Then, as if her discomfort was not enough already, she heard the 'beep-beep-beep' of a reversing trash-disposal truck. "Oh, great", she thought, "Now some sweaty workmen are going to get a free show as well..". And as the beeping got louder, closer and more insistent.....
she reached out with a firm hand and bashed the 'stop' button on her bedside alarm clock.
Despite the coolness of her room, Caroline sat bolt upright in bed, hot and flushed, her cheeks burning as if the events she had just dreamed had actually happened. She wrapped her t-shirt round her upper body and tried to collect and collate her thoughts. Chapter two
Rich children are often described as having been born with a silver spoon in their mouths. For Caroline it was more a matter of having been born with a silver tiller in her mouth.
Caroline's late father had been a sailor and a boat repairer, and in the later years of his life a boat designer and builder, a pioneer of many innovations bringing boats into the electronic age, both in terms of their user features and in terms of their design and construction. His father before him had been an Olympic-class yachtsman, and a fervent supporter of ocean racing and endurance sailing. The sea, it could fairly be said, was in Caroline's blood. She had grown up near the sea, and many days in her years before her earliest memories had been spent on the sea. She had never lived any more than a couple of kilometres from the harbour, and while other girls as she grew up had aspired to travelling overseas, or the law or medicine, Caroline's natural direction had been to the sea and all things concerning it. Although there had never been any explicit statement of anyone's expectations, she was always going to graduate into the family business. Thus it was that she had gone to university to study Marine Engineering, while spending her time in semester breaks, and when she was not actually studying, at the family works at Chowder Bay, getting her hands dirty in the workshop in the myriad aspects of repairing and building boats. She climbed the same slippery and scary pole of CAD/CAM designing as her father, as he came to grips with technology's inevitable impact on the traditional family craft, and the design and construction of many types of vessels. She saw the ground-breaking advances these processes brought, and also witnessed the failures, seeking from them to learn how better to advance the craft. And as the four years of her studies stretched towards their conclusion, it was more inevitable than it had ever been that her life direction was to be in building boats, rather than the academic study of their design and construction. As her course had neared an end offers of postings within the faculty had been made, but her heart was in the workshop, and as flattered as she was to see her glowing academic qualities recognised, she knew that she was going to build bigger and better boats than her father, and make him proud of his daughter.
Caroline had never thought of herself as a girl, in the 'girly' sense, growing up. Neither had she been, however, the classic Aussie tomboy, playing football and climbing trees with the boys. She had ploughed her own, unique, furrow as she grew from childhood to teenage to young woman-hood. Although a pretty child, inheriting all her mother's classic 40s beauty, she had never, like many of her friends, been interested in her appearance. She had dressed up for the obligatory school formals, and had been somewhat bemused by the rash of sudden attention this had brought, especially from the boys, but apart from school uniform, she had worn whatever had fallen to hand. She had not, as some of her more adventurous peers had done, sought to 'enhance' her school uniform by tucking some of it under the belt, making it shorter, or, as she developed her maturing shape in early high school, dared to leave an extra button on the bodice undone, to afford a slightly better view of blossoming breasts. She was a modest soul, and even her highly-acclaimed academic performance did not encourage her to put herself forward and draw attention to herself. She had to be cajoled into accepting the role of school prefect, and then school captain. She had carried out both these roles with distinction and dignity, but never with arrogance or self-promotion. When she had been presented with the prize as dux of her school, as she prepared to go to university, those close to her on the stage swore she actually blushed with embarrassment.
While her female peers moved on into academia and the corporate world, adopting the business dress codes and trappings this brought, Caroline's usual mode was fibre-glass impregnated shorts, and singlet tops. Both, after a very short period in the messiest areas of the workshop, could almost stand up by themselves, and her work attire was replaced far more frequently than might have been the case with young ladies working in offices only a few kilometres away. Her changes were brought about by necessity, not fashion.
Boys, and men had only been an incidental part of her world. While the girls at school had competed with each other for the attention of their male counterparts, Caroline had been uninterested, although not unaware. She had had the usual crushes on a couple of the senior boys, but never more than as just the stirrings of her rite of passage from girl to woman. While several of her peers in their senior years boasted of their sexual activities, always very secretively, of course, Caroline was aware of what it all meant, partly scandalised, partly curious but mainly focused the career path she had set upon. Boys (and young men, more so) seemed to be a huge distraction, if the results of other girls' 'relationships' were to be taken as an accurate guide. Thus she passed from high school to university as a virgin, not because she necessarily wanted to stay in that state, but simply because there seemed to be better and less complicated ways to spend time. At university, however, she met Sally. Chapter three
Sally was unlike any girl Caroline had ever met, even the self-professed 'experienced' girls at high school. They at least had paid lip-service to the 'rules'; Sally lived and looked as if she didn't know they existed.
The two unmatched young ladies were thrown together in the very first class of their first year, and as fate would have it, since the lecture hall was already nearly full, they ended up sitting next to each other. Caroline nodded a conservative 'hello' to the person next to her; Sally Armitage, blonde, tall, and totally self-assured, grinned back and returned the greeting in a loud and friendly tone. Everyone turned to look at the source of the words.
An astute observer of social mores could have written a thesis on the snapshot the two girls sitting together afforded.
Although it was summer term, Caroline was conservatively dressed, as always, in designer slacks and a long-sleeved cotton blouse. Her feet were covered with the obligatory designer runners, and her hair was pulled back into a short pony tail, and secured with a simple pink ruffle. She would have blended into the most average of crowds.
Sally on the other hand, was wearing a tiny, red singlet top, with straps so thin that from a short distance they were almost invisible. The neckline was cocktail-dress low, showing a generous view of her tanned and perky breasts. Although she was wearing no brassiere, in a seeming triumph of style over gravity, they were as firm as if they had been supported. The top was teamed with an equally tiny pleated tartan skirt. Sitting down, (as she was when she 'announced her presence') it showed a generous expanse of her tanned thighs. The skirt was inevitably complemented by a pair of fire-engine-red stiletto-heeled shoes. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head in a seemingly-random, but carefully-styled swirl, and while a close observer would have been able to discern the expert application of her makeup, from just a short distance away her expertise succeeded in creating the illusion that she was wearing none.
Caroline blushed at the attention her companion had brought upon her, while Sally, for her part smiled radiantly, and winked at one of the young men sitting a few rows forward and below her. In an instant the lecturer had restored order and the moment had passed. Sally reached over a perfectly-manicured hand towards Caroline; "Sally Armitage; sorry", she whispered. "Caroline Dunster, that's okay", Caroline graciously replied.
As the lecture as breaking up, Sally whispered to Caroline, "I owe you a coffee". "No, that's fine, honest." Sally insisted, and strode off in the direction of the nearest watering-hole. Caroline followed in her wake; this girl sure knew what she wanted!
"Latte, cap, flat white?, Sally threw back over her shoulder as she neared the counter. "Skim flat white would be fine, thanks", Caroline muttered. Sally sashayed up to the young man behind the counter, leaned over as close to him as possible, and ordered the coffees. Given the generous view she had offered him of her tits it was somewhat of a miracle that the correct order arrived a minute later. Sally grabbed both cups and motioned Caroline to the nearest table.
"You get great service if you flash your tits at the boys", she began. "Do you ever do that, Caroline?", she asked. Caroline looked away in embarrassment, and took a sip of her coffee before quietly answering in the negative. "You should", Sally continued, "You look like you've got the goods."