Part One:
2010 slipped into 2011 without incident; it was, however, a strange year. With my workshop knowledge, I was promoted to Bus and Coach supervisor and given various roles from engineering to driver training, and my hours varied. I bought an old van that I converted to a sort of camper and bought a seven-seater. Ellen, my wife, took on some home-based catalogue work but kept on her full-time job, and we had the prospect of moving into our first house.
Part Two:
My wife hosted one of those Ann Summers events. I’d forgotten about it, actually and had walked in when it was in full swing. Ellen had asked me if I could drop some of the girls off uptown or the train station or home. I was happy to do so. I had Charlotte, Sandra, and Louise and a couple of others. Louise was a strawberry blonde, a pale-skinned blue-eyed girl who was quite open-minded.
Dirty conservation continued in the car, to my embarrassment. Significantly, a few questions were asked, and Louise revealed her boyfriend didn’t like going down on her and only fucked her once or twice a month but wanted blow jobs all the time. Poor cow, I thought and felt sorry for her. Sandra said she couldn’t have kids and hadn’t fucked a guy for ages, and Charlotte, who I had some sexual banter with earlier in our kitchen said she might have sex with somebody she shouldn’t. It all meant nothing at the time but would come to mind later. In fact, two of them very soon.
Part Three:
The following Sunday had been poor weather-wise. Overnight rain and heavy winds had caused flooding in many areas and I had been woken early to help recover a couple of buses that managed to get themselves into trouble. I was glad to be finished and headed home along Brighton seafront. It was still windy, but the rain had stopped. The roads were quiet, thankfully, and very few people were about.
I saw the girl in the distance; she was walking at a fast pace. She was about five feet four and slim by the look of her and wearing jeans and a beige anorak. She was heading for the junction I intended turning into. She briefly looked back and increased her pace. A mirror check told me she was probably going to catch the bus in the distance. The stop I knew was just past the junction.
I wanted to see what she looked like and estimated we would reach the junction at the same time. I got there just ahead of her and was looking at her as I turned. I didn’t see the large floodwater and hit it, sending a torrent all over the girl. I braked to a halt and slid out the driver’s seat already hearing a barrage of foul-mouthed words coming from the girl.
I walked back and instantly recognised Sandra. She was dripping wet. Her jacket zipper wasn’t done up. She stared at me, calling me all the arseholes, and I deserved every word. I stood there looking at her as water dripped from her face and she calmed a little. At that moment, the bus passed and sent her off into another tirade. That was the last one that served her village and the next one was another hour, and that didn’t go all the way and she would have to walk three miles.
I took a bit more abuse then told her I was sorry of course and said I’d buy her a coffee and run her home. She angrily said it would take more than that. We got in the car and I put the heating on as she pulled her wet jacket off and put it in the back. I made tracks back along the seafront, but Sandra was still moaning about being soaked. Her jacket zipper had broken had her tee-shirt was wet.
I pulled in at a mini-golf course and got Sandra to look in my work bag. There was one of my old work shirts that she pulled out. We sat in the car and to my surprise, she pulled her tee-shirt off, revealing her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were firm and fair sized. I smiled remembering the camel-toe vision too and looked away feeling just a twitch in my pants. She pulled my shirt on and tucked it into her jeans. She placed her wet stuff close to the various heaters as I drove off.
There was a takeaway that was surprisingly open despite the weather, and I pulled in and obtained burgers and coffee while Sandra freshened up in the toilets. The rain began to fall again, and the wind started picking up. It was howling outside, and the rain belted down hard. I slipped off my jacket and gave it to Sandra and clutching our takeaways dashed to the car. We ate as we drove, and I was telling her about our new house that we were moving into soon.
When she’d finished eating, Sandy found her hairbrush and put her black hair up into a ponytail. I eyed her as we went along the coast road, and despite her teeth with braces and teenaged acne, she looked good. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, she looked so different from the scruffy and grubby girl I knew.
The wind was really picking up now and blowing the car around. I turned off the coast road, taking a road that would take us up towards her village close to Lewes. Sandra voiced her concerns about the weather. The rain was coming down so hard you couldn’t see a damn thing. We decided we should find somewhere to stop for a while until the rain reduced a bit.
I found a layby and pulled in. We sat and small talked, but something was in the air. I looked across at her pretty face and snatched a look at her breasts outlined in my shirt. I eyed down her body and looked between her legs. I remembered she’d made no attempt to cover her camel-toe when she knew I was looking there and today unconcerned about showing her breasts and the comment she hadn’t been with a guy for ages. I wondered if she had wanted sex with me. I wanted to find out, and the thought aroused me.