Free Neighbourhood Watch by Lisette Ashton Page B

front of a one-bar electric fire, or do whatever else it was that old people did when they closed the doors of their nasty little houses. But, to her surprise, Tom headed in the other direction, trudging deeper into the View. She strained to see where he was going but her window wouldn’t allow her to see any further on her own side of the road than number four. Quietly cursing him she scoured the opposite side of the street in search of something interesting to watch, anything that would take her thoughts away from the grim calculations she had made on the notepad by her armchair.
    The telephone continued to ring.
    Before moving to Cedar View, Tanya had spent her evenings in front of the TV set, watching the soaps and greedily devouring other people’s lives. The fact that her own life lacked the excitement of television drama was not something she often dwelt on. But she had regularly wondered why, if the soaps were supposed to reflect some sort of reality, they never showed someone like herself, sitting in front of a TV and living her life vicariously through a series of poorly scripted programmes.
    Not that she watched soaps any more. Now that she lived on Cedar View there was always something more interesting to see than there had ever been on the most entertaining of soap operas. Her gaze flashed across the road to number three.
    She scowled at the pristine front of the Smiths’ house, despising the couple even though she barely knew them. Mrs Smith had a snooty way about her that made Tanya feel instantly inferior. She supposed the woman was probably that way with everyone but for some reason she suspected that Jane Smith was particularly aloof towards her. Her scowl deepened as she remembered Mr Smith, perpetually standing on the front doorstep with his high-and-mighty cigars, occasionally glancing in her direction, never once bothering to give her a smile. She could feel her mood darkening as she glared at the neighbours’ unlit house. Quickly, she switched her gaze further up the street to number five.
    A light shone in the front room of Joanne’s house, as well as in the hall. Knowing her neighbours, Tanya realised this was a sign that Joanne was out for the evening. She sniffed with disdain at the transparency of those who lived on Cedar View. Her contempt escalated as she stared at the water feature over the koi carp pond in front of number five.
    Joanne was a bitch to work for. Tanya cleaned the woman’s house twice a week, polishing the stupid laminate floor, squirting polish on the pretentious leather settee and getting her bottom spanked every time Joanne found something out of place. Tanya’s hands went to the substantial flesh of her backside and rubbed the memory of the most recent sting, sure that the punishment had been undeserved. A mantelpiece ornament had been put back facing the wrong way. Joanne had got out her crop, Tanya had been commanded to bend over and show her bare backside, and Joanne had administered six swift and punishing stripes, giggling as she delivered the blows. Tanya, as usual, had been confused by the thrill of pain and pleasure. Being spanked or striped was a disconcerting experience. Her body invariably reacted to the punishment with a rush of sexual anticipation. Every time her bare backside was caned she could feel her sex growing wetter and her nipples turning hard and needy. She had been surprised to discover that even being spanked by a woman inspired those responses, and she had been frustrated to find that Joanne had no interest in helping her explore further the urges she awoke. After each punishment session at number five, Joanne instructed her to finish the cleaning properly and then disappeared for half an hour to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
    It didn’t help that Joanne was a demanding employer who wanted her house transformed into a show home. Yet, no matter how much polish and spray Tanya put down, there was always a strange smell lingering around the