This is a fantasy story. I believe it is perfectly OK to have sexual fantasies, even dark ones, so long as you never act on them.
I know that I occasionally refer to the young woman as a 'girl'. However all characters are 18+
It was a warm evening at the end of August, and Imogen had decided to take the scenic route home from college, through the allotments.
The allotments were on a long, narrow strip of land next to the railway line. People, mostly retirees, used their plots to grow flowers and vegetables.
It was after 7 p.m. and the place was almost deserted. She walked past an old man with a flat cap tending to his small vegetable plot, but that was the only person she noticed.
The land on either side of her was divided into little gardens. Some of the plots were overgrown, but most looked neatly tended. Some even had their own little sheds where the owners could store tools and shelter if it rained.
Imogen was just eighteen years old and from a well-to-do family. She wasn't a vain young woman, but when she had checked her hair and makeup earlier, she had had to admit that she was looking very pretty today. She was wearing a light summer blouse and a short skirt and she looked very fine.
The narrow path that wound through the allotments was one of her favorite places. There were birds in the trees and butterflies and insects darting about. It was an oasis of nature in the city.
As Imogen walked along, she suddenly heard a sharp 'tap'.
It sounded as if someone had tapped on a window to get her attention. She looked around, the tap sounded as if it had come from an old shed.
"Hello?" she called out, but there was no reply.
There was another 'tap', something small hit the inside of the shed window and bounced off.
She walked to the window and tried to peer through the dirty glass to see what was inside.
The shed was cluttered with old gardening tools, plant pots and bags of manure.
Then she saw it: there was a small bird inside sitting perched on the back of an old chair. It was trapped inside the shed.
The owner must have shut it in and not realized. It looked like a sparrow and Imogen felt her heart go out to the poor frightened little thing.
She could not see anyone around that she could ask for help. She considered walking back to the old man that she had seen earlier, but this wasn't his plot so he probably wouldn't be able to do anything that she couldn't do herself.
Imogen checked around the front of the shed, but the door was firmly padlocked.
She couldn't just leave the little bird trapped in there. It would die of thirst or beat itself to death on the glass.
The shed was a rickety looking construction of random bits of wood probably pulled out of builders refuse skips. The window was an old sash style window.
Looking through the glass, she could see that the window's latch was open; It was closed but not locked.
Maybe she could slide it open? She spread her fingers on the glass of the lower frame to get some purchase and managed to work the window up about an inch. Now she could slip her dainty fingers under frame the and slide it up.
With the lower part of the sash window open she hoped that the bird would realize that it could now escape.
Imogen stood aside, so as not to scare the bird, and waited.
There was a clunk. The stupid little thing had tried to fly through the glass of the upper window.
She looked inside, but she couldn't see the little bird anymore.
Imogen stuck her head inside and finally spotted the bird; It was motionless on the
floor of the shed between a couple of bags of compost.
It's little body looked so pitiful that Imogen thought that she would cry. But then she saw that its chest was moving.
It was breathing, still alive but unconscious.
She just had to save it. Imogen pushed herself through the open window head first. She was a petite young woman and couldn't quite reach the bird were it lay. She stood on her tiptoes to work her way further inside, her fingertips were now millimeters away but she just couldn't quite get it.
She pulled herself through a little further so her hips were resting on the window frame, her feet could no longer touch the ground. She worried that she would get her cloths dirty, but that could not be helped.
She stretched forwards and finally managed to gently grasp the little bird with one hand.
She carefully brought the little creature up have a closer look. There was no blood and nothing seemed broken.
Suddenly the bird woke up. It started to panic in her hand, fluttering and cheeping and trying to get away.
Thinking quickly, Imogen reached back, pushed her hand outside of the window and let go of the bird. There was the fluttering of little wings and then it was gone.
She had done all that she could and hoped that the bird would recover. Now she had to think of a way to extricate herself.
She could only just touch the floor of shed with her fingertips and that gave her almost no way of pushing herself backwards through the window. Maybe she should let herself slide fully inside and then get out head first. That might work.
She was about to try and slide inside when the sash window was pulled down onto the small of her back, pinning her in place.
"Got you!" snarled an old man's angry voice.
------
Tom was in a bad mood. He had been ill and hadn't been able to tend his allotment for a few weeks. Weeds had already overrun his carefully planted rows of vegetables. What was worse was that some bastard had concealed a cannabis plant between his tomatoes.
Tom had been a young man in the 'swinging 60's' and knew what marijuana looked like. Did they think that he wouldn't notice? Some vermin from the local council estate had used Toms land to feed their drug habit.
He would show them.
He pulled up the plant by its roots and tossed it into his wheelbarrow.
It was almost dusk and he had had enough for today. Tom grasped the handles of his barrow and started to wheel it towards the exit.
His barrow was full of weeds that he would dump in the communal compost heap along with the cannabis plant. It also contained his precious gardening tools.
He had a little shed on his allotment, but it had been broken into and his tools stolen twice last year. Now he had to lug his tools to and from home with him each time he visited.
He thought about calling the police about the cannabis plant, but why bother?
Two years ago, he and his friend Bill had caught two teenagers spraying graffiti on a wall. He had called the police, but the police had said they were 'too busy' to come out for something so minor and that he should let them go. They had even given him a stern warning; that if he took matters into his own hands; it would be him in court facing a judge.
He had had to let them go. The teenagers ran off laughing, giving him the finger as they ran away.
In retrospect, Tom wished that he had taken off his belt and given them both a damn good thrashing, no matter the consequences.
This country was going to shit.
He saw movement ahead. There was someone's legs hanging out of the window of his friend Bill's shed. Tom was furious, the thieving scum were stealing his friends tools.
He hurried forward, grabbed the sash window frame and slammed it down on the bottom of the intruder. Pinning them in place.
"Got you!" he snarled.
