The big city was in the grip of a summer heatwave. As they sweated in traffic jams and sweltered on commuter trains, life for the average work-person was hell. It was a special kind of purgatory for the necktied and besuited male as he strap-hung next to his female counterpart on bus or subway train. He was imprisoned in yards of unnecessary cloth, she wore scarcely anything at all.
So began the worst day of Gavin Bird's life. Across the aisle of his carriage sat a curvy blonde, her hair teased upwards only to cascade down in delightful ringlets across her bare, bronzed shoulders. All she appeared to be wearing on her succulent body was a candy-pink vest-top with a scooped-out neck, a black micro-skirt and a tiny pair of white cotton briefs now revealed to the ogling Gavin as the girl crossed her legs. An expanse of shapely thigh was spread out in front of him and he marvelled at the delicate texture of the golden skin. He longed to plunge forward and trace with his tongue the inviting path from the tip of her knee up past the hem of her skirt and into the vee of her thinly pantied crotch.
Gavin wondered whether it was simply Josie's absence that made his sexual hunger so acute. They had been sleeping together for almost a year and he took their regular lovemaking for granted. She had been gone for three weeks now and he felt about ready to explode. Mind you, he couldn't picture Josie Twist doing to him the things he really fancied. The things he wanted the girl opposite to do to him.
He imagined strap-hanging in front of her, his loins on a level with her pretty, heart-shaped face. She'd smile up at him and then unzip his fly to slip her tiny fingers inside and free his aching cock. She'd pull it out, balls and all, and it would swing there right in her face and her mouth would open in a perfect O of wonder before she'd greedily suck it in, as deep as she could, between those pouting lips. He'd look down, through the tousled curtain of her blonde hair, into the cleavage beneath her flimsy top and feast his eyes on the bob and shift of her bulging breasts as she worked on him with mouth and hands, urging him on to a crescendo that would fill her sulky mouth with foaming spunk...
Gavin tore his gaze from the girl's full pink lips. He couldn't allow himself to think about sex. Not yet. Not here. Not at eight thirty in the morning, for God's sake. He turned his head away. In front of him now was a tall teenager, leaning against the window, the sun silhouetting the profile of her large breasts through the thin silk of her blouse. I wonder if she's wearing a bra? thought Gavin, he couldn't help it. The girl shifted her position, sending ripples through her superstructure. Beneath the fragile material it was obvious she wore not a stitch. Gavin closed his eyes.
By mid-morning he was alone in the front of the office, sitting at his work station, waiting for the next patron of the Kent Kindly Building Society. A plastic tag on his lapel read G BIRD, Trainee Manager. Gavin, a first-class English graduate with a half-written thesis on the lyric contemporaries of Keats to his credit, considered this the ultimate insult. Trainee Tea-maker would have been a more accurate description of his role.
Behind the door to his right, the female members of staff sat out the lull before the lunchtime rush. As a rule, Gavin enjoyed their company but today he was happy to mind the store. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was Josie's absence, but today he couldn't bear being closeted with Janice Melting and her pals. Janice knew his weaknesses too well. Earlier she'd sent him to fetch a Coke from the next-door news agent's fridge. She'd deliberately thrust the can into the vee of her blouse and rolled its icy coolness across the plush brown skin bulging over the lacy edge of her bra cups. She'd laughed at him when he'd stared at her with transparent hunger.
'Shame on you, Gavin,' she'd said, 'you're almost a married man.'
He wished now he'd never told Janice that he and Josie were engaged. She was always asking him about the wedding, offering advice and making jokes about the honeymoon. The truth was, he wasn't into this whole wedding-culture bit. He and Josie had simply agreed they would be married some day. It was more of an intellectual commitment, one to make them feel better now Josie had got this job which had landed her in Wales. To be honest, he wasn't sure about marriage. Not when he felt like he did about that blonde on the train this morning. Or even when he considered Janice and her can of Coke...
'Excuse me.' The young woman was standing right in front of his desk. Another gorgeous blonde. The world was full of them. This one was smiling. She held open the flaps of her light summer jacket. 'Hot, isn't it?' she said.
Gavin was thunderstruck. Her yellow halter-neck top was moulded to her body, tightly encasing her extravagant and voluptuous figure. The dark points of her protruding nipples were clearly visible through the thin material.
'I can tell you like my tits,' said the woman in a low, mellifluous voice. 'Would you like to see them properly?'
Without waiting for a response, she pulled the hem of her top to her chin, exposing two large, naked and stunningly proportioned breasts which quivered in front of Gavin like ripe fruit.
Then, in a tone no less intimate, she said, 'While you're looking, put the money in the bag.'
Gavin dimly realised that a plastic carrier bag was on the counter. He ignored it and stared at the wondrous, dangling glories in front of him, at the full curves of their undersides, at the way the flesh dragged ever-so-slightly to the side so the heavy rounds pulled away from the centre of her chest. He was mesmerised by the vivid scarlet of her nipples, standing out proudly from the crinkled haloes of her areolae like exotic berries. He could almost taste them.
'Hurry up, darling,' she said, 'or this will be the last set of jugs you'll ever see.'
Then Gavin became aware that beneath the adorable right breast, clasped firmly in an elegant hand, was a metal object of a distinctly unfriendly nature. Gavin's eyes flicked backwards and forwards, from tits to gun, and back again. This is some surreal movie, he said to himself. And I'm in it!
'Quick, you little twerp. Put the money in the bag!'
And that's what he did. Nearly £4000, that's what they told him later, though the papers said it was ten. When he'd finished filling the bag and had handed it back, she jiggled her fabulous bosom at him with a shake of her shoulders and blew him a kiss. Then she was gone. It had taken less than a minute.