It was my brother in Law Tony who provided the gun and I blame my my wife Caroline for loading it. Caroline's younger sister, Sarah -- Tony's wife -- made herself a very obvious target, but in the end, I was the one who pulled the trigger:
Tony crashed his car in early September, not seriously, if fact little more than a bump, but it bent the car's torsion bars; don't worry, I haven't a clue what those are/do either. Tony being Tony, said car wasn't the everyday set of wheels that most of us drive, but some Classic Nissan sports car which he'd bought online and had imported from Japan,
So, while Tony's car was eminently repairable, because it had only been built for the Japanese domestic market, some parts needed to be sourced and imported from Japan; with those torsion bars proving the major hold up... Out of stock they had to be made first and would be five to six weeks before delivery; in the end it was eight weeks before they arrived.
A bit of a pain for Tony and Sarah, but not quite a long enough delay to warrant buying another car to tide them over. It was decided that Tony would use Sarah's car to get to and from work, while she would walk to and from the office, until the Nissan was back on the road. Sarah cheerfully reporting " A two mile walk twice a day will be good for my legs and waistline."
While that had sounded a good plan on a balmy evening in September, it wasn't working quite so well when the darker-nights, lower temperatures and rain arrived in October; autumn arrive early this year too. Sarah continued to walk when the weather allowed, but if it didn't, it fell to me to give Sarah a lift in the mornings, with Caroline doing similar in the evenings.
Generally, it wasn't much of an imposition on either of us; the times of my departure and Caroline's return coincided fairly well with each of Sarah's and it was a detour of only a couple of miles, so perhaps an extra ten minutes. There was the occasional day when either my own or Caroline's schedules changed but we shuffled things around to cover those.
Caroline managed to 'load the gun' on the very first morning that I was picking Sarah up: "Sarah's just messaged to say that she'll walk up to the main road and wait for you on the corner of Pierce Street. You'd better not drive too slowly along there... We don't want you getting arrested for kerb-crawling."
That set us both laughing and I was still smiling about Caroline's comment when I pulled up beside Sarah at the roadside five minutes later. I leaned across to open the passenger door, and affecting the / best east-end of London/Wide-Boy accent that I could muster, enquired: "'ello Darlin... Ya lookin for business?"
Sarah took it in good part and wearing a huge grin of her own, placed a hand on one hip, struck a provocative pose and in an equally coarse accent replied "So wotcha offerin luv... A ride for a ride?"
That first exchange set the tone for that and future journeys; with me invariably implying that Sarah was a hooker plying her trade on the streets and she playing up to the suggestion. We shared some rather risqué conversations during those car rides, with Sarah usually being the one who skirted closer to the line than I did.
That did come as a surprise, as compared to Caroline it's Sarah who is the more... reserved sister. On one occasion, when I was collecting Sarah from work in the evening, rather than Caroline, she pushed our running joke even further. I suspect that the encroaching darkness and the absence of any of her work colleagues -- I was fifteen minutes late -- helped fuel Sarah's teasing:
Rather than immediately climbing into the car when I opened the door, Sarah Pulled open her knee-length raincoat, struck another of those salacious poses and lewdly enquired "So wadda yer fancy tonight luv... If the price is right I'll do anyfink ya want." I rocked back in my seat, and sat there totally dumbstruck as Sarah climbed in beside me.
Beyond Sarah's words and the provocative pose, was the display that her opened coat had provided: The sweater Sarah had worn that morning was gone, to reveal a silky-looking, burgundy blouse... That was unbuttoned almost to her navel! Besides which, Sarah had rolled her skirt up around it's waistband -- like the girls did in my school days -- raising its hem to sit several inches above her knees.
Beyond those, Sarah's gaping blouse exposed the lacy edges of a somewhat darker coloured burgundy bra; while her hem-line was raised sufficiently to attest that Sarah was wearing stockings rather than panty-hose. It would've been a raunchy sight at any time, but sprung on me so unexpectedly and by Sarah of all people...
Sarah was laughing the whole way home, I think she was as much amused by my gobsmacked response as by her own proposition. Not only was I fairly quiet during that journey; I was also the one now glad of the evening's encroaching darkness... It helped to hide my raging erection! Though not Sarah's panties; her skirt had ridden higher still when she sat down.
After dropping Sarah off that evening, I made a further stop before arriving home; pulling into a secluded lay-by I whacked-off while picturing Sarah's gaping cleavage and that tantalising flash of her panties. After that evening, our flirtatious game eased-off significantly; I suspect we both wondered if they had strayed a little too close to the precipice?
I was drafted in for another evening pick-up some three weeks later, Caroline had phoned to advise that she'd had a puncture, was still in Leeds and would be home very late. Caroline phoned again just as Sarah was getting in beside me, to report that the breakdown company couldn't source a replacement tyre; so, as she was working near Leeds again tomorrow, she'd get a hotel room for the night.
Having overheard the conversation, Sarah chimed in with: "Don't worry Carrie, Jon can stop off for dinner at ours before going home... He'll probably starve to death if he has to fend for himself."
"Cheers Sarah, I'll be there for you tomorrow night as usual."
"It'll only be for a few more days now. Tony got word today that those torsion bars have arrived; the garage reckon his jet-powered roller-skate will be back on the road by Friday... Monday at the outside."
"Good News... We'll talk tomorrow."
When the call ended Sarah enquired "So what would you like Jon; Pasta, Pizza or a Chinese take-out... Nothing with chips and I don't like curry?"
"Entirely up to you Sarah, I'm good with anything that I don't have to cook myself... It'd have been a take-out otherwise."
Our conversation during the drive back to Sarah & Tony's contained even less double-entendres and suggestive comments than usual; we were both very... adult, for a change. As we pulled up in the driveway Sarah was quick to get out, advising "I need the bathroom.; I'm bursting for a pee. Set the oven on five to pre-heat and grab yourself a beer from the fridge."
Contrary to the girls' suggestions, I'm not totally incompetent in the kitchen; if the oven was going on I'd guessed we were eating pizza. I was sat in the lounge with my beer when I heard Sarah coming back down the staircase -- I'd guess it was five or ten minutes later -- and head directly into the kitchen.
I couldn't see Sarah, but I called out to her through the open door: "I've turned on the oven, but I'm thinking that if Tony's not back until his usual half-seven, it'll be too early for putting the pizzas in for a good while yet."
"I've had the same thought so I've turned it down a bit. We'll eat later Jon... Much later." There was nothing unusual in what Sarah had said, but the tone and pace of her words caught my attention. Sarah's follow-up came from much closer -- the kitchen doorway -- and confirmed that feeling. "Nothing to do with Tony mind... He's staying over in Manchester tonight."
Turning towards the sound of Sarah's voice, my heart skipped a beat in the same way and for the same reason, that it had that first evening outside her office. That was one helluva a transformation in under ten minutes! Sarah had changed her clothes, her hair and her make-up too and was now standing with her back leaning against the door frame, with one leg raised and her foot resting against it too.
A provocative pose in itself, but the look that went with it was mind-blowing: Sarah's chestnut hair was now in a wild -- though no doubt carefully coiffed -- mane tumbling over her shoulders; she was wearing heavier and gaudier make-up than I'd ever seen her in and FFS Sarah had even found time to apply a bright scarlet gloss to her fingernails!
And then of course there were the strappy, fuck-me sandals and the dress Sarah was... almost wearing. A black, strapless number, cutting straight across Sarah's chest at a point which almost but not quite, hid the beginning of her cleavage. The hemline was every bit as high as that which Sarah had displayed with her rolled skirt the other week, but boasted side-splits besides.
I've no idea what fabric it was made from, but certainly man-made. It was shiny and obviously stretchy; it clung to Sarah like a second skin... Hell, that friction was the only thing that could possibly have been keeping it up! Above all, Sarah's dress looked cheap... in every sense of the word and would've transmitted that characteristic to any woman who was wearing it.
Sarah had looked raunchy that first evening outside her office, but this... it positively screamed Tramp! Whore! Jezebel! Slut! Take your choice, or feel free to select your own. We stared at each other in silence for many seconds before Sarah spoke; she did so using her own, rather than that affected... Hooker's voice and that seemed to make her words sound more arousing rather than less.
"See anything that you like the look of Jon?"
"Oh Yes... I like all of it." I stared for a few more seconds before making to get up from the couch.
"Nooooo! You stay right where you are... The only thing you need to be reaching for is your wallet."
That certainly threw me. "My wallet?"
