Taylor and Kate Stories

Sometimes one gets an idea for a quick little story that in other circumstances might be inappropriate. This is one of those, written to see where it might go.

A month ago I would never have considered writing it, because Taylor was a work colleague who I caught up with one day a week, when I went into the office. Normally I worked from home because the office was on the other side of town, and as part of my contract negotiation I'd said, I'm not prepared to do that every day. My consultancy contract has come to an end now, as I knew it would, so Taylor is fair game for my erotic proclivities. I'll never see her again, so in my mind's eye, I'm going to see a lot more of her than I did.

She'd been recruited into a commercial role, the company looking for fresh blood. Nowadays that means someone with several two to three-year gigs under their belt, with aspirations. Maybe their career was progressing, or maybe they'd just done the same job three times. When you don't know them, a LinkedIn profile only tells you so much.

Anyway, here's Taylor:

"Who's the chickadee babe you're with?" I'd seen Taylor's phone screen as she scrolled through to find a search result, or some family pics, I don't know. Something. One of the girls was Taylor. Because she's a millenial, that's what they do, live in their phones. I assumed the other woman was her best friend forever.

"She's my sister."

There's a surprise! I took the phone from her, and she let me study the photo. It showed two young women, both with long blonde hair, and I could see the family resemblance. Lovely wide smiles, bright eyes. Probably only a year or two apart in age.

"Your older sis, huh?" Remembering that Taylor was in fact the older sibling, from an earlier conversation she'd forgotten. "She's a bit of a honey."

I caught the pout, not talking about Taylor. I waited the two beats while she realised what I'd said, inferring she looked younger than her, admittedly, very attractive younger sister. The flush on her throat, that's always so gorgeous, arrived, along with the fingers subconsciously twisting her hair. I glanced quickly down so she knew I was looking at her body, then back up to her face to hold her gaze. She held mine. The flush was ever so faint at the top of her chest. Of course she knew it was there, her give-away tell.

"I bet your mum's attractive, too." Still not talking about Taylor. "How does your dad cope, with three gorgeous women in the family?" I figured if there was a third sister of a similar age, she'd be in the photo too, taken in a pub or a bistro, judging by the background and the off-kilter angle. Possibly a younger sister or a brother, or maybe just the two girls. Their parents must be a good looking couple, because these two young women...

She looked at me, again catching up with my words, and realising, as if for the first time, we were at work, and this flirting was probably inappropriate.

"My god, you're Mister Smooth!" She'd realised where her hand was, toying with her hair, and she knew I'd seen her flush. "I'm the oldest," she said, finally bringing the conversation back to Taylor, which is where it had been all along.

"I knew that." Her smile was the sweetest thing, there in the office, as we went on to talk about something else. Work, obviously, but the conversation got tucked away, as some conversations do.

Just before I got up from the chair beside her, to go see someone else, I said, "I bet your dad called you Taytay, when you were little."

"My dad? How'd you know that?"

I smiled. I was right, she's her daddy's favourite little girl.

The next week when I dropped by to see her, always there on the Wednesday, Taylor was wearing a slightly lower cut top, still corporately correct, but one that gave her discretion with buttons. The valley of her slight cleavage was shaded by the faintest band of freckles left over from summer, and she wore a new shade of lipstick. She wore contact lenses - not her usual glasses - and sometimes they irritated her eyes.

She wore a little too much makeup, but at least she knew how to apply it. A blusher kind of a girl, not pancake. She had a lovely heart shaped face, big eyes and full lips, perfect toothy teeth, and her blonde hair fell in waves. Blow dried in the morning to get the curls. An extra bit of vanity in the effort, which definitely paid off. She was an attractive young woman who carried herself with a certain poise - a little self conscious but she knew her best angles. She could walk in high heels too, with assurance. Not every woman can do that.

I imagined her on the morning commute, putting her face on at traffic lights, the woman in the car next to mine. I love seeing that, the complete self-absorption of a woman putting on her makeup. It's always for her, or other women, when it's done like that. A man's reaction matters much less. Unless she glances over and catches you looking. That's when women know they're worth watching, might be worth knowing. Cars drive away though, and you can't really follow.

The week after that, Taylor was wearing a dark grey pair of well cut suit pants, and a shirt tied at the front with the shirt-tails in a loose knot. A little band of bare belly, just an inch, showed enticingly when she straightened her back. Her skin was pale and looked soft. Maybe she wore a one-piece rather than a bikini, or maybe she didn't swim much at all. Her breasts were quite small, cupped neatly in a plain white bra. Or so I imagined, seeing only the curves of her cleavage and the crease of the bra-strap on her side.

The difference in our ages could be attributed to mentoring, not desire, but was in fact a combination of both. "I should suck your brain out," she said. "You've got so much experience."

"Are you willing to learn?"

She looked at me with the young woman's appraisal that she had, weighing up this and that. "Maybe."

"Or instructed?"

"Perhaps we should wait and find out."

"That's why I like you, Taylor. You're such a tease." I winked.

There was the faint flush again. Ooo, she was gorgeous!

"Can I buy you lunch one day?" Being circumspect had gone on long enough. Why wait, when she was so tempting?

"Was wondering when you'd ask."

"Not today, though, I'm busy."

And there's the pout! Too busy for Taylor? Who the fuck do I think I am?

I knew she was shaking her head as she watched me walk out the door.

I came later that night, thinking of Taylor. I chuckled, when my thoughts coherently came back to me, wondering if she'd progressed to that point in her mind yet. Teasing me out with her fingers.

The next week I sent her a text on the Tuesday - how about we meet at the Boathouse tomorrow, down at the Lakes? -

- sure, bout 12:30? -

- yep fine with me -

On the day it was raining gently, and I got wet walking the block from where I'd parked, ducking in and out under the awnings of shop fronts and office blocks. When I say office blocks, I mean real estate and small tax accountants, the Lakes being a glorified set of suburban shops more than anything else. I used to go there often, twenty years before, when the Boathouse Café really was down by the lake, before anything else got built.

I arrived before Taylor and found a table by the window, looking out over the concourse of wet dripping umbrellas, and the murky brown water beyond. I could pretend the place still had its charm, but really, it was a plain twenty-twenties bistro. But the food was okay, when I'd reminded myself of its existence a couple of months before. Before Taylor arrived.

She came in, saw me by the window, and hurried over. I stood up to welcome her, and her lips brushed my cheek with a kiss.

"Bloody rain," she said. "Don't have an umbrella in the car."

Her hair was bedraggled, wet around her face. She brushed it back through her fingers to give it back some body. Some water flicked on my face.

"Oops, sorry!"

"It's not your fault it's raining. No need to apologise."

No need at all, because what Taylor didn't realise, or if she did, she was silent about it, was that the blouse she wore was transparent when it got wet. Her plain white bra was low cupped and visible, the blouse clinging to it. The nubs of her nipples, being wet and cold, showed through both layers of cloth. They were surprisingly dark, for a fair skinned, fair haired girl.

She touched my hand to accept my forgiveness, even though there was nothing to forgive. Then she sat back and asked, "Why'd you choose here?"

"No-one from work to see us, to gossip. It's not worth the hassle."

Taylor looked at me with her appraisal, then nodded. "You've done this before, haven't you?" Her smile, as we both entered into the moment, was exquisite.

"Can't deny it. Several times, over the years."

"That's good in a way," she said, "because you know what you're doing. Whereas me..."

Taylor really was young and aspirational, and willing to learn.

"If I had my umbrella, would you have noticed? It's not that cold." She sat back to let me examine her breasts. Not naked yet, but no less nice for her arousal.

"You'll dry off soon, and get warmer," I replied. "Then we'll both know for sure."

"Oh, I know for sure, already." I was now fully appraised, and like any good commercial manager, she'd done her value for money calculation, and knew what she wanted. "Shouldn't we order?"

Seduction is like dancing, it's all about timing. The turns and the lead, who goes first.

We ordered meals and some wine. "Just one. It's lunchtime, we're driving," I said. Taylor agreed, and we chose a half bottle, a Chardonnay, to share.

"That's useful," she said, "that we have the same taste. I enjoy a red, too."

We did a little knuckle punch over the table, joint minds and all that; but equally, we'd established that we weren't beer and champagne tastes setting us apart. I didn't have the same confidence for movies, though, and I knew that our musical tastes would be two different worlds. I wouldn't even go there.

The meal, surprisingly, was very good, and Taylor's company even more enjoyable because of that. Her blouse dried, and the visual treat of the clinging cloth disappeared, so I focused on her mouth and her eyes. There was a little flickering thing she did when making a point she believed in - she touched her right cheekbone with her right forefinger. She'd slowly ran that finger down her cheek towards her mouth, but never quite get there. The movement held a promise for later. She wasn't always in a hurry. That was peaceful and I will say, unexpected.

"Your nails," I said, the finger trail drawing attention to them, "are amazing. They're always perfect."

Taylor smiled. "It's my regular treat, a manicure. Tracy is excellent. I used to chew them, something terrible."

"What changed?"

"Getting a job in an office. They're just the right length now. No clicky-clack on the keyboard. Also..."

She paused, licked her lips, but left the thought unsaid. But there was the flush on her throat again, ever so faint.

"I think," Taylor said, quite deliberately, "I think I'll have another glass of wine."

"Aren't you driving?"

"No."

They talk about male gaze and men not being subtle, and here Taylor was, broadcasting. My cock stirred and thickened.

"The wine's Dutch courage. I don't do this. I've never done this."

Taylor looked at me and her eyes went huge. "I know you won't hurt me, and anyway, I'll call Kate."

"Kate?"

"My sister. She's always doing this. Well, she talks about it, but it's mostly bullshit. She's younger than me, always been wilder, but at the same time, she's sensible. Daddy was more protective with me. First born daughter, you've heard all about that, I'm guessing?"

"Taytay?" Daddy.

"You got it. Kate's always saying, 'Christ, Tay, you got the daddy thing again?'" She laughed. "I've told her a bit about you."

"Which bit?"

"The best job in the world bit. That must have been incredible, working with those people."

Again, Taylor segued into two conversations: the spoken words one and the parallel world one where the hooks were in and I didn't want to escape.

Her second wine arrived, and she gave me a sip before taking a very unladylike slurp. "I'm not easy," she said, "but I am decided." To convince herself? She put the glass on the table and ran her fingers around the top. Her lipstick kiss was on the rim. "Seeing you only once a week, that's what did it."

"What, missing me?"

"No. Wondering what the fuck you were doing, and who with, and why it wasn't with me."

She was so refreshingly honest. Taylor's world really was all about Taylor.

"God, will you look at that?"

Taylor tilted her head to the outside world. The dripping umbrellas in the forecourt were flapping wildly and rain was coming down in sheets. "I'm going to get drenched," she said. "How far's your car?"

"A block. I'm sorry, I don't have a jacket to put over your head. We can wait for the rain to stop."

"I don't think so. I reckon it's setting in. I'll ring Suzanne, tell her I'm stuck in town and I won't be back in the office. If we go back to yours, can you bring me back later, for my car?" Taylor was a practical temptress. I might get behind the wheel, but I had no doubt who was driving.

"Will you excuse me? Three wines. I need the loo."

I watched her as she walked away from the table, admiring her ass. More of a slink than a sway, but it might have been tables too close together to walk easy. When she came back a few minutes later, I noticed her breasts moved differently, less restrained. Same number of buttons undone, so maybe it was a trick of the light.

She stood by my shoulder and rested her hand on it. To take possession or to know that I was really there, not a ghost? I don't do this.

I got up, left a tip under a plate for the waiter, and went to the counter to pay. Taylor insisted on paying her share. When I protested, she shoved thirty bucks into my shirt pocket and said, "Don't you dare."

I touched her arm, just as earlier she'd touched mine. She reached for my hand and squeezed it. Little gestures from Taylor - not all on the phone. I liked that.

We went out into the street and were immediately blasted by the driving rain. She huddled right up against me for some sort of shelter, and we hurried to my car. When we got to it she said, "My god, will you look at me. I'm soaked through to the skin."

She was, and the sway of her breasts earlier was now explained. While she was in the ladies, she'd taken off her bra. The transparent cloth had returned in the rain, showing every curve of her breasts. Her nipples were erect from the cold.

"Like what you see?"

"I do, but I've got a towel in my swimming bag. Get in, and dry yourself as best you can. Won't take long to get some heat into the car. You're shivering."

For a moment, she looked like a little girl lost. I leaned down and opened the door, and she quickly slid into the seat, then looked back up at me. "Men my age don't do that."

"Some women don't want them to."

"This woman wants them to. It never occurs to them."

I liked the way Taylor called herself a woman, but it was sad no-one had given her the simple courtesy of opening a car door. I went around to the driver's side, and reached onto the back seat for the swimming towel. I passed it to Taylor, who undid four buttons very quickly, and wrapped it around her breasts and belly.

"Thank you for that. Dry myself out some, even if the blouse is still wet."

She reached up to towel her hair, and I caught a glimpse of a dark nipple. The blouse was open between her breasts. She had a quick sense of propriety, clutching the two sides together with one hand, while she wrestled with her hair.

"Why am I hiding?" she asked. She no longer cared what I saw, as she used both hands to dry her hair. Of course she cared, else why take the bra off back there in the bistro? Perhaps she liked the sensation of bare nipples and cloth, perhaps she liked my gaze. Taylor dried her hair, then handed the towel back to me. She didn't bother doing the buttons back up, but her breasts were hidden when she fastened the seatbelt over her chest.

"You know when you're driving, and a bus or truck pulls up next to you, and you see people looking down? I've often wondered if I gave them a quick flash, what they'd do."

"Drive beside you for a while, I reckon," I replied, starting the car. "Will you do it, one day?"

"I might. If I'm brave enough."

"Who would know?" I asked.

"Knowing me, my old school principal, or Mrs Thehan from the local library. She's a real busy-body. Someone I work with, by mistake."

"Someone you work with, no mistake?"

Taylor laughed. "I don't think there's accidents around you." Her eyes went wide again, the awakening realisation, what was happening.

Wait," she said. "Let me ring work first, before you move into traffic."

Suzanne answered quickly. Taylor looked into my eyes as she made up her story. She was efficient. "Be in tomorrow, as usual." She ended the call.

"Convinced?" I asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't she be?" Taylor was still looking right at me, her eyes wide. "Usually, I'm a terrible liar!"

"Maybe. But a beautiful smile, when you do it."

She blushed, and was so lovely when she did so.

"How far's your place?" she asked.

"About an hour. Time to back out, if you want to."

"Are you kidding? I'll want you more, by the time we get there."

I touched her cheek with two fingers, continuing the trail to her lips. Taylor smiled, and for the first time she visibly softened, no longer wearing a mask. I'd been attracted to the public presentation of Taylor, but this gentle intimacy, as she let me in, was sensuous. She was brave and shy, simultaneously.

I put the car into gear, and pulled away from the kerb.

"I'll call Kate, let her know what I'm doing. Where I am. Who I'm with. When I'll be home."

Taylor had a checklist of things to get through, to tick off, during the call. When I'll be home?

"Do you both still live at home, with your parents?"

"We do. Me and Kate, our mum and dad." She scrolled down the screen on her phone. "Does it matter?"

"No. It explains my place, though."

"Was I presumptuous?"

"Well planned, more likely." It possibly explained a whole bunch of things, if I went looking for meanings, which I occasionally do.

Taylor grinned, pulled her blouse close to her chest again, and pressed her beautifully manicured finger onto the screen to call Kate. I half heard the conversation, or heard half the conversation.

"Hey babe...

"Just finished a lovely lunch.

"With Adam.

"Adam, the guy from work who I told you about.

"Yes, that Adam.

"This and that. Work stuff mostly." She put her finger to her lips, sshhh, it's a lie. There was a long silence from her end, and she looked straight ahead as she listened.

"God no, Kate!

"I didn't!"

She looked across at me, her eyes narrowing. At that moment, I changed down a gear to slow for some lights, and the car made the characteristic burble from the exhaust that WRX's do. Kate must have heard it too.

"Blue.

"It's a blue car. I don't know." Taylor turned to me. "She wants to know what kind of a car this is."

I told her.

"It's a blue Subaru Rex.

"With a manual gear stick, yes.

"She's asking if she can drive it one day."

I nodded.

"He says you can.

"I don't know when. Can you even drive a manual?"

There was another long silence, in which presumably, Kate explained that yes she could, insisted that Taylor find out a good time for her to go for a drive, and what was the name of that painting of the picnic?

"Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe.

"That would have to be you." The naked woman, I guessed.

"God, Kate, I don't know!"

She looked at me. During the call Taylor had forgotten about her half naked breasts, and one was peeking enticingly from under the cloth, the dark nipple erect. She saw where I was gazing.