Falling in love again
Author's Note: This story is Part 1 of a longer more complex romantic and sexy Lesbian Love Story.
The following Parts and these Chapter's, of this Series, and the universe it occurs in overall only exist in the mind and imagination of the author. This will be a slow burn, with details that some may find non-essential, but I feel are necessary for the story to flow. If you seek some instant gratification this may not be the best story for you. On the other hand, if you like a slow romantic story, involving two or more women, you may want to read it through to its climax. [Pardon the pun]. This Chapter contains elements of family life and warm and gentle people. I ask that you please read no further if you are seeking a rather sexy, wild lesbian romp.
Reader discretion is advised.
Applicable Tags: Older/Younger, Virgin, Romance, Female Sub, Oral Sex, Novel/Novella length. The story is told in the first person.
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© 2023 Arking & RDKing, All Rights Reserved. Duplication of this literary piece without the expressed permission of the author for any purpose is prohibited.
Chapter One.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Candice Higgins, and no, no one gets to call me Candy. Not ever.
I am a gay woman in my 30s, well ok late thirties, but not yet showing any signs of getting close to the BIG four O. Single, yet again, it seems being monogamous isn't something I have perfected. I think I am in love with the idea of being in love.
I do not flaunt my sexuality, nor do I hide it. I keep everyone on their toes in that regard. I am flirtatious, with both sexes and yes have gone out with the occasional male just for their company. No, I don't encourage them, nor do I expect them to pay for me, but don't get offended if they insist.
I am tallish over 5'8". My hair is red, and I still have a few freckles which I use to my advantage. My green eyes sparkle, I drink moderately, eat healthily and do a soft easy exercise daily. I walk, jog, and I normally end up down at a local exercise pod, I end up doing some chin-ups, reps of ten. I think I go there for the scenery. If you get my drift. All the muscle boys there try to impress me, but if they only knew. I work hard in a gym at least once a week. To amuse myself I undertook various self-defence classes, achieved a black belt in karate and at different times in my life boxed as an amateur, I even entered three tournaments, two of which I won and the first being knocked out inside the first round. My brothers, all of whom I am close to keep telling me I am an overachiever.
My parents are aware of my lifestyle choices and are both supportive and loving. My brothers always commented that my girlfriends were a darn sight sexier than any young woman they seemed to go out with. I laid the law down early, they could look but don't touch and I would respect their relationships as well. I mostly adhered to my rules, but that's another story. There was a competition, between my brothers and me at one stage to see who could bring home the sexier-looking girls. It was always the other brother who 'scored' the girls out of ten. Alright, it wasn't the most honest thing to do and some of our dates did find out and rightly were offended. Safe to say I was way out in front when our Mum put a stop to it when she actually found out what we were doing. Plus, we three got the dressing down of our lives and were told in no uncertain terms just how cruel and callous we were. Our excuse at the time was, well we had no excuse, none that floated with Mum or Dad.
I consider myself a sexy person, I dress accordingly. I don't try and go over the top but am not too shy to flash some leg or undo a top button to reveal my ample wares. If it is to my advantage either in business or pleasure.
Yes, let's talk about business before we start in on the pleasure side of things, which I am certain is why you are all here.
I am an accountant by profession. Once I achieved my degree, I continued my studies and became a CA ANZ. I did actually work for an accountancy firm. The majority of their clients were in the construction field, both large and small, near and far. It bored me to tears and fighting off lecherous older married men and occasionally their wives, pushed me into looking for alternative employment.
I did give a thought to going into the finance sector as a broker, as my older brother suggested, but after he sat me down and explained in some detail what was required, I knew it wouldn't suit me. But his advice did help me garner an interest in stocks and shares.
I gambled a small amount of some hard-earned savings and after even a short time, six months, I had made a modest, very modest actually, profit. I found that I was rather good at researching businesses that were on the way up. Investing in them early and hanging onto them long enough to make a small but worthwhile profit. Caspian my eldest brother who does this for a living, suggested I consider doing it seriously rather than just 'playing' at it. I laughed him off, for me this was a bit of fun.
It was while I looking to reinvest some of my modest profits, reading some Construction Monthly magazines, and being in between employment positions, that I came across a small local construction company seeking a part-time bookkeeper. It was a locally owned family company and was meant to be a father-and-son type of business but the son had a bad habit of drinking then driving home. One night he didn't make it home. Since then the father lost a lot of his desire to build the company and just kept going and doing enough to pay his employees and sub-contractors. The company had a lot of potential but the fire had burnt down in the old man and was now just a pile of glowing ashes. It was a touching story and an opportunity for me.
I rang for an interview, speaking to an older woman, Martha, who turned out to be the 'mum' of the company, and wife and partner of the owner. We chatted and basically, we did a very simple interview over the phone. They weren't paying much, so they didn't get many qualified people to apply. But the money wasn't my main concern, keeping busy was more important to me.
We hit it off very well from the get-go, she had a delightful sense of humour and we talked for about an hour and not one word was said about the job, or what it entailed we just hit it off. She asked me to talk, silly woman, it is something I majored in at school according to my school reports, just about myself and what I was doing and why I wanted the job. I just told her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. When she asked about my social life, again I didn't try and cover it up, my sexuality that is, I said I was single and when she asked why, I told her I hadn't found the Ms Right yet. She didn't miss a beat, she just told me to hang in there and that when she came along I would know and that was that. She seemed to be so much like my own mother. So I got the job, sight unseen.
I dressed for my first day at the office, as I would any other office. My first mistake. It seems being a pretty woman with long legs and short dresses, with an ample pair of bosoms, draws plenty of attention from the paid employees, regardless of where you work.
I met Mum and Dad, the owners and parents of the son they set the business up for and now deceased. Dad or Mr Patrick, as I insisted on calling him, even though they wanted a more informal arrangement. We reached a compromise, so we settled that they would call me Candice, and I would refer to him as either Mr Patrick (if he was in trouble) or Paddy as he was referred to by everyone else. And Mum was just Mum, to everyone and she was fine with that. Not ideal for me but I soon adjusted to their casual and very warm working environment.
Now, the 'office' it turns out was an old detachable portable building. Mum apologised for the state of it. Up on blocks, it hadn't seen a cleaner like ever, and even dusting down the seats and desks I was to use, didn't help one little bit. After that first day onwards I dressed in just a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, minimal makeup. 90 per cent of the time I was there alone in any case, so no one to try and impress.
My second mistake was parking in the construction yard. I drive a night-time deep blue, Mercedes CL 600. One of the perks of working for a large accountancy firm. I had bought it two years earlier, brand spanking new. I loved and cared for it like a newborn kitten, and like a kitten, it just purred. The four hours parked in the yard, it picked up two scratches, a small dent, and a couple of dings. All attributed to no one. Everyone just shrugged their shoulders, when I asked who did it. I parked in the street from then on. I paid for the repairs out of my own pocket, it was cheaper than claiming my insurance. The excess on the insurance was a killer but I preferred it that way.
The books were in pretty good order, taxes were paid, and the worst of their debts were only 90 days out, not a disaster by any stretch of the imagination. These were good people, honest, hard-working and with a civic pride to help where they could. Sure, making a profit was important, but it wasn't their driving force. As long as they had enough for an annual holiday, some savings for the future, an emergency fund 'just in case' and all of their employees were well paid and looked after.
