Faye and Brianna

{if Faye = 0}

You recognise Brianna. She’s in a sports top for the local football team, that although baggy doesn’t hide her breasts, and jeans that hug her long legs. You don’t recognise the other one, though. She’s an older, bustier, shorter woman, with a freckled face and long ginger hair. She’s in a green turtleneck jumper, that hugs her figure, and jeans that are equally tight. She’s talking to Mrs Peterson, although she’s watching you with her green eyes. They’re all watching you.

“You must be Brianna’s aunt?” you suggest. She smiles and nods and hold out her hand.

“Yes, Faye Ollins. Pleasure to finally meet you. Brianna’s told me all about you.” She holds out her hand. You take it. “Mrs Peterson tells me she’s got a load of rubbish to take to the dump, but your car can’t hold it.”

{else}

It’s Faye and Brianna. Faye’s wearing a green turtleneck jumper, that hugs her figure, and jeans that are equally tight. Brianna’s in a sports top for the local football team, that although baggy doesn’t hide her breasts, and jeans that hug her long legs.

“Mrs Peterson tells me she’s got a load of rubbish to take to the dump, but your car can’t hold it.”

{endif}

“Yes, she’s got a big CRT TV and a large metal filing cabinet. I could probably get the TV on the back seat, but there’s no way I could get the filing cabinet in. It needs at least an estate.”

“Just as well I’ve got one of those then, isn’t it?” She points over to her house, where there is a large station wagon sitting in the drive. “VW Passat Station Wagon. My job is organising corporate events, and even though it’s more organising people, you don’t know how many times it’s turned into picking up necessities at the last moment. That’s why having a large car like that comes in handy. Let’s have a look at the problem.”

Mrs Peterson leads you back into her place, and back to the spare room. Faye has a look at the filing cabinet and the TV. “Yes, I could fit them in my car.”

“But we’ve got to get them downstairs.”

“Between you, me and Brianna, we should be able to get them there. Brianna and myself aren’t as weak as we look, as long as you take the majority of the weight.”

You don’t want to argue with them, so you agree. You first tackle the filing cabinet. It’s not as heavy as the TV, just more awkward. You take the lead, and the majority of the weight as you descend the stairs. Faye and Brianna hold the top. You’re probably taking too much weight, but you’re not going to raise that. Once downstairs, you ask for a rest, which the two women are happy to give. While you’re resting Faye drives her car to the Peterson’s drive. Then the three of you tackle the filing cabinet, loading it in. Yes, it fits. She has a very large boot.

Next, it’s the rest of the junk, half-empty and dried up paint pots, a few planks of wood, a few non-identifiable electronics. Faye and Brianna help you empty the room and fill both cars.

“You know where the dump is?” Faye asks.

“Vaguely.”

“Well, follow me. Oh, and before you go, make certain you have something that shows you’re local. Council tax bill, or utility bill or something. You can’t use the dump unless you’re local.”

You grab some documentation. Then get in your car.

“Can I come with you, sir,” Brianna suggests. “I know the way. If you lose track of Aunt Faye, I can show you.”

You can’t say no to that. Brianna jumps into the passenger seat, and you set off. It’s just as well that Brianna’s there, because Faye drives like a maniac, and you quickly lose her. You are nowhere near as reckless as she is. You stick to the speed limit. And it’s not like she gains anything by driving that fast and jumping traffic lights. When you pull up to the dump there’s a queue and she’s the car ahead of you.

{if Ginger > 0}

Sitting in the queue, you can’t help but feel Brianna’s eyes on you. During the drive she’s spent most of her time looking your way. It made your skin itch. It was a distraction you didn’t need. Now you’ve got nothing else to concentrate on and the pressure of her presence is overwhelming.

She’s there. All feminine. Her perfume fills the car. It teases inappropriate thoughts. Don’t look over. No, you need to look over. Ignoring her is more a clue of the ideas roaming your mind.

Looking over just makes them worse. It’s the way her seat belt nestles between her breasts, emphasising their plumpness, their roundness, their size. Her brown eyes are pools of brown eroticism. No-one’s ever looked at you like that before. Not even Samantha when you started dating.

And the monster in your trousers is responding. You can’t have that. Brianna might notice. Brianna has noticed.

You freeze. Brianna freezes. She slowly licks her lips. Then she raises her gaze to look you in the eyes. You shiver to hold back your desire.

“Brianna…” you begin. But what do you say? What can you say?

“Sir, is that because of me?”

Her hand reaches out. She leans forward, and the seat belt digs into the canyon of her cleavage. Her hand gently brushes your thigh. It approaches the point of no return.

The beeping of a horn breaks the spell. The queue has moved on. You’ve not. And the entrance to the dump is clear.

{endif}

There’s men in bright yellow tops marshalling the cars into the dump. They ask for proof you’re local. They ask what you’ve got. Then they tell you where to go. First to the electronics section, where there are several box containers. Faye’s parked just ahead of you, waiting for you to arrive so she can get rid of the big TV. You help her load that into the relevant container, while Brianna carries the monitors. Then to the rest of the dump, where there’s large skips for you to throw the contents into.

When one of the guys at the dump sees the filing cabinet he points not to the skip for metal, but to one side. You, Faye and he carry it there, while Brianna deals with the paint tins and the smaller electronics.

{if Ginger > 0}

Brianna is already back in your car when you’ve finished.

“Don’t you want to go with your aunt?” you ask.

“No, sir. I want to stay with you. You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

What question? Oh yes, that question. You’re not answering that. The effort of emptying the cars had quiesced your nascent boner, but the question stirs it back to life.

No, no, no, you can’t have this. She’s your student.

“I have to concentrate on driving, Brianna.”

“We could pause somewhere.” She shifts in the car. Her eyes are pleading.

“No, your aunt will be expecting us back.” And she’s your student.

The drive back is ****. Your monster stirs and you shift uncomfortably. And Brianna is watching you the whole way, like a predator watches its prey. Thankfully Faye and Mrs Peterson are in your drive as you pull in. Brianna skips out as if the atmosphere in the car was nothing. You step out gingerly.

Mrs Peterson has a batch of homemade cakes as a thank you. You take them and quickly retreat to your house, before anyone notices the semi straining against your pants. Or at least before Faye or Mrs Peterson notice the semi. Brianna is very much aware of it.

{else}

After that you drive back. Mrs Peterson thanks the three of you with a batch of homemade cakes each.

{endif}