Thread: Don't Stand So Close To Me (Scathelocke/Mim)

A smile tugged at Talia's lips when he called after her, but she quickly suppressed it and turned instead with a mildly quizzical look, followed by relief when he offered her a ride. He'd give her a ride, alright, especially after telling her to follow his lead. But that would come later. Instead she breathed a sigh of relief and graced him with a grateful smile. Thank you so much, Mr. H, she said as they stepped into the hallway. You don't know how much I appreciate it. She did know, however, how much he was likely to appreciate the subtle movements of her unbound breasts beneath the thin shirt while they walked, particularly when they took the stairs, and could practically feel his gaze on her. At the bottom of the stairs Mark invited her in closer, and Talia took the liberty of innocently putting her hand on the small of his back so that she could press against him while they rushed together to the car. Her feet were soaked by the time they made it, but she didn't mind. It would all be worth it in the end. While he rushed around to the other side of the car she arranged her backback between her feet so that her knees were forced apart, her skirt sliding higher than was appropriate, before buckling up. Oh here, let me help, she offered, taking his bag to put in the back seat. Into one of the outer pockets she slipped another Polaroid, this one of her standing at a window, looking out in just a shirt and panties. Surely he couldn't have memorized all four pictures she'd slipped to him yesterday he would find some way to rationalize it away when he found it later. Once the bag was settled on the floor of the back seat Talia turned back around before directing him to her house. She took him on a more circuitous route, but one that had been made much bumpier by frost heaves. Between the bumps in the road and her nipples made hard by the cold straining against her shirt, Marks' temptation to oggle was sure to be great, and she would allow him to believe that he was being subtle. Finally they pulled up to a tidy, if rather old and dated, bungalow in the middle of a street populated with overgrown lawns and pre-owned cars at least a decade old. It wasn't a terrible neighborhood, but it certainly wasn't the best either. In the driveway, Talia rummaged in her backpack. Better and better, she muttered just loudly enough for Mark to hear before straightening. I forgot my key. Hang on. Without waiting for an answer, she jumped out of the car and ran to the front porch, leaving her backpack in the car so that he couldn't drive off. The spare key was right where it always was of course, just as her own key was in her backpack where she always kept it. But Talia feigned exasperation, pretended to try the door, then ran around to the back porch. There she took shelter under the dirty old awning for a few moments. Phil was inside and she could hear the TV going, but the curtains to the living room were drawn so that Mr. Hadleigh wouldn't be able to see in so that wasn't a problem. The girl took a few moments to carefully arrange her wet clothes, pulling her skirt up so that it stuck to her upper thighs in a tempting way that didn't reveal everything he would want it to, and pulling her wet white shirt to one side to expose just enough of her breast to be tantalizing. She would have cut off another button, but that would have been too obvious. Instead she ran back around the side and jumped into the car, chest heaving for breath from the running and the cold. She did her best to look pathetically at him. Phil left for work an hour ago, she said, and my mom's still got three hours on her shift at the hospital. Someone took the spare key, and my bedroom window is locked. She gestured to the window on the far left, just in case he ever needed to know or wanted to stop by to watch her undress before she pulled him back into line with some firm guidance. Would you mind taking me to a gas station or a diner or something? I think I've got a couple quarters I could call my mom, maybe get a cup of coffee. She dug around in her backpack again, producing 75 cents in an assortment of change and three dollars in bills. Her nipples ached from the cold and she was genuinely having to shiver herself warm, and she channeled that misery into giving him her best, largest, most pathetic eyes. Please, Mr. Hadleigh? Then I'll be out of your hair, promise.