Is That You, Sarah? Ch. 03

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It had been a couple of week since Kevin and Paula had invited Delia Fairfax-Preston back to Kevin’s flat for a threesome but in spite of Delia’s promise to keep in touch, she had not done so. Paula had tried ringing on a couple of occasions but had only succeeded in getting the answerphone. She didn’t leave a message in case Delia’s husband Clive intercepted it, although she somehow didn’t think that Delia would divulge to him what she had been up to!

It was the Saturday afternoon of the late Spring Bank Holiday when Paula and Kevin instigated their next threesome. Paula had now moved in full time with Kevin and they had been out to lunch together. They got back to the flat about half past two and Paula was at the lounge window overlooking the main street. The sky had darkened considerably and a steady drizzle now fell. The people on the street below were scurrying backwards and forwards, keen to get to shelter as soon as possible. She was looking out towards the phone box in the street where she and her friend had been contacted many months earlier and where they had encountered Delia a few weeks before. A young lady about the same age as herself stood in the shop doorway nearby. She had short, fair hair and wore a blue anorak over a floral skirt. Paula called Kevin over and pointed her out to him.

“How do you fancy a little fun this afternoon?” she said. “I bet she’d like to be in the dry somewhere, instead of out in the rain.”

Kevin looked across to where she was pointing.

“I suppose we could,” he said. “I’ve been thinking though, maybe we ought to use another phone box number if we’re going to do this thing regularly. You never know if anyone notices these things. Perhaps I’ll have to get the number for the one at the other end of the street and use them in turn.”

“Yes, you could do,” said Paula. “There’s one outside the toyshop we could use. There’s a bus stop near that too so there should be quite a few people about nearby. Anyway, what are we going to do about this young lady?”

The young lady in question was still there. She had pulled her hood up over her hair and was standing in the doorway of the Co-op department store. Kevin opened the drawer of the telephone desk and took out the old cigarette box with the number written on it. He dialled it carefully and the pair of them watched to see what would happen. The young girl ignored it for a moment or two, as did everyone else in the area. They were either in a hurry to get out of the rain or were stood packed together in one of the nearby bus shelters. Kevin stood with the receiver in his hand watching, listening to the ringing tone on the other end, until the young girl made a move towards it.

What happened next came as a bit of a surprise to both Kevin and Paula. A passing bus momentarily pulled up in traffic in the middle of the road, temporarily obscuring their view. Just after it stopped, the phone was answered and a female voice spoke.

“Hello,” it said.

“Oh, hello,” said Kevin. “Is that you Sarah?”

“No, sorry,” said the voice. “I think you may have the wrong number. This number is a phone box outside the Co-op!”

Kevin was about to launch into his usual banter of surprised indignation when he noticed the bus move away. The young lady who was his intended target was now back on the doorstep of the shop again, this time with a man who looked old enough to be her father. Almost immediately, they began walking down the street past where Kevin and Paula were standing. Kevin looked a little surprised but managed to regain his composure with his mystery respondent.

“Sorry?” he said, acting all surprised as usual. “Did you say a phone box? I don’t understand. I was given this number to ring for a friend of mine. She’s just moved up to this area from London and this is the number I have been given.”

“Are you sure you dialled correctly?” asked the voice. “This is Westwood 271860, and it’s a phone box outside the Co-op.”

“2-7-1-8-6-0,” repeated Kevin slowly. “That’s the number I was given. She sent me one of those memos for when you move house and I copied it off of that into my diary.”

“Well you must have made a mistake somewhere,” said the voice. “Either that, or your friend has. Anyway, I have to go now; I have my work to do.”

“Oh, right,” said Kevin. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a Traffic Warden,” said the voice.

“Oh, said Kevin. “So you go around putting tickets on people’s cars do you?”

“Sometimes,” said the Traffic warden. “But only when they are illegally or inconsiderately parked. I usually work between the Railway Station and the Cathedral, but the road’s closed near the Cathedral because of road works so they’ve brought me into the city instead. There’s not much doing though, as my other colleagues who cover this area have got things well in hand. To be honest, now this rain’s come, there are not as many people about as usual, plus it’s the half term holiday for the schools so things are a lot quieter. I was istanbul escort just thinking about going to get a cup of tea actually, I’m due for a break.”

“You could always come round to my flat for one, I live fairly close,” said Kevin, looking at Paula. He couldn’t see her in the phone box due to a bus shelter which had been erected in his view so did not know what she actually looked like or what age group she was in. “My girlfriend is here, so I’m not alone. You’d be quite safe!”

The Traffic Warden laughed.

“It’s a nice thought,” she said. “This rain is really coming down fast now and my shoes are letting water in so my feet are wet, but I’m not allowed to fraternise with the public.”

“Oh, go on,” said Kevin. “Who’s going to know? Does anyone keep an eye on you?”

“Sometimes,” said the Traffic Warden. “The Inspector might pay a visit, but he’s off sick today and there’s nobody else doing his job.”

“Well there you are then. Who’s going to know?” said Kevin. “Think about it, a nice warm flat, a cup of tea, the chance to rest those wet feet of yours for a while. You can’t do that in a greasy spoon café!” He really was milking it now. “By the way,” he added. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not allowed to give out my name to the public,” said the Traffic Warden. “If anyone wants to complain about us or report us, we just give out our number.”

“So what’s your number?” asked Kevin.

“Four-seven-two-zero,” replied the Traffic Warden.

“Four-seven-two-zero,” repeated Kevin. “Well ‘Four-seven-two-zero’ what’s it to be? The cold mean streets of Westwood or a nice warm dry flat and a cup of hot freshly made tea?”

“Alright then, you’ve twisted my arm, I just need to radio in to the station to let them know I’m taking a break,” said the Traffic Warden. “Four-seven-two-zero sounds so formal though. At the station, they call me Warden Preston, but you can call me Tracey!”

“Okay, Tracey, we’ll see you soon,” he said after he had given her the details of where he lived. He put the phone down and turned to Paula. “I’ve been speaking with a Traffic Warden called Tracey,” he said. “She normally works near the cathedral but she’s working in the town centre today.”

Paula looked a bit worried when he told her who he had been speaking to.

“They’re members of the police force,” she said. “We could be done for assault if we’re not careful.”

“Look, don’t worry,” said Kevin, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m not that stupid. We were lucky with Delia, and I was lucky with you and Sharon, but we have to take each one at face value. We can’t expect 100% all the time.”

He looked out of the window towards the phone box. He could just see Tracey, in her dark warden’s mackintosh, talking into her radio, then watched as she crossed the road and headed towards the side street which led towards their flat. Paula tidied a few things away, including the empty cigarette packet with the illicit number written on it so that Tracey would hopefully not suspect anything. The minutes ticked endlessly by and it was nearly ten minutes before they heard the intercom at the main entrance crackle into life. Kevin pressed the button to allow Tracey entry into the building and a minute or so later she was outside the door of their flat.

Kevin opened the door to let her in. He felt his cock jerk slightly under his jeans at the sight before him. She was aged in her late twenties, about five feet, five inches tall, and with a girlishly slim figure and had dark hair which was tied back in a bun. She wore a long dark mackintosh with ‘Traffic Warden’ embroidered in yellow on the shoulder and her shoulder number in silver numbers embossed on the shoulder, a peaked cap with a yellow band with ‘Traffic Warden’ on it round the middle and black lace up shoes. She also carried a black shoulder bag which hung from her right shoulder.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she said when Kevin opened the door. “There was a car parked on the yellow line outside so I gave it a ticket. You don’t know anyone who owns a yellow Ford Capri do you? Whoever it is will get a surprise when they return!”

Both Kevin and Paula shook their heads.

“We often see cars parked there which shouldn’t be,” said Paula. “I don’t think it’s anyone in these flats as they use the car park across the road. Anyway, what can I get you, a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please, white with one sugar,” said Tracey. “Thanks for inviting me in. It’s the first time anyone has ever invited me over the phone! We sometimes get asked in when we’re out in the suburbs, but not very often. People don’t seem to like us much!”

“Perhaps it’s because you keep putting tickets on their cars!” said Kevin cheekily.

“Well, they shouldn’t park where they are not supposed to, then they wouldn’t get one!” said Tracey with a grin. “We don’t do it for the sake of it! I say, do you mind if I take my coat off, it’s quite damp.”

“No, of course not,” said Kevin. “I’ll hang it over the back of a chair to şişli escort drain off a bit.”

Tracey placed her bag next to the armchair and they watched as she unclipped the two-way radio from her collar and laid it on the dining room table, then unbuttoned her raincoat and laid it over the back of the chair. The rest of her uniform was quite unflattering for someone her age. It consisted of a black jacket with silver gilt buttons, which were fastened, white shirt, black tie, and a black, knee length skirt. The silver numbers and yellow ‘Traffic Warden’ insignia were also attached to her jacket.

Paula went through into the kitchen to make the coffee, leaving Kevin and Tracey in the lounge.

“Have a seat,” said Kevin, trying to act casual and pointing to the sofa.

“No thanks, this will do,” said Tracey sitting down on another dining room chair. “I’ve only got thirty minutes officially and if I get too comfortable, I won’t be able to get up again”.

She sat talking to Kevin for a few minutes asking him about his relationship with Paula and also what they both did for a living. When the kettle had boiled, Paula poured the water into a mug and was about to bring it out when Tracey got up.

“No, let me!” she said walking into the small kitchen area. “I must say, it’s a nice place you’ve got here,” she added.

“Yes,” said Kevin. “It used to be my flat until Paula moved in a few weeks ago. It’s just big enough for the two of us for now.”

The three of them stood talking in the kitchen as they sipped their drinks. Tracey was quite a chatty lady, telling them about her job and how she was supposed to help motorists find places to park rather than just slap tickets on their windscreens, and how she also had the power to direct traffic as well whenever called upon to do so. She wore little make up, and other than a wrist watch with a black leather strap, the only jewellery she wore was a small pearl ear stud in each ear.

“I bet you strike the fear of God into motorists when they see you coming,” said Kevin.

“It’s the uniform that does it,” said Tracey. “It’s too stiff and regimental, and heavy. Personally, I don’t set out to be awkward or bossy with people. If someone wants to nip into a shop for two minutes and their car is on a yellow line, that’s fine with me, but I tell them that if they’re not out in two minutes, they get a ticket. It usually works. I think people respect you more for it.”

Kevin nodded. He was looking at her uniform.

“It does look a bit formal,” he said, eyeing it up and down.

“The skirt is the worst part,” said Tracey. “If I have to run after someone, it’s very heavy and cumbersome.”

“You don’t have to run after people, do you?” said Paula.

“Sometimes,” said Tracey. “If they try and drive off before I’ve put a ticket on their windscreen. It doesn’t happen very often, I usually manage to get the ticket on before they drive away.”

Kevin wasn’t listening. He bent down and raised the hem of her skirt a couple of inches with both hands, revealing a pair of shapely hosiery clad knees.

“I could have you arrested for that!” said Tracey in a stern sounding voice. “You’re interfering with the uniform of a member of Her Majesty’s Constabulary!”

Kevin let go of the hem immediately and the skirt dropped back into place.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” said Paula, looking nervous.

“S-sorry,” Kevin stammered. “I just wondered what the material felt like. I didn’t think.”

Tracey burst into laughter.

“Your faces!” she said. “No, of course I wouldn’t. I just said that to see what your reaction would be!”

Paula and Kevin each gave a huge sigh of relief and finished their drinks. Tracey chuckled at her little joke as she finished her coffee. She was obviously quite a jovial character and both of them now felt more at ease with her. Paula looked at her. She and Tracey were about the same height and size, although Tracey was a few years older than her.

“You know,” she began. “I once thought about joining the police force.”

Kevin looked at her with raised eyebrows. This was the first he had heard about it.

“Why didn’t you?” said Tracey.

“Oh, I don’t think I would have passed the medical,” said Paula. “I used to suffer from Asthma when I was a little girl. But I wonder if you could do me a favour? Could you let me try on your jacket please, just to give me an idea what it would have felt like?”

Tracey smiled and thought for a moment.

“Okay,” she said. “But don’t put your hands in any of the pockets.”

“Why, do you have secret lists of stolen cars in them?” asked Paula.

“No, a secret bag of Barley Sugars!” said Tracey, as she started to unbutton it. The large silver gilt buttons were difficult to unfasten but eventually she had managed to undo them all. She slipped the jacket from her shoulders and handed it to Paula who struggled to put it on. Tracey gave her a hand and lifted it onto her shoulders.

“My word, it is heavy, isn’t mecidiyeköy escort it?” said Paula. “If I had to wear this all day I would shed pounds in weight.”

“Well, we don’t have to wear our uniform jacket during the summer months,” said Tracey. “We can just go around like this.”

She indicated to the white shirt and black skirt. Even the shirt had ‘Traffic warden’ and her number embossed onto a small detachable epaulette on each shoulder so that she could be identified without it. Paula walked out into the lounge and stood admiring herself in the mirror. The dark jacket contrasted dramatically against the red t-shirt and white skirt which she was wearing. Back in the kitchen, Kevin had turned his attention to Tracey once more.

“Has anyone ever tried to strangle you with your tie?” he said. “Someone tried it on one of our bus drivers a few months ago and nearly succeeded. Luckily he was in the bus station at the time and someone came to his aid.”

“Not with this,” said Tracey. “Try it and see what happens.”

Kevin pulled on both strands of the tie. He felt it give a bit, then the whole thing came away in his hands. The tie wasn’t a tie in the conventional sense. It had two ends and a knot as a normal one would, but instead of looping round under Tracey’s collar, it had a clip which fastened over the top button so that if anyone tried to harm her that way, then they couldn’t.

“That’s ingenious!” he said.

“Isn’t it just!” said Tracey. “I’ve only had one person try it on me, but some of my colleagues have lost three or four ties. It must show how popular they are!”

Kevin wasn’t listening again. He laid the tie on the work top beside him and was now looking at Tracey. The long straight skirt and shapeless shirt hid her bodily charms from view.

“What are thinking about?” asked Tracey.

“Just that it’s a shame that a nice slender body like yours has to be wrapped up in such a frumpy looking uniform!” said Kevin without thinking.

“Well it doesn’t have to be,” said Tracey. “What would you like next, the shirt or the skirt?”

“Pardon?” said Kevin looking surprised.

“Well Paula’s had the jacket, and then you had the tie,” said Tracey. “Would you like the shirt next or the skirt? It doesn’t matter to me. Perhaps we should ask Paula.”

Paula stood in the doorway watching them. A short time before she had been warning Kevin not to get too carried away with a member of the local constabulary. Now that same person was offering herself up.

Kevin smiled. Without waiting for Paula to speak, he stepped forward and close up to Tracey. Her back was resting against the top of the worktop and he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips His hands went up across the front of her shirt and he massaged her breasts through it, then he kissed her again this time more passionately.

“Shouldn’t you… be getting… back to work…” he said between kisses.

“Well…I can go…if you…want me…to,” countered Tracey kissing him back. “Otherwise…if they want me…they’ll radio me.”

She indicated to the radio which lay out on the dining room table. Occasional messages could be heard between the control room and several of her colleagues.

“Besides…” she said glancing at her watch, “I’ve still…got about five minutes…left.”

Kevin didn’t need another reminder. His hands were already working the buttons down the front of her shirt. Within thirty seconds they were undone and he pulled the two parts of the shirt apart. A white lacy bra lay underneath, holding her small, pert breasts together in a modest cleavage. He cupped each breast together and massaged them.

Tracey closed her eyes momentarily and sighed contentedly as Kevin continued massaging and kissing her breasts. He paused just long enough to slide the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. He passed the garment towards Paula and held Tracey’s waist as he kissed her once more. She reciprocated by forcing her tongue into his throat quite forcibly.

For a couple of minutes, they stood in a locked embrace with her breasts thrust close to his chest, the cap on her head now perched at a rather jaunty angle. Eventually, they broke free but immediately Kevin’s hands were back on her waistline once more, this time fumbling with the zip and clasp at the back of her skirt. He slid it down over her waist and down to her ankles and she balanced one hand on the worktop as she stepped out of it. As before, Paula gathered up the skirt and disappeared out of sight into the lounge with the rest of the uniform.

Kevin’s cock was now visibly standing erect under his jeans. He looked on in approval at the white mini slip which covered her waist and ended half way between her knee and her thigh. There was a small slit on each side and through them he could just make out the tops of a pair of black hold-ups enveloping her long, slender legs. He lifted the front flap for a few seconds to get a better view before letting it drop back into place.

Tracey could sense his approval of her hosiery as she balanced with one hand on the worktop and bent her knee up at a right angle so that she could unfasten her shoe laces. She kicked off the shoes and stood in her stocking feet for a moment.

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