Chapter 8

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 marvellous 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 greying 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.