“Mummy just told me, Rick, I’m so pleased, I hope you like working with me, I can’t wait to have you around all day, we’re going to have such fun, you’ll love it, I promise!” she babbled happily.
I smiled at her enthusiasm, but I wasn’t prepared for what came next. Yaz rolled on top of me and stared into my eyes, her trademark cheeky grin going full blaze, and then she grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me, really making a production out of it. And, God help me, I kissed her back; all the low-level flirting, and joking around, the constant contact, the long evenings huddled together watching TV, the fun and games out shopping, suddenly it all came to a head. Yaz relaxed and slid her arms around my neck, pulling me closer even as her tongue parted my lips and probed my tongue. It was literally my first ever proper kiss, and it was a doozie!
Anyone who fights back against a kiss from a beauty like Yaz needs to get their head examined, and I knew my head was okay; a part of me inside was saying ‘she’s your sister…’ but most of me was thinking this was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I really didn’t want it to stop. That time she’d kissed me at her Prom, that was just to distract me from my building panic, but this felt so different, so wonderful, her lips were so soft, and tasted so sweet, and she smelled so delicious, like fresh flowers and vanilla, and it excited me in ways I’d never felt before. It felt clean, and hot, and very special, and I knew I was falling hard for this lovely girl.
That wonderful kiss went on and on, a lifetime compressed into a few moments, and when she drew away from me a dart of disappointment stabbed through me. Yaz grinned and slid down next to me, her soft hand pulling my face to hers so she could kiss me again, yet another eternity of her scent and sweet lips. When we broke that second, loving kiss, Yaz sighed happily and burrowed against me, while her gentle fingers played with my hair, stroked my face, and slipped around my neck, to hold me closer.
“It’s been so long, Ricky, I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time…” she whispered, her eyes sparkling when I trapped her caressing fingers between my lips, nipping her fingertips.
“Why, Yaz?” I mouthed, and she smiled and stroked my hair out of my eyes.
“Because I want to, Ricky; I wanted to the second I saw you, that’s all I know. That’s why I made mummy and Shari listen; you were so innocent, so harmless, but so sweet, and so brave, you left the only home you knew, you travelled all the way here not knowing anything or anyone, you just had faith that someone, somewhere would finally tell you the truth. You came to us hoping you’d find some answers.”
She smiled and gently tapped the tip of my nose.
“You came looking for us and found me; the first time I saw you I knew you were the one, don’t ask me how. That’s all I know, Ricky, that’s all I ever needed to know, and now you have me, and I have you! If only you knew how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you, and I kind of slipped a few times, didn’t I?”
I took her hand and kissed her palm, making her giggle.
“It’s OK, I didn’t mind,” I grinned, “any time you want to slip again, feel free!”
“You’ve changed so much, Ricky,” she murmured, tapping my chin gently with her pink little fingertip, “and it’s all good; when you first came here you’d never in a million years have said anything like that. I like the new you!”
She kissed me once more, lightly, but I could tell it was heartfelt, and slid off the couch, and she giggled.
“Oh look, did I do that?” she smiled, staring at the bulge in my cut-off jeans. I made as if to cover myself, but she stopped me.
“It’s OK, besides, I’m flattered; it’s not like we haven’t been here before! At least I know you’re into this too! Very soon, we’re going to have to do something about that, just you and me, so just keep that on standby for me!”
Sex, she was talking about sex, which excited and scared me; I knew all about masturbation, give me some credit for that, but I was an Incel, a word I had read somewhere and it seemed to describe me perfectly; I was twenty years old and knew of the mechanics of sex, and absolutely none of the realities. Bobby had a stash of magazines that showed all too graphically what sex was, but, until I’d come here to London, Yaz and her sister were the first girls I’d ever spoken to, or even been in the same room as; the thought of doing those things for real with her scared me, but also aroused me in a way I’d never felt before.
Yaz leaned down and stroked my cheek, her eyes soft and appealing.
“I have to go now, mummy needs help with dinner, we’ll talk later, and deffo do more of that Ricky kissy-stuff, but we have to be careful, OK? Shari, and especially mummy don’t need to know just yet. Tomorrow, I want you to come to work with me, I want to work with you, sweetie, I want you around me all the time. Ooh, I can’t wait!”
She headed for the door, and stopped at the foot of the stairs, flashing me her adorable grin.
“You’re mine now, Ricky Davies!” she whispered, blowing me a kiss as she flirted and wriggled her succulent little jeans-clad bottom at me, before running up the stairs.
*
My first days at work were an eye-opener. In the office, Yaz was strictly business, crisply professional in dealing with the various contractors mum employed to renovate the properties Shari had identified and purchased. I learned a lot from watching what she did and how she did it, but the most interesting part of the day was visiting various sites where teams of workmen were remodelling the gutted shells of properties. I learned the company worked in two areas, business and commercial properties, and multi-occupancy student housing, and Yaz’s talents lay in negotiating renovation costs with contractors, ensuring compliance with occupancy and fire-safety codes, and setting rental rates with the end-users, whether small business users or university housing committees. Shari’s great talent was in identifying properties with real potential and negotiating the purchase contracts, with mum running the financial side of the business.
Honestly speaking, even if I wasn’t seriously besotted by Yaz I would have preferred to work with her; her side of the business seemed so much more interesting, dealing as she did with some very interesting and knowledgeable people, and had a deeper involvement than what Shari did. Shari would scout-out a property, discuss it with mum, get a survey done, and, if she liked what she saw, make an offer, and when it was accepted, push the paperwork through to the legal people, and move on to the next one; what Yaz did was more in-depth, complex, and wide-ranging, and I really thought I could get involved there, which I told her, and got that naughty, cheeky grin again.
When we were alone in the office, in a commercial building mum owned in Dalston, she’d click the lock on, and next thing I knew, I’d have an armful of sexy girl who apparently liked kissing me, because she did it every chance she got. I have to say, I liked it too, but we made sure work didn’t suffer; business, then pleasure was our motto, and at least we could do it in the privacy of the office, because getting away with it at home seemed increasingly risky, plus, Yaz was studying for a qualification in construction design management, so opportunities for alone-time at home were kind of limited.
Working so closely with Yaz, spending our spare moments making out, we both knew something was coming, something we both wanted. I was taking it slow, mainly because I didn’t know how to have that kind of conversation. Luckily, that was taken out of my hands when mum called us all together for a family discussion.
“Kids, we’ve had a good year this year; year-on-year costs have dropped, and rental demand has risen to the point we now have more clients than properties available, profit margins are much better than expected, and the new properties are coming along faster than expected, so we’ll be looking at a really good year-end. You’ve all worked so hard, especially you, Ricky, you had to learn so much in such a short time, so I think you’ve all earned a holiday. I want all of you to go away somewhere for a week or two, forget about the office, all the paperwork, just go off and have some fun, do something else for a change. I have a mountain of tax forms to go through, I’m going to be tied up with accountants for the next few weeks, so you go, take a break, enjoy yourselves, you’re young, and that’s an order; all this work can’t be good for you, so vamoose, begone, go, have fun!”
For the next few days discussion raged over what we were going to do; Yaz wanted to go to the South coast, Shari wanted to stay home and stay in bed until noon every day, and I wanted whatever Yaz wanted, so it was decided Yaz and I would go to Brighton, while Shari would have a staycation at home and live in pyjamas and squishy slippers, sleep late, watch trash TV, and eat junk-food for a week.
Shari mentioned she used to do the Brighton-South coast thing with her ex-boyfriend, Graeme, it was old hat for her, but we were welcome to go and rage-hard in the clubs in Brighton, so see ya in a week, don’t get arrested, and please don’t send any postcards home. So it was settled, and Yaz and I were going on holiday together.
*
The hotel was amazing; I was bowled over by how luxurious it was, more luxurious than anything I’d ever seen before. Of course, we’d had to book two rooms, but when we got there, feeling very naughty indeed, Yaz changed the booking to a double room and had all our baggage taken up there. The bed was huge, a King size, the first I’d ever seen. Yaz wasted no time in jumping on it, testing the springs, before giving me a very inviting smile.
“Are you ready for this, Ricky Davies? Because I am!” she grinned as she lithely slid upright, pulling off the silk scarf knotted carelessly but oh, so elegantly around her neck as she stepped away from me and began unbuckling her slim-line quilted Burberry jacket, her quirked eyebrow finally galvanizing me into action. I jumped up, painfully aware of my erection tenting my cut-off shorts, but Yaz just smiled as she slipped off her jacket. I pulled off my sweatshirt, making her pause at the sight of my torso; all that good food and months of early morning exercises I’d been doing out of sheer boredom had obviously paid off; I was no Adonis, but I wasn’t a stick-thin starveling anymore.