Chapter 10

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 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!