Is that it? Do I get the money now?
Andrew Vane-Clatworthy laughed in a faintly malicious and disagreeable manner.
"Almost, my dear, but not quite. There remains yet one more task to perform. It will take you until midnight and well beyond, but as long as you complete it before dawn, all will be well."
Her heart sank at this news. All she wanted was to be in her own home and her own bed, stretched out between the sheets and recovering from all her trials of the past day. And there was still more to be done. Oh, shit!
"May I suggest we all three of us have a drink together before you embark on the final home run in this, your pursuit of great wealth? Go and get Miss Prosser in here. Linger with her in the kitchen if you wish - you did her good, I could see that very clearly."
Veronica did as she was told. After that last kiss, she was inclined to leave it at that, having very successfully demonstrated to herself that she was one hundred per cent heterosexual, but when she found the poor lady sitting disconsolately at the kitchen table, red-eyed and obviously not long recovered from a bout of weeping, she changed her mind. ‘The things I do for this woman,’ she thought as she felt Phoebe’s hands exploring her most secret places and her tongue hungrily seeking out the furthest recesses of her mouth.
Finally Veronica broke away from the other lady‘s eager grasp. "Come on Phoebe. That’s all you get from me - ever! Find a lover and don’t be too long about it. Now let’s go and have a drink with the old buzzard! I have to start my final task after that."
"I know." replied Miss Prosser. "You haven’t been told what it is, yet have you?"
Veronica shook her head. "No. I hardly think it can be worse than anything else I’ve been put through today!"
Phoebe shook HER head sadly.
"On the contrary, my dear. The worst part of your day lies ahead. Oh, yes! You won’t like your last task one little bit!"
PART THE TWENTIETH
The housekeeper/secretary/right-hand woman’s rather intimidating and gloom laden words were still ringing in Veronica’s ears as they settled down in the front room. The industrious Miss Prosser put the table and chess board away and the three took their seats. The old gentleman occupied an armchair and Veronica and Phoebe shared the sofa.
Veronica, tired by this time of being the object of the older woman’s lust - never mind that she had been the one to arouse it in the first place - sat right at the end of the settee and noted with dismay that Miss Prosser nevertheless contrived to be close enough to the girl for her to feel her body pressed against her. She breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that at least the still insatiate Phoebe was fully dressed and so at least the naked girl had the consolation of not having to feel bare skin pushed hotly and steamily against her. Andrew Vane-Clatworthy observed Veronica’s embarrassment with a malicious twinkle in his eye and a sardonic smile on his aged and wrinkled face.
"It really is so awfully hot in here, Miss Prosser. An old man such as I needs to be warm but to the hot bloodedness of youth it must indeed be unbearably stifling in here. Why do you not slip out of that awful tweed jacket and blouse? Relax - make yourself comfortable like our pretty young friend here! I seem to remember you have quite the handsomest shoulders and arms of any woman I ever met - until darling Veronica came into my life, that is!"
Miss Prosser, with a word or two of gratitude, responded positively and promptly to this suggestion, in fact Veronica could not recall anyone divesting themselves of their clothing more quickly and eagerly in all her born days. The jacket and blouse were lying neatly folded at one end of the sofa and Veronica was squeezed next to a bra-clad Phoebe at the other - in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye. So she WAS, after all, doomed to be pressed closely against steamy hot flesh! And, by Golly, was it ever steamy and hot!! All the pent up frustration of a life of self denial was to be felt in that body now pressing nakedly and lustfully against hers.
Andrew had spoken truly when he paid that compliment to the charms of his assistant’s body. She did indeed have the finest arms and shapeliest firm and well-muscled shoulders. Despite her being on the wrong side of forty, she was trim and well toned - without a trace of flabbiness. Except for her hands, which were ill cared for and hardened, with chipped and dirty nails, she could pass for a woman in her twenties.
Veronica caught a whiff of the other woman’s body smell and felt herself stirring uncomfortably down below; uncomfortably and almost pleasurably - to her shame and horror. She put her arm around Phoebe and the gesture was returned with the same decisive speed that had just deposited the jacket on the other end of the couch.
"What a charming thing it is to behold the sweet and touching sight of the two of you so happily embracing. Oh, the precious, forbidden and mysterious love of Sappho! Although the last thing I want is to be thought a kill-joy, I must issue one minor caveat. Whilst nothing makes me happier than to observe the simple joy of others, particularly those near and dear to me, I must ask that you endeavour by all means in your power, my darling Veronica, not to leave any stains upon my valuable sofa! I perceive that the cup of your awakening desire is full and begins to run over! No doubt the excellent Miss Prosser will come to the rescue with a tissue - or her tongue. I leave it to the pair of you to settle this delicate matter in what I do not doubt will be an amicable fashion. I must leave you for a few minutes and then we can finish our drinks."
With this, he lifted himself painfully to his feet and walked to the door. As soon as he had gone, Veronica grinned ruefully.
"OK, Phoebe - this is really your lucky night isn’t it? Why don’t you slip out of the rest of your clothes so we can make a proper job of this! And I’m sure you’d much sooner use your tongue to dry me out down there than a tissue, so we’ll take that one as read!"
Once again the decisive Miss Prosser needed no second invitation and Veronica resignedly opened her legs to allow Phoebe to have her fill of her. It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling on the whole, although she could not prevent herself thinking how much nicer it would be to have Douglass doing all these things to her - to say nothing of that one supreme and very special thing that Miss Prosser, for all her resourcefulness and demoniac energy, could never do!
It was well after midnight when the ancient and creaking Andrew returned, by which time Veronica was close to exhaustion and bathed in sweat, her hair once more plastered against her shiny, dripping wet back. By this time both of the women had rolled off the sofa and on to the deep-piled turquoise and yellow-patterned carpet, where they continued thrashing about, both of them, by this time, aroused to the same intoxicating level of enthusiasm, until a discreet cough alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. Veronica had learned quite a lot in that hour with Phoebe!
The indefatigable Miss Prosser was obviously good for another few hours, but dressed herself when her employer came back and sat on a separate chair. Veronica was again the sole naked occupant of the room as the three finished off a bottle of wine between them. It was clear that a still desperately lustful Phoebe knew that her fling with Veronica was now well and truly over, at least for tonight.
Veronica hoped that Phoebe would quickly find a lover on a permanent basis. Whoever she was, the chosen one would need to be strong and possessed of extraordinary stamina. Too much more of this and she would need a month’s rest and rehabilitation to recover! And it STILL very definitely wasn’t her scene, although she was forced to confess that she was a lot more adaptable than she would have ever imagined herself to be when she woke up that morning, all those long and eventful hours ago!
Glancing down Veronica saw what her feelings were telling her, namely that the sofa was still in imminent danger of being stained! She walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a pile of tissues. Returning, she arranged them on the sofa beneath her, blushing furiously as she felt the eyes of the other two boring into her back. She wondered which of them would have the tissues as a souvenir after she had departed! Perhaps they would share them! Ugh!
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Veronica
by Harry
PART THE TWENTY-FIRST
Veronica finished her last glass of wine and thankfully realized that she had at last got her errant body under control. The tissue was cold and clammy beneath her, but the embarrassing and shameful seepage had ceased at long last. As she glanced across at Miss Prosser, once more clad in her sensible clothes, she had difficulty believing that the two of them had just passed such a strenuous and very articulated time together. As for her having so thoroughly enjoyed herself, that, too, seemed quite unbelievable.
"I understand that I still have one more thing to do for you, Sir."
"Indeed you have, my dear. I so hope that your sojourn in this, my humble dwelling, has enabled you to recover fully from your recent distressing encounter with the Law, in all its corrupt and bestial brutality."
He cackled in his wheezy manner. Veronica became almost alarmed for his safety and wondered if she should go to his aid. Miss Prosser, also, seemed to be trying to fight down her mirth. Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed and increasing merriment. Oh, dear! What HAD this old bastard got lined up for her this time?
"Go home on foot, my dear! That is your next and final task. Sounds so easy, does it not?"
"If I knew the route, it would indeed. I guess I’m not too far away - close enough to be back home well before dawn."
He wheezed and croaked his mirth again for some moments, Miss Prosser snorting into her glass.
"Have no fear, my lovely young friend. I will let you study a map before you leave and that fine and powerful mind of yours will memorize the details, which will, I doubt not, be stamped indelibly upon your inner eye from this time forward, until the very end of your days."
"Good. That should be no problem, then. I’m pretty tired, but I’ll make it OK. Frankly I’d expected something rather harder than..."
And then it struck home! Of course - how stupid of her! She was to walk back home naked! Oh no! It had been bad enough on the train, clad as she had been, in a thong and nothing else, but that was a total breeze compared to walking through London’s streets in the absolute, unvarnished unadulterated altogether! Oh, fucking, bloody Hell!
Resignedly, she reached for her shoulder bag and prepared to leave. But Andrew Vane-Clatworthy, full of surprises to the very end, had yet more bad news for our heroine!
"Not the bag, my dear. A vulgar accessory in any case, an unworthy accoutrement for a fine young woman of your undoubted good taste. I think the rather garish nail varnish can also be removed before you leave. It will be merely you, in all your natural sweet loveliness, that will venture into the cold and dark night to wend a weary and footsore way back to Happy Hampstead!
"But - my keys!" stammered a despairing Veronica. "Just supposing I did make it without either being caught or freezing to death, how am I supposed to get in to my home?"
"You will just have to sleep outside your front door until, in the morning, your things are returned to you! Fear not, my sweet, I do not expect you to gain entry as a condition of your fulfilling your mission. Suffice it that you make it back to your front door!"
As she busied herself with the varnish remover, something inside Veronica snapped. She had been progressively and humiliatingly denuded all day of clothes which she had been ashamed to be seen wearing in the first place. She had been drenched with rain and battered by hail. She had been terrorized by a pair of gruesome uniformed dykes and finally debauched by this despicable old bastard’s frustrated retainer. And now, to cap it all, she was expected to walk back in the freezing cold, half way across London, to a flat, whose front door key she was forced to leave behind with this horrible couple!
She had had ENOUGH! Veronica now saw with fearful clarity the meaning of those words that had been dinned time and again into her as a young schoolgirl. "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" That was just what she had been doing to herself all day! Bit by bit she had been voluntarily allowing herself to be robbed of all about her that made her precious, unique and worth-while - and all in the pursuit of so contemptible a prize as a large sum of money! She knew, now, what she must do.
"OK, show me the map and I’ll be on my way. Don’t bother sending me the cheque, even if I do make it back without mishap! I don’t either need or want your fucking dirty money. Keep it! I’ll obey your last command, but not to make myself rich - just as an act of penance for my terrible greed. I hope I do suffer on my way back, and suffer a lot, because it‘s no more or less than I deserve."
She threw the red shoulder bag across the room in a fury. After looking at the map and memorizing all the details (Andrew had been right about that) she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room and the house, hearing the door slam to behind her and feeling, for the first time in hours, the cold air against her skin. It felt clean and good as she walked away from that house. She welcomed the chill as it began to eat into her, making the warmth of the living room, and its extraordinary session of Sapphic love, a distant and loathsome memory.
She decided it would be best to walk across Hampstead Heath. Once there, she would almost certainly be able to cross it undetected. The problem was - how to get there? The Kentish Town Road was the obvious route, but it would still be busy. No - she must go through the back streets to Gospel Oak and slip across Gordon House Road and go past the Lido. Once there it would be easy to get to the East Heath Road and then she would have a few back streets to negotiate safely before dashing across the High Street to her block of flats. Thank heaven the Police Station, just down the road from her flat, was no longer manned twenty four hours a day!
All went well for the first half of her walk to Gospel Oak and she was beginning to feel confidence growing inside her. It would have been better for her if she had remembered the old adage about cups and lips and many a slips.
Passing one darkened doorway, she became aware of a movement and made to run away but was too late to avoid being grasped by two pairs of hands, which turned out to belong to a couple of youths, both of whom had obviously spotted her as she had left the house and been following, waiting for their chance to spring out and surprise her.
These far from amiable young gentlemen announced in the most obscene way, their intention of screwing her arse off, among other things that were even more unpleasantly distasteful to her fastidious ears.
Was there no end to her troubles, she asked herself?
PART THE TWENTY-SECOND
The two youths, panting and gasping from the combined effects of exertion and eager animal anticipation, dragged her into the mouth of an alleyway, where one of them released his grip of her arms, leaving her, as he thought, in the safe hands of his partner in crime. As the eager, acne faced, evil smelling and priapic youth fumbled with his trousers Veronica kicked up at him with all her strength and had the sadistic and righteous satisfaction of watching him drop to the ground screaming and writhing in what was obviously great pain.
Now that she had only one of them to worry about, she easily broke free of the other and made it back to the road. At this point a car drew up and came to a noisy halt, the driver jumping out and running after the second of Veronica’s attackers, who had started on his hurried way homewards as soon as the car arrived. Veronica saw her rescuer catch up with the fellow and start to drag him back towards her. She went back to the first boy and pulled him roughly to his feet.
Emerging back into the road, dragging the would-be rapist behind her, she administered a thorough and painful chastisement to the wretched youth, soon reducing him to bleeding and broken-nosed unconsciousness. She was a big girl, as I have said before, some five feet eleven inches tall and this fellow was three inches shorter than she, scrawny and feeble with it. Add to this her extreme, superheated anger, and the youth’s immediate prospects were poor to say the least. She tossed his unconscious form aside with contempt and turned to the other creature, now firmly in the grasp of the young man in the car. She noted with grim satisfaction that all this had barely caused her to break sweat. Great to be fit!
"Do you want me to deal with this one, Veronica," asked Douglass, "or are you up to it yourself?"
"I’m very much up to it, thanks! Hand him over!"
Fifteen minutes later a subdued and very sore couple limped dejectedly away and Veronica and Douglass embraced long and lovingly. Between frenzied kisses and wild groping they poured out their hearts to each other, amazing themselves with the inventiveness and general soppiness of their lovelorn eloquence. Veronica had not been wrong! Douglas had fallen in love with this tall blonde beauty the moment he had seen her sitting in the Lamb, with that revealing split skirt exposing her luscious thighs for all to see.
"Can I give you a lift home, darling?" he said, finally emerging for a moment from the whirlpool of passion.
"No, sweetheart." gasped Veronica. "Thanks all the same. I can’t explain this. It’s a whole jumbled up mixture of reasons that even I can’t fully understand. I started this crazy enterprise, albeit for the worst of motives, and I’m going to finish it. I shook hands with that old man, and I’ll keep to my side of the bargain. Another thing is I feel I need to expiate my guilt in some way. I’ve been such an avaricious bitch, putting monetary gain above all else. Hell, Douglass! - if it had been his wish, I’d even have exposed my pussy in that strip joint, to all those leering dirty old men! I want to purge and punish myself somehow, and this is my way of doing it. So I‘ll see you tomorrow sometime, and then we can talk and talk and talk about the rest of our lives together and the absolutely enormous family we‘re going to have."
"Enormous family! Are you sure?"
"Course I am! Two such exceptional people as we are - we owe it to a mediocre world to produce lots of quality offspring - just like us!"
They continued to stand clasped together for some time and then Veronica steeled herself to make a confession.
"Douglass, darling!"
"Yes, my sweet?"
"I’ve a confession to make. Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you!"
He held her even tighter and laughed.
"Miss Prosser?"
Veronica sighed with relief, melting thankfully into his powerful embrace and squeezing him for all she was worth. He knew and he still loved her! She rested her head against his breast and wept silent tears of gratitude. All her other problems, such as her job and the little matter of getting back home without either freezing or being caught, were nothing to her now.
"Yes." continued Douglass. "Andrew told me all about that. I can’t pretend to be happy, but the way you kissed me just then sort of set my mind at rest. Anyway I’m so crazy about you, for whatever reason, I’d forgive you pretty well anything!"
"You’re crazy about me because I’m the loveliest, sweetest, most talented and sexiest girl in the whole wide world and you - you lucky sod - are going to have me to yourself to be your very own for ever and ever!"
Douglass digested this for a second or two and then asked.
"And why are you crazy about me?"
"Because I am - that‘s all! Isn’t that good enough for you? And now, you absolutely gorgeous lovely man, be off with you. Don‘t even think about following me. Just go home and come round and see me sometime after work tomorrow. I mean that! I‘ll let you wrap me in cotton wool for the rest of my life, and I hope you will, but tonight is mine. I‘ve got to do this on my own and with no help from you. OK?"
He protested, asking her how she would have coped if he had not come to her rescue. She hooted with laughter at this question.
"I was doing fine. Just crippled one to the everlasting detriment of his procreative prospects and after that I’d have done the same to that other pitiful creep. Admit it, now!"
He released her, not before kissing her wide-open and warm mouth again, very long and very tenderly. Then he drove off home, worried sick about her, but not daring to disobey, seeing very clearly the reason for her decision and loving her all the more desperately because of it.
Alone once again, Veronica hastened to cover the remaining distance to Gospel Oak. This time she was very careful to keep out of sight and check that she was not being followed. Despite her bravado in front of Douglass, she was fearful of another such encounter. She might not be so lucky next time!
PART THE TWENTY-THIRD
A group of returning late night revelers forced her to take refuge under a parked car. There seemed no other place she could hide, owing to the absence of trees in this particular bit of street. She felt the oil dripping onto her back and cursed the owner for the slovenly way he maintained his vehicle. The wretched people hung around chatting and making their farewells for what seemed to the impatient and shivering Veronica to be an age. Finally all but two left. This particular pair were obviously young and deeply in love - something with which Veronica could appreciate after her recent enjoyable cuddle with Douglass.
And then she recognized the voices! Emerging from her very uncomfortable refuge she was enthusiastically greeted by Gwendolyn and her faithful Daniel.
"I always seem to hiding away from you two," she laughed, relieved that she could finally be on her way; it had been uncomfortable and cold cowering under that car.
"Golly! Have you been wandering about like that ever since we saw you?" asked Gwendolyn. "You must be awfully cold by now. It’s going to be a frost later on according to the forecast! I see you‘ve lost that tiny red thong! What a fantastic body, you’ve got - hasn’t she Danny? You really are brave aren‘t you?"
Veronica assured her that she had been indoors for much of the time and further related how since emerging back into the open she had been given plenty of opportunities for vigorous exercise! Gwendolyn’s eyes were as wide as saucers when she told her about the two attackers and their subsequent rout.
"My, Oh MY! They certainly picked on the wrong girl when they chose you as their victim. I wish I were a tenth as brave and tough as you - I really do!"
Daniel murmured his agreement and Veronica could see that he was looking at her with even greater approval than he had been earlier on at the railway station. And Veronica was years older than he! She felt like a baby snatcher! The poor boy obviously felt, at least for the present, that poor Gwendolyn was a very inferior girl! Not wishing to spoil their romance, she made her apologies, explaining that she had a deadline to meet, and left then to resume their romancing.
The couple watched Veronica’s oil-smeared, but still sexy, bottom as it wiggled its bewitching way into the night.
"I do hope she gets home OK, Danny!" sighed Gwendolyn. "Do you wish I was as lovely as she is? I don’t blame you if you do!"
"Naah! You’re my girl, Gwen and I’m happy about that. My place or yours tonight?"
Gwendolyn giggled delightedly. She had not, as yet surrendered herself to him in the way he was implying, and was glad that he should have taken the initiative at long last. Much as she admired Veronica - hero worship would not be too strong a term - she hated to think of losing her beloved Daniel to her. Off they went to Daniel’s humble bed-sitter where the dawn appeared all too soon, to the great satisfaction of them both.
There, if you do not mind too much, we will leave these young people to their simple pleasures - to say nothing of a happy event which their unrestrained, injudicious and unprotected lust made inevitable some nine months later.
Veronica, meanwhile, had almost made it to Gospel Oak and the entrance to the Heath when a car-full of hooting and whooping young men came round a corner and careered up behind her. The roars of delight which betrayed the fact that they had spotted this tall and naked wanderer, rent the night air with raucous and uncouth hideousness.
"Going our way, Darling? You’ve got a greasy bum - like me to wipe it for you?" shouted one of them, to answering laughs from his three friends.
She broke into a run and reached the Heath entrance just as the car came to a stop, allowing two of the men to leap out. She was yards inside the gate and swallowed up by darkness in seconds, but kept running until she heard the car start up and drive away. Another narrow escape! Life would never be quite the same for her after today.
In front of her was the looming bulk of the redbrick Lido, still closed during its annual refurbishment. There were lights winking on the top of the surrounding wall and she heard laughter. Some one was climbing over, despite all the barbed wire and other impediments to unauthorized entry! There had been several incidents of intruders causing damage to this open air swimming facility in the past, and another such episode of youthful vandalism was obviously in progress. Veronica huddled close to the perimeter hedge, prepared to take shelter behind the hawthorn bushes if need be.
Sure enough, a few moments later a transit van presumably belonging to the Heath Police arrived and the entire area was bathed in light. She kept out of sight until the intruders had either fled or been caught. Finally, the van departed and silence and darkness returned.
It was certainly getting no warmer, she reflected. The exertion of running away from the hooligans had kept her from feeling it for a while, but the enforced sheltering behind the bushes had reminded her afresh just how chilly it was becoming. Best not be too long getting home! And then she remembered that she would still have to sleep outside her front door, to be allowed into her apartment in the morning by one of Andrew’s minions! Any way, it would be warm enough to spend a few hours once inside the apartment block.
After weighing up the various alternative routes back to Hampstead High Street, she decided that it would be best to cross the Heath until she got to East Heath Street. There she would be within striking distance of her destination, having to negotiate a couple of side roads before coming to the High Street. At this time of night, there should not be too much difficulty crossing the normally busy high street undetected.
Having made this decision she struck off up Parliament Hill, keeping far from the perimeter path by the running track. Soon she was high above London and turned around and saw the whole panorama spread out beneath her. It was a beautiful sight, a mass of light. She reminded herself sharply that this was no time for aesthetic appreciation and pressed on, coming to a dip and a hollow in which she saw something that made her blood freeze and her heart leap up into her mouth.
From behind the shelter of a hedge she saw a group of men and women dancing around a fire. Some of them were masked and there was the sound of chanting coming form their direction. ‘It must be some kind of Satanic ritual,’ she thought. What nerve they must have to be doing this kind of thing the heart of London! It did look a lovely big fire, though! Just what she needed to warm her up before she made the final dash for home. But it would not be wise to fall into the clutches of people like that!
And then she saw something that caused her to change her mind!
PART THE TWENTY-FOURTH
Just behind the fire she made out in the gloom a group of men and some lights, one of which was switched on as she watched, lighting up the group around the fire. So, this was not some exercise in nocturnal diabolism. It was just some people making a film! Relieved at this, and unable to endure the cold for one more second, she decided to risk going down to them and asking if she could warm herself by the fire for a few minutes before going on her way. She really was quite desperately cold by now.
This sort of person was sure not to be too scandalized at the sight of a naked woman! Not likely - the things they all got up to! One long round of lechery and licensed debauchery - that was the life these people led - hell, they probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid when they saw her!
As she approached the group a couple of them looked round and their jaws gaped wide open at the sight of the naked and lovely Veronica. This unnerved her a bit - she had expected a bit more sang-froid!
"I wonder if I might warm myself by the fire for a few minutes?" she said rather nervously and with her teeth chattering. "I’m bloody freezing as you can see!"
One of the women in the group replied. "Of course - are you in some kind of trouble? You’ve been attacked by some bloody man or men, haven‘t you? Bastards - all of them! We can get the police if you like and I’m sure we can find something for you to wear!"
"No. I’m deliberately naked. Too long a story to bore you with. I’m nearly home - all I want is to get warm enough to tackle the last lap."
At this a fussy and harassed-looking man, holding a clip board, came bustling up to them.
"Come on everybody! Time to shoot this bloody scene before the fire starts to go down. Let’s get on with it!"
He looked at Veronica. "I don’t recognize you. What are you doing here? Never mind! At least you undress a lot more quickly than the rest of this lot!"
Veronica became aware that, all about her, the men and women around the fire were stripping off their clothes. Soon she was no longer unique in her nudity! The lady who had first befriended her explained to the director that Veronica was not part of the act but merely a passer-by in need of some warmth.
"Well, you’ll have to either dance around the fire with all these good people or go away. Otherwise it’ll ruin the scene. Write down your name and address here and we’ll be in touch with you about the fee in due course. Two hundred pounds for being an important extra!"
Veronica, still in a bit of a daze, scribbled down her name and address. Soon after she was dancing hand in hand with two others as part of a ring of revelers, or whatever, around the lovely roaring fire. ‘Golly! That was better,’ she thought as she began to cease shivering and start to perspire instead!
Whatever the film she was taking part in, the bonfire scene was soon over and she found herself sitting, still near enough to feel the blessed heat of the fire, and talking to two of the other extras. One was a man and the other the same woman who had spoken to her in the first place. He was called Jeremy and she, his fiancé, was called Drusilla. They both sat without replacing their own clothes, perhaps as a way of making Veronica not feel out of place. Veronica was about to be on her way home (time was pressing somewhat), when there was a scream of pain and a commotion from the fringe of the group. The man in charge - presumably the director, came across, looking more worried and stressed than ever.
"Oh, bloody wonderful. That bitch Roseanne seems to be having acute appendicitis or something equally inconvenient. And we need to wrap this sequence up tonight. What are we going to do?" Then his eye lighted on Veronica.
"Do you act at all, young woman - you‘re certainly photogenic enough?"
"Not since I took part in a few School Drama productions - no"
"That’ll have to do. As soon as I get that cow off to hospital, I‘ll show you what to do. You don’t know the nearest hospital, I suppose?"
"The Royal Free is the nearest on Pond Street."
"OK. Don’t go away, now! Roseanne is our Virgin Sacrifice and she’s your build and hair color. It’s worth a thousand to you if you agree to do it! No need to tell HM Inspector of Taxes - straight out of the petty cash!
First of all, I must see she’s taken care of - be right back!"
Veronica wondered what Henry, her Tax Inspector friend, would make of her new career as a tax dodging moonlighter! She decided she would not trouble him, busy man that he was, by talking of this incident!
"Gosh, isn’t this your lucky night!" said Drusilla enthusiastically. "That’s twelve hundred pounds you’re going to be better off by! I bet you’d never have guessed this morning you were going to end up with all that money before you went to your bed, did you!"
Veronica decided not to answer this!
Soon the director and a trio of assistants were back. Veronica was ushered over to a rudimentary table.
The Director addressed her in a crisp and stern voice.
"You are to be dragged screaming over to this spot and tied spread-eagled to the corners of the table. Then a hooded man will stand beside you, pronounce a lot of incomprehensible but horrible incantations, and, finally with a flourish of a ritual knife, he will disembowel you. All you need to do is scream and look and sound frightened."
‘That shouldn’t be too hard,’ she thought.
Before she could reply, she had been seized by four hooded men and dragged to the scene of her sacrifice. She screamed for all she was worth and the man with the clip board looked almost happy for a change. As the blade of the ritual knife gleamed in the light and came flashing down towards her naked, quivering and unprotected stomach, there was nothing feigned about her screams!
PART THE TWENTY-FIFTH
"Are you sure you have to be going home so soon?"
These words were addressed to Veronica, the new and highly applauded film star, by the Director, who was by this time a very friendly man indeed. This previously harassed and irritable fellow had taken a great fancy to the stunning tall blonde by this time. In his opinion she had handled the human sacrifice scene brilliantly.
Everyone had agreed that she had brought a startling dimension of horror the scene by her unearthly screams and gargantuan writhing against her restraining bonds as the knife had flashed down towards her unprotected and heaving belly. Truth to tell, she had half believed that the disembowelment was to be for real!
"Sorry, but it is part of my agreement. I‘m doing this nude thing as part of a kind of bet."
"Well, you certainly dug us out of a pretty deep hole tonight, my dear. I can’t tell you just how much we are in your debt. I wonder if you would be interested in taking part in any future productions we might be embarking on?"
"Are you a very well known film company?" asked Veronica, trying to suppress a deep and very loud yawn. (She was getting to be pretty exhausted by now).
"No" replied the director, giving his name as Algernon FitzWalter. "I fear we are a very struggling enterprise. And if this latest production doesn’t make the grade, we will be in a bit of bother. Don‘t worry - you‘ll get your money OK."
"Oh, no!" sighed Veronica. "You saved my life tonight with that lovely fire and all that warming exercise. If I can ever help, I will. Not that that is very likely, alas, apart from my minimal acting talent!"
Then she explained to the Director the reason for her being in a state of undress.
"What a story," he exclaimed. "We might even try to make a film out of that! You never know! That gay black Wykehamist bouncer is a lovely touch!"
"I’d rather you didn’t, to be quite honest," replied Veronica with a shiver - the fire was rapidly diminishing by now and she was, of course, still quite naked in the cold night air.
"You never know. This film could be the making of you! I certainly hope so! And now I really must be getting along before all the good that blaze did for me goes to waste! Goodbye everyone!"
She slipped off into the night with the good wishes of the film crew ringing in her ears and was soon out of earshot of them all as they prepared to tidy up and leave the Heath in the same pristine state that they had found it in earlier in the night.
The lovely Veronica had a choice before her now. It would be quicker for her to make for the path between the mixed bathing pond and one of the other ponds, but this would leave her totally exposed on a narrow pathway and with no hope of concealment for very many yards. She decided to make towards the right and take the longer way around, where there would be much greater cover in case she happened to come upon a late night patrol of the zealous guardians of law, order and public decency.
Fortunately there was a clear sky at present, which was the worst of bad news from the temperature angle, as she shivered uncontrollably and tried to forget the intense cold - mind over matter and all that - but good news when it came to picking her way in the dark, as the moon was almost half full by this time of the month. Nevertheless, her feet kept stepping on sharp and stony protuberances, much to the detriment of her already tender and over exercised soles. She gasped painfully more times than she could keep count.
Veronica was making towards that tree lined avenue familiar to anyone who had ever watched the 1980s series "Smiley’s People" - that sinister avenue where the hapless elderly General Vladimir had met his grisly death in Episode One.
Veronica was thinking about this as she walked gingerly along. ‘Moscow Rules,’ she thought. ‘Just what the bloody Hell WERE Moscow Rules?’
Making chalk marks on wooden posts seemed to have formed a part of this odd and mysterious procedure, although what possible benefit it was to any dangerous and covert operation, she had always been at a complete and utter loss to understand. It hadn’t done the poor old General much good; that was for sure! ‘Mind you, old girl,’ she thought, ‘there was a heck of a lot I didn’t understand about that series. Friends is a lot easier on the brain, but, of course, it’s American, so it would be.’
As she was thinking these thoughts and feeling a little apprehensive about negotiating the storm-damaged avenue in question, she was on the point of screaming as a new fright burst upon her!
A black creature darted out from the shadows and sped towards Veronica’s naked and well shaped ankles, wrapping itself sinuously around them and bringing a much needed touch of warmth to those chilled parts of her almost frozen body.
The frightened and startled girl, scarcely suppressed a frightened scream, looked down and felt her heart rate rapidly subside to a more sustainable level.
Beneath her in the gloom, the lovely Veronica descried the shape of a long haired and very friendly cat, whose pretty face stared up at her with adoration.
As she bent down, she was able to make out the features of this very talkative feline. As the mews and wails of the darling little creature filled the night air with their sweetly musical cadences, she recognised the furry little face that was turning itself up to her with such a winsomely appealing look.
Oh, yes!
This was the adorable moggie, whose features on a duplicated poster had stared out at the passing and, sadly, indifferent multitudes from pretty well every tree trunk in Hampstead for several days, now.
Veronica recalled the words of this notice in all their heart-rending pathos.
"MISSING CAT. Lost since Saturday. Very greatly loved friend and faithful companion. Reward Offered for Safe Return."
There followed the phone number of the distressed owner.
Veronica playfully twitched the big toe of her right foot and the animal made a dive for it, fastening its teeth painlessly upon it. She laughed.
"Oh, you little darling!"
Then she thought. This lost feline wanderer had a name. This name had been inscribed on the notice, but she could not, for the moment, remember what it was. Something pretty bloody daft, she recalled, but what?
Veronica stood frowning with concentration and shivering in the rapidly intensifying cold as she cudgelled her brains to yield up the name of this sweet little stray.
And THEN! It came to her.
"Cuddlywinks ?, she nervously intoned to the still writhing creature as it continued its ministrations to her lower limbs.
"Miaowowwow!!, Prrr! Prr!" replied Cuddlywinks, as he appreciated in the depths of his primitive intelligence, that his days of fending for himself were now over! A rescuer was at hand! This lovely lady knew his name!
He had enjoyed, to start with, the novel experience of fending for himself in those first days after a backfiring car engine had caused him to flee, panic stricken, from his home and become hopelessly lost, ending up here on the Heath as an involuntarily feral feline
This nice young lady had addressed him by name! He was recognized at long last for who he was. Oh, Bliss! Soon this lovely woman, with her sweetly scented body, would take him home to renew his life of pampered ease with a doting owner. Cuddlywinks enthusiastically returned his attentions to Veronica’s well-turned ankles.
"Oh, come on! Time for us both to be heading home. I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’m perishing bloody cold!"
Veronica picked the animal up and started to carry him in her arms. She looked down at him in the faint half-moonlit light and cooed. "Oh, aren’t you a sweet little boy?"
"And you have the juiciest pair of tits I’ve ever seen, sweetheart," replied Cuddlywinks. He dearly loved his owner, but this old lady had long ago ceased to possess a body like that of his luscious rescuer!
To Veronica’s untutored human ears, this came out as "Ioww, Owww, Mioaww".
An affronted Veronica began to realise the import of the cat’s remarks when the appreciative Cuddlywinks began vigorously to caress her hardened and very sensitive nipples with his warm and rough little tongue.
"You dirty little sod! You feline pervert!" a horrified and disgusted Veronica shrieked. "From now on you walk you depraved little fellow!"
The disappointed cat was rapidly deposited upon the ground and henceforth followed adoringly behind the tall and lovely naked lady. He was determined that he would not lose sight of her. Every now and again, he would wind himself around her delicately sculpted ankles and nearly bring her crashing to the ground.
After what seemed to the increasingly irritable Veronica to be an age, she came to the point where it was possible to leave the avenue and make across the grass to the main road and then to her ever more dreamed of home.
Could this be the end of my day of troubles? She asked.
We shall have to wait and see!
by Harry
PART THE TWENTY-FIRST
Veronica finished her last glass of wine and thankfully realized that she had at last got her errant body under control. The tissue was cold and clammy beneath her, but the embarrassing and shameful seepage had ceased at long last. As she glanced across at Miss Prosser, once more clad in her sensible clothes, she had difficulty believing that the two of them had just passed such a strenuous and very articulated time together. As for her having so thoroughly enjoyed herself, that, too, seemed quite unbelievable.
"I understand that I still have one more thing to do for you, Sir."
"Indeed you have, my dear. I so hope that your sojourn in this, my humble dwelling, has enabled you to recover fully from your recent distressing encounter with the Law, in all its corrupt and bestial brutality."
He cackled in his wheezy manner. Veronica became almost alarmed for his safety and wondered if she should go to his aid. Miss Prosser, also, seemed to be trying to fight down her mirth. Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed and increasing merriment. Oh, dear! What HAD this old bastard got lined up for her this time?
"Go home on foot, my dear! That is your next and final task. Sounds so easy, does it not?"
"If I knew the route, it would indeed. I guess I’m not too far away - close enough to be back home well before dawn."
He wheezed and croaked his mirth again for some moments, Miss Prosser snorting into her glass.
"Have no fear, my lovely young friend. I will let you study a map before you leave and that fine and powerful mind of yours will memorize the details, which will, I doubt not, be stamped indelibly upon your inner eye from this time forward, until the very end of your days."
"Good. That should be no problem, then. I’m pretty tired, but I’ll make it OK. Frankly I’d expected something rather harder than..."
And then it struck home! Of course - how stupid of her! She was to walk back home naked! Oh no! It had been bad enough on the train, clad as she had been, in a thong and nothing else, but that was a total breeze compared to walking through London’s streets in the absolute, unvarnished unadulterated altogether! Oh, fucking, bloody Hell!
Resignedly, she reached for her shoulder bag and prepared to leave. But Andrew Vane-Clatworthy, full of surprises to the very end, had yet more bad news for our heroine!
"Not the bag, my dear. A vulgar accessory in any case, an unworthy accoutrement for a fine young woman of your undoubted good taste. I think the rather garish nail varnish can also be removed before you leave. It will be merely you, in all your natural sweet loveliness, that will venture into the cold and dark night to wend a weary and footsore way back to Happy Hampstead!
"But - my keys!" stammered a despairing Veronica. "Just supposing I did make it without either being caught or freezing to death, how am I supposed to get in to my home?"
"You will just have to sleep outside your front door until, in the morning, your things are returned to you! Fear not, my sweet, I do not expect you to gain entry as a condition of your fulfilling your mission. Suffice it that you make it back to your front door!"
As she busied herself with the varnish remover, something inside Veronica snapped. She had been progressively and humiliatingly denuded all day of clothes which she had been ashamed to be seen wearing in the first place. She had been drenched with rain and battered by hail. She had been terrorized by a pair of gruesome uniformed dykes and finally debauched by this despicable old bastard’s frustrated retainer. And now, to cap it all, she was expected to walk back in the freezing cold, half way across London, to a flat, whose front door key she was forced to leave behind with this horrible couple!
She had had ENOUGH! Veronica now saw with fearful clarity the meaning of those words that had been dinned time and again into her as a young schoolgirl. "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" That was just what she had been doing to herself all day! Bit by bit she had been voluntarily allowing herself to be robbed of all about her that made her precious, unique and worth-while - and all in the pursuit of so contemptible a prize as a large sum of money! She knew, now, what she must do.
"OK, show me the map and I’ll be on my way. Don’t bother sending me the cheque, even if I do make it back without mishap! I don’t either need or want your fucking dirty money. Keep it! I’ll obey your last command, but not to make myself rich - just as an act of penance for my terrible greed. I hope I do suffer on my way back, and suffer a lot, because it‘s no more or less than I deserve."
She threw the red shoulder bag across the room in a fury. After looking at the map and memorizing all the details (Andrew had been right about that) she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room and the house, hearing the door slam to behind her and feeling, for the first time in hours, the cold air against her skin. It felt clean and good as she walked away from that house. She welcomed the chill as it began to eat into her, making the warmth of the living room, and its extraordinary session of Sapphic love, a distant and loathsome memory.
She decided it would be best to walk across Hampstead Heath. Once there, she would almost certainly be able to cross it undetected. The problem was - how to get there? The Kentish Town Road was the obvious route, but it would still be busy. No - she must go through the back streets to Gospel Oak and slip across Gordon House Road and go past the Lido. Once there it would be easy to get to the East Heath Road and then she would have a few back streets to negotiate safely before dashing across the High Street to her block of flats. Thank heaven the Police Station, just down the road from her flat, was no longer manned twenty four hours a day!
All went well for the first half of her walk to Gospel Oak and she was beginning to feel confidence growing inside her. It would have been better for her if she had remembered the old adage about cups and lips and many a slips.
Passing one darkened doorway, she became aware of a movement and made to run away but was too late to avoid being grasped by two pairs of hands, which turned out to belong to a couple of youths, both of whom had obviously spotted her as she had left the house and been following, waiting for their chance to spring out and surprise her.
These far from amiable young gentlemen announced in the most obscene way, their intention of screwing her arse off, among other things that were even more unpleasantly distasteful to her fastidious ears.
Was there no end to her troubles, she asked herself?
PART THE TWENTY-SECOND
The two youths, panting and gasping from the combined effects of exertion and eager animal anticipation, dragged her into the mouth of an alleyway, where one of them released his grip of her arms, leaving her, as he thought, in the safe hands of his partner in crime. As the eager, acne faced, evil smelling and priapic youth fumbled with his trousers Veronica kicked up at him with all her strength and had the sadistic and righteous satisfaction of watching him drop to the ground screaming and writhing in what was obviously great pain.
Now that she had only one of them to worry about, she easily broke free of the other and made it back to the road. At this point a car drew up and came to a noisy halt, the driver jumping out and running after the second of Veronica’s attackers, who had started on his hurried way homewards as soon as the car arrived. Veronica saw her rescuer catch up with the fellow and start to drag him back towards her. She went back to the first boy and pulled him roughly to his feet.
Emerging back into the road, dragging the would-be rapist behind her, she administered a thorough and painful chastisement to the wretched youth, soon reducing him to bleeding and broken-nosed unconsciousness. She was a big girl, as I have said before, some five feet eleven inches tall and this fellow was three inches shorter than she, scrawny and feeble with it. Add to this her extreme, superheated anger, and the youth’s immediate prospects were poor to say the least. She tossed his unconscious form aside with contempt and turned to the other creature, now firmly in the grasp of the young man in the car. She noted with grim satisfaction that all this had barely caused her to break sweat. Great to be fit!
"Do you want me to deal with this one, Veronica," asked Douglass, "or are you up to it yourself?"
"I’m very much up to it, thanks! Hand him over!"
Fifteen minutes later a subdued and very sore couple limped dejectedly away and Veronica and Douglass embraced long and lovingly. Between frenzied kisses and wild groping they poured out their hearts to each other, amazing themselves with the inventiveness and general soppiness of their lovelorn eloquence. Veronica had not been wrong! Douglas had fallen in love with this tall blonde beauty the moment he had seen her sitting in the Lamb, with that revealing split skirt exposing her luscious thighs for all to see.
"Can I give you a lift home, darling?" he said, finally emerging for a moment from the whirlpool of passion.
"No, sweetheart." gasped Veronica. "Thanks all the same. I can’t explain this. It’s a whole jumbled up mixture of reasons that even I can’t fully understand. I started this crazy enterprise, albeit for the worst of motives, and I’m going to finish it. I shook hands with that old man, and I’ll keep to my side of the bargain. Another thing is I feel I need to expiate my guilt in some way. I’ve been such an avaricious bitch, putting monetary gain above all else. Hell, Douglass! - if it had been his wish, I’d even have exposed my pussy in that strip joint, to all those leering dirty old men! I want to purge and punish myself somehow, and this is my way of doing it. So I‘ll see you tomorrow sometime, and then we can talk and talk and talk about the rest of our lives together and the absolutely enormous family we‘re going to have."
"Enormous family! Are you sure?"
"Course I am! Two such exceptional people as we are - we owe it to a mediocre world to produce lots of quality offspring - just like us!"
They continued to stand clasped together for some time and then Veronica steeled herself to make a confession.
"Douglass, darling!"
"Yes, my sweet?"
"I’ve a confession to make. Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you!"
He held her even tighter and laughed.
"Miss Prosser?"
Veronica sighed with relief, melting thankfully into his powerful embrace and squeezing him for all she was worth. He knew and he still loved her! She rested her head against his breast and wept silent tears of gratitude. All her other problems, such as her job and the little matter of getting back home without either freezing or being caught, were nothing to her now.
"Yes." continued Douglass. "Andrew told me all about that. I can’t pretend to be happy, but the way you kissed me just then sort of set my mind at rest. Anyway I’m so crazy about you, for whatever reason, I’d forgive you pretty well anything!"
"You’re crazy about me because I’m the loveliest, sweetest, most talented and sexiest girl in the whole wide world and you - you lucky sod - are going to have me to yourself to be your very own for ever and ever!"
Douglass digested this for a second or two and then asked.
"And why are you crazy about me?"
"Because I am - that‘s all! Isn’t that good enough for you? And now, you absolutely gorgeous lovely man, be off with you. Don‘t even think about following me. Just go home and come round and see me sometime after work tomorrow. I mean that! I‘ll let you wrap me in cotton wool for the rest of my life, and I hope you will, but tonight is mine. I‘ve got to do this on my own and with no help from you. OK?"
He protested, asking her how she would have coped if he had not come to her rescue. She hooted with laughter at this question.
"I was doing fine. Just crippled one to the everlasting detriment of his procreative prospects and after that I’d have done the same to that other pitiful creep. Admit it, now!"
He released her, not before kissing her wide-open and warm mouth again, very long and very tenderly. Then he drove off home, worried sick about her, but not daring to disobey, seeing very clearly the reason for her decision and loving her all the more desperately because of it.
Alone once again, Veronica hastened to cover the remaining distance to Gospel Oak. This time she was very careful to keep out of sight and check that she was not being followed. Despite her bravado in front of Douglass, she was fearful of another such encounter. She might not be so lucky next time!
PART THE TWENTY-THIRD
A group of returning late night revelers forced her to take refuge under a parked car. There seemed no other place she could hide, owing to the absence of trees in this particular bit of street. She felt the oil dripping onto her back and cursed the owner for the slovenly way he maintained his vehicle. The wretched people hung around chatting and making their farewells for what seemed to the impatient and shivering Veronica to be an age. Finally all but two left. This particular pair were obviously young and deeply in love - something with which Veronica could appreciate after her recent enjoyable cuddle with Douglass.
And then she recognized the voices! Emerging from her very uncomfortable refuge she was enthusiastically greeted by Gwendolyn and her faithful Daniel.
"I always seem to hiding away from you two," she laughed, relieved that she could finally be on her way; it had been uncomfortable and cold cowering under that car.
"Golly! Have you been wandering about like that ever since we saw you?" asked Gwendolyn. "You must be awfully cold by now. It’s going to be a frost later on according to the forecast! I see you‘ve lost that tiny red thong! What a fantastic body, you’ve got - hasn’t she Danny? You really are brave aren‘t you?"
Veronica assured her that she had been indoors for much of the time and further related how since emerging back into the open she had been given plenty of opportunities for vigorous exercise! Gwendolyn’s eyes were as wide as saucers when she told her about the two attackers and their subsequent rout.
"My, Oh MY! They certainly picked on the wrong girl when they chose you as their victim. I wish I were a tenth as brave and tough as you - I really do!"
Daniel murmured his agreement and Veronica could see that he was looking at her with even greater approval than he had been earlier on at the railway station. And Veronica was years older than he! She felt like a baby snatcher! The poor boy obviously felt, at least for the present, that poor Gwendolyn was a very inferior girl! Not wishing to spoil their romance, she made her apologies, explaining that she had a deadline to meet, and left then to resume their romancing.
The couple watched Veronica’s oil-smeared, but still sexy, bottom as it wiggled its bewitching way into the night.
"I do hope she gets home OK, Danny!" sighed Gwendolyn. "Do you wish I was as lovely as she is? I don’t blame you if you do!"
"Naah! You’re my girl, Gwen and I’m happy about that. My place or yours tonight?"
Gwendolyn giggled delightedly. She had not, as yet surrendered herself to him in the way he was implying, and was glad that he should have taken the initiative at long last. Much as she admired Veronica - hero worship would not be too strong a term - she hated to think of losing her beloved Daniel to her. Off they went to Daniel’s humble bed-sitter where the dawn appeared all too soon, to the great satisfaction of them both.
There, if you do not mind too much, we will leave these young people to their simple pleasures - to say nothing of a happy event which their unrestrained, injudicious and unprotected lust made inevitable some nine months later.
Veronica, meanwhile, had almost made it to Gospel Oak and the entrance to the Heath when a car-full of hooting and whooping young men came round a corner and careered up behind her. The roars of delight which betrayed the fact that they had spotted this tall and naked wanderer, rent the night air with raucous and uncouth hideousness.
"Going our way, Darling? You’ve got a greasy bum - like me to wipe it for you?" shouted one of them, to answering laughs from his three friends.
She broke into a run and reached the Heath entrance just as the car came to a stop, allowing two of the men to leap out. She was yards inside the gate and swallowed up by darkness in seconds, but kept running until she heard the car start up and drive away. Another narrow escape! Life would never be quite the same for her after today.
In front of her was the looming bulk of the redbrick Lido, still closed during its annual refurbishment. There were lights winking on the top of the surrounding wall and she heard laughter. Some one was climbing over, despite all the barbed wire and other impediments to unauthorized entry! There had been several incidents of intruders causing damage to this open air swimming facility in the past, and another such episode of youthful vandalism was obviously in progress. Veronica huddled close to the perimeter hedge, prepared to take shelter behind the hawthorn bushes if need be.
Sure enough, a few moments later a transit van presumably belonging to the Heath Police arrived and the entire area was bathed in light. She kept out of sight until the intruders had either fled or been caught. Finally, the van departed and silence and darkness returned.
It was certainly getting no warmer, she reflected. The exertion of running away from the hooligans had kept her from feeling it for a while, but the enforced sheltering behind the bushes had reminded her afresh just how chilly it was becoming. Best not be too long getting home! And then she remembered that she would still have to sleep outside her front door, to be allowed into her apartment in the morning by one of Andrew’s minions! Any way, it would be warm enough to spend a few hours once inside the apartment block.
After weighing up the various alternative routes back to Hampstead High Street, she decided that it would be best to cross the Heath until she got to East Heath Street. There she would be within striking distance of her destination, having to negotiate a couple of side roads before coming to the High Street. At this time of night, there should not be too much difficulty crossing the normally busy high street undetected.
Having made this decision she struck off up Parliament Hill, keeping far from the perimeter path by the running track. Soon she was high above London and turned around and saw the whole panorama spread out beneath her. It was a beautiful sight, a mass of light. She reminded herself sharply that this was no time for aesthetic appreciation and pressed on, coming to a dip and a hollow in which she saw something that made her blood freeze and her heart leap up into her mouth.
From behind the shelter of a hedge she saw a group of men and women dancing around a fire. Some of them were masked and there was the sound of chanting coming form their direction. ‘It must be some kind of Satanic ritual,’ she thought. What nerve they must have to be doing this kind of thing the heart of London! It did look a lovely big fire, though! Just what she needed to warm her up before she made the final dash for home. But it would not be wise to fall into the clutches of people like that!
And then she saw something that caused her to change her mind!
PART THE TWENTY-FOURTH
Just behind the fire she made out in the gloom a group of men and some lights, one of which was switched on as she watched, lighting up the group around the fire. So, this was not some exercise in nocturnal diabolism. It was just some people making a film! Relieved at this, and unable to endure the cold for one more second, she decided to risk going down to them and asking if she could warm herself by the fire for a few minutes before going on her way. She really was quite desperately cold by now.
This sort of person was sure not to be too scandalized at the sight of a naked woman! Not likely - the things they all got up to! One long round of lechery and licensed debauchery - that was the life these people led - hell, they probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid when they saw her!
As she approached the group a couple of them looked round and their jaws gaped wide open at the sight of the naked and lovely Veronica. This unnerved her a bit - she had expected a bit more sang-froid!
"I wonder if I might warm myself by the fire for a few minutes?" she said rather nervously and with her teeth chattering. "I’m bloody freezing as you can see!"
One of the women in the group replied. "Of course - are you in some kind of trouble? You’ve been attacked by some bloody man or men, haven‘t you? Bastards - all of them! We can get the police if you like and I’m sure we can find something for you to wear!"
"No. I’m deliberately naked. Too long a story to bore you with. I’m nearly home - all I want is to get warm enough to tackle the last lap."
At this a fussy and harassed-looking man, holding a clip board, came bustling up to them.
"Come on everybody! Time to shoot this bloody scene before the fire starts to go down. Let’s get on with it!"
He looked at Veronica. "I don’t recognize you. What are you doing here? Never mind! At least you undress a lot more quickly than the rest of this lot!"
Veronica became aware that, all about her, the men and women around the fire were stripping off their clothes. Soon she was no longer unique in her nudity! The lady who had first befriended her explained to the director that Veronica was not part of the act but merely a passer-by in need of some warmth.
"Well, you’ll have to either dance around the fire with all these good people or go away. Otherwise it’ll ruin the scene. Write down your name and address here and we’ll be in touch with you about the fee in due course. Two hundred pounds for being an important extra!"
Veronica, still in a bit of a daze, scribbled down her name and address. Soon after she was dancing hand in hand with two others as part of a ring of revelers, or whatever, around the lovely roaring fire. ‘Golly! That was better,’ she thought as she began to cease shivering and start to perspire instead!
Whatever the film she was taking part in, the bonfire scene was soon over and she found herself sitting, still near enough to feel the blessed heat of the fire, and talking to two of the other extras. One was a man and the other the same woman who had spoken to her in the first place. He was called Jeremy and she, his fiancé, was called Drusilla. They both sat without replacing their own clothes, perhaps as a way of making Veronica not feel out of place. Veronica was about to be on her way home (time was pressing somewhat), when there was a scream of pain and a commotion from the fringe of the group. The man in charge - presumably the director, came across, looking more worried and stressed than ever.
"Oh, bloody wonderful. That bitch Roseanne seems to be having acute appendicitis or something equally inconvenient. And we need to wrap this sequence up tonight. What are we going to do?" Then his eye lighted on Veronica.
"Do you act at all, young woman - you‘re certainly photogenic enough?"
"Not since I took part in a few School Drama productions - no"
"That’ll have to do. As soon as I get that cow off to hospital, I‘ll show you what to do. You don’t know the nearest hospital, I suppose?"
"The Royal Free is the nearest on Pond Street."
"OK. Don’t go away, now! Roseanne is our Virgin Sacrifice and she’s your build and hair color. It’s worth a thousand to you if you agree to do it! No need to tell HM Inspector of Taxes - straight out of the petty cash!
First of all, I must see she’s taken care of - be right back!"
Veronica wondered what Henry, her Tax Inspector friend, would make of her new career as a tax dodging moonlighter! She decided she would not trouble him, busy man that he was, by talking of this incident!
"Gosh, isn’t this your lucky night!" said Drusilla enthusiastically. "That’s twelve hundred pounds you’re going to be better off by! I bet you’d never have guessed this morning you were going to end up with all that money before you went to your bed, did you!"
Veronica decided not to answer this!
Soon the director and a trio of assistants were back. Veronica was ushered over to a rudimentary table.
The Director addressed her in a crisp and stern voice.
"You are to be dragged screaming over to this spot and tied spread-eagled to the corners of the table. Then a hooded man will stand beside you, pronounce a lot of incomprehensible but horrible incantations, and, finally with a flourish of a ritual knife, he will disembowel you. All you need to do is scream and look and sound frightened."
‘That shouldn’t be too hard,’ she thought.
Before she could reply, she had been seized by four hooded men and dragged to the scene of her sacrifice. She screamed for all she was worth and the man with the clip board looked almost happy for a change. As the blade of the ritual knife gleamed in the light and came flashing down towards her naked, quivering and unprotected stomach, there was nothing feigned about her screams!
PART THE TWENTY-FIFTH
"Are you sure you have to be going home so soon?"
These words were addressed to Veronica, the new and highly applauded film star, by the Director, who was by this time a very friendly man indeed. This previously harassed and irritable fellow had taken a great fancy to the stunning tall blonde by this time. In his opinion she had handled the human sacrifice scene brilliantly.
Everyone had agreed that she had brought a startling dimension of horror the scene by her unearthly screams and gargantuan writhing against her restraining bonds as the knife had flashed down towards her unprotected and heaving belly. Truth to tell, she had half believed that the disembowelment was to be for real!
"Sorry, but it is part of my agreement. I‘m doing this nude thing as part of a kind of bet."
"Well, you certainly dug us out of a pretty deep hole tonight, my dear. I can’t tell you just how much we are in your debt. I wonder if you would be interested in taking part in any future productions we might be embarking on?"
"Are you a very well known film company?" asked Veronica, trying to suppress a deep and very loud yawn. (She was getting to be pretty exhausted by now).
"No" replied the director, giving his name as Algernon FitzWalter. "I fear we are a very struggling enterprise. And if this latest production doesn’t make the grade, we will be in a bit of bother. Don‘t worry - you‘ll get your money OK."
"Oh, no!" sighed Veronica. "You saved my life tonight with that lovely fire and all that warming exercise. If I can ever help, I will. Not that that is very likely, alas, apart from my minimal acting talent!"
Then she explained to the Director the reason for her being in a state of undress.
"What a story," he exclaimed. "We might even try to make a film out of that! You never know! That gay black Wykehamist bouncer is a lovely touch!"
"I’d rather you didn’t, to be quite honest," replied Veronica with a shiver - the fire was rapidly diminishing by now and she was, of course, still quite naked in the cold night air.
"You never know. This film could be the making of you! I certainly hope so! And now I really must be getting along before all the good that blaze did for me goes to waste! Goodbye everyone!"
She slipped off into the night with the good wishes of the film crew ringing in her ears and was soon out of earshot of them all as they prepared to tidy up and leave the Heath in the same pristine state that they had found it in earlier in the night.
The lovely Veronica had a choice before her now. It would be quicker for her to make for the path between the mixed bathing pond and one of the other ponds, but this would leave her totally exposed on a narrow pathway and with no hope of concealment for very many yards. She decided to make towards the right and take the longer way around, where there would be much greater cover in case she happened to come upon a late night patrol of the zealous guardians of law, order and public decency.
Fortunately there was a clear sky at present, which was the worst of bad news from the temperature angle, as she shivered uncontrollably and tried to forget the intense cold - mind over matter and all that - but good news when it came to picking her way in the dark, as the moon was almost half full by this time of the month. Nevertheless, her feet kept stepping on sharp and stony protuberances, much to the detriment of her already tender and over exercised soles. She gasped painfully more times than she could keep count.
Veronica was making towards that tree lined avenue familiar to anyone who had ever watched the 1980s series "Smiley’s People" - that sinister avenue where the hapless elderly General Vladimir had met his grisly death in Episode One.
Veronica was thinking about this as she walked gingerly along. ‘Moscow Rules,’ she thought. ‘Just what the bloody Hell WERE Moscow Rules?’
Making chalk marks on wooden posts seemed to have formed a part of this odd and mysterious procedure, although what possible benefit it was to any dangerous and covert operation, she had always been at a complete and utter loss to understand. It hadn’t done the poor old General much good; that was for sure! ‘Mind you, old girl,’ she thought, ‘there was a heck of a lot I didn’t understand about that series. Friends is a lot easier on the brain, but, of course, it’s American, so it would be.’
As she was thinking these thoughts and feeling a little apprehensive about negotiating the storm-damaged avenue in question, she was on the point of screaming as a new fright burst upon her!
A black creature darted out from the shadows and sped towards Veronica’s naked and well shaped ankles, wrapping itself sinuously around them and bringing a much needed touch of warmth to those chilled parts of her almost frozen body.
The frightened and startled girl, scarcely suppressed a frightened scream, looked down and felt her heart rate rapidly subside to a more sustainable level.
Beneath her in the gloom, the lovely Veronica descried the shape of a long haired and very friendly cat, whose pretty face stared up at her with adoration.
As she bent down, she was able to make out the features of this very talkative feline. As the mews and wails of the darling little creature filled the night air with their sweetly musical cadences, she recognised the furry little face that was turning itself up to her with such a winsomely appealing look.
Oh, yes!
This was the adorable moggie, whose features on a duplicated poster had stared out at the passing and, sadly, indifferent multitudes from pretty well every tree trunk in Hampstead for several days, now.
Veronica recalled the words of this notice in all their heart-rending pathos.
"MISSING CAT. Lost since Saturday. Very greatly loved friend and faithful companion. Reward Offered for Safe Return."
There followed the phone number of the distressed owner.
Veronica playfully twitched the big toe of her right foot and the animal made a dive for it, fastening its teeth painlessly upon it. She laughed.
"Oh, you little darling!"
Then she thought. This lost feline wanderer had a name. This name had been inscribed on the notice, but she could not, for the moment, remember what it was. Something pretty bloody daft, she recalled, but what?
Veronica stood frowning with concentration and shivering in the rapidly intensifying cold as she cudgelled her brains to yield up the name of this sweet little stray.
And THEN! It came to her.
"Cuddlywinks ?, she nervously intoned to the still writhing creature as it continued its ministrations to her lower limbs.
"Miaowowwow!!, Prrr! Prr!" replied Cuddlywinks, as he appreciated in the depths of his primitive intelligence, that his days of fending for himself were now over! A rescuer was at hand! This lovely lady knew his name!
He had enjoyed, to start with, the novel experience of fending for himself in those first days after a backfiring car engine had caused him to flee, panic stricken, from his home and become hopelessly lost, ending up here on the Heath as an involuntarily feral feline
This nice young lady had addressed him by name! He was recognized at long last for who he was. Oh, Bliss! Soon this lovely woman, with her sweetly scented body, would take him home to renew his life of pampered ease with a doting owner. Cuddlywinks enthusiastically returned his attentions to Veronica’s well-turned ankles.
"Oh, come on! Time for us both to be heading home. I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’m perishing bloody cold!"
Veronica picked the animal up and started to carry him in her arms. She looked down at him in the faint half-moonlit light and cooed. "Oh, aren’t you a sweet little boy?"
"And you have the juiciest pair of tits I’ve ever seen, sweetheart," replied Cuddlywinks. He dearly loved his owner, but this old lady had long ago ceased to possess a body like that of his luscious rescuer!
To Veronica’s untutored human ears, this came out as "Ioww, Owww, Mioaww".
An affronted Veronica began to realise the import of the cat’s remarks when the appreciative Cuddlywinks began vigorously to caress her hardened and very sensitive nipples with his warm and rough little tongue.
"You dirty little sod! You feline pervert!" a horrified and disgusted Veronica shrieked. "From now on you walk you depraved little fellow!"
The disappointed cat was rapidly deposited upon the ground and henceforth followed adoringly behind the tall and lovely naked lady. He was determined that he would not lose sight of her. Every now and again, he would wind himself around her delicately sculpted ankles and nearly bring her crashing to the ground.
After what seemed to the increasingly irritable Veronica to be an age, she came to the point where it was possible to leave the avenue and make across the grass to the main road and then to her ever more dreamed of home.
Could this be the end of my day of troubles? She asked.
We shall have to wait and see!
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Veronica
by Harry
PART THE TWENTY SIXTH
As Veronica made her way across the Heath, feeling the grass, rigid and prickly, now that the temperatures were plunging, under her tired and sore feet, the cat followed eagerly behind her. Cuddlywinks was looking appreciatively up at her perfect young buttocks as they gyrated their sexy way across the sward. The adoring cat was salivating at that beautiful prospect. He really was a very lecherous pussy! She looked around a couple of times and was horrified at the look of fascinated intensity on those furry little features.
By this time all nocturnal wanderers, young lovers, voyeurs and cruisers seemed to have deserted the great outdoors for the night and decamped indoors where it was warm and cosy. Veronica reflected that she did not blame them. Even fully clothed, it must be uncomfortable out here. And she was not clothed at all, as her chattering teeth reminded her from time to time! She considered picking up the long-haired cat again, but remembered his partiality for her firm young maidenly breasts and thought better of it.
When she came to the road (East Heath Road), she decided that it would be best if she did carry the animal in case a late night motorist might drive by and maybe run him over or frighten him back onto the Heath. This time, thanks be to heaven, he was a good cat and contented himself with burying his sweet little head between her twin mounds of soft and fragrant flesh, purring loudly and alternately retracting and extending his claws, somewhat to the sensitive Veronica’s discomfort.
It was when the pair of them was half way through the connecting road to the High Street when Cuddlywinks suddenly became agitated. With a sinuous wriggle, he broke free from Veronica’s grasp and landed on the pavement, immediately scooting off up a side street.
She ran after him, anxious that she should not lose him now after getting him safely all this way towards his home. Cuddlywinks ran up to a house half-way along the street and jumped up onto the front room window sill. Then he commenced crying loudly. It was a noise which seemed capable of summoning the dead back from the other side of the grave, however glad they might have been to bid the cruel world farewell!
Despite the late hour, the window opened after a very few seconds and a pair of hands came out and grasped the animal. These hands belonged to an elderly lady, who was obviously Cuddlywinks‘s owner and equally obviously a very relieved and happy lady. "Oh, my darling little boy! You’ve come back to me! Where HAVE you been, you naughty boy?" she said in a voice that was not far removed from tears.
‘So, he recognized he was back on familiar ground and didn’t need me any longer! Well, that’s one happy pussy and one happy owner, both together again and thanks to me. How nice!’ thought Veronica as she prepared to make for her home, now only a couple of minutes walk away.
But the cat’s owner had spotted Veronica and the girl caught the lady’s astounded gaze as she stared open-mouthed at the tall, disheveled and gloriously nude, if shivering, blonde, standing directly under a lamp post.
"What are you doing out there like that?" she gasped. "Some kind of stunt, or are you in trouble. Do you want me to phone the Police?"
"Oh, no. Thanks all the same. I found your cat while walking on the Heath and was going to take him back with me and phone you in the morning, but he managed the last bit by himself. He’s a very engaging little fellow, he really is!"
"So, I have you to thank! I simply can’t tell you how grateful I am. I have no friend in the world apart from this little chap! Please come inside for a minute or two and have a cup of cocoa or tea or whatever you like! Maybe something a little stronger?"
Veronica accepted the elderly lady’s invitation. She was not likely to eat or drink for some hours and the thought of a cup of something hot and hopefully intoxicating was very tempting indeed. She came indoors and was ushered into a wonderfully comfortable armchair, into which she lowered her aching body with an enormous sigh of relief.
As Veronica appreciated the comfort of the armchair and waited for the hot drink to materialize, she felt the warmth seeping back after the freezing walk across the Heath. If she got out of this with anything less than a severe cold, it would be a miracle! But she felt the shivering gradually ease. She looked at her feet and inspected them minutely now that feeling was painfully returning - no signs of frostbite, by a miracle! No matter! For the present, she was beginning to feel alive again.
The lady, introducing herself as Miss Andrea Ferguson, soon came bustling in with a cup of cocoa, laced with fine old brandy. A shameful waste of a good Armagnac, thought the fastidious Veronica, but she was in no mood to query anything right now and sipped gratefully for a few minutes, feeling the drink pleasurably warming her .
She gave Miss Ferguson a very abbreviated account of her day so far and the events leading up to her finding the errant Cuddlywinks, by this time sleeping peacefully and deeply after his first proper meal in several days. The old lady nodded as she came to end of her story.
"I’m so glad you will refuse to take the money and yet still carried on with your mission. As you say, it will be an act of penitence in a way. And it has certainly produced good! Just look at the little darling, home and snug once again! I’ll never be able to thank you enough, not if I live to be one hundred!"
Veronica declined the proffered reward, saying that the pleasure of seeing the pair of them re-united was reward enough. (Which indeed, it was.)
She looked up at the old clock on the mantelpiece and saw that if she were to be home before dawn, she was running out of time and had better leave soon. She thanked the lady for the drink and gave the cat a farewell pat on the head. The animal was too fast asleep by this time to notice.
In a few seconds she was once more in the street and yet another door closed behind her, leaving her to face the rigours of the cold for a few more minutes. "Surely I can’t meet with any more adventures in the last few yards" she thought.
PART THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
Veronica got to the end of the street where the old lady lived and resumed the interrupted journey to her home. She kept a careful watch for the odd late night reveler and, more importantly, for any nocturnal policemen/women, whether on foot or motorized. She reached Hampstead High Street without mishap, save for the fact that she was already getting to feel as cold as ever.
Crossing this wide thoroughfare was the worst moment since leaving the comparative security of the Heath. Any insomniac looking out of his or her window at that instant would have had a wonderful view of her as the bright street lights shone down on her, revealing every single feature of her noble and curvaceous body, gleaming white, as she sped across the road and headed for her block of apartments. She was a fit and athletic young lady, as I have already said several times, and her neighbours would never have seen her physically toned perfection to better advantage as she ran gracefully up the slope to her home. Happily, insomnia was not a problem with anybody tonight.
But, sadly for our by now exhausted heroine, a group of returning revelers did happen to pass by at this time. The sound of their maudlin delight rent the air.
"Nice one darling! Lovely f*cking arsehole! Now turn round and let’s have a look at the front. Come on sweetheart".
She ignored this cacophonous and very unwelcome compliment and hurried towards the door. It seemed that the young men were debating among themselves whether to come and inspect her at close quarters and a consensus seemed to be quickly emerging to the effect that this would be an excellent idea. She heard the sound of their hilarity getting closer and panicked.
The street door to the apartment block was opened by punching the correct combination into a keypad and then pushing the door open. But her fingers were numb and she was shivering, partly from the cold and partly out of fear of what these awful hooligans might do to her. At the best, the noise might cause the police to be summoned - and she didn’t care to think too long or too hard about the worst possible outcome!
For a few horrible moments, she was afraid that she had forgotten the combination altogether, that the horrors of the day had driven it forever and irretrievably out of her mind. Then it came to her again and she tried keying it in for the seventh time, as the sound of footsteps and ribaldry came ever nearer. It was only after several more increasing despairing attempts that she got the door open and scrambled inside, pushing it shut just as the first of the yobs ran up to it. Saved in the nick of time!
Veronica was so distressed by this time that it was several minutes before she could think about going upstairs to her own apartment. In order not to make any noise she elected to use the staircase rather than the lift and skipped lightly up the steps, feeling the deep piled bottle-green carpet under her poor sore and tired feet - those feet which had borne the brunt of today’s adventures and carried her all the way from the Elephant and Castle to Dalston and then across North London and Hampstead Heath to bring her finally to her own dearly beloved home.
Her door was the third one along the corridor and she prepared to sink down outside it and sleep like a log until discovered in the morning. Then she saw something that brought her heart right up into her mouth and almost made her faint away on the spot!
PART THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
Safely back home after a day of humiliation and adventure, the beautiful Veronica had expected to be obliged to spend a few hours lying on the carpet outside her apartment. In the morning, when the street door automatically unlocked, a member of Andrew Vane-Clatworthy’s staff would come up and return her shoulder bag, containing her keys, cheque book and other personal items. Imagine, therefore, her astonishment at beholding her keys still in the lock of her apartment door!
"Well! That’s a bit of luck! I must have forgotten them in the excitement this morning and left them in the lock, and they‘ve been there all day! Very careless, but what a wonderful time to have a memory lapse!
It was assuredly very unlike Veronica to make ANY mistakes, no matter how trivial. She was famous at work for her reliability and attention to detail. But we all slip up sometimes!
She let herself in to her apartment and went straight to the shower, standing under its blessed heat for many long minutes, feeling her chilled body become restored and warmed. Then she dried herself off and looked at her tall and athletic young body in her full length bathroom mirror. Not too many ill effects, she decided. A few bruises and scratches here and there, maybe; but the overall effect of her hours of total exposure was to leave her looking very healthy indeed! Glowing was the operative word! The parts of her usually well covered body that had been bare from the very first hours of her adventure were somewhat red from the sun and the more intimate regions that had waited until late afternoon to be revealed to the world were scarcely even pink!
For some reason, she regretted that parts of her were still an almost pure and virginal white. She had a sudden and uncharacteristic urge to procure for her pneumatic body an all-over tan at the very first opportunity. Her mind became instantly resolved!
She would send off for some brochures in the morning! Once she had details of sundry exotic and sybaritic holidays in far away and very sunny places, she would book herself a few weeks of Paradise! At the same time, she wondered what Douglass would think about this. He had better go along with it, she thought - goodbye Douglass if he did not!
She looked out of the window and saw that it was still dark. It would not be for long, though, she thought, before the eastern sky became paler with the approach of another rosy dawn. Time for her to grab her weary mind and body a few hours’ desperately needed sleep. She still had a job to go to and without the million from the old man she would need to do her level best to keep it.
The idea of being kept , for the remainder of her days, by her beloved did appeal to her more than she would ever have thought before yesterday, but she had no idea when their marriage would take place. It might all have been one of those sudden infatuations that vanish away in the cold light of day. Not that it had faded for her, though! She still trembled as she thought of that embrace under the streetlight in Kentish Town!
She got into her bed and breathed a great sigh of pure satisfaction as she slid her still naked body between the smooth and faultlessly laundered sheets. The softness and warmth of her lovely luxurious bed immediately started their work on her. In seconds she was fast asleep. She dreamt of many things, all the events of the past day jumbled up into the most fantastic series of adventures, most of which involved a tall handsome Scotsman and a variety of grotesques and eccentrics. And she was nude throughout! Miss Prosser had just erupted into the dream and started trying to drag Veronica away from the embrace of Douglass, when she woke up.
The sun was high up in the sky when she emerged from these feverish dreams. A look at her bedside clock told her that she would be very late for work indeed!
She rose and prepared herself quickly, finally donning one of her sober, smart and somberly dark business outfits. She looked at her reflection and sighed. Somehow she was far less satisfied about her customary smartness than of late! Perhaps she could make herself look a little less like an old maid, she told herself. At the weekend she must think about acquiring a few new outfits - something a little more colourful and revealing of her young and perfect body.
She looked in at the porter’s lodging on her way out and enquired whether or no anything had been left for her and was very surprised to be told that nothing had. Just as well she had left her keys in the lock, she thought. She’d still be locked out and very publicly naked if she had not. How extraordinary of the old man to have broken his word! He was famous for living up to all his promises. Maybe he had been taken ill - all the excitement of sitting opposite the naked girl, playing game after game of chess, might have been too much for his aged heart!
As she slipped into her office, almost ninety minutes later than her usual time of arrival, her immediate superior came up to her and asked her if she would step into the boss’s office as a matter of extreme urgency. "I know what it’s all about, Veronica, but I mustn’t say what myself. Hurry along - he’s in an impatient mood today!"
‘This is it,’ she thought, ‘the axe is about to fall. Never mind, I’ll soon find another job, and the enforced rest and time for sorting my life out will be good for me!’
She made herself a quick cup of coffee and adjusted her dress before a hand mirror - a totally pointless exercise as she was already quite impeccably tidy, intimidatingly so - in fact. But if you are going to be fired, you should always look your best!
She marched along the corridor to the self important and rather tiresome boss’s lavishly furnished office and knocked on the door.
"Come in Veronica," he called out.
She did, and with a heavy heart. He beamed at her.
"So glad you were finally able to make it, my dear. I see we have reverted to our customary conventional attire today. What a crying shame! Please sit down, my much valued and greatly talented Veronica. We have a lot to talk about!"
PART THE TWENTY-NINTH
Veronica lowered her sweet posterior into one of the comfortable chairs. She crossed her legs elegantly, reflecting how much less of those long and sleekly muscular thighs was on view than the day before, and looked uncertainly at her boss. Mr. Travers got up from behind his desk and sat opposite her. His usually uncommunicative features melted into an unaccustomed and somewhat sinister smile. The contortions of his face as he tried to convey an uncharacteristic message of benevolence were almost frightening in their ineptitude.
"Would you like a drink, my dear Veronica? I know it’s early in the day, but how about a spot of the old bubbly. Don’t refuse!"
He got up and went into his secretary’s sanctum, returning with a pair of glasses and a large bucket, in which reposed, among many lumps of ice, a large bottle of what Veronica recognized to be a very superior Champagne. This interview was very definitely NOT going the way she had anticipated!
After her boss had none too expertly opened the bottle and poured them both a glass, spilling a great deal of expensive sparkling wine upon the office’s maroon coloured carpet in the process, he leaned back in his chair and laughed in a falsely casual way.
"Well, my exquisite Veronica! I suppose you wonder what this is all about. I’ll come straight to the point. Yesterday, over a drink in the Lamb Tavern, where incidentally I had the pleasure of seeing your delightfully and splendidly less conventionally clothed self, I agreed with Wilkins that our two firms should merge as of pretty well immediate effect."
Veronica froze with horror and her heart started to work overtime. Sweat appeared on her brow and her head reeled dizzily. She had actually been seen by her boss in that ghastly outfit - or lack of an outfit by that time! What was the man playing at? Surely he should just sack her out of hand and not subject her to all this rigmarole?
He continued. "Well, it will mean a lot of changes, I fear - this merger. As you know, business is very slack lately and there is just about enough work between the two companies to support the staff of only one of them - if that. Wilkins has, very obligingly, agreed to fade into the background, leaving me in effective charge of the combined outfit. Benson and Fortescue, (Benson’s opposite number, in Wilkins’s outfit), are taking early retirement - unwillingly, but on generous enough terms. We both agreed that you should take over their combined jobs. It goes without saying that your pay will be considerably increased. - another 15,000 a year to start with. Alas, my dear young lady, there won’t be any fat Christmas bonuses for a year or two, but things can’t be as bad as this for ever. The darkest hour comes just before the dawn and all that! I’m sure that when the market picks itself up off the floor - in that happy time, you will do very well. You’ll be worth millions by the time you’re thirty! Guaranteed, my sweet, darling, talented and beautiful Veronica! Well! What have you got to say?"
His darling Veronica had very little say for some seconds and contented herself with sipping at her glass of champagne - not her favourite tipple by a long chalk, but a welcome corrective to the shock and mental turmoil she was experiencing. A few days ago she had been looking forward to redundancy and desperately clutching at the straw of Vane-Clatworthy’s challenge and now she was on the threshold of a brilliant career! Quite a turn up for the book!
Finally she had enough confidence in her ability to talk with some kind of approximation to her normal voice. She cleared her throat and shook her head as if to clear away cobwebs.
"I can’t begin to thank you, Mr. Travers, Sir! I’ll make sure you don’t ever have cause to regret the faith you have shown in me. I can still hardly believe all this is happening. It‘s been a pretty extraordinary couple of days for me."
"Yes! I would be interested to here about yesterday’s little escapade sometime - although it’s a busy time right now for me as you can imagine. I suggest you go and arrange the hand over with Benson and tootle over to Wilkins’s office and take a look at their set-up. You won’t have a lot of spare time for the next few weeks, I’m afraid. Be here at seven tomorrow morning, my dear. We will be having a bit of a combined power breakfast and brain-storming session. Bye for now!"
Her head still spinning with her stupefaction at such a sudden and favourable change in her fortunes, Veronica wandered back to her own office and was soon deep in discussion with the soon to be departed Benson. As soon as she had shaken hands with him and bid him farewell, she went across to the offices of the other firm and spent the rest of the morning there.
On returning to her own place of work, she was told she had a visitor. In her office, ensconced in her favourite chair was the beloved Douglass. After finally and most reluctantly disengaging herself from a very enjoyable embrace, she frowned.
"What happened to you this morning, darling? Luckily I had forgotten to take my keys with me and left them in the lock - else I’d never have got inside."
Douglass looked at her and laughed.
"Now, Veronica! You KNOW you’d never slip up like that! Not you - I know enough about you by this time. Think, darling. Think!"
Veronica thought. "You mean?"
"Yes, my angel. I went back to Andrew as soon as I had said goodbye to you, filched the keys out of your red shoulder bag and drove straight over to your place. The street door was still open, even at that late hour, thank Heaven, and I went up and left them in your door. I wasn’t having you sleeping out in the corridor - not after all you’d been through. I’d have waited there for you until you turned up if need be. Don’t worry - Andrew agreed to it, so you haven’t broken the terms of the agreement."
"So it was thanks to my darling Douglass, I got to be bed last night. Come back here and be kissed again you darling lovely man!"
The two lovers finally parted, she to continue the reorganization and he to help run his employer’s business empire.
It was not until Saturday that they met again. It was a glorious day - a real harbinger of summer - and Veronica gladly agreed to be driven by him to a remote sandy beach on the East Coast. There were no other people around and soon they were both plunging naked into the still icy waters of the North Sea.
After a most enjoyable swim and shivering happily together they dried each other off and settled down to enjoy each other’s company for a few hours until it was time to go back to London.
"And what are you going to do with all this lovely money, my darling?" asked Douglass, as he emerged from a sweet exploration of her secret places.
"What money? I only get another fifteen thousand a year - peanuts, really. It’ll be years before I am earning serious money."
"When did you last check your balance, my darling angel?" Douglass asked.
"Not for days. I should have a balance of about twelve thousand. I haven’t had the time to check."
"Well - when you get home, check it. You can access your details online? Now let’s get back to having fun!"
They had a lot of fun and all too soon it was time to be heading home.
PART THE THIRTIETH
Douglass and the wearily happy Veronica returned back to Hampstead late that night and Veronica gratefully declined Douglass’s offer to spend the night with her. She was an old fashioned person and had some scruples about too much intimacy before marriage. And so he sadly slunk away, hoping that this state of affairs would not last.
After church on Sunday, at which time she was able to confess her guilt about her late greed, for which she was by this time very contrite, Veronica recollected Douglass’s words, spoken to her on the beach the day before. Having nothing better to do, she switched on her computer and logged in to her bank account.
Instead of checking out the twelve thousand pounds she had mentioned to Douglass as the approximate size of her balance, she found herself gazing transfixed at the enormous total that shimmered before her startled gaze. She had had quite few surprises lately, but this was still startling in the extreme. Two million and twelve thousand pounds and seventy three pence was the message that the screen was sending to her reeling senses.
She was soon on the phone to Douglass, asking if he knew anything about this.
"Yes. I know all about it! Andrew had access to your bank details from the contents of your bag. He arranged the transfer to your account first thing on Thursday morning. He felt very guilty about all the hard and humiliating things he had put you through, especially after I told him about our falling in love. That‘s why he doubled the amount the two of you had previously agreed upon. He wants you to think of it as a sort of wedding present in advance! He didn‘t say anything - just wanted it to be a surprise for you when you found out!"
"Well, it was certainly that! I still am in a state of severe shock. I think you should come around and administer some therapy! Hurry up and be quick, but drive safely!!"
They spent the afternoon continuing to get to know more about each other, but Veronica would still not allow him to spend a night with her.
"You really are out the Ark in a lot of ways, my sweet. But I am happy to wait, if that’s what you insist on."
"It is! Goodnight Douglass! Sleep well!"
And with a tinkling merry laugh she pushed him out of her flat into the cold and lonely night.
The next few weeks were every bit as hectic as the boss, Mr. Travers - now addressed by Veronica as Frederick, had promised. Finally, though, things became calmer, the new organization bedded down and Veronica was able to contemplate taking a few days’ holiday. Douglass was happy to get away as well and so they found themselves relaxing together on a Mediterranean beach, procuring a deep and rich all -over tan. To Douglass’s deepening disgust, though, it was still very much a case of ‘look but don’t touch’.
On their last night as he prepared to part from her before they went to their separate rooms, it became too much for him and he exploded.
"I’ve never met a girl like you, Veronica. People just don’t behave like that nowadays. Do you know what century this is for God’s sake?"
"So all your other conquests slid gratefully between the sheets and gratefully surrendered their trembling young womanhood to your pulsating manhood at the first opportunity, did they! Little sluts! Well - this conquest won’t. So there!"
And with these words she slammed the door on him so loudly that his ears were still ringing when he finally got himself off to a lonely sleep some time later.
The next morning was their last in the resort and soon they were winging their way homewards, neither one of them talking to the other. At the airport they parted, still without speaking. Veronica hoped it was not goodbye for ever but had a fear that it might well be. She only half understood her behaviour herself and realized how mystified and hurt poor old Douglass must be. After all, she had let that dyke Prosser woman do pretty well what she liked to her on that famous evening at Andrew’s hideaway in Kentish Town. But with a man it was different, she told herself.
She would feel soiled and terribly cheap if she allowed him to go too far before they married - IF they married! Maybe she was very old fashioned, but Douglass would just have either to like that or do the other thing. It was sad, though, and she was very unhappy at how things had turned out. Perhaps they could marry very soon and all this nonsense would be over. But somehow, she didn’t feel quite ready to surrender her independence just yet awhile!
On her way to the office on her first day back at work, she went into a newsagent’s to buy a paper, still thinking about Douglass and cursing herself for her scruples. As she was on her way out, she saw a magazine on one of the upper shelves. Another shock sent its waves of perturbation through her brain and caused that horrible churning feeling in her stomach. From the cover of one of the magazines she saw her terrified face and naked bound body looking down at her! She bought a copy of the periodical and left the shop trembling and clutching the magazine to her firm bosom. One bloody thing after another, she repeatedly told herself. Whatever next?
She almost ran into the building giving only the most perfunctory acknowledgments to the various people who greeted her and hoped she had enjoyed her holiday. She reached her own office.
"I don’t want any calls or visitors for half an hour," she said to her secretary and hurried into her room, carefully closing the door behind her. She didn’t even pause to remove her jacket before sitting down, eagerly opening the magazine and reading all about the film in which she had briefly appeared and since almost forgotten.
It seemed that the film, low budget piece of unutterable rubbish though it was, had acquired some kind of cult status in the few weeks since its release on video and Veronica, with her stunning body, as the ritually disemboweled virgin sacrifice, had contributed in no small measure to its surprising success. The article she was reading was a speculation as to the identity of this mysterious young woman, whose name had not appeared on the credits.
‘Oh, NO!’ was her first reaction. This was no way to be a successful City tycoon! Her gorgeous body spread tastily with wide-open legs over the front of cheap sleazy periodicals. Too late now, though. She could hardly rush around buying up every copy she could find and destroying them. All she could do was hope that her colleagues were all much too fastidious and serious minded to read crap like this. A vain hope, as she was soon to find out!
When she went out to lunch, later in the day, it was obvious to the sensitive Veronica that she was being looked at in a very different way than usual by several male members of staff. As she left the office and went out into the corridor she was convinced that a loud sneeze was merely an attempt to disguise a snigger. There were one or two very unwelcome grins on several faces. Oh dear!
PART THE THIRTY-FIRST
On going home after a very embarrassing day, Veronica found a letter awaiting her. She opened it and saw that it was from Algernon, the director of the film. A piece of paper fluttered out and fell to the ground. She saw that it was a cheque, and one for quite a lot of money - two hundred thousand pounds, in fact! HOW MUCH!! But - she was getting used to surprises by now, and took this latest in a long line totally in her stride. She read the letter.
"Dear Miss Harmsworth,
"Owing to the unexpected and phenomenal success of our little cinematic endeavour, I am able to enclose your share of the financial windfall that this success has brought us all.
"The popularity of the film was very largely due to your own all too brief appearance (as well as the photograph of you which appeared prominently on the video package.)
"I wonder if you could be persuaded to appear in a follow up production which I plan to launch upon the public in the next few months. If you are interested - and I fervently hope that you are - give me a call at the earliest opportunity
"Yours gratefully and sincerely
Algernon."
"Great!" she muttered. "A whole new life stretches ahead of me as a nude icon and star of trash sexploitation cinema! Still - the money will be handy." (She had already spent quite a lot of her two million pounds - amazing how fast it goes!)
There was another letter waiting for her and she recognized the writing with a stab of pain in her heart. It was from Douglass, from whom she had not heard since arriving back from that rather disastrous holiday.
"My Ever More Darling Veronica,
by Harry
PART THE TWENTY SIXTH
As Veronica made her way across the Heath, feeling the grass, rigid and prickly, now that the temperatures were plunging, under her tired and sore feet, the cat followed eagerly behind her. Cuddlywinks was looking appreciatively up at her perfect young buttocks as they gyrated their sexy way across the sward. The adoring cat was salivating at that beautiful prospect. He really was a very lecherous pussy! She looked around a couple of times and was horrified at the look of fascinated intensity on those furry little features.
By this time all nocturnal wanderers, young lovers, voyeurs and cruisers seemed to have deserted the great outdoors for the night and decamped indoors where it was warm and cosy. Veronica reflected that she did not blame them. Even fully clothed, it must be uncomfortable out here. And she was not clothed at all, as her chattering teeth reminded her from time to time! She considered picking up the long-haired cat again, but remembered his partiality for her firm young maidenly breasts and thought better of it.
When she came to the road (East Heath Road), she decided that it would be best if she did carry the animal in case a late night motorist might drive by and maybe run him over or frighten him back onto the Heath. This time, thanks be to heaven, he was a good cat and contented himself with burying his sweet little head between her twin mounds of soft and fragrant flesh, purring loudly and alternately retracting and extending his claws, somewhat to the sensitive Veronica’s discomfort.
It was when the pair of them was half way through the connecting road to the High Street when Cuddlywinks suddenly became agitated. With a sinuous wriggle, he broke free from Veronica’s grasp and landed on the pavement, immediately scooting off up a side street.
She ran after him, anxious that she should not lose him now after getting him safely all this way towards his home. Cuddlywinks ran up to a house half-way along the street and jumped up onto the front room window sill. Then he commenced crying loudly. It was a noise which seemed capable of summoning the dead back from the other side of the grave, however glad they might have been to bid the cruel world farewell!
Despite the late hour, the window opened after a very few seconds and a pair of hands came out and grasped the animal. These hands belonged to an elderly lady, who was obviously Cuddlywinks‘s owner and equally obviously a very relieved and happy lady. "Oh, my darling little boy! You’ve come back to me! Where HAVE you been, you naughty boy?" she said in a voice that was not far removed from tears.
‘So, he recognized he was back on familiar ground and didn’t need me any longer! Well, that’s one happy pussy and one happy owner, both together again and thanks to me. How nice!’ thought Veronica as she prepared to make for her home, now only a couple of minutes walk away.
But the cat’s owner had spotted Veronica and the girl caught the lady’s astounded gaze as she stared open-mouthed at the tall, disheveled and gloriously nude, if shivering, blonde, standing directly under a lamp post.
"What are you doing out there like that?" she gasped. "Some kind of stunt, or are you in trouble. Do you want me to phone the Police?"
"Oh, no. Thanks all the same. I found your cat while walking on the Heath and was going to take him back with me and phone you in the morning, but he managed the last bit by himself. He’s a very engaging little fellow, he really is!"
"So, I have you to thank! I simply can’t tell you how grateful I am. I have no friend in the world apart from this little chap! Please come inside for a minute or two and have a cup of cocoa or tea or whatever you like! Maybe something a little stronger?"
Veronica accepted the elderly lady’s invitation. She was not likely to eat or drink for some hours and the thought of a cup of something hot and hopefully intoxicating was very tempting indeed. She came indoors and was ushered into a wonderfully comfortable armchair, into which she lowered her aching body with an enormous sigh of relief.
As Veronica appreciated the comfort of the armchair and waited for the hot drink to materialize, she felt the warmth seeping back after the freezing walk across the Heath. If she got out of this with anything less than a severe cold, it would be a miracle! But she felt the shivering gradually ease. She looked at her feet and inspected them minutely now that feeling was painfully returning - no signs of frostbite, by a miracle! No matter! For the present, she was beginning to feel alive again.
The lady, introducing herself as Miss Andrea Ferguson, soon came bustling in with a cup of cocoa, laced with fine old brandy. A shameful waste of a good Armagnac, thought the fastidious Veronica, but she was in no mood to query anything right now and sipped gratefully for a few minutes, feeling the drink pleasurably warming her .
She gave Miss Ferguson a very abbreviated account of her day so far and the events leading up to her finding the errant Cuddlywinks, by this time sleeping peacefully and deeply after his first proper meal in several days. The old lady nodded as she came to end of her story.
"I’m so glad you will refuse to take the money and yet still carried on with your mission. As you say, it will be an act of penitence in a way. And it has certainly produced good! Just look at the little darling, home and snug once again! I’ll never be able to thank you enough, not if I live to be one hundred!"
Veronica declined the proffered reward, saying that the pleasure of seeing the pair of them re-united was reward enough. (Which indeed, it was.)
She looked up at the old clock on the mantelpiece and saw that if she were to be home before dawn, she was running out of time and had better leave soon. She thanked the lady for the drink and gave the cat a farewell pat on the head. The animal was too fast asleep by this time to notice.
In a few seconds she was once more in the street and yet another door closed behind her, leaving her to face the rigours of the cold for a few more minutes. "Surely I can’t meet with any more adventures in the last few yards" she thought.
PART THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
Veronica got to the end of the street where the old lady lived and resumed the interrupted journey to her home. She kept a careful watch for the odd late night reveler and, more importantly, for any nocturnal policemen/women, whether on foot or motorized. She reached Hampstead High Street without mishap, save for the fact that she was already getting to feel as cold as ever.
Crossing this wide thoroughfare was the worst moment since leaving the comparative security of the Heath. Any insomniac looking out of his or her window at that instant would have had a wonderful view of her as the bright street lights shone down on her, revealing every single feature of her noble and curvaceous body, gleaming white, as she sped across the road and headed for her block of apartments. She was a fit and athletic young lady, as I have already said several times, and her neighbours would never have seen her physically toned perfection to better advantage as she ran gracefully up the slope to her home. Happily, insomnia was not a problem with anybody tonight.
But, sadly for our by now exhausted heroine, a group of returning revelers did happen to pass by at this time. The sound of their maudlin delight rent the air.
"Nice one darling! Lovely f*cking arsehole! Now turn round and let’s have a look at the front. Come on sweetheart".
She ignored this cacophonous and very unwelcome compliment and hurried towards the door. It seemed that the young men were debating among themselves whether to come and inspect her at close quarters and a consensus seemed to be quickly emerging to the effect that this would be an excellent idea. She heard the sound of their hilarity getting closer and panicked.
The street door to the apartment block was opened by punching the correct combination into a keypad and then pushing the door open. But her fingers were numb and she was shivering, partly from the cold and partly out of fear of what these awful hooligans might do to her. At the best, the noise might cause the police to be summoned - and she didn’t care to think too long or too hard about the worst possible outcome!
For a few horrible moments, she was afraid that she had forgotten the combination altogether, that the horrors of the day had driven it forever and irretrievably out of her mind. Then it came to her again and she tried keying it in for the seventh time, as the sound of footsteps and ribaldry came ever nearer. It was only after several more increasing despairing attempts that she got the door open and scrambled inside, pushing it shut just as the first of the yobs ran up to it. Saved in the nick of time!
Veronica was so distressed by this time that it was several minutes before she could think about going upstairs to her own apartment. In order not to make any noise she elected to use the staircase rather than the lift and skipped lightly up the steps, feeling the deep piled bottle-green carpet under her poor sore and tired feet - those feet which had borne the brunt of today’s adventures and carried her all the way from the Elephant and Castle to Dalston and then across North London and Hampstead Heath to bring her finally to her own dearly beloved home.
Her door was the third one along the corridor and she prepared to sink down outside it and sleep like a log until discovered in the morning. Then she saw something that brought her heart right up into her mouth and almost made her faint away on the spot!
PART THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
Safely back home after a day of humiliation and adventure, the beautiful Veronica had expected to be obliged to spend a few hours lying on the carpet outside her apartment. In the morning, when the street door automatically unlocked, a member of Andrew Vane-Clatworthy’s staff would come up and return her shoulder bag, containing her keys, cheque book and other personal items. Imagine, therefore, her astonishment at beholding her keys still in the lock of her apartment door!
"Well! That’s a bit of luck! I must have forgotten them in the excitement this morning and left them in the lock, and they‘ve been there all day! Very careless, but what a wonderful time to have a memory lapse!
It was assuredly very unlike Veronica to make ANY mistakes, no matter how trivial. She was famous at work for her reliability and attention to detail. But we all slip up sometimes!
She let herself in to her apartment and went straight to the shower, standing under its blessed heat for many long minutes, feeling her chilled body become restored and warmed. Then she dried herself off and looked at her tall and athletic young body in her full length bathroom mirror. Not too many ill effects, she decided. A few bruises and scratches here and there, maybe; but the overall effect of her hours of total exposure was to leave her looking very healthy indeed! Glowing was the operative word! The parts of her usually well covered body that had been bare from the very first hours of her adventure were somewhat red from the sun and the more intimate regions that had waited until late afternoon to be revealed to the world were scarcely even pink!
For some reason, she regretted that parts of her were still an almost pure and virginal white. She had a sudden and uncharacteristic urge to procure for her pneumatic body an all-over tan at the very first opportunity. Her mind became instantly resolved!
She would send off for some brochures in the morning! Once she had details of sundry exotic and sybaritic holidays in far away and very sunny places, she would book herself a few weeks of Paradise! At the same time, she wondered what Douglass would think about this. He had better go along with it, she thought - goodbye Douglass if he did not!
She looked out of the window and saw that it was still dark. It would not be for long, though, she thought, before the eastern sky became paler with the approach of another rosy dawn. Time for her to grab her weary mind and body a few hours’ desperately needed sleep. She still had a job to go to and without the million from the old man she would need to do her level best to keep it.
The idea of being kept , for the remainder of her days, by her beloved did appeal to her more than she would ever have thought before yesterday, but she had no idea when their marriage would take place. It might all have been one of those sudden infatuations that vanish away in the cold light of day. Not that it had faded for her, though! She still trembled as she thought of that embrace under the streetlight in Kentish Town!
She got into her bed and breathed a great sigh of pure satisfaction as she slid her still naked body between the smooth and faultlessly laundered sheets. The softness and warmth of her lovely luxurious bed immediately started their work on her. In seconds she was fast asleep. She dreamt of many things, all the events of the past day jumbled up into the most fantastic series of adventures, most of which involved a tall handsome Scotsman and a variety of grotesques and eccentrics. And she was nude throughout! Miss Prosser had just erupted into the dream and started trying to drag Veronica away from the embrace of Douglass, when she woke up.
The sun was high up in the sky when she emerged from these feverish dreams. A look at her bedside clock told her that she would be very late for work indeed!
She rose and prepared herself quickly, finally donning one of her sober, smart and somberly dark business outfits. She looked at her reflection and sighed. Somehow she was far less satisfied about her customary smartness than of late! Perhaps she could make herself look a little less like an old maid, she told herself. At the weekend she must think about acquiring a few new outfits - something a little more colourful and revealing of her young and perfect body.
She looked in at the porter’s lodging on her way out and enquired whether or no anything had been left for her and was very surprised to be told that nothing had. Just as well she had left her keys in the lock, she thought. She’d still be locked out and very publicly naked if she had not. How extraordinary of the old man to have broken his word! He was famous for living up to all his promises. Maybe he had been taken ill - all the excitement of sitting opposite the naked girl, playing game after game of chess, might have been too much for his aged heart!
As she slipped into her office, almost ninety minutes later than her usual time of arrival, her immediate superior came up to her and asked her if she would step into the boss’s office as a matter of extreme urgency. "I know what it’s all about, Veronica, but I mustn’t say what myself. Hurry along - he’s in an impatient mood today!"
‘This is it,’ she thought, ‘the axe is about to fall. Never mind, I’ll soon find another job, and the enforced rest and time for sorting my life out will be good for me!’
She made herself a quick cup of coffee and adjusted her dress before a hand mirror - a totally pointless exercise as she was already quite impeccably tidy, intimidatingly so - in fact. But if you are going to be fired, you should always look your best!
She marched along the corridor to the self important and rather tiresome boss’s lavishly furnished office and knocked on the door.
"Come in Veronica," he called out.
She did, and with a heavy heart. He beamed at her.
"So glad you were finally able to make it, my dear. I see we have reverted to our customary conventional attire today. What a crying shame! Please sit down, my much valued and greatly talented Veronica. We have a lot to talk about!"
PART THE TWENTY-NINTH
Veronica lowered her sweet posterior into one of the comfortable chairs. She crossed her legs elegantly, reflecting how much less of those long and sleekly muscular thighs was on view than the day before, and looked uncertainly at her boss. Mr. Travers got up from behind his desk and sat opposite her. His usually uncommunicative features melted into an unaccustomed and somewhat sinister smile. The contortions of his face as he tried to convey an uncharacteristic message of benevolence were almost frightening in their ineptitude.
"Would you like a drink, my dear Veronica? I know it’s early in the day, but how about a spot of the old bubbly. Don’t refuse!"
He got up and went into his secretary’s sanctum, returning with a pair of glasses and a large bucket, in which reposed, among many lumps of ice, a large bottle of what Veronica recognized to be a very superior Champagne. This interview was very definitely NOT going the way she had anticipated!
After her boss had none too expertly opened the bottle and poured them both a glass, spilling a great deal of expensive sparkling wine upon the office’s maroon coloured carpet in the process, he leaned back in his chair and laughed in a falsely casual way.
"Well, my exquisite Veronica! I suppose you wonder what this is all about. I’ll come straight to the point. Yesterday, over a drink in the Lamb Tavern, where incidentally I had the pleasure of seeing your delightfully and splendidly less conventionally clothed self, I agreed with Wilkins that our two firms should merge as of pretty well immediate effect."
Veronica froze with horror and her heart started to work overtime. Sweat appeared on her brow and her head reeled dizzily. She had actually been seen by her boss in that ghastly outfit - or lack of an outfit by that time! What was the man playing at? Surely he should just sack her out of hand and not subject her to all this rigmarole?
He continued. "Well, it will mean a lot of changes, I fear - this merger. As you know, business is very slack lately and there is just about enough work between the two companies to support the staff of only one of them - if that. Wilkins has, very obligingly, agreed to fade into the background, leaving me in effective charge of the combined outfit. Benson and Fortescue, (Benson’s opposite number, in Wilkins’s outfit), are taking early retirement - unwillingly, but on generous enough terms. We both agreed that you should take over their combined jobs. It goes without saying that your pay will be considerably increased. - another 15,000 a year to start with. Alas, my dear young lady, there won’t be any fat Christmas bonuses for a year or two, but things can’t be as bad as this for ever. The darkest hour comes just before the dawn and all that! I’m sure that when the market picks itself up off the floor - in that happy time, you will do very well. You’ll be worth millions by the time you’re thirty! Guaranteed, my sweet, darling, talented and beautiful Veronica! Well! What have you got to say?"
His darling Veronica had very little say for some seconds and contented herself with sipping at her glass of champagne - not her favourite tipple by a long chalk, but a welcome corrective to the shock and mental turmoil she was experiencing. A few days ago she had been looking forward to redundancy and desperately clutching at the straw of Vane-Clatworthy’s challenge and now she was on the threshold of a brilliant career! Quite a turn up for the book!
Finally she had enough confidence in her ability to talk with some kind of approximation to her normal voice. She cleared her throat and shook her head as if to clear away cobwebs.
"I can’t begin to thank you, Mr. Travers, Sir! I’ll make sure you don’t ever have cause to regret the faith you have shown in me. I can still hardly believe all this is happening. It‘s been a pretty extraordinary couple of days for me."
"Yes! I would be interested to here about yesterday’s little escapade sometime - although it’s a busy time right now for me as you can imagine. I suggest you go and arrange the hand over with Benson and tootle over to Wilkins’s office and take a look at their set-up. You won’t have a lot of spare time for the next few weeks, I’m afraid. Be here at seven tomorrow morning, my dear. We will be having a bit of a combined power breakfast and brain-storming session. Bye for now!"
Her head still spinning with her stupefaction at such a sudden and favourable change in her fortunes, Veronica wandered back to her own office and was soon deep in discussion with the soon to be departed Benson. As soon as she had shaken hands with him and bid him farewell, she went across to the offices of the other firm and spent the rest of the morning there.
On returning to her own place of work, she was told she had a visitor. In her office, ensconced in her favourite chair was the beloved Douglass. After finally and most reluctantly disengaging herself from a very enjoyable embrace, she frowned.
"What happened to you this morning, darling? Luckily I had forgotten to take my keys with me and left them in the lock - else I’d never have got inside."
Douglass looked at her and laughed.
"Now, Veronica! You KNOW you’d never slip up like that! Not you - I know enough about you by this time. Think, darling. Think!"
Veronica thought. "You mean?"
"Yes, my angel. I went back to Andrew as soon as I had said goodbye to you, filched the keys out of your red shoulder bag and drove straight over to your place. The street door was still open, even at that late hour, thank Heaven, and I went up and left them in your door. I wasn’t having you sleeping out in the corridor - not after all you’d been through. I’d have waited there for you until you turned up if need be. Don’t worry - Andrew agreed to it, so you haven’t broken the terms of the agreement."
"So it was thanks to my darling Douglass, I got to be bed last night. Come back here and be kissed again you darling lovely man!"
The two lovers finally parted, she to continue the reorganization and he to help run his employer’s business empire.
It was not until Saturday that they met again. It was a glorious day - a real harbinger of summer - and Veronica gladly agreed to be driven by him to a remote sandy beach on the East Coast. There were no other people around and soon they were both plunging naked into the still icy waters of the North Sea.
After a most enjoyable swim and shivering happily together they dried each other off and settled down to enjoy each other’s company for a few hours until it was time to go back to London.
"And what are you going to do with all this lovely money, my darling?" asked Douglass, as he emerged from a sweet exploration of her secret places.
"What money? I only get another fifteen thousand a year - peanuts, really. It’ll be years before I am earning serious money."
"When did you last check your balance, my darling angel?" Douglass asked.
"Not for days. I should have a balance of about twelve thousand. I haven’t had the time to check."
"Well - when you get home, check it. You can access your details online? Now let’s get back to having fun!"
They had a lot of fun and all too soon it was time to be heading home.
PART THE THIRTIETH
Douglass and the wearily happy Veronica returned back to Hampstead late that night and Veronica gratefully declined Douglass’s offer to spend the night with her. She was an old fashioned person and had some scruples about too much intimacy before marriage. And so he sadly slunk away, hoping that this state of affairs would not last.
After church on Sunday, at which time she was able to confess her guilt about her late greed, for which she was by this time very contrite, Veronica recollected Douglass’s words, spoken to her on the beach the day before. Having nothing better to do, she switched on her computer and logged in to her bank account.
Instead of checking out the twelve thousand pounds she had mentioned to Douglass as the approximate size of her balance, she found herself gazing transfixed at the enormous total that shimmered before her startled gaze. She had had quite few surprises lately, but this was still startling in the extreme. Two million and twelve thousand pounds and seventy three pence was the message that the screen was sending to her reeling senses.
She was soon on the phone to Douglass, asking if he knew anything about this.
"Yes. I know all about it! Andrew had access to your bank details from the contents of your bag. He arranged the transfer to your account first thing on Thursday morning. He felt very guilty about all the hard and humiliating things he had put you through, especially after I told him about our falling in love. That‘s why he doubled the amount the two of you had previously agreed upon. He wants you to think of it as a sort of wedding present in advance! He didn‘t say anything - just wanted it to be a surprise for you when you found out!"
"Well, it was certainly that! I still am in a state of severe shock. I think you should come around and administer some therapy! Hurry up and be quick, but drive safely!!"
They spent the afternoon continuing to get to know more about each other, but Veronica would still not allow him to spend a night with her.
"You really are out the Ark in a lot of ways, my sweet. But I am happy to wait, if that’s what you insist on."
"It is! Goodnight Douglass! Sleep well!"
And with a tinkling merry laugh she pushed him out of her flat into the cold and lonely night.
The next few weeks were every bit as hectic as the boss, Mr. Travers - now addressed by Veronica as Frederick, had promised. Finally, though, things became calmer, the new organization bedded down and Veronica was able to contemplate taking a few days’ holiday. Douglass was happy to get away as well and so they found themselves relaxing together on a Mediterranean beach, procuring a deep and rich all -over tan. To Douglass’s deepening disgust, though, it was still very much a case of ‘look but don’t touch’.
On their last night as he prepared to part from her before they went to their separate rooms, it became too much for him and he exploded.
"I’ve never met a girl like you, Veronica. People just don’t behave like that nowadays. Do you know what century this is for God’s sake?"
"So all your other conquests slid gratefully between the sheets and gratefully surrendered their trembling young womanhood to your pulsating manhood at the first opportunity, did they! Little sluts! Well - this conquest won’t. So there!"
And with these words she slammed the door on him so loudly that his ears were still ringing when he finally got himself off to a lonely sleep some time later.
The next morning was their last in the resort and soon they were winging their way homewards, neither one of them talking to the other. At the airport they parted, still without speaking. Veronica hoped it was not goodbye for ever but had a fear that it might well be. She only half understood her behaviour herself and realized how mystified and hurt poor old Douglass must be. After all, she had let that dyke Prosser woman do pretty well what she liked to her on that famous evening at Andrew’s hideaway in Kentish Town. But with a man it was different, she told herself.
She would feel soiled and terribly cheap if she allowed him to go too far before they married - IF they married! Maybe she was very old fashioned, but Douglass would just have either to like that or do the other thing. It was sad, though, and she was very unhappy at how things had turned out. Perhaps they could marry very soon and all this nonsense would be over. But somehow, she didn’t feel quite ready to surrender her independence just yet awhile!
On her way to the office on her first day back at work, she went into a newsagent’s to buy a paper, still thinking about Douglass and cursing herself for her scruples. As she was on her way out, she saw a magazine on one of the upper shelves. Another shock sent its waves of perturbation through her brain and caused that horrible churning feeling in her stomach. From the cover of one of the magazines she saw her terrified face and naked bound body looking down at her! She bought a copy of the periodical and left the shop trembling and clutching the magazine to her firm bosom. One bloody thing after another, she repeatedly told herself. Whatever next?
She almost ran into the building giving only the most perfunctory acknowledgments to the various people who greeted her and hoped she had enjoyed her holiday. She reached her own office.
"I don’t want any calls or visitors for half an hour," she said to her secretary and hurried into her room, carefully closing the door behind her. She didn’t even pause to remove her jacket before sitting down, eagerly opening the magazine and reading all about the film in which she had briefly appeared and since almost forgotten.
It seemed that the film, low budget piece of unutterable rubbish though it was, had acquired some kind of cult status in the few weeks since its release on video and Veronica, with her stunning body, as the ritually disemboweled virgin sacrifice, had contributed in no small measure to its surprising success. The article she was reading was a speculation as to the identity of this mysterious young woman, whose name had not appeared on the credits.
‘Oh, NO!’ was her first reaction. This was no way to be a successful City tycoon! Her gorgeous body spread tastily with wide-open legs over the front of cheap sleazy periodicals. Too late now, though. She could hardly rush around buying up every copy she could find and destroying them. All she could do was hope that her colleagues were all much too fastidious and serious minded to read crap like this. A vain hope, as she was soon to find out!
When she went out to lunch, later in the day, it was obvious to the sensitive Veronica that she was being looked at in a very different way than usual by several male members of staff. As she left the office and went out into the corridor she was convinced that a loud sneeze was merely an attempt to disguise a snigger. There were one or two very unwelcome grins on several faces. Oh dear!
PART THE THIRTY-FIRST
On going home after a very embarrassing day, Veronica found a letter awaiting her. She opened it and saw that it was from Algernon, the director of the film. A piece of paper fluttered out and fell to the ground. She saw that it was a cheque, and one for quite a lot of money - two hundred thousand pounds, in fact! HOW MUCH!! But - she was getting used to surprises by now, and took this latest in a long line totally in her stride. She read the letter.
"Dear Miss Harmsworth,
"Owing to the unexpected and phenomenal success of our little cinematic endeavour, I am able to enclose your share of the financial windfall that this success has brought us all.
"The popularity of the film was very largely due to your own all too brief appearance (as well as the photograph of you which appeared prominently on the video package.)
"I wonder if you could be persuaded to appear in a follow up production which I plan to launch upon the public in the next few months. If you are interested - and I fervently hope that you are - give me a call at the earliest opportunity
"Yours gratefully and sincerely
Algernon."
"Great!" she muttered. "A whole new life stretches ahead of me as a nude icon and star of trash sexploitation cinema! Still - the money will be handy." (She had already spent quite a lot of her two million pounds - amazing how fast it goes!)
There was another letter waiting for her and she recognized the writing with a stab of pain in her heart. It was from Douglass, from whom she had not heard since arriving back from that rather disastrous holiday.
"My Ever More Darling Veronica,
Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
"I have to go to the States for a few months on important business. I shall already be on my way there when you get this letter. When I return, perhaps we can get together again. I can’t live without you, my angel. Please say you still love me. I could not bear it if you didn’t.
"All my undying love
Douglass"
Two tears made their symmetrical and salty way down each cheek as she read this.
"I wonder if he’ll still feel the same when he gets home?" she thought. Then she forced herself to cheer up and phoned the Director, Mr. FitzWalter. He sounded ecstatic to hear from her.
"When can you be free to start, Veronica? I know what a big shot you have become this last few weeks! Really I thought we might be rather beneath your notice, by this time."
"No. I need the money. I’ve just bought a lovely house, overlooking the Heath, which I’m moving into soon and furniture is very expensive and there are all sorts of overheads which I hadn’t really taken on board before plunging into the purchase. Then there’s the villa in the Greek Islands I’m negotiating for. And this new job isn’t bringing in a whole lot just now, what with the markets being in the dire state they are. No, Algy! I can’t possible afford to turn this down - even if I wanted to - which I don’t. I’d love to collaborate with you all again!"
As she heard herself say this, she realized that she did really want to do this. After all, now she was known to have appeared in one production, her reputation was already that of a woman who led a double life, alternating respectability during the working week with bizarre and scandalous activities in her leisure hours! What had she to lose?
"Do I get to wear clothes in this next production?" she asked. The answer came as no great surprise!
"Only briefly at the very beginning and even then nothing much - you are kidnapped while holidaying in Spain and are sunbathing, at the moment of your capture, in nothing more than the most daringly minute thong. You soon lose that and spend a great deal of time in cellars and dungeons undergoing much bondage and torture before the final sacrifice scene on a remote and desolate beach on the East Coast of England with a howling cold wind blowing across the scene and under dark grey skies. We will have to choose a moment when the weather is right, but I doubt we’ll have too long to wait! The forecast for next weekend is very promising from our point of view."
"This time, you will be happy to hear, you are to be rescued in the nick of time by your loving boyfriend, who has doggedly followed the trail from Spain to the site of your sacrifice, just as the wicked and razor sharp blade is flashing in the air ready to begin its deadly downward sweep towards your quivering stomach. Very touching scene, that!"
With some reservations - she would have preferred a less passive and more heroic role, to be honest - Veronica arranged to take a few days off at the end of next week and commence filming. She was told that the scenes on the coast would be done first, (weather permitting) and then the various dungeon scenes. Finally they would take her to Spain to film her abduction. As before, this was going to be a pretty low budget affair and a lot hung on Veronica - again, as before.
"Going to be in any more films in the near future, Veronica?" asked one of her subordinates, with an impertinent smile, when she went in to the office next day.
"Yes - I hope so. Now get on with your work if you want to still have a job by the end of the week." she replied icily and went and shut herself in her room.
"I wonder how much I’ll make out of this one" she thought. She went over to the mirror and looked herself over with a critical gaze. Even under her sober business clothes she could see that she was still in superb shape. With a larger role, she should certainly attract much more enthusiasm even than before. Maybe that nice gleaming new Bentley would be affordable sooner than she had thought! She certainly hoped so - she was getting very bored with the BMW. Now that Douglass was no longer in her life, she needed little luxuries like that to deaden the pain of separation!
PART THE THIRTY-SECOND
Veronica shivered but was not seriously upset as the cold and clammy English air touched and chilled her quivering and velvety skin once more. All the excitement of that amazingly uncomfortable day of humiliation and wonderful self discovery came back to her and set every nerve end tingling. It was very obvious to Algernon and the rest of the film crew that the shedding of her clothes had strangely and wonderfully energized the girl - vitalized her. Her skin reacted well to the touch of the cool wind, the gooseflesh soon subsiding to a lustrous silky smoothness as her healthy young body quickly and easily adjusted to the fall in temperature; it positively shone in the grey light and her eyes were bright with the excitement and enjoyment of the situation.
Although the sacrifice and rescue scene were only to take up a few short minutes of the finished product, they spent, under Algernon’s meticulously fanatical direction, all the daylight hours shooting and re-shooting it. All this long while poor Veronica was strapped naked to a stone altar very similar to the wooden one she had been tied to on Hampstead Heath all those weeks ago. There was a wind blowing in from the North Sea and from time to time a light drizzle blew across her long and supple limbs as these splendid members strained and struggled vainly against her well tied restraints.
"We’ll need to stop overnight, I’m afraid, Veronica," explained Algernon as they neared the end of the day‘s work. "We can’t film the rescue scene today, as the boyfriend can’t make it until tomorrow. Let’s hope the weather doesn’t change - that would be unfortunate."
He shivered in the increasing wind and looked with concern at Veronica who had been securely tied down now for most of the day. "Oh! I am sorry! Time to free you and let you put on something nice and warm and get some of that delicious buffet meal and nice warm soup over there inside you!"
Her bonds were finally untied and Veronica raised herself from off the ever colder slab on which she had been resting for so many hours. She rubbed her wrists and felt the circulation painfully return. She supposed that she ought to be grateful that her day-long ordeal was now over, but to her surprise, she felt a deep sense of regret. She looked perversely forward to the subsequent scenes in which her helpless body was to be cruelly tortured and restrained by the sadist kidnappers!
Algernon proffered her a towel to cover herself with and she brushed it aside. She had some time ago decided that it was not nearly cold enough for her to need to cover up - not just yet awhile! She walked over to the others. They were all helping themselves to the delicious looking (and smelling) food and she seized a goodly portion for herself and began wolfing it down appreciatively. Being tied up all day did wonders for the appetite, she decided!
Now that the day’s filming was over the rest of the cast were finding it less easy to come to terms with the nude Veronica and her, by this time, voluntary and shameless nakedness. Several disapproving glances were aimed in her general direction, but either she was unaware of this or she decided to ignore it.
She was standing a little apart from the rest of the crew when the couple she had met on that famous shooting in Hampstead came up and joined her. She had to rack her brains pretty vigorously before she could come up with their names - but she was a pretty brainy girl and the names came to her soon enough to save her from embarrassment.
"Hi Drusilla! Hi Jeremy! Good to see a couple of familiar and friendly faces! How are things going?"
Drusilla beamed a happy grin, joined in this by an amiable Jeremy. "Oh. We’re getting married in a couple of weeks. That last crummy film made so much money, thanks to your providential appearance on that memorable cold night that we can afford to set up house much sooner than we ever thought possible. I hope they paid you your share of the takings, by the way!"
Veronica assured them that she had indeed not been omitted from the list of recipients and the three of them squatted down in a friendly way on the ground. Jeremy looked stealthily at the naked Veronica, but his fiancée saw where his eyes were roaming and playfully and painfully slapped his wrist!
"That’s enough of that, you pervert! Just a couple of weeks and you’ll have the sight of me any time you want."
"You mean to say that Jeremy’s still not seen you naked!" Veronica was amazed. Perhaps, after all, she was not the only old fashioned girl left alive on the earth in this new century!
"No! Not since that orgy scene we did on Hampstead Heath when we first met you!" Jeremy pulled a long and tragic face. "I have to put the ring on her finger first before I get to enjoy the sweet fruits of love. What a sodding bloody bore - talk about Victorian! It’s as well for her that I love her so much! I bet you don‘t kid around with your blokes like that"
Veronica laughed in a hollow kind of way. Her mind went all the way across the wide Atlantic to wherever in that vast and distant continent her love was located at that precise second. She wiped her eyes quickly to brush away the tears that were forming and threatening to course their way down her cheeks.
She sniffed and then spoke "No, Jeremy! I agree with Drusilla all the way! Marriage is a serious business and you don’t want to ruin things by jumping the gun and cheapening your love. Remember that it’s a love that has to last a hell of a long time! I’m sure your ultimate act of possession will be all the better for the wait! I sent my very own darling off with a flea in his ear when he tried to make love to me. Drusilla is not the only weird girl in the world, believe you me!"
‘It doesn’t stop you exposing yourself and all your considerable goodies to the entire film set,’ thought Jeremy. He saw only too clearly the cruelly teasing Veronica’s ‘look but don’t touch’ approach. This girl had belatedly discovered that she had the power to turn men weak at the knees and was making the most of it before finally settling down. He could see the total lack of self-consciousness in every line of her body. She certainly wasn’t brazenly and crudely showing all her female mysteries to the world, but she wasn’t exactly going out of her way to hide them either. He glanced around at the rest of the players and saw that his interest was being shared by all - man and woman alike.
Veronica obstinately resisted the impulse to shiver and wandered over to join up with and chat to another group of players. These were the Satanic cult members who had been preparing to finish her off as the sun rose above the horizon on the occasion of her sacrifice in propitiation of their Dark Lord. They were a surprisingly inoffensive, even effete, bunch of guys, now that they were minus their terrifying masks.
Finally Algernon signaled that they should all make their way back to the hotel, some three miles distant in the nearest small coastal town. Veronica elected not to avail herself of the transport provided, but decided to walk back down the beach. She reluctantly grabbed up enough of her discarded clothing to cover her vital parts for when she finally got to be within sight of human habitation. For most of the way, though, she remained naked in the increasing wind and ever more heavy drizzle, which had turned into a full-scale downpour long before she got back to the hotel. One or two local worthies out walking their dogs in the rain had a treat that evening which they were to remember with great fondness for years to come!
As she wandered slowly back, her bare feet kicking at the wet sand every now and again and making deep imprints in the beach’s formerly pristine surface, she wondered what the other lead actor, the one who played the role of her heroic rescuer, would be like. She had to admit to herself that the prospect of meeting this man who was to have the privilege of seizing her from out of the jaws of Hell was beginning to drive all other thoughts out of her mind.
She did not stay long in the hotel lounge chatting to the others. She went up to her room at shortly after ten. As soon as she rested her blonde head on the pillow, the golden locks spread appetisingly about her, she was asleep and dreaming of Douglass - and also the man she was to meet tomorrow! Oh, frailty - thy name is Veronica!
PART THE THIRTY-THIRD
Thanks to the unfailing unreliability of the British railway system, whether "publicly" or privately owned, there was a hitch! The knight in shining armour and would-be rescuer of his beloved from the clutches of Satan and his loathsome acolytes - was a little late arriving. Veronica had been strapped down on the cold marble slab for fully ninety five minutes before the proceedings could begin and she was not in a good mood. This was no way to spend a weekend, no matter how rich the rewards! And then the male lead arrived and her heart turned to melted wax!
Surely to Goodness! Men like this only appeared on the pages of glossy magazines, their images cunningly embellished by a combination of the photographer’s art and skilful re-touching to resemble nothing that ever truly walked upon two legs, every flaw and imperfection erased and sanitized in order to present the quivering female breast with a vision of perfect masculinity in all its glory. Yet here was a man with the body of a Greek God and the head of a Viking hero, obviously flesh and blood, walking towards her with his hand extended and murmuring his apologies for his late arrival.
"Golly, Veronica! How can I ever apologize enough for all the bother I’ve caused you? When I saw your last film and was told I could play opposite you in this, I was so excited! I only left drama school a few months ago and this could be the launching pad of my career! How can I ever make it up to you?"
Veronica, the memory of her darling Douglass fading ever more into the distance, could think of any number of ways that he could make it up to her! She was a blond herself and the sight of this tall, athletically muscular dream, with that heart-stoppingly splendid golden mass of Nordic hair flowing gloriously down a broad and Herculean back , together with a fashionably unshaven face made her wonder what the offspring of a union between the two of them would be like. An Aryan’s dream - she quickly decided.
She gazed up from her slab in to the depths of those clear blue eyes and almost swooned. From far off, she heard her voice, faint and tremulous, assuring him that he was not to reproach himself. These things happen, after all!
It seemed as if only seconds had passed when Veronica found herself letting herself back into her flat. What a day it had been!
The rescue scene had been shot and re-shot a hundred and one fold and she ought by rights to have lost count of the times she had been clasped in those brawny arms and been given a loving kiss by her rescuer. But she had not lost count! She remembered every single one of those embraces and all the ways each heavenly clinch had differed from the other!
He had said goodbye to her at the end of the day and his closing words at one and the same time buoyed her up and cast her down.
"It’s been great working with you, Veronica" he had said. "You have such incredible talent. I can’t believe you’re not a trained actress. I wouldn’t have missed today for anything. And now, I must rush to get the train. My wife’s due to give birth any day now and I must get back to her. I know it’s all very wimpish and all that, but I really want to be there when she gives birth."
"I hope you get your wish," she had replied. "Although I can’t imagine anything more gruesome myself! After seeing your child come out of you-know-what, you’ll most likely never be able to face putting your dick back into it as long as you live!"
She was still surprised and ashamed of herself for the crudity and insensitiveness of this parting remark, although Giles had laughed at it at the time. She hoped he had not noticed her temporary infatuation with him. As soon as she got into her bedroom, she saw the face of the distant and maybe lost-for-ever Douglass gazing from the framed portrait by her bedside! She shed tears of shame. How could she have been so beastly to him? Why would she gladly have allowed that actor do anything he liked to her? And there were still the opening scenes to be filmed where they lazed naked beside the azure Mediterranean! She resolved that next time, her feelings and behaviour would be purely professional. Another resolution was that her film making career would end once this production was over. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it all, this new life of hers! She liked it all far too much and could see that it was leading her to perdition.
With such good resolutions firmly arrived at, she fell asleep and was immediately in a frenzied dream where she was being ravished by a naked, thrusting Sven! Douglass was standing in the background smiling sadly and shaking his head. The elderly Andrew Vane-Clatworthy was also there, cackling horribly as he watched the blond giant taking possession of Veronica‘s ardently sweating body.
When she woke up in the morning all the bedclothes were in the worst mess than she could ever remember. Veronica was perspiring her head ached more painfully than she could remember. Half of the bedclothes were on the floor and it seemed as if she had been trying, in her sleep, to strangle herself with the remainder. She was very subdued and thoughtful all day and her boss was obviously concerned Mr. Travers said so.
"Oh! It’s nothing really. Just that I miss Douglass so much now that he’s away for months and months. I’ll be OK."
She knew this to be only a part of the truth. A day ago she had been ready to forsake him in favour of Mr. Sven Ebbing and only the fact that this Norse God was married and with a wife expected to give birth at any moment, together with the fact that he lived in Surbiton, had come between her and her throwing herself at his feet. The last few weeks since her winning the two million pounds had been an extraordinary roller coaster in terms of emotion. She resolved to get a grip on herself before her whole life ran totally out of control. In the meantime she was contracted to finish this wretched film, for which she was beginning to lose all enthusiasm this Monday morning.
The next stage of the filming was to be a long succession of painful ordeals in cellars and gloomy dungeons where her tethered and naked body was to be horribly whipped and tortured. A rack scene was to be the first to be filmed and then on the following weekend, the whippings and beatings. Finally, in three weeks time, they were all to decamp to the Iberian peninsular to film the beach and kidnapping scene as well as the final sacrifice. Then, hopefully, she could wash her hands of her new career, very much the richer financially but less so in other ways. She was beginning to prefer her old boring and impoverished life.
PART THE THIRTY-FOURTH
"You need to scream a lot more convincingly like that, Veronica. Remember that you are being horribly racked with your arms and legs being torn from their sockets, ligament by tortured ligament. It hurts when they do that to you for real, my dear! Or so they tell me at the Torture Garden! Try to sound as if you are in the most terrible pain - please, sweetie!"
"Just look, Algernon. Anyone could tell this scene’s faked. I’m not even half-way being stretched. Look at my elbows - they’re still bent! Who the fuck you think will be fooled by this shit? Let’s make it a bit more real, shall we? Tell them to stretch me a bit - yank my arms out of their sockets! If it hurts me from time to time - well, then I’ll probably be screaming for real!"
"As you wish, my dear. You‘re right, of course, I suppose we could make this look a tad more realistic. Do you think you could tighten the apparatus, Edwin!"
Edwin, in charge of Special Effects, nodded briefly. "No sweat, Chief. This is a real working model. How‘s this for size, Veronica?"
With this he turned the handle a couple of complete turns and Veronica became taut. Too taut!! It was very uncomfortable and she found it hard to breathe or speak. "Fine" she said, breathlessly. "Just fine."
The rest of the day was a great success, although Veronica swore as she prepared to go home that her throat would never be the same! Not after all that screeching! Her legs and arms would be sore for weeks afterwards, what with all those hours stretched out on the rack! She would never have considered it possible for her body to be so pulled apart for so long and still survive! However, Algernon was delighted with the day’s work.
"See you next weekend for the rest of your ordeal." he said , as she left.
She got a call from Douglass on the Tuesday before the penultimate shoot. It was a call which must have cost her hero and love a fortune, going on for over two hours - a period of time which passed as if it had only been a micro second. She tearfully told him, time after time, that she only wanted to be married soon! She even offered to fly out to marry him in America. He dissuaded her with difficulty and promised that he would be back in five weeks, all being well.
"OK. I’ll start organizing things Let me know who you want to invite, my sweet and I’ll get the invitations printed and the church booked. The rector might want to get in touch with you, so you’d better leave a number I can get you at."
Having settled all this Veronica slept somewhat better for the next few nights. On Saturday she turned up at the studio for the next cellar/dungeon scene.
This time she was tied to a kind of rectangular framework with her arms and legs stretched so that her hands and feet were at the four corners of the frame. With such a large construction, even the tall Veronica couldn’t fill it completely and she was stretched horribly tightly - a lot worse than last time!
Once again she was obliged to scream and moan in agony as a large man, naked save for a wolf mask, stood in front of her and plied a vicious and cruel leather whip. He was good at his job and didn’t touch the apprehensive girl once - or it would have almost sliced her in two! Each time the thing cracked she found it hard not to blink.
"We’ll beak for a cup of tea, now." said Algernon as soon as he was satisfied. "Veronica had better stay put. We don’t want all the trouble of arranging her again and getting it wrong. Some film buffs never miss a trick continuity-wise! And you still need to concentrate on the screaming, Veronica. Remember you are being beaten half to death, by not given a playful slap on the bum by the boyfriend."
As the others had their tea and biscuits, Veronica stayed where she was, suspended and stretched out on the wooden frame! It got more and more uncomfortable. What had started as pins and needles had become to seem like being pierced by white hot pokers. She had always thought herself able to take a bit of pain, but this was getting to her! She wondered if these people might not be enjoying themselves above and beyond the call!
The second session featured a different member of the cult. This acolyte beat her back with a leather strap. After a few minutes, during which Algernon was getting more and more uptight about Veronica’s continuing lack of realism, she made a momentous decision.
"OK.! Why not let him whack me for real for a while? It won’t beak my skin - at least not too badly - and any marks he makes will most likely be a sight more realistic than the ones you painted on me! Go on! I bet the guy can’t wait. I could see it in his eye this morning! He was almost salivating as watched his friend working on my stomach and breasts. Believe me, he’d just love to beat a girl and make her scream. Well - now’s his chance!"
"If you’re quite sure, Veronica. Just let us know if it’s too much. Just say ‘Stop’ if you can‘t go on with it!"
Veronica asked herself if she were still sane! She heard the belt hiss through the air and heard its cracking impact on her smooth young back a millionth of a second before the pain exploded , alerting every nerve-ending, with a white hot searing pain, which passed through her, starting in her heart and shooting agonizingly through her body right up to the extremities. The frenzied yell she let out was a sound to gladden the Director’s heart.
"Excellent Veronica! That sounded great! Carry on, Jules!"
‘Jules - so that’s this fellow’s name,’ thought Veronica as she felt the belt descend on her again - and again and again and again, until twenty red wheals marred the once smooth surface of her tortured back. If she had started off under the delusion that the experience would get easier to bear as time went on, she soon changed her mind. Each fresh assault on her tender young flesh was a whole lot worse than the last. Just as she decided that enough was enough and was about to tell them to stop with what little energy she had left, Algernon brought the scene to a close.
"Splendid, Veronica. Quite splendid. I suggest we get you down from there before you pass out! A most satisfactory day so far, although we certainly haven‘t finished yet awhile!"
"Glad to give satisfaction," muttered Veronica rubbing her wrists and ankles and feeling the circulation return. The agony of the blood beginning to flow again almost surpassed the pain she was feeling to her back. That wretch had certainly held nothing back! She pitied his poor wife, if he had one!
The final part of the day involved the victim being suspended upside down and beaten by yet another masked member of the cult. This time, Algernon took it for granted that she would welcome a bit of realism! As her flesh suffered even more flailing, she wondered if she would ever be the same again. Fortunately, the third tormentor was not a sadist and managed to make a lot of noise without it hurting quite as much as had his colleague’s methodically frenzied onslaught.
They finished by strapping her to yet another contraption in preparation for beating the soles of her feet with yet another belt.
"Go easy on her, Roberto!" said the anxious Algernon. "We don’t want her still to be limping when we do the beach scenes. Let us know if it‘s doing too much damage, darling, and we‘ll just have to put in a few sound effects."
"No - I started this idea. Carry on. You get to love it after a while - honestly." said our suffering heroine, lying through her teeth.
She had been thinking more and more about her love in America and her near betrayal of him the other day. This ordeal was no more than a just punishment for her almost infidelity. She saw the last of her captors raise his arm and saw and heard the belt swish through the air and land on the soles of her feet. This time, as the pain again invaded every extremity, she welcomed it - up to a point.
Finally, after what seemed a month, but was only an hour or so, the Director was satisfied with the scene, after shooting and re-shooting it a dozen times. Through all of this, Veronica allowed the beating to continue and screamed as if she would wake the dead. They released her and she put her feet on the ground and rose unsteadily upright, unsure if she had it in her to remain standing on those sore and battered feet. Veronica had never felt so ill in all her life. She managed a few tottering steps and realized with great relief that none of the many delicate bones in her bruised and tortured feet had been broken. The man had known how far he could safely go and she walked the length of the studio and back, feeling stronger all the time.
"Excellent, my dear. And now the scenes with you in the suspended cage and we can all go home after a good day’s work!"
In the midst of all the agony inflicted on her earlier on, Veronica had forgotten this part of the action. She remembered now. Part of the hideous series of tortures that the black magicians were to put her through was to put her in a tiny barred cage, barely large enough to contain her, and lower her several times in to a vast vat of extremely hot water.
The steam rising from the water was provided by the use of dry ice, so she had nothing to fear from being scalded alive. No. The discomfort would come from being stuck inside that hellishly tiny cage until the increasingly finicky Director was satisfied that the scene had been done to his satisfaction. They had told her of this scene a few weeks ago and she had been dreading it ever since.
Veronica began to feel the most acute discomfort after only seconds of her restricted and contorted posture in the tiny cage. In ten minutes she began to be in the most appalling agony and almost wished she were back being flogged again. At least she had been comparatively free before, even if it had been painful. As she had feared and forecast, the pernickety Algernon was in no hurry to bring her ordeal to an end and kept on ordering segments of the scene to be re-shot and re-re-shot, time without number. The minutes ticked away and became hours and still no release seemed in sight.
It was not broiling heat which was her problem, she soon found out, but near freezing cold. She lost count of the number of times she was dunked into the water and dried off again before the awful interminable process of shooting could resume. When the Director was finally satisfied and Veronica was released from her misery, she found herself unable to straighten up for fully half an hour afterwards. ‘Never again,’ was her determined thought as she made her way wearily and painfully home.
As she entered her beloved home, she was just in time to answer the telephone and have a long and blessed conversation with her beloved Douglass. He expressed great interest in her filming experience and she agreed to send him a few photos of her sessions.
PART THE THIRTY-FIFTH
The next couple of weeks were among the most hectic of Veronica’s working life. Things were apparently picking up again! Once again her days pumped out mega shots of pure super charged adrenalin into her system. Each night she would adjourn to "The Flask" and unwind in convivial company. She would afterwards collapse into her bed before rising at the crack of dawn to renew the daily battle.
There were two long conversations with Douglass during this time. She wrote him a long letter, enclosing some photographs taken during her film project - pictures of her relaxing with the rest of the crew. His business in the USA was progressing well and he expected to be back in a few weeks time. They had agreed to waste no more time messing about. Marriage had been agreed on! Veronica had already started to organize the wedding. She was feeling happier than she could ever remember.
And then came the interruption. She was to leave for Spain and a rugged and remote coastal location the very next day! The tickets were waiting for her when she came home from work and her heart sank when she saw them. It did not matter that she had known for weeks that the day was soon to come - she was sick of the whole damned business by now. Her bruises had just about healed after the realistically filmed torture scenes and all her aches and pains had gone. Now she was to have to go through it all again!
At least she would be being tortured in the fresh air this time, beside the waters of the Atlantic. But she could think of no other mitigating circumstances!
Once again she glanced through the itinerary. Veronica, as the beautiful, doomed and newly kidnapped victim was to be tied to an open air pagan altar, where she would be inspected by her kidnappers, whipped and otherwise tortured, surrounded by twenty or so chanting members of the Cult. What kind of jerk watches stuff like this, she asked herself for the millionth time!
At last the whole thing was over! The final scenes of the doomed heroine being tormented on a wild storm-tossed beach had been filmed. Why they had needed to come al this way when there were plenty of wild storm-tossed beaches in England, Veronica could not work out. Of course, some of the scenes had been filmed inland on the way to the sacrificial climax and the local scenery was a little more arid and rugged than anything England had to offer! And she was supposed to be captured in Spain before being smuggled to England.
For her final appearance, the hapless victim had been tied upside down her legs spread wide apart as the Cult leader inspected her to ensure that the virgin sacrifice actually was a virgin!
"Golly, Veronica! You really are!" said the actor playing the fearsome master diabolist. "And a sweet and sexy looking girl like you! Miracles never cease!"
Veronica had not like that very much, finding it quite unacceptable, but had largely forgotten it in the remainder of the filming. Now she was relaxing in the bar at the hotel and getting ready to fly home the next day. Hopefully, Douglass should be home a few days after that and her life as a married woman could begin!
Her wedding couldn’t come a moment too soon as far as she was concerned, in fact she would gladly give everything she had to put the clock back a few weeks to the time when she had almost broken the poor man’s heart and start out again from there. In that case, she would not be here in this Iberian hotel and the heroine would be some other woman.
"Care to take a farewell stroll, Veronica?" She looked around and saw Jeremy Smythe-Hopkins, the villain who had been responsible for disemboweling her in the closing scene, just foiling the attempt of her lover to rescue her. A sad ending, she had thought, and not one likely to go down too well at the box office, but that was not her problem. Soon she would be out of all this for keeps! She frowned slightly as she remembered the intimate look this not very likeable man had taken at her maidenly secrets and the coarse comment he had made at the time. This creep was the last one she had any thought of taking a moonlight stroll with!
"Sorry, Jeremy" she replied. I’m just about ready for bed. Being tied upside down and given gynecological inspections really takes it out of you!"
With this pleasantry she turned on her heel and made for the lift in the hotel lobby.
"At least have a nightcap on me before turning in," said the persistent Jeremy." I feel bad about being so damned rude and would like to make amends."
He seemed very contrite and Veronica relented. Soon they were sitting in a corner of the lounge sipping at two very different drinks. His was a whisky with water and hers was some garishly coloured concoction with a name like "Orgasm". She had heard of a cocktail with this name before but never felt inclined to taste it! It was quite pleasant, she decided, but a little heady.
As the conversation went on, she came more and more to be fascinated by this man, who she had previously paid little attention to. He certainly seemed to know an awful lot of very interesting things, especially about the Satanic rituals that the film had been dealing with.
"Of course, most of what we’ve been enacting is pure mumbo-jumbo." he explained at one point, "But there are things going on in quiet leafy suburbs, involving the most respectable people that would freeze your blood if you knew about them!"
"Just as well I don’t know, then," giggled Veronica, shaking her head and suddenly feeling unpleasantly drowsy. "Maybe I will take that stroll! I feel I’ve inhaled a lot of foul air in this place. A bit of fresh air would be nice!"
Once out of the hotel, Veronica felt better. Her companion suggested they stroll down o the beach and she agreed, finding him strangely likeable all of a sudden. Strange that she should have disliked him so much when he was really so charming. It was certainly a fine night, the sky clear and the moon full. The waves breaking on the shore resonated in her mind and she began to feel very much one with the world around her, so barren and bare compared her native country.
Soon they were at the edge of the cliff and at the head of a flight of steps down to the beach. This was not where they had been filming - that was miles away, and as she looked down at the beach below she felt the urge to go down. Jeremy needed no encouragement and soon they were down the steps and walking side by side along the sandy beach.
"Why don’t you strip off, Veronica? You usually like to, I notice. I won’t mind! Your secret will be safe with me."
It was true, what this man had said. Veronica really did wish to take her clothes off and maybe go and swim in the sea, which was warm at this time of the year. She shrugged off her dress and climbed out of her panties.
"See you later, Jeremy! A swim will clear the cobwebs away!" and with this she had plunged into the sea and was soon about a hundred yards out. She still felt increasingly drowsy, though and decided to get back to shore. As she climbed out of the sea, she saw that she and Jeremy were no longer alone.
There were twelve men all dressed in some kind of monk-like garb, as was Jeremy, she saw with a shock of fear. Oh dear! And then the drug finally took effect and she slumped unconscious to the ground.
PART THE THIRTY-SIXTH (AND LAST)
It was still dark when she woke up. The sky was still clear and the moon still full and high overhead. She tried to get up and found that this was impossible. She was securely staked out on the beach and surrounded by the thirteen hooded men. It began to sink in that this time she was appearing for real in a genuine pagan sacrifice! With relief she saw that none of the men seemed to be carrying a whip! She did see that one of them had a very nasty looking knife stuck in the belt of his monk’s habit, though, and guessed she would soon be getting a very much closer view of it as it gleamed over her stomach in the ghastly moonlight.
‘If only I had not been so greedy,’ she thought, ‘all this would not be happening. Oh, my darling Douglass. We would have been so happy if only I had not been so horrible to you! If only you knew how sorry I am and how much I love you!’
"Let me up!" she said out loud, although not imagining for a second that she would be released. This had obviously all been arranged for some time. She wondered how many of these people were members of the film crew! Probably they all were and the whole thing had just been a cover for this dreadful scene in which she was shortly to be killed for real.
"Sorry, Veronica. We’ve been to too much trouble to stop now. The Dark One needs His virgin offering and you are it! Soon it will be Thirteen O’clock and your big moment will have arrived. And - not that it matters - but none of these Brethren are your fellow film-makers. They are all fast asleep; I saw to that. This place is far from the nearest habitation and the locals have never liked it anyway. It has a special meaning for us of the Dark Brotherhood, but the general run of folks hate it, as would you have done if you had not been drugged!"
This was true. Now that Veronica was her normal self, she could feel the evil of this spot. Even without the presence of this hellish group of wicked depraved men it would be a foul and evil place to be. It reeked of infamy here.
Jeremy turned to the rest of the group and motioned them all to approach Veronica one by one. Each one knelt down, shone a flashlight on her and probed her secret place to examine for himself the evidence of her virginity. By the time all thirteen had satisfied themselves as to the genuineness of the sacrifice, she was close to throwing up. Only the thought that if she did she might choke on her own vomit enabled her to stop her nausea getting the better of her. Although why she bothered, she couldn’t imagine. She only had a short time to live and now was as good a time to die as any, in fact it would be better as she would deprive them of the chance to kill her at the appointed hour of Thirteen O’clock - whatever or whenever that was.
And then she recalled a film she had seen many years ago, as a terrified little girl. How they had let her in to the cinema to watch such a scary film was still a mystery. This had been about a nest of witches in New England. At one hour past midnight the clock, instead of chiming once, had struck thirteen times and the hapless heroine been stabbed on the stroke of thirteen!
She wondered what time it was now! It had been close to ten when she had left the hotel, that place of warmth and safety which might as well be a million miles away now. But she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. It must be about midnight already, maybe much later and close to the dreaded Thirteen O’clock!
Now that the Brethren had examined her they started chanting some ritualistic incantation and walking around her in an anti-clockwise direction. Widdershins, she thought. That word had always sounded sinister to her and it certainly would even more so in the future, if there was still a future for her!
Looking desperately around her she could see on the cliff top a dark and ruined tower. From the tower came the sound of a bell tolling the three quarter. Only fifteen minutes to go! Veronica started to think back over her life and all the wasted opportunities, especially her ultimate stupidity in rejecting Douglass. She knew she deserved to be punished for her sins, but wondered if this penalty were not, perhaps, a little excessive!
As she watched the men circling around her she thought how different this scene was in so many ways from the film she had just starred in! In the film, the Witches had worn animal masks and been otherwise stark naked. She preferred this get-up on the whole! Although she had developed a taste for baring her own body, she was none too keen about looking at some others! All of these guys looked somewhat over weight. Best cover the fat bellies up! Jeremy was a good looking guy, though, despite the fact that she couldn’t stand him, not now that she had her wits back. If he cared to disrobe before putting paid to her, she wouldn’t mind too much.
And then it happened. The clock up in the ruined tower began to chime. "Bongggggg!! One Bongggg! Two and so on - up to twelve. By the twelfth chime the chanting had stopped and the Knife was raised over poor Veronica’s stomach, soon to be ripped open. Jeremy was in the act of kneeling when there was a boom and a bright light came on, bathing the whole beach in a light as bright as day.
Jeremy stopped in the midst of aiming the knife at Veronica and slowly keeled over. The knife fell uselessly on her belly. Veronica became aware of shouting coming from the cliff top in which the word "Policía" seemed to figure. One of the other Brethren made for Veronica -apparently keen to pick up the knife and finish the job his leader had been doing, despite the fact that Thirteen had already struck. There was another shot and he too fell dead. Great marksmanship, thought an appreciative Veronica, who had done a bit of shooting herself in her African days before coming to a country where gun ownership was made so difficult.
At this, the remainder of the group ran off, no doubt hoping to find some other way off the beach, now that the ladder was crawling with dark uniformed figures, and one non-uniformed figure! A few more shots brought down a couple more and the rest meekly gave themselves up.
Soon Veronica was being untied and a cloak was put over her to hide her nudity. The man not in a uniform came up to her and put his arms round her. She could feel that he was crying as he kissed her.
"Douglass! Oh, my darling! How did you know I was here?"
"Let’s get you back to the hotel and checked over by a doctor, my angel. You’ve had a terrible time. I’ll explain later."
Back at the hotel, a doctor looked her over and said that she was fine but in need of rest. She was given an injection and put to bed. When she woke up it was mid-morning and Douglass was sitting by the bed.
"Now tell me how you came to be there and how the police knew what was happening to me!"
"Simple, my darling! I showed those pictures to friends. You know - the ones taken of you and the film crew. Well, one of those friends is in the FBI and he recognized Jeremy and warned me about him. He’s wanted in several states for ritual murder. He disappeared about a year ago and they’ve been moving heaven and earth to find him. He has a different name over there, by the way. Wayne Hollister, believe it or not! So I got on the first plane to Madrid and warned the police that this guy was taking part in your film. He ought to have been arrested days ago but there was some administrative foul up and we were almost too late. We turned up at the hotel to find most of your colleagues dead to the world. But, luckily, someone saw you and Jeremy go off together and the rest you know."
And so Veronica was rescued in the nick of time from the consequences of her greed and hardness of heart. She and Douglass flew back to England a few days later and in a week they were married. A few years later old Andrew passed away and left his business empire to Douglass whom he had adopted as his son.
It would be superfluous and maybe somewhat trite to say that Veronica and her beloved lived happily ever after, but I’ve got to think of some kind of ending and that seems as good as any.
THE END
"All my undying love
Douglass"
Two tears made their symmetrical and salty way down each cheek as she read this.
"I wonder if he’ll still feel the same when he gets home?" she thought. Then she forced herself to cheer up and phoned the Director, Mr. FitzWalter. He sounded ecstatic to hear from her.
"When can you be free to start, Veronica? I know what a big shot you have become this last few weeks! Really I thought we might be rather beneath your notice, by this time."
"No. I need the money. I’ve just bought a lovely house, overlooking the Heath, which I’m moving into soon and furniture is very expensive and there are all sorts of overheads which I hadn’t really taken on board before plunging into the purchase. Then there’s the villa in the Greek Islands I’m negotiating for. And this new job isn’t bringing in a whole lot just now, what with the markets being in the dire state they are. No, Algy! I can’t possible afford to turn this down - even if I wanted to - which I don’t. I’d love to collaborate with you all again!"
As she heard herself say this, she realized that she did really want to do this. After all, now she was known to have appeared in one production, her reputation was already that of a woman who led a double life, alternating respectability during the working week with bizarre and scandalous activities in her leisure hours! What had she to lose?
"Do I get to wear clothes in this next production?" she asked. The answer came as no great surprise!
"Only briefly at the very beginning and even then nothing much - you are kidnapped while holidaying in Spain and are sunbathing, at the moment of your capture, in nothing more than the most daringly minute thong. You soon lose that and spend a great deal of time in cellars and dungeons undergoing much bondage and torture before the final sacrifice scene on a remote and desolate beach on the East Coast of England with a howling cold wind blowing across the scene and under dark grey skies. We will have to choose a moment when the weather is right, but I doubt we’ll have too long to wait! The forecast for next weekend is very promising from our point of view."
"This time, you will be happy to hear, you are to be rescued in the nick of time by your loving boyfriend, who has doggedly followed the trail from Spain to the site of your sacrifice, just as the wicked and razor sharp blade is flashing in the air ready to begin its deadly downward sweep towards your quivering stomach. Very touching scene, that!"
With some reservations - she would have preferred a less passive and more heroic role, to be honest - Veronica arranged to take a few days off at the end of next week and commence filming. She was told that the scenes on the coast would be done first, (weather permitting) and then the various dungeon scenes. Finally they would take her to Spain to film her abduction. As before, this was going to be a pretty low budget affair and a lot hung on Veronica - again, as before.
"Going to be in any more films in the near future, Veronica?" asked one of her subordinates, with an impertinent smile, when she went in to the office next day.
"Yes - I hope so. Now get on with your work if you want to still have a job by the end of the week." she replied icily and went and shut herself in her room.
"I wonder how much I’ll make out of this one" she thought. She went over to the mirror and looked herself over with a critical gaze. Even under her sober business clothes she could see that she was still in superb shape. With a larger role, she should certainly attract much more enthusiasm even than before. Maybe that nice gleaming new Bentley would be affordable sooner than she had thought! She certainly hoped so - she was getting very bored with the BMW. Now that Douglass was no longer in her life, she needed little luxuries like that to deaden the pain of separation!
PART THE THIRTY-SECOND
Veronica shivered but was not seriously upset as the cold and clammy English air touched and chilled her quivering and velvety skin once more. All the excitement of that amazingly uncomfortable day of humiliation and wonderful self discovery came back to her and set every nerve end tingling. It was very obvious to Algernon and the rest of the film crew that the shedding of her clothes had strangely and wonderfully energized the girl - vitalized her. Her skin reacted well to the touch of the cool wind, the gooseflesh soon subsiding to a lustrous silky smoothness as her healthy young body quickly and easily adjusted to the fall in temperature; it positively shone in the grey light and her eyes were bright with the excitement and enjoyment of the situation.
Although the sacrifice and rescue scene were only to take up a few short minutes of the finished product, they spent, under Algernon’s meticulously fanatical direction, all the daylight hours shooting and re-shooting it. All this long while poor Veronica was strapped naked to a stone altar very similar to the wooden one she had been tied to on Hampstead Heath all those weeks ago. There was a wind blowing in from the North Sea and from time to time a light drizzle blew across her long and supple limbs as these splendid members strained and struggled vainly against her well tied restraints.
"We’ll need to stop overnight, I’m afraid, Veronica," explained Algernon as they neared the end of the day‘s work. "We can’t film the rescue scene today, as the boyfriend can’t make it until tomorrow. Let’s hope the weather doesn’t change - that would be unfortunate."
He shivered in the increasing wind and looked with concern at Veronica who had been securely tied down now for most of the day. "Oh! I am sorry! Time to free you and let you put on something nice and warm and get some of that delicious buffet meal and nice warm soup over there inside you!"
Her bonds were finally untied and Veronica raised herself from off the ever colder slab on which she had been resting for so many hours. She rubbed her wrists and felt the circulation painfully return. She supposed that she ought to be grateful that her day-long ordeal was now over, but to her surprise, she felt a deep sense of regret. She looked perversely forward to the subsequent scenes in which her helpless body was to be cruelly tortured and restrained by the sadist kidnappers!
Algernon proffered her a towel to cover herself with and she brushed it aside. She had some time ago decided that it was not nearly cold enough for her to need to cover up - not just yet awhile! She walked over to the others. They were all helping themselves to the delicious looking (and smelling) food and she seized a goodly portion for herself and began wolfing it down appreciatively. Being tied up all day did wonders for the appetite, she decided!
Now that the day’s filming was over the rest of the cast were finding it less easy to come to terms with the nude Veronica and her, by this time, voluntary and shameless nakedness. Several disapproving glances were aimed in her general direction, but either she was unaware of this or she decided to ignore it.
She was standing a little apart from the rest of the crew when the couple she had met on that famous shooting in Hampstead came up and joined her. She had to rack her brains pretty vigorously before she could come up with their names - but she was a pretty brainy girl and the names came to her soon enough to save her from embarrassment.
"Hi Drusilla! Hi Jeremy! Good to see a couple of familiar and friendly faces! How are things going?"
Drusilla beamed a happy grin, joined in this by an amiable Jeremy. "Oh. We’re getting married in a couple of weeks. That last crummy film made so much money, thanks to your providential appearance on that memorable cold night that we can afford to set up house much sooner than we ever thought possible. I hope they paid you your share of the takings, by the way!"
Veronica assured them that she had indeed not been omitted from the list of recipients and the three of them squatted down in a friendly way on the ground. Jeremy looked stealthily at the naked Veronica, but his fiancée saw where his eyes were roaming and playfully and painfully slapped his wrist!
"That’s enough of that, you pervert! Just a couple of weeks and you’ll have the sight of me any time you want."
"You mean to say that Jeremy’s still not seen you naked!" Veronica was amazed. Perhaps, after all, she was not the only old fashioned girl left alive on the earth in this new century!
"No! Not since that orgy scene we did on Hampstead Heath when we first met you!" Jeremy pulled a long and tragic face. "I have to put the ring on her finger first before I get to enjoy the sweet fruits of love. What a sodding bloody bore - talk about Victorian! It’s as well for her that I love her so much! I bet you don‘t kid around with your blokes like that"
Veronica laughed in a hollow kind of way. Her mind went all the way across the wide Atlantic to wherever in that vast and distant continent her love was located at that precise second. She wiped her eyes quickly to brush away the tears that were forming and threatening to course their way down her cheeks.
She sniffed and then spoke "No, Jeremy! I agree with Drusilla all the way! Marriage is a serious business and you don’t want to ruin things by jumping the gun and cheapening your love. Remember that it’s a love that has to last a hell of a long time! I’m sure your ultimate act of possession will be all the better for the wait! I sent my very own darling off with a flea in his ear when he tried to make love to me. Drusilla is not the only weird girl in the world, believe you me!"
‘It doesn’t stop you exposing yourself and all your considerable goodies to the entire film set,’ thought Jeremy. He saw only too clearly the cruelly teasing Veronica’s ‘look but don’t touch’ approach. This girl had belatedly discovered that she had the power to turn men weak at the knees and was making the most of it before finally settling down. He could see the total lack of self-consciousness in every line of her body. She certainly wasn’t brazenly and crudely showing all her female mysteries to the world, but she wasn’t exactly going out of her way to hide them either. He glanced around at the rest of the players and saw that his interest was being shared by all - man and woman alike.
Veronica obstinately resisted the impulse to shiver and wandered over to join up with and chat to another group of players. These were the Satanic cult members who had been preparing to finish her off as the sun rose above the horizon on the occasion of her sacrifice in propitiation of their Dark Lord. They were a surprisingly inoffensive, even effete, bunch of guys, now that they were minus their terrifying masks.
Finally Algernon signaled that they should all make their way back to the hotel, some three miles distant in the nearest small coastal town. Veronica elected not to avail herself of the transport provided, but decided to walk back down the beach. She reluctantly grabbed up enough of her discarded clothing to cover her vital parts for when she finally got to be within sight of human habitation. For most of the way, though, she remained naked in the increasing wind and ever more heavy drizzle, which had turned into a full-scale downpour long before she got back to the hotel. One or two local worthies out walking their dogs in the rain had a treat that evening which they were to remember with great fondness for years to come!
As she wandered slowly back, her bare feet kicking at the wet sand every now and again and making deep imprints in the beach’s formerly pristine surface, she wondered what the other lead actor, the one who played the role of her heroic rescuer, would be like. She had to admit to herself that the prospect of meeting this man who was to have the privilege of seizing her from out of the jaws of Hell was beginning to drive all other thoughts out of her mind.
She did not stay long in the hotel lounge chatting to the others. She went up to her room at shortly after ten. As soon as she rested her blonde head on the pillow, the golden locks spread appetisingly about her, she was asleep and dreaming of Douglass - and also the man she was to meet tomorrow! Oh, frailty - thy name is Veronica!
PART THE THIRTY-THIRD
Thanks to the unfailing unreliability of the British railway system, whether "publicly" or privately owned, there was a hitch! The knight in shining armour and would-be rescuer of his beloved from the clutches of Satan and his loathsome acolytes - was a little late arriving. Veronica had been strapped down on the cold marble slab for fully ninety five minutes before the proceedings could begin and she was not in a good mood. This was no way to spend a weekend, no matter how rich the rewards! And then the male lead arrived and her heart turned to melted wax!
Surely to Goodness! Men like this only appeared on the pages of glossy magazines, their images cunningly embellished by a combination of the photographer’s art and skilful re-touching to resemble nothing that ever truly walked upon two legs, every flaw and imperfection erased and sanitized in order to present the quivering female breast with a vision of perfect masculinity in all its glory. Yet here was a man with the body of a Greek God and the head of a Viking hero, obviously flesh and blood, walking towards her with his hand extended and murmuring his apologies for his late arrival.
"Golly, Veronica! How can I ever apologize enough for all the bother I’ve caused you? When I saw your last film and was told I could play opposite you in this, I was so excited! I only left drama school a few months ago and this could be the launching pad of my career! How can I ever make it up to you?"
Veronica, the memory of her darling Douglass fading ever more into the distance, could think of any number of ways that he could make it up to her! She was a blond herself and the sight of this tall, athletically muscular dream, with that heart-stoppingly splendid golden mass of Nordic hair flowing gloriously down a broad and Herculean back , together with a fashionably unshaven face made her wonder what the offspring of a union between the two of them would be like. An Aryan’s dream - she quickly decided.
She gazed up from her slab in to the depths of those clear blue eyes and almost swooned. From far off, she heard her voice, faint and tremulous, assuring him that he was not to reproach himself. These things happen, after all!
It seemed as if only seconds had passed when Veronica found herself letting herself back into her flat. What a day it had been!
The rescue scene had been shot and re-shot a hundred and one fold and she ought by rights to have lost count of the times she had been clasped in those brawny arms and been given a loving kiss by her rescuer. But she had not lost count! She remembered every single one of those embraces and all the ways each heavenly clinch had differed from the other!
He had said goodbye to her at the end of the day and his closing words at one and the same time buoyed her up and cast her down.
"It’s been great working with you, Veronica" he had said. "You have such incredible talent. I can’t believe you’re not a trained actress. I wouldn’t have missed today for anything. And now, I must rush to get the train. My wife’s due to give birth any day now and I must get back to her. I know it’s all very wimpish and all that, but I really want to be there when she gives birth."
"I hope you get your wish," she had replied. "Although I can’t imagine anything more gruesome myself! After seeing your child come out of you-know-what, you’ll most likely never be able to face putting your dick back into it as long as you live!"
She was still surprised and ashamed of herself for the crudity and insensitiveness of this parting remark, although Giles had laughed at it at the time. She hoped he had not noticed her temporary infatuation with him. As soon as she got into her bedroom, she saw the face of the distant and maybe lost-for-ever Douglass gazing from the framed portrait by her bedside! She shed tears of shame. How could she have been so beastly to him? Why would she gladly have allowed that actor do anything he liked to her? And there were still the opening scenes to be filmed where they lazed naked beside the azure Mediterranean! She resolved that next time, her feelings and behaviour would be purely professional. Another resolution was that her film making career would end once this production was over. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it all, this new life of hers! She liked it all far too much and could see that it was leading her to perdition.
With such good resolutions firmly arrived at, she fell asleep and was immediately in a frenzied dream where she was being ravished by a naked, thrusting Sven! Douglass was standing in the background smiling sadly and shaking his head. The elderly Andrew Vane-Clatworthy was also there, cackling horribly as he watched the blond giant taking possession of Veronica‘s ardently sweating body.
When she woke up in the morning all the bedclothes were in the worst mess than she could ever remember. Veronica was perspiring her head ached more painfully than she could remember. Half of the bedclothes were on the floor and it seemed as if she had been trying, in her sleep, to strangle herself with the remainder. She was very subdued and thoughtful all day and her boss was obviously concerned Mr. Travers said so.
"Oh! It’s nothing really. Just that I miss Douglass so much now that he’s away for months and months. I’ll be OK."
She knew this to be only a part of the truth. A day ago she had been ready to forsake him in favour of Mr. Sven Ebbing and only the fact that this Norse God was married and with a wife expected to give birth at any moment, together with the fact that he lived in Surbiton, had come between her and her throwing herself at his feet. The last few weeks since her winning the two million pounds had been an extraordinary roller coaster in terms of emotion. She resolved to get a grip on herself before her whole life ran totally out of control. In the meantime she was contracted to finish this wretched film, for which she was beginning to lose all enthusiasm this Monday morning.
The next stage of the filming was to be a long succession of painful ordeals in cellars and gloomy dungeons where her tethered and naked body was to be horribly whipped and tortured. A rack scene was to be the first to be filmed and then on the following weekend, the whippings and beatings. Finally, in three weeks time, they were all to decamp to the Iberian peninsular to film the beach and kidnapping scene as well as the final sacrifice. Then, hopefully, she could wash her hands of her new career, very much the richer financially but less so in other ways. She was beginning to prefer her old boring and impoverished life.
PART THE THIRTY-FOURTH
"You need to scream a lot more convincingly like that, Veronica. Remember that you are being horribly racked with your arms and legs being torn from their sockets, ligament by tortured ligament. It hurts when they do that to you for real, my dear! Or so they tell me at the Torture Garden! Try to sound as if you are in the most terrible pain - please, sweetie!"
"Just look, Algernon. Anyone could tell this scene’s faked. I’m not even half-way being stretched. Look at my elbows - they’re still bent! Who the fuck you think will be fooled by this shit? Let’s make it a bit more real, shall we? Tell them to stretch me a bit - yank my arms out of their sockets! If it hurts me from time to time - well, then I’ll probably be screaming for real!"
"As you wish, my dear. You‘re right, of course, I suppose we could make this look a tad more realistic. Do you think you could tighten the apparatus, Edwin!"
Edwin, in charge of Special Effects, nodded briefly. "No sweat, Chief. This is a real working model. How‘s this for size, Veronica?"
With this he turned the handle a couple of complete turns and Veronica became taut. Too taut!! It was very uncomfortable and she found it hard to breathe or speak. "Fine" she said, breathlessly. "Just fine."
The rest of the day was a great success, although Veronica swore as she prepared to go home that her throat would never be the same! Not after all that screeching! Her legs and arms would be sore for weeks afterwards, what with all those hours stretched out on the rack! She would never have considered it possible for her body to be so pulled apart for so long and still survive! However, Algernon was delighted with the day’s work.
"See you next weekend for the rest of your ordeal." he said , as she left.
She got a call from Douglass on the Tuesday before the penultimate shoot. It was a call which must have cost her hero and love a fortune, going on for over two hours - a period of time which passed as if it had only been a micro second. She tearfully told him, time after time, that she only wanted to be married soon! She even offered to fly out to marry him in America. He dissuaded her with difficulty and promised that he would be back in five weeks, all being well.
"OK. I’ll start organizing things Let me know who you want to invite, my sweet and I’ll get the invitations printed and the church booked. The rector might want to get in touch with you, so you’d better leave a number I can get you at."
Having settled all this Veronica slept somewhat better for the next few nights. On Saturday she turned up at the studio for the next cellar/dungeon scene.
This time she was tied to a kind of rectangular framework with her arms and legs stretched so that her hands and feet were at the four corners of the frame. With such a large construction, even the tall Veronica couldn’t fill it completely and she was stretched horribly tightly - a lot worse than last time!
Once again she was obliged to scream and moan in agony as a large man, naked save for a wolf mask, stood in front of her and plied a vicious and cruel leather whip. He was good at his job and didn’t touch the apprehensive girl once - or it would have almost sliced her in two! Each time the thing cracked she found it hard not to blink.
"We’ll beak for a cup of tea, now." said Algernon as soon as he was satisfied. "Veronica had better stay put. We don’t want all the trouble of arranging her again and getting it wrong. Some film buffs never miss a trick continuity-wise! And you still need to concentrate on the screaming, Veronica. Remember you are being beaten half to death, by not given a playful slap on the bum by the boyfriend."
As the others had their tea and biscuits, Veronica stayed where she was, suspended and stretched out on the wooden frame! It got more and more uncomfortable. What had started as pins and needles had become to seem like being pierced by white hot pokers. She had always thought herself able to take a bit of pain, but this was getting to her! She wondered if these people might not be enjoying themselves above and beyond the call!
The second session featured a different member of the cult. This acolyte beat her back with a leather strap. After a few minutes, during which Algernon was getting more and more uptight about Veronica’s continuing lack of realism, she made a momentous decision.
"OK.! Why not let him whack me for real for a while? It won’t beak my skin - at least not too badly - and any marks he makes will most likely be a sight more realistic than the ones you painted on me! Go on! I bet the guy can’t wait. I could see it in his eye this morning! He was almost salivating as watched his friend working on my stomach and breasts. Believe me, he’d just love to beat a girl and make her scream. Well - now’s his chance!"
"If you’re quite sure, Veronica. Just let us know if it’s too much. Just say ‘Stop’ if you can‘t go on with it!"
Veronica asked herself if she were still sane! She heard the belt hiss through the air and heard its cracking impact on her smooth young back a millionth of a second before the pain exploded , alerting every nerve-ending, with a white hot searing pain, which passed through her, starting in her heart and shooting agonizingly through her body right up to the extremities. The frenzied yell she let out was a sound to gladden the Director’s heart.
"Excellent Veronica! That sounded great! Carry on, Jules!"
‘Jules - so that’s this fellow’s name,’ thought Veronica as she felt the belt descend on her again - and again and again and again, until twenty red wheals marred the once smooth surface of her tortured back. If she had started off under the delusion that the experience would get easier to bear as time went on, she soon changed her mind. Each fresh assault on her tender young flesh was a whole lot worse than the last. Just as she decided that enough was enough and was about to tell them to stop with what little energy she had left, Algernon brought the scene to a close.
"Splendid, Veronica. Quite splendid. I suggest we get you down from there before you pass out! A most satisfactory day so far, although we certainly haven‘t finished yet awhile!"
"Glad to give satisfaction," muttered Veronica rubbing her wrists and ankles and feeling the circulation return. The agony of the blood beginning to flow again almost surpassed the pain she was feeling to her back. That wretch had certainly held nothing back! She pitied his poor wife, if he had one!
The final part of the day involved the victim being suspended upside down and beaten by yet another masked member of the cult. This time, Algernon took it for granted that she would welcome a bit of realism! As her flesh suffered even more flailing, she wondered if she would ever be the same again. Fortunately, the third tormentor was not a sadist and managed to make a lot of noise without it hurting quite as much as had his colleague’s methodically frenzied onslaught.
They finished by strapping her to yet another contraption in preparation for beating the soles of her feet with yet another belt.
"Go easy on her, Roberto!" said the anxious Algernon. "We don’t want her still to be limping when we do the beach scenes. Let us know if it‘s doing too much damage, darling, and we‘ll just have to put in a few sound effects."
"No - I started this idea. Carry on. You get to love it after a while - honestly." said our suffering heroine, lying through her teeth.
She had been thinking more and more about her love in America and her near betrayal of him the other day. This ordeal was no more than a just punishment for her almost infidelity. She saw the last of her captors raise his arm and saw and heard the belt swish through the air and land on the soles of her feet. This time, as the pain again invaded every extremity, she welcomed it - up to a point.
Finally, after what seemed a month, but was only an hour or so, the Director was satisfied with the scene, after shooting and re-shooting it a dozen times. Through all of this, Veronica allowed the beating to continue and screamed as if she would wake the dead. They released her and she put her feet on the ground and rose unsteadily upright, unsure if she had it in her to remain standing on those sore and battered feet. Veronica had never felt so ill in all her life. She managed a few tottering steps and realized with great relief that none of the many delicate bones in her bruised and tortured feet had been broken. The man had known how far he could safely go and she walked the length of the studio and back, feeling stronger all the time.
"Excellent, my dear. And now the scenes with you in the suspended cage and we can all go home after a good day’s work!"
In the midst of all the agony inflicted on her earlier on, Veronica had forgotten this part of the action. She remembered now. Part of the hideous series of tortures that the black magicians were to put her through was to put her in a tiny barred cage, barely large enough to contain her, and lower her several times in to a vast vat of extremely hot water.
The steam rising from the water was provided by the use of dry ice, so she had nothing to fear from being scalded alive. No. The discomfort would come from being stuck inside that hellishly tiny cage until the increasingly finicky Director was satisfied that the scene had been done to his satisfaction. They had told her of this scene a few weeks ago and she had been dreading it ever since.
Veronica began to feel the most acute discomfort after only seconds of her restricted and contorted posture in the tiny cage. In ten minutes she began to be in the most appalling agony and almost wished she were back being flogged again. At least she had been comparatively free before, even if it had been painful. As she had feared and forecast, the pernickety Algernon was in no hurry to bring her ordeal to an end and kept on ordering segments of the scene to be re-shot and re-re-shot, time without number. The minutes ticked away and became hours and still no release seemed in sight.
It was not broiling heat which was her problem, she soon found out, but near freezing cold. She lost count of the number of times she was dunked into the water and dried off again before the awful interminable process of shooting could resume. When the Director was finally satisfied and Veronica was released from her misery, she found herself unable to straighten up for fully half an hour afterwards. ‘Never again,’ was her determined thought as she made her way wearily and painfully home.
As she entered her beloved home, she was just in time to answer the telephone and have a long and blessed conversation with her beloved Douglass. He expressed great interest in her filming experience and she agreed to send him a few photos of her sessions.
PART THE THIRTY-FIFTH
The next couple of weeks were among the most hectic of Veronica’s working life. Things were apparently picking up again! Once again her days pumped out mega shots of pure super charged adrenalin into her system. Each night she would adjourn to "The Flask" and unwind in convivial company. She would afterwards collapse into her bed before rising at the crack of dawn to renew the daily battle.
There were two long conversations with Douglass during this time. She wrote him a long letter, enclosing some photographs taken during her film project - pictures of her relaxing with the rest of the crew. His business in the USA was progressing well and he expected to be back in a few weeks time. They had agreed to waste no more time messing about. Marriage had been agreed on! Veronica had already started to organize the wedding. She was feeling happier than she could ever remember.
And then came the interruption. She was to leave for Spain and a rugged and remote coastal location the very next day! The tickets were waiting for her when she came home from work and her heart sank when she saw them. It did not matter that she had known for weeks that the day was soon to come - she was sick of the whole damned business by now. Her bruises had just about healed after the realistically filmed torture scenes and all her aches and pains had gone. Now she was to have to go through it all again!
At least she would be being tortured in the fresh air this time, beside the waters of the Atlantic. But she could think of no other mitigating circumstances!
Once again she glanced through the itinerary. Veronica, as the beautiful, doomed and newly kidnapped victim was to be tied to an open air pagan altar, where she would be inspected by her kidnappers, whipped and otherwise tortured, surrounded by twenty or so chanting members of the Cult. What kind of jerk watches stuff like this, she asked herself for the millionth time!
At last the whole thing was over! The final scenes of the doomed heroine being tormented on a wild storm-tossed beach had been filmed. Why they had needed to come al this way when there were plenty of wild storm-tossed beaches in England, Veronica could not work out. Of course, some of the scenes had been filmed inland on the way to the sacrificial climax and the local scenery was a little more arid and rugged than anything England had to offer! And she was supposed to be captured in Spain before being smuggled to England.
For her final appearance, the hapless victim had been tied upside down her legs spread wide apart as the Cult leader inspected her to ensure that the virgin sacrifice actually was a virgin!
"Golly, Veronica! You really are!" said the actor playing the fearsome master diabolist. "And a sweet and sexy looking girl like you! Miracles never cease!"
Veronica had not like that very much, finding it quite unacceptable, but had largely forgotten it in the remainder of the filming. Now she was relaxing in the bar at the hotel and getting ready to fly home the next day. Hopefully, Douglass should be home a few days after that and her life as a married woman could begin!
Her wedding couldn’t come a moment too soon as far as she was concerned, in fact she would gladly give everything she had to put the clock back a few weeks to the time when she had almost broken the poor man’s heart and start out again from there. In that case, she would not be here in this Iberian hotel and the heroine would be some other woman.
"Care to take a farewell stroll, Veronica?" She looked around and saw Jeremy Smythe-Hopkins, the villain who had been responsible for disemboweling her in the closing scene, just foiling the attempt of her lover to rescue her. A sad ending, she had thought, and not one likely to go down too well at the box office, but that was not her problem. Soon she would be out of all this for keeps! She frowned slightly as she remembered the intimate look this not very likeable man had taken at her maidenly secrets and the coarse comment he had made at the time. This creep was the last one she had any thought of taking a moonlight stroll with!
"Sorry, Jeremy" she replied. I’m just about ready for bed. Being tied upside down and given gynecological inspections really takes it out of you!"
With this pleasantry she turned on her heel and made for the lift in the hotel lobby.
"At least have a nightcap on me before turning in," said the persistent Jeremy." I feel bad about being so damned rude and would like to make amends."
He seemed very contrite and Veronica relented. Soon they were sitting in a corner of the lounge sipping at two very different drinks. His was a whisky with water and hers was some garishly coloured concoction with a name like "Orgasm". She had heard of a cocktail with this name before but never felt inclined to taste it! It was quite pleasant, she decided, but a little heady.
As the conversation went on, she came more and more to be fascinated by this man, who she had previously paid little attention to. He certainly seemed to know an awful lot of very interesting things, especially about the Satanic rituals that the film had been dealing with.
"Of course, most of what we’ve been enacting is pure mumbo-jumbo." he explained at one point, "But there are things going on in quiet leafy suburbs, involving the most respectable people that would freeze your blood if you knew about them!"
"Just as well I don’t know, then," giggled Veronica, shaking her head and suddenly feeling unpleasantly drowsy. "Maybe I will take that stroll! I feel I’ve inhaled a lot of foul air in this place. A bit of fresh air would be nice!"
Once out of the hotel, Veronica felt better. Her companion suggested they stroll down o the beach and she agreed, finding him strangely likeable all of a sudden. Strange that she should have disliked him so much when he was really so charming. It was certainly a fine night, the sky clear and the moon full. The waves breaking on the shore resonated in her mind and she began to feel very much one with the world around her, so barren and bare compared her native country.
Soon they were at the edge of the cliff and at the head of a flight of steps down to the beach. This was not where they had been filming - that was miles away, and as she looked down at the beach below she felt the urge to go down. Jeremy needed no encouragement and soon they were down the steps and walking side by side along the sandy beach.
"Why don’t you strip off, Veronica? You usually like to, I notice. I won’t mind! Your secret will be safe with me."
It was true, what this man had said. Veronica really did wish to take her clothes off and maybe go and swim in the sea, which was warm at this time of the year. She shrugged off her dress and climbed out of her panties.
"See you later, Jeremy! A swim will clear the cobwebs away!" and with this she had plunged into the sea and was soon about a hundred yards out. She still felt increasingly drowsy, though and decided to get back to shore. As she climbed out of the sea, she saw that she and Jeremy were no longer alone.
There were twelve men all dressed in some kind of monk-like garb, as was Jeremy, she saw with a shock of fear. Oh dear! And then the drug finally took effect and she slumped unconscious to the ground.
PART THE THIRTY-SIXTH (AND LAST)
It was still dark when she woke up. The sky was still clear and the moon still full and high overhead. She tried to get up and found that this was impossible. She was securely staked out on the beach and surrounded by the thirteen hooded men. It began to sink in that this time she was appearing for real in a genuine pagan sacrifice! With relief she saw that none of the men seemed to be carrying a whip! She did see that one of them had a very nasty looking knife stuck in the belt of his monk’s habit, though, and guessed she would soon be getting a very much closer view of it as it gleamed over her stomach in the ghastly moonlight.
‘If only I had not been so greedy,’ she thought, ‘all this would not be happening. Oh, my darling Douglass. We would have been so happy if only I had not been so horrible to you! If only you knew how sorry I am and how much I love you!’
"Let me up!" she said out loud, although not imagining for a second that she would be released. This had obviously all been arranged for some time. She wondered how many of these people were members of the film crew! Probably they all were and the whole thing had just been a cover for this dreadful scene in which she was shortly to be killed for real.
"Sorry, Veronica. We’ve been to too much trouble to stop now. The Dark One needs His virgin offering and you are it! Soon it will be Thirteen O’clock and your big moment will have arrived. And - not that it matters - but none of these Brethren are your fellow film-makers. They are all fast asleep; I saw to that. This place is far from the nearest habitation and the locals have never liked it anyway. It has a special meaning for us of the Dark Brotherhood, but the general run of folks hate it, as would you have done if you had not been drugged!"
This was true. Now that Veronica was her normal self, she could feel the evil of this spot. Even without the presence of this hellish group of wicked depraved men it would be a foul and evil place to be. It reeked of infamy here.
Jeremy turned to the rest of the group and motioned them all to approach Veronica one by one. Each one knelt down, shone a flashlight on her and probed her secret place to examine for himself the evidence of her virginity. By the time all thirteen had satisfied themselves as to the genuineness of the sacrifice, she was close to throwing up. Only the thought that if she did she might choke on her own vomit enabled her to stop her nausea getting the better of her. Although why she bothered, she couldn’t imagine. She only had a short time to live and now was as good a time to die as any, in fact it would be better as she would deprive them of the chance to kill her at the appointed hour of Thirteen O’clock - whatever or whenever that was.
And then she recalled a film she had seen many years ago, as a terrified little girl. How they had let her in to the cinema to watch such a scary film was still a mystery. This had been about a nest of witches in New England. At one hour past midnight the clock, instead of chiming once, had struck thirteen times and the hapless heroine been stabbed on the stroke of thirteen!
She wondered what time it was now! It had been close to ten when she had left the hotel, that place of warmth and safety which might as well be a million miles away now. But she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. It must be about midnight already, maybe much later and close to the dreaded Thirteen O’clock!
Now that the Brethren had examined her they started chanting some ritualistic incantation and walking around her in an anti-clockwise direction. Widdershins, she thought. That word had always sounded sinister to her and it certainly would even more so in the future, if there was still a future for her!
Looking desperately around her she could see on the cliff top a dark and ruined tower. From the tower came the sound of a bell tolling the three quarter. Only fifteen minutes to go! Veronica started to think back over her life and all the wasted opportunities, especially her ultimate stupidity in rejecting Douglass. She knew she deserved to be punished for her sins, but wondered if this penalty were not, perhaps, a little excessive!
As she watched the men circling around her she thought how different this scene was in so many ways from the film she had just starred in! In the film, the Witches had worn animal masks and been otherwise stark naked. She preferred this get-up on the whole! Although she had developed a taste for baring her own body, she was none too keen about looking at some others! All of these guys looked somewhat over weight. Best cover the fat bellies up! Jeremy was a good looking guy, though, despite the fact that she couldn’t stand him, not now that she had her wits back. If he cared to disrobe before putting paid to her, she wouldn’t mind too much.
And then it happened. The clock up in the ruined tower began to chime. "Bongggggg!! One Bongggg! Two and so on - up to twelve. By the twelfth chime the chanting had stopped and the Knife was raised over poor Veronica’s stomach, soon to be ripped open. Jeremy was in the act of kneeling when there was a boom and a bright light came on, bathing the whole beach in a light as bright as day.
Jeremy stopped in the midst of aiming the knife at Veronica and slowly keeled over. The knife fell uselessly on her belly. Veronica became aware of shouting coming from the cliff top in which the word "Policía" seemed to figure. One of the other Brethren made for Veronica -apparently keen to pick up the knife and finish the job his leader had been doing, despite the fact that Thirteen had already struck. There was another shot and he too fell dead. Great marksmanship, thought an appreciative Veronica, who had done a bit of shooting herself in her African days before coming to a country where gun ownership was made so difficult.
At this, the remainder of the group ran off, no doubt hoping to find some other way off the beach, now that the ladder was crawling with dark uniformed figures, and one non-uniformed figure! A few more shots brought down a couple more and the rest meekly gave themselves up.
Soon Veronica was being untied and a cloak was put over her to hide her nudity. The man not in a uniform came up to her and put his arms round her. She could feel that he was crying as he kissed her.
"Douglass! Oh, my darling! How did you know I was here?"
"Let’s get you back to the hotel and checked over by a doctor, my angel. You’ve had a terrible time. I’ll explain later."
Back at the hotel, a doctor looked her over and said that she was fine but in need of rest. She was given an injection and put to bed. When she woke up it was mid-morning and Douglass was sitting by the bed.
"Now tell me how you came to be there and how the police knew what was happening to me!"
"Simple, my darling! I showed those pictures to friends. You know - the ones taken of you and the film crew. Well, one of those friends is in the FBI and he recognized Jeremy and warned me about him. He’s wanted in several states for ritual murder. He disappeared about a year ago and they’ve been moving heaven and earth to find him. He has a different name over there, by the way. Wayne Hollister, believe it or not! So I got on the first plane to Madrid and warned the police that this guy was taking part in your film. He ought to have been arrested days ago but there was some administrative foul up and we were almost too late. We turned up at the hotel to find most of your colleagues dead to the world. But, luckily, someone saw you and Jeremy go off together and the rest you know."
And so Veronica was rescued in the nick of time from the consequences of her greed and hardness of heart. She and Douglass flew back to England a few days later and in a week they were married. A few years later old Andrew passed away and left his business empire to Douglass whom he had adopted as his son.
It would be superfluous and maybe somewhat trite to say that Veronica and her beloved lived happily ever after, but I’ve got to think of some kind of ending and that seems as good as any.
THE END
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SDS
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Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Ok ive not read them all yet as that was quite a flood of stories! I'm assuming you've been working on them a while and just posted them to a new home!
Welcome to the board im sure you'll fit right in!
With love
SDS XX
Welcome to the board im sure you'll fit right in!
With love
SDS XX
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mikewozere
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Re: Veronica and the Deadly Sin of Avarice
Yeah, I'm not reading all that. Too much all at once!
Mike
My stories: https://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=44916.0
My MeWe account: https://mewe.com/mikewozere.67
My stories: https://ravishu.com/forums/index.php?topic=44916.0
My MeWe account: https://mewe.com/mikewozere.67
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