James Sherwood
DARK MINDS
By various CWSA authors
Chapter One- by James Sherwood
Veronica Fox stepped from the shadows of the dark street, pulled her baseball cap down to shield her face from the dim glow of the streetlamps and walked across the road toward the house opposite. The lights in the front room had just been turned off and a window at the side of the building had lit up.
She stopped at the driveway entrance, scanned the street in both directions, carefully opened the gate and crept toward a path that ran along the side of the house. The front veranda was dark but she could see that the parcel she had left at the front door earlier in the day was gone, no doubt picked up by the occupants. Veronica had recognised the sender’s post office address and she had a good idea what sort of merchandise was inside the parcel. She had delivered similar parcels to other addresses.
She followed the path to the lit window. She was in luck. Whether in haste or carelessness, the curtains had not been fully closed and a triangular gap at the bottom allowed her a view of the room inside. The occupants weren’t worried about anyone seeing them; the window looked out onto the brick wall of the neighbour’s house. She saw a King size bed, made up with black satin sheets. She smiled and continued on toward the rear of the house, where she looked into the back garden. By the light of the full moon, she could see it was littered with broken furniture and rubbish. There was no sign of her arch enemy – a dog. She was prepared for such a confrontation, though, with a bolus of meat in one pocket of her leather jacket and a pepper spray attached to her belt.
Veronica returned to the bedroom window. She could see nearly all of the bed in the brightly lit room. She turned her cap around, so the video camera mounted at the back faced forward and positioned it so that what she saw with her eyes was in the camera’s field of view and settled down to wait. Presently a woman appeared. She looked to be in her forties, with curly black hair and, other than black stockings, she was naked. Veronica smiled and switched on the video camera.
A man entered the room and Veronica had to stifle a laugh. He was wearing women’s underwear – bra, corset, French knickers and stockings and, Veronica saw as he jumped onto the bed, a pair of red pumps. Very nice. She leaned close to the window. Her contacts at the internet chat sites she frequented would pay good money for this video.
The couple wasted no time and began cavorting on the bed with the woman on top. Veronica watched keenly, her hand over her mouth and nose so as to not steam up the window glass. After a while, the woman got up and said something to the man, who rolled onto his front. The woman laughed and slapped him hard on one buttock, then bent and picked up four sets of padded handcuffs and proceeded to fix him to the bed frame. Veronica guessed what was coming. A riding crop appeared in the woman’s right hand and she set about whipping the man’s backside, at first playfully and then vigorously and with a look of concentration on her face.
Veronica was distracted, her heart beating rapidly and her breathing fast and shallow and she missed the noise of the dog at first. The second time it came, a low, snarling growl, she started and pulled away from the window. Damn. She turned her head to the right very slowly and as her eyes accustomed to the dim light, she saw, protruding from under a rose bush, the snout of a German Shepherd. It growled again and barred its teeth. A thick drop of saliva glinted in the moonlight.
Who the hell keeps a dog like that without a fence? She slowly moved her left hand to the pocket which held the meat, extricated it from its plastic covering and tossed it onto the ground in front of the dog. It bent its head, sniffed at the meat, then straightened and snarled at her.
Veronica shook her head. Ungrateful pooch. Try anything and it’s the pepper spray for you.
At this point she realised the noise from inside the bedroom had ceased. She looked through the gap in the curtains. The woman, either having heard a noise or by instinct, was frozen in mid attack, staring at the window, her right arm in the air.
Time to get out of here.
As Veronica hurried toward the street, two things happened. The woman in the bedroom began shouting and the dog pounced. Veronica was level with the front veranda when she felt the leg of her pants gripped and tugged, pulling her to a stop. She looked down to see the dog with her right pants leg firmly between its jaws. She pulled the pepper spray from her belt and gave the dog a blast, which elicited a high pitched whine, but no release. Shit. She shook her leg hard but the dog was firmly attached. Its loud whining echoed through the night. Veronica kept moving, dragging the dog out into the middle of the front lawn.
The veranda light snapped on and the front door was thrown open. The woman, now wearing a pink nightgown and still holding the riding crop, appeared. She stomped across the veranda and lawn and started hitting Veronica with the crop.
“Pervert,” the woman shouted. “Bloody pervert.” She rained blows onto Veronica, who tried to shield herself with her left arm, while still attempting to shake off the dog. When the crop found a patch of bare skin on Veronica’s neck, she let out a cry of pain.
“Ow, that hurt.”
The woman stopped. “What?”
Veronica took advantage of the lull by giving the woman a short dose of pepper spray. She dropped the crop, clapped her hands to her face and screamed. Veronica juggled the spray into her left hand and karate chopped the dog, behind its head, with her right hand. It yelped, opened its jaws and fell like a stone.
Sorry doggy. Veronica pelted across the lawn, jumped the low brick fence and ran along the footpath, her arms and legs working like a steam train. Veranda lights came on at other houses and the woman’s screams seemed loud enough to wake the dead.
Veronica crossed roads and turned corners, heading for her delivery van. After a few blocks she stopped and leant against a telephone pole, breathless and sweaty. The air was full of the sound of barking dogs. She realised she had left the video camera running. No matter, she thought as she switched it off, the extra footage would bring a better price for the recording. She doubted the couple would be calling the cops.
Her breathing and heart rate quickly returned to normal and she made her way to the quiet side street where she had left her van. She climbed in and started the engine. She looked over her shoulder and smiled before pulling away from the kerb and heading home. The rear of the van was empty, ready for the next consignment of parcels to deliver the next day.
Her working week had ended well, despite the dog and the riding crop.
By various CWSA authors
Chapter One- by James Sherwood
Veronica Fox stepped from the shadows of the dark street, pulled her baseball cap down to shield her face from the dim glow of the streetlamps and walked across the road toward the house opposite. The lights in the front room had just been turned off and a window at the side of the building had lit up.
She stopped at the driveway entrance, scanned the street in both directions, carefully opened the gate and crept toward a path that ran along the side of the house. The front veranda was dark but she could see that the parcel she had left at the front door earlier in the day was gone, no doubt picked up by the occupants. Veronica had recognised the sender’s post office address and she had a good idea what sort of merchandise was inside the parcel. She had delivered similar parcels to other addresses.
She followed the path to the lit window. She was in luck. Whether in haste or carelessness, the curtains had not been fully closed and a triangular gap at the bottom allowed her a view of the room inside. The occupants weren’t worried about anyone seeing them; the window looked out onto the brick wall of the neighbour’s house. She saw a King size bed, made up with black satin sheets. She smiled and continued on toward the rear of the house, where she looked into the back garden. By the light of the full moon, she could see it was littered with broken furniture and rubbish. There was no sign of her arch enemy – a dog. She was prepared for such a confrontation, though, with a bolus of meat in one pocket of her leather jacket and a pepper spray attached to her belt.
Veronica returned to the bedroom window. She could see nearly all of the bed in the brightly lit room. She turned her cap around, so the video camera mounted at the back faced forward and positioned it so that what she saw with her eyes was in the camera’s field of view and settled down to wait. Presently a woman appeared. She looked to be in her forties, with curly black hair and, other than black stockings, she was naked. Veronica smiled and switched on the video camera.
A man entered the room and Veronica had to stifle a laugh. He was wearing women’s underwear – bra, corset, French knickers and stockings and, Veronica saw as he jumped onto the bed, a pair of red pumps. Very nice. She leaned close to the window. Her contacts at the internet chat sites she frequented would pay good money for this video.
The couple wasted no time and began cavorting on the bed with the woman on top. Veronica watched keenly, her hand over her mouth and nose so as to not steam up the window glass. After a while, the woman got up and said something to the man, who rolled onto his front. The woman laughed and slapped him hard on one buttock, then bent and picked up four sets of padded handcuffs and proceeded to fix him to the bed frame. Veronica guessed what was coming. A riding crop appeared in the woman’s right hand and she set about whipping the man’s backside, at first playfully and then vigorously and with a look of concentration on her face.
Veronica was distracted, her heart beating rapidly and her breathing fast and shallow and she missed the noise of the dog at first. The second time it came, a low, snarling growl, she started and pulled away from the window. Damn. She turned her head to the right very slowly and as her eyes accustomed to the dim light, she saw, protruding from under a rose bush, the snout of a German Shepherd. It growled again and barred its teeth. A thick drop of saliva glinted in the moonlight.
Who the hell keeps a dog like that without a fence? She slowly moved her left hand to the pocket which held the meat, extricated it from its plastic covering and tossed it onto the ground in front of the dog. It bent its head, sniffed at the meat, then straightened and snarled at her.
Veronica shook her head. Ungrateful pooch. Try anything and it’s the pepper spray for you.
At this point she realised the noise from inside the bedroom had ceased. She looked through the gap in the curtains. The woman, either having heard a noise or by instinct, was frozen in mid attack, staring at the window, her right arm in the air.
Time to get out of here.
As Veronica hurried toward the street, two things happened. The woman in the bedroom began shouting and the dog pounced. Veronica was level with the front veranda when she felt the leg of her pants gripped and tugged, pulling her to a stop. She looked down to see the dog with her right pants leg firmly between its jaws. She pulled the pepper spray from her belt and gave the dog a blast, which elicited a high pitched whine, but no release. Shit. She shook her leg hard but the dog was firmly attached. Its loud whining echoed through the night. Veronica kept moving, dragging the dog out into the middle of the front lawn.
The veranda light snapped on and the front door was thrown open. The woman, now wearing a pink nightgown and still holding the riding crop, appeared. She stomped across the veranda and lawn and started hitting Veronica with the crop.
“Pervert,” the woman shouted. “Bloody pervert.” She rained blows onto Veronica, who tried to shield herself with her left arm, while still attempting to shake off the dog. When the crop found a patch of bare skin on Veronica’s neck, she let out a cry of pain.
“Ow, that hurt.”
The woman stopped. “What?”
Veronica took advantage of the lull by giving the woman a short dose of pepper spray. She dropped the crop, clapped her hands to her face and screamed. Veronica juggled the spray into her left hand and karate chopped the dog, behind its head, with her right hand. It yelped, opened its jaws and fell like a stone.
Sorry doggy. Veronica pelted across the lawn, jumped the low brick fence and ran along the footpath, her arms and legs working like a steam train. Veranda lights came on at other houses and the woman’s screams seemed loud enough to wake the dead.
Veronica crossed roads and turned corners, heading for her delivery van. After a few blocks she stopped and leant against a telephone pole, breathless and sweaty. The air was full of the sound of barking dogs. She realised she had left the video camera running. No matter, she thought as she switched it off, the extra footage would bring a better price for the recording. She doubted the couple would be calling the cops.
Her breathing and heart rate quickly returned to normal and she made her way to the quiet side street where she had left her van. She climbed in and started the engine. She looked over her shoulder and smiled before pulling away from the kerb and heading home. The rear of the van was empty, ready for the next consignment of parcels to deliver the next day.
Her working week had ended well, despite the dog and the riding crop.