Watching Father George
"Aunt Tillie, can you drive a little faster please? I really don't want to miss my train."
"Alright my dear, hold on."
My Auntie Tillie gunned the engine of her 1961 Corvette Stingray, and I felt my body pushed back against my seat. We we're doing ninety when we exited the highway, but as luck would have it, or in my case more bad luck, as we drove onto the city streets, we ended up behind a Morgan Hill police cruiser doing the speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour.
My aunt chuckled, "Oh shoot, that's bad luck Maddie."
I cursed under my breath, "Fuck, fuck...fuck!"
I took a few seconds to compose myself and then looked over at her, "I know Aunt Tillie, this hasn't been such a great day for me."
We pulled into the train station parking lot at 8:01 pm, with my train just pulling away from the loading platform.
"Oh dear, I am sorry Maddie. The next train won't be along for another two hours. Would you like me to stay with you while you wait?"
I leaned over and gave her a warm hug, "No thank you Auntie. That's sweet of you to offer, but I'll be fine by myself in the waiting room."
As I was exiting her car my aunt affectionately rubbed my cheek, "When you get back to your apartment you should take a shower dear. You're a bit niffy."
Good old Auntie Tillie is always painfully honest with me. That's one of her traits that I admire, she isn't afraid of telling me the truth, even if it's a bit embarrassing.
I'd just started working on my Masters Degree in Psychology at San Francisco State University in the hopes this would lead to a successful career in counseling. Like most college students, money was tight, so when my aunt called and asked me to help out with an outdoor wedding reception that she was catering Saturday afternoon I readily agreed. A plus was that I would be working behind the bar serving bottles of ice cold beer and pouring glasses of red and white wine. My uniform consisted of a black leather skirt that came to midthigh, a long sleeve white dress shirt with a black bow tie, and a shiny black vest. It had been a very warm day which caused me to sweat profusely, but it was worth it. When the reception was over at six o'clock my tip jar was full, and not just dollar bills.
My boyfriend Randy was supposed to pick me up at six thirty with a change of clothes for me. We'd made plans to drive directly to Carmel for a romantic getaway at a cozy bed and breakfast with a view of Monterey Bay. I'd even gone to the trouble and pain of having my pubic hair waxed. But at six forty-five Randy called and said something had come up unexpectedly, and he would not be able to pick me up. He suggested I take the train back to San Francisco and he would meet me at the station. Naturally I was pissed off at him, but I became ten times more angry when I heard a woman's voice giggling in the background, and the sound of a zipper being pulled down, and then the woman's voice whispering.
"Shit Randy, you're really big" followed by some slurping sounds, and then, "but it's ok, you're not too big for me."
I was livid, "Who the hell are you with, Randall?"
I could hear him rustling around for a bit before he answered, "That's just my sister...um...Jane. She wanted to surprise me and flew in from London."
Randy had never mentioned a sister named Jane before, so I was naturally skeptical of his explanation.
"Well, what a nice surprise. Can I say hello to... Jane?"
There were more rustling sounds in the background before he answered.
"Um...no. She just went to the bathroom. I think she's going to take a shower."
I wanted to ask him if she was going to be alone in the shower, but I held my tongue. Recently I'd been having doubts about Randy's commitment to our relationship. He'd been getting text messages on his phone at weird hours, and he was being very protective of his phone and laptop computer. In the back of my mind, I had the sinking feeling that he was cheating on me, and this phone call just confirmed my suspicions. I decided right then that I would dump him, but I didn't want to do it over the phone. I made an excuse and ended the call.
I mumbled under my breath "What a jerk! What a fucking jerk! You asshole!! I waxed off my pubes for you, you prick!"
I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. I wanted to get even with him and thought, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander. If that asshole is going to fuck around on me, I can do the same damn thing to him."
My aunt was nearby, and I think she could tell what was going on. She walked up to me and I could see she was concerned.
"Is there a problem Maddie?"
I looked back at her, "Nothing I can't take care of Aunt Tillie. But do you think you can give me a ride to the train station? My ride home just crapped out on me."
"Oh, that's a shame dear. We can leave in about twenty minutes. Is that ok?"
I checked the time on my phone.
"Yeah, that should work, but it'll be close."
"Well in that case I'll just have to finish up as quickly as I can."
"You're a sweetheart, Aunt Tillie."
***
The train platform was deserted. The majority of passengers are weekday commuters headed to work in San Francisco or Silicon Valley. I made my way to the waiting room, which was a pleasant surprise as there was a cozy fireplace with some easy chairs and a comfortable sofa. Since it was the middle of summer there was no fire. I took a seat in one of the easy chairs with a magazine that was three months old.
A few minutes later a well-dressed man in his mid-fifties came in carrying an expensive brown leather briefcase. He acknowledged me by nodding his head and murmuring that he'd missed his connection. I smiled back at him and went on to explain that I shared his plight.
"Well, it looks like your day is going as badly as mine Sir. I've missed my train by one lousy minute."
"I see. That is bad luck Miss. It looks like we're both having a crummy day. You have my sympathy."
He seemed to be a very nice older gentleman. He picked up one of the magazines which was about four months old and took a seat on the sofa. We were both bored out of our minds. After a few minutes of trying to concentrate on the article I was reading I finally gave up. I looked over the top of my magazine and noticed that the gentleman was peeping over his magazine and it was obvious that he was trying to look up my skirt. His free hand was pushing down onto his crotch. I had to will myself not to giggle at this inappropriate behavior. When he realized that I'd spotted him he became agitated and tried to explain his actions by muttering a lame excuse.
"Your skirt is very short, young lady."
I wasn't sure how to respond to this. I simply nodded my head before explaining my attire.
"These are my work clothes. I was tending bar at a wedding reception at the country club. The guests seemed to like how I was dressed."
He looked me in the eye, judging my demeanor. Then he smiled, "Yes, I'm sure they did. You're a very attractive young woman. That skirt suits you quite nicely."
I enjoyed the complement. Though this gentleman was easily thirty years older than me, I felt strangely attracted to him. For the longest time I've had "Daddy" fantasies. I knew many of my girlfriends shared this fantasy too, of being intimate with an older male authority figure. The situation felt surreal to me. He looked to be in good health and his full head of grey hair made him look distinguished. Without even really thinking about it I leaned forward and grabbed the magazine out of his hand.
I could see that he was about to protest, so I gave him my warmest smile and looked him in the eye. He smiled back at me. We maintained eye contact for a few seconds. Under normal circumstances this would have become awkward, but I felt at ease with this man. But then I looked down at his crotch and there was a pronounced bulge indicating his aroused state. He was starting to look nervous, but he could see that I wasn't threatening, but that I was curious. I've never seen a man do it to himself properly in front of me, and I decided to take a chance.
"Do you want to do it to yourself?"
As soon as I said it, I felt my face becoming warm from embarrassment. What on earth was I thinking?
He was still nervous and didn't answer at first, and there was a horrible silence for a minute or so.
Then he took a deep breath and asked, "Do you want to watch?"
I think we both felt a bit out of control and were moving on blindly. The consequences were terrifying.
He said cautiously, "I can't risk getting caught."
The secrecy was so exciting. I couldn't understand my own actions.
"I can't risk getting caught either. The way my day is going I'd end up getting arrested for public indecency."
He breathed heavily and muttered, "I like your uniform. It's nice and short. I like small uniforms on big girls like you."
I smiled at his confession. It was so honest and heartfelt.
The station was so clearly deserted that I said, "There's no risk. No one will come in here this evening, and we have over an hour until the next train comes."
He sighed and squeezed himself and tried to look to his side at my legs, but it was awkward. It was the sort of crazy situation that I, and many girls and women I suppose, had thought about so often late at night in bed or in the bathroom. Suddenly all the boredom had vanished. I could plainly see the excitement on his face. I felt as if I was in a dream.
I remembered what he'd said about my work attire and murmured, "So you really like my uniform?"
He nodded, so I went a bit further.
"Do you like big girls in small panties?"
He gasped and wriggled. I continued to probe.
