Aunty With Driver
Kay stopped. "You like my legs, James?" I nodded, even though she wasn't looking. "What do you like about them?"I wasn't sure how to play this. What was acceptable banter and what crossed the line? I frantically searched for something to say. Something neutral yet flattering."Your muscle tone."It sounded shit the moment it tumbled from my mouth and I wished I could take it back. I could hear the smile in her voice. "My muscle tone? Nothing else?" She took another step. The base of her panties, smooth and yellow like lemon curd, became visible clinging to the lower curve of her wonderful bottom and framing it. Best piece of artwork I'd ever seen. "How about now?" Kay…" there was both warning and pleading in my tone."Yes, James?" She looked back over her shoulder and I traced my gaze up every sumptuous arc to reach her eyes."We're-" Adults? Neighbours?" No," I shot back. "Well, yes. But you shouldn't. We shouldn't."Kay seemed amused. "Shouldn't look at each other? Why? Do you not like. “It might be something and nothing, a valve sticking, but it might be something serious.”And so it was, after work on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, Faith came to drive onto the forecourt of the garage. The mechanic was called Derek, and he was an old friend of her uncle’s. He’d reluctantly agreed to look at it and at least diagnose it for free, so the young girl could decide if she could afford to fix it. Her part time job at the local supermarket inbetween her studies didn’t pay much and anything over £50 would see her going without food this week.She’d not met Derek before, but as a heavyset balding man with a spreading gut straining his overalls came out of the doors, she recognised him from her uncle’s description. She wound her window down, and greeted him cheerfully.“Drive it up onto the ramp then,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Let’s have a look.”Faith drove it up onto the ramp and stepped out, skirt riding up a little, grabbing her handbag. She was a pretty girl,.
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