“She always walked to work.
With her dress flats in her large bag and a good pair of walking shoes.
Normally, she'd take the tram on days like today.
She doesn't any more.
Now she puts rubber booties over her sneakers and walks to work.
Besides, the tram was always overcrowded on rainy days.
Once, too many times, a stranger had groped her backside.
She never knew who exactly but someone always seemed to have a slimy smile.
The last straw was when she turned around one day.
Behind her, grinning, was a woman.
Now she always walks to work.”
'Meredith'
As always, today she had walked to work.
On a crystal clear day such as this, warm and sunny, the hills of San Francisco never looked so beautiful.
Without a cloud in the sky there was no need for rubber overshoes or an umbrella in fact, all she had was her dress flats in her large, cotton shoulder bag. She didn't even need a jacket over her thin summer, bright yellow, knee length cotton dress. Her large, oversized plastic sunglasses kept the glare from dazzling her deep brown eyes and her large, floppy brimmed straw hat prevented the hot sun from burning her head.
Despite the oversized accessories, she was herself quite petite, just five feet and two inches in her sneakers and slightly built. She was slim and although her breasts were small they were perfectly formed with nipples that were quite excitable for the smallest of reasons.
She was never happier than when she walked in the warm, California sun with her long brown hair swinging from side to side as she skipped along the sidewalk like the girl in the Silverkrin advert.
But, that was this morning.
As her working day neared it's end the sky had clouded over and was ominously dark, the air becoming heavy and oppressive.
She had left on the dot of five and had only been walking about ten minutes when the heavens opened and the rain began to fall so heavily that in no time at all the brim of her hat was sagging and her thin dress was so wet that it didn't look yellow any more as it clung to her flesh.
She didn't mind the rain, she was after all only twenty-two, but she still had another thirty minutes at least and her shoulder bag was not waterproof.
Her smile was gone as she squelched along the soaking wet road and when she looked down for a moment she wished with all her heart that she had not chosen that day to leave her bra at home.
The fabric was clinging to her body like a wet glove and her excitable pink nipples were almost crying out, 'look at us!'
Another five minutes walking along Powell Street brought her to an intersection with Washington Street and as she waited patiently for the 'Don't Walk' light to change a street-car squealed around the corner. For a very short moment she considered running to jump aboard but the memories of her previous experiences and the fact that it was bursting at the seams with passengers kept her glued to the sidewalk.
The light changed and she followed all the other dejected pedestrians across the wide road.
The tram had stopped to allow an exchange of passengers and as she walked past she didn't dare look at it, so conscious was she of her predicament. The last thing thing she needed was to catch the eye of some leering man who was probably ogling her as she passed. She didn't feel that she could have felt worse if she had been naked.
As the tram picked up its cable and moved away up the hill ahead of her she became aware that the rain was no longer falling on her even though the torrent had not eased.
She looked up.
“You looked so unhappy,” a friendly voice beside her said. “I hope you don't mind my intrusion.”
The voice belonged to a very attractive, elegant, middle-aged woman with flame-red hair who was holding a large golfing umbrella over them.
The girl smiled glad, at least for a moment to be free of this incessant downpour.
“Do you have far to go?”
“No, I...” the girl paused, something inside telling her that there was no need to pretend. “Well, yes, I suppose I do really. A little way yet.”
The woman smiled.
“I have an apartment just over the road. Why not come over and dry out, maybe give the rain a chance to ease and, if it doesn't then you can borrow my umbrella. How does that sound?”
The girl tried to protest, pointing up the hill towards her distant home but her nipples were yelling out at her her as they strained against the thin, opaque fabric, their excitement clearly visible.
Since the woman had not once taken her gaze from the girls face she relented.
“Thank you,” she replied. “That would be nice.”
Without another word spoken between them they walked back to the intersection and crossed over. A few more steps up the other side and finally through the glass door of the apartment building where the woman turned and shook the surplus water off her umbrella before allowing the door to close.
It wasn't a smart lobby, just a standard, everyday kind of entrance and on the elevator door was a notice, 'Out of Service'.
“Damn it, not again,” the woman cursed gently. “It's a good thing I don't live on the top floor.”
The girl smiled and waited whilst the elegant woman opened her mailbox which was in the centre of a group of identical boxes set into the wall behind the entrance door.
She wasn't sure why but the girl began to shiver. Perhaps it was because she had come out of the warm rain and her wet dress was cooling or for some other, inexplicable reason but the woman noticed.
“Oh, My Dear, look at you. We had better get you dried off before you catch a chill.” She pointed up the nearby stairwell. “Second floor.”
As the girl climbed the stairs her dress clung to her like a second skin and her sneakers squelched with each step. She was conscious of the woman following her and she knew that she could see every curve of her body and yet, somehow, she felt at ease and she smiled to herself.
Every step she took left a trail of water droplets surrounding the imprint of the sole of her shoes and whilst she waited for the woman to find her key, a small puddle formed on the floor.
The apartment was nice. Spartan but nice. The door opened into a living room which was furnished with just one large sofa and a small TV. On the far side she could see a small kitchen diner and off to the right were two closed doors.
The woman smiled.
“It's small but I call it home,” she said.
“It's nice,” the girl replied through chattering teeth.
“Thank you but oh, look at you.”
The woman's eyes lingered on her shivering form and for the first time, at least that the girl had noticed, looked at her nipples which suddenly became more excited than ever.
Before she passed any further into the apartment, the girl removed her sneakers slipping them carefully off her dainty feet so not to leave wet shoe marks on the spotless floor but her short ankle socks with the yellow frills to match her dress were equally soaked so she took those off too and entered barefoot.
Behind her the woman watched the wet foot prints of her delicate feet appear on the polished wooden floor for just a couple of steps before they faded and smiled.
“There are some towels in the closet in the bathroom,” she pointed to the furthest closed door and paused for a moment. “If you wish you can take shower... to warm yourself... if you want to...”
The girl hesitated, unsure. She suddenly realised that she was with someone she didn't know, alone with her in her apartment and... “Yeah, right,” she thought to herself, “You're not in some Hollywood B-movie. Stop being so paranoid!”
“If you are sure you don't mind...”
“Not at all,” the woman replied as she took the girl's shoes and hat. “Take your time, relax. I'll put some coffee on.”
Above the wash basin was a large mirror and the girl studied herself for a minute then shook her head. She looked awful! Her long, chestnut hair was straggly and hung in strands clumped together and her mascara had run down her face leaving long black streaks on her cheeks as though she had been crying. No wonder this kind lady had taken pity on her, she thought.
Reaching behind her she pinched the zipper at the back of her sodden dress and pulled but it wouldn't budge. It was so wet that she couldn't grip it securely enough to stop it bending.