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!
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!
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?
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.
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!
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!
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!"
"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!