Fairground Farrago

"He's right, Miss Havisham. You've a great figure and a nice bust." I admit and Ian raised his eyebrows as he looked at me and I mentally kicked myself for saying that out loud.

We stood in embarrassed silence for a few seconds before I pulled myself together.

"I suggest we split up into two teams. Ian and Jerry start on the far side of the fairground and we'll start here and work towards the middle. If we don't find the cat or meet up, we come back here before it gets too dark to make it over the ditch. I think we all know not to cross that in the dark."

Hoping there isn't the usual night watch man; we look for the cat and call out Fluffy. After several minutes Mrs Havisham turns to ask me something.

"Simon, is Jeremiah always so difficult?" I looked over and sighed.

"His dad killed himself and his mum had a number of breakdowns. So he was in and out of children's homes and foster care. Which is tough for anyone. Kids are vicious and look for any weak point. So when you insisted on calling him Jeremiah instead of Jerry like everyone else in the universe. It made his life harder."

"I never knew." I shrugged and let it drop.

Mrs Havisham was silent for a minute or so and then spoke up.

"I was an orphan myself. My parents died in a fire and I was raised by my grandparents. Who were old-fashioned even by the standards of their generation."

"That explains a lot. Like the way you behave and dress. Don't any of your friends comment on how old fashioned you dress?"

"Not really, most of my friends are around 60 and I'm only 42."

"Really? Shit sorry, I wasn't being rude. But it kind of makes my point. I'd have guessed you were in your late 50s just from the way you dress." In truth, I'd lowered that number to not hurt her feelings.

"Without that jacket and even in a blouse that resembles one I saw my great grandmother wearing it takes years off. With a few more tweaks you could look more your true age."

"Like what? I've no one to get this sort of advice from. I'd feel foolish approaching someone like your mother or a colleague for help."

Looking at her, I wondered what she expected from me.

"Start with undoing the top three buttons on the blouse. It's buttoned so high I'm astonished you're not dripping with sweat."

"It is a little warm." To my astonishment, she reached up and undid the buttons.

"How's that?"

"Better but perhaps one more." She looked down, thinking about it.

So I reached out and unfasten it, then took the collar in my hands and pulled it open a little. There was a hint of cleavage, but not much.

"That's too much!" She declared and held her hands over her chest. "I can see my chest."

"Seriously Miss Havisham? You say chest when you mean breasts or tits? Anyway, you're looking from an unrealistic angle. Unless you were leaning over someone or they invaded your personal space really badly like this..."

I stepped close, so we were almost chest to chest.

"From here I can see just the inner curve of your breasts and just the edge of your bra. Hell, my older sister goes out to buy tops and bras that deliberately show a hint of bra over the top of the outer clothing. Mind you, she had less to display than you." I suddenly realise I'm lingering on looking at her tits and step back.

"From a normal distance, I can see nothing. Only hope for something more. It's like advertising, a hint of something better. Flash a bit of leg to hook in your target."

She remains silent a moment, looking down, then looks at me and opens her mouth and pauses.

"Were you serious about saying I had nice legs? I wasn't really thinking when I hiked up my skirt to climb over that earth bank. I was focused on finding my kitten. How high was it?"

It seemed like an odd question. Obviously, she knew, but for some reason was asking.

"Come over here." I suggested pointing to a wall of distorting mirrors. The sort of thing that makes you look really tall or fat.

Choosing one that made your head look really big, but leaving the rest of you normal. I guide her to it.

"May I?" I ask, bending over and gripping the hem of her skirt.

She nods a little nervously and I lift the skirt, turning it inside out until it was a couple of inches above the knee. The same height it had been earlier. Letting go, the thick tweed stayed in place as I stepped back to admire the view.

"See, I told you your legs are great."

Standing there, she turned to the side and admired her legs, then turned back to the front.

"Of course, my sister's skirts are about a yard shorter than that skirt normally."

"A yard?" She said with amusement. "That would barely make a belt."

"I know, that's what my dad says. But they are really short."

"How short."

For a moment I wonder if I should pull her skirt higher, but I'm not that brave. I'm sure Jerry would have done it, but I have to live next door to her. Then I remember only a few minutes ago I'd had my hands directly on her bra. Stepping up close behind her, I run a fingertip along the outside of her thigh about an inch or so below her crotch.

"Dear Lord!" She exclaimed, and I chuckled.

"I'm sure that's what any guy would say when they saw her sitting down or following her up stairs."

"I couldn't imagine going outside in something that short."

"Hang on; I've seen you in shorts playing badminton that are that short."

"That's different." she objected.

"Why? It's not like you'd be doing cartwheels down the high-street flashing your knickers. I was just pointing out that I'm sure there of teachers at your school who would think nothing of wearing a skirt this height to work."

She nodded slowly and then pushed her skirt back down. She saw my look of disappointment and commented.

"If someone else saw me like that, they'd not understand what we were doing. They might jump to the conclusion we were up to something inappropriate." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, and she blushed.

We kept searching until I saw Ian and he waved us over.

"We've found him."

They had, kind of. We followed him up a ramp, and he pointed down into the wall of death pit. A large wooden bowl with vertical sides at the top where a stunt rider rode a motorcycle around defying gravity just a few feet below the spectators.

Fluffy was standing at the bottom looking forlorn next to a pile of feathers and half eaten pigeon. By my reckoning, the young cat had pounced on the bird and not realised the drop. It must have been close to 15 feet deep, but the increasing slope of the sides meant you'd slide down and not fall the full distance.

Mrs Havisham calls out to the cat, and it mews dejectedly to his owner.

"How do we get down there?" Mrs Havisham asks.

"There is a weird curved trapdoor at the bottom. It allows the rider and his bike inside. Come on guys, let's go and see if we can find a way in. Miss Havisham should stay here to keep the cat calm."

We returned a few minutes later without good news.

"There is a metal garage door at the back and a regular door next to it. Both with heavy padlocks on them and no windows we might force." I offer and Ian adds.

"We might be able to find a rock or brick to smash the padlock, but that's right into criminal damage."

"I could replace the padlock." She offers.

"Not without letting people know we damaged the old one. We can't leave it unlocked or the new keys lying around. We need a go down there from here. So we need a ladder..."

"Oh good." Jerry replied sarcastically. "I just happen to have a twenty-foot ladder in my shorts." He grabs his crotch.

"Anyone have a ladder at home?" Ian asks.

"No, but even if we did, it would be dark by the time we got back." I reply.

"How about a rope? We could knot our shirts together and MacGyver one." He offers.

"No chance, mate." Jerry replies. "Our shirts are just cheap cotton. It wouldn't take the weight of any one of us. However..." He pauses as he looks at Mrs Havisham. "That heavy tweed would do it. Mrs H, your jacket is a write off. If I can take it apart, I'm sure I can make a sturdy rope. Plus your skirt is split and I doubt it can be repaired."

"Wait, you expect me to take off my skirt for you to rip it apart?" She asks, astonished.

"Look Mrs H, we've fulfilled our obligation to you. We agreed to help find your damn cat, and we have. He's alive and well and down there..." He gestures to the pit and the cat. "We can go home and leave you to decide what to do. You could come back with us and try to phone someone for help. But I suspect even if you can find someone to help, you won't get someone to come out tonight.

"Leaving Fluffy here alone. He might be scared and a little hungry and thirsty, but barring an adult fox finding him, he'll be here tomorrow. He can't exactly go anywhere."

"A fox?" She asks aghast.

"Maybe. I'm sure a fox could make it down there and get back out again. So what do you want to do?"

Mrs Havisham looks torn.

"Clocks ticking. I'm leaving either way before it gets too dark. I'm not risking that ditch in the dark, not after last time." He changes his tone to more amused. "Think of it like this. Getting to see your legs again could be part of our reward for helping you."

She glowers at him for a moment.

"Ok, but I want to see you make a rope strong enough before I take off my skirt."

I was astonished she'd agreed to that and watched as Jerry took her jacket and turned it inside out. Ripping out the lining and pulling a tiny pocket knife from his pocket on his key ring. The blade was only about 1 inch long, but enough to slice into the seams and start to rip open the stitches. He saw us watching and looked up.

"What? My mum makes her own clothes as a hobby and I've watched enough to get the gist."

Remarkably quickly he separated the sleeves and split the body into four pieces and we tied them together. With Ian and Jerry on one end and me on the other we tested the 'rope' and it resisted all our pulling. We looked expectantly at Mrs Havisham. She looks down at her cat and turns away from us and starts to unfasten her skirt.

Ian looks at Jerry and me and mouths 'Wow!' I have to agree. Jerry holds up his hand for a high five, and Ian performs a silent high five in return. My eyes are locked on Mrs Havisham as her knickers come into view. Plain white like her bra and covering her cheeks entirely. As she lowers the skirt, she reaches back and hooks her fingers under the edge to straighten them out.

As I'd suspected when she'd come down the earth bank with her back to us. Her backside, like her figure and bust, were far more impressive than any of us might have suspected. Stepping out of the skirt, she bent to pick it up, and I felt a definite twinge in my pants. As the material was stretched tight across her shapely posterior.

Turning to face us, she held out the skirt, without looking at us. It was only then that we realised when she'd bent over and stood up again. Her blouse had moved and now most of her bra covered breast was pushed through the rip in the blouse. Between that and the obvious patch of pubic hair forming a bulge to the front of her knickers, we three males are unable to think clearly.

Mrs Havisham looked up and scowled and shook her skirt and it brought us back to ourselves. Jerry had Ian and I grip the hem of her skirt on opposite sides and pull as Jerry's little knife cut through the tougher stitches. However, all of us were looking at Mrs Havisham.

She sighed. "Look, I realise you're all young men, and a semi clad woman, even one of my age is something you desire to see. But as you pointed out we're against the clock. Just get on with it and we'll figure out the other stuff later. As your reward." She added almost as an afterthought.

Something about the way she'd said it sounded odd. I'd expected her to have tried to cover up after taking off her skirt, but she didn't. I wondered if, somewhere deep inside, she liked it. Unlike the previous things she didn't react with a blush. That had to mean something didn't it?

Jerry finished on the skirt, but we only got two pieces of cloth as his knife was too dull to cut the cloth itself. It made a rope a little over 6 feet long.

"It's too short." Ian stated simply.

"Oh my god! Did you perverts get me to sacrifice my clothes for some cheap trick, just to see my legs?"

"Hey, Mrs H, we're still working on sorting this out. And for the record it would almost be worth it to see those legs."

She tugged her blouse down, but it barely covered even the top half of her knickers. However, she didn't look too unhappy with the compliment.

"Simon, you're the tallest, so why don't you lower yourself down and slide to the bottom. I'll hang onto this sturdy post for the handrail and hang down with the rope around my ankle."

I lowered myself and let go and regretted it almost immediately. Facing the wall my knees and hand scuffed against the wooden wall instead of my feet and backside. After years of motorcycles wearing on the timber the surface was rough and left my knees and hands bleeding.

It also scared Fluffy who shot off and tried to claw his way up the other side of the bowl. Fuck! If he could do that, why the hell had I come down here and sacrificed skin and blood to rescue him? Moments later he gives up. But he's still scared. Lying on my back and checking my knees and hands, superficial, but painful injuries only.

"I've just thought of another problem. How am I going to climb the rope with the cat in one hand?"

"Stuff him down your shorts!" Jerry offers chuckling.

"No thanks. That thing had teeth or claws on five out of six ends. And the cat is already stressed out."

"Wait, I've an idea..." Mrs Havisham said, and I lay there waiting for her to say something else. "I'm going to take my blouse off and Simon can make a papoose for Fluffy. I think he'll calm down if he can smell me on the material.

"I don't want you to make a big deal out of it. As it's not something I've ever done before. I've never even worn a bikini out in public. But I figure that as you boys have already seen me in my knickers and you've all been staring at my exposed bra through the rip in the blouse. So please be respectful and think of it as your final payment for helping me."

The white cloth flutters down next to me, and I look up to see her. From this angle with her hands on the guard rail, her arms seem to push her boobs together; combined with her leaning forward make her boobs look enormous.

"Knot the wrists together and hook it over your neck."

Jerry and Ian stood on either side making no effort to hide their ogling if her tits. I'd have expected Mrs Havisham to have tried to cover up, but she stood her ground. However, I saw the whites of her knuckles gripping the guard rail.

Luckily fluffy and I knew each other, so with gentle calling he approached me sniffing. Pausing to lick the blood on my knee. Which was a little creepy feeling his sandpaper like tongue and knowing if I was incapacitated for long periods enough. He might try to eat me.

With the cat calmed and in the papoose, Jerry lowered himself, but the rope from his ankle was still short.

Moving to the far side of the bowl, I held the cat firmly against my chest and ran. Jumping up and to grasp the rope with both hands.

Jerry swore at the weight while Fluffy sank all his claws into my chest in alarm. Not that I could do anything about both, but climb until I got to Jerry's ankle and waited.

Mrs Havisham and Ian pulled Jerry up until his torso was over the edge and he swore loudly as he rolled over onto his back and was pulled further. Until only his knee down was hanging over the edge.

Too far for me to reach up and to make matters worse the cat was freaking out and had clambered up and on my shoulder. I feared he might jump, and we'd have to start again.

"A little help. Fluffy is panicking." I call out.

Mrs Havisham's head and shoulders appear under the guard rail and she reaches down.

"Can someone grab my ankles?" She asks as she pushes forward and reaches down towards me.

Only the cat's claws in me stopped me from gasping as I saw her tit almost escaping her bra as she hung upside down. She grasped the cat.

"Can whoever it is take his hand off my bum and help me up?"

Jerry chuckled. "I was just trying to help. Here..." his hand appeared and grasped her flailing hand to help pull her back.

Ian helped me up and then Jerry. Each of us stealing glances at Mrs Havisham as she comforts the cat. Her tits still part out of her bra and her knickers have bunched up on one side showing a very white buttock.

"We should go before it gets any darker." I suggest. "Shit!" I add as I take the blouse come papoose off. The cat had wet itself in all the excitement.

"What!" She asks, looking over.

"The cat wet itself and I doubt if you want to put this blouse back on Miss Havisham."

She sighs. "I think you should call me Janet, given the circumstances."

On the way to the gates we paused at an outside tap, to let her rinse her shoe and foot. As she put it back on she saw the three of us staring at her tits. She tutted but not in annoyance, but more in amusement at men and their fascination at breasts.

To be honest what else are horny 18-year-old boys going to do? Given how limited our exposure to real life ones and certainly not ones as glorious as Janet had.

She rearranged the back in her bra in front of us and we headed to the gates. Handing me fluffy she crawled through the gap without a problem. And I heard Jerry mutter in disappointment hoping she'd get stuck again.

As she stood up with her back to us she readjusted her bra again. Then hooked her fingers in her knicker legs to sort them out, before turning to face her captive audience. I'll swear she was suppressing a smirk at our rapt gaze. I think she was starting to enjoy the attention. And I was almost positive, even in the failing light; I could detect a hint of nipple pressing against her bra.

Handing her fluffy, the rest of us scrambled through the gap and hurried across the field. At the ditch we stop.

"I'm not sure if I can do this." Janet says, remembering the stench from the mud from earlier.

"Of course you can. Tell you what Ian will jump across and stand on the bottom to catch you." Ian looks a little dubious at me and I add. "Jerry will go across first and climb the bank, then hold on to Ian to stop him falling in."

With the others in place and me holding the cat, she makes a short run up and jumps. Easily clearing the gap, but once she lands she bounces off Ian. His arms shoot out to catch her, and for an instant I worry all three of them are going to fall in. Luckily, she regains her balance.

"Thank you Ian, but could you let go now?" Reluctantly he does and I see why.

When he'd grabbed her he'd grabbed her bum. And through blind luck one of his hand's fingertips had slipped under her knickers and was holding her naked buttock. 'Jammy Bastard!' I thought, jealously.

A thought I'd never expected to think about Mrs Havisham previously.

She smiles at him as she pushes passed to climb the bank, but pauses part way up.

"Ian, would you be a dear and help me? I don't want to slip." She looks back with a smile on her face, and I realise she doesn't really need help.

However, Ian is willing and reaches up to rest his hands on her buttocks again. Jerry is standing open mouthed on top of the bank looking down. As Janet looks up, his mouth snaps shut and I realise he's in the perfect position to look down her cleavage. I might have a pussy in my hand, but it's not the kind I want. I was beginning to feel a little hard done by, despite being the one to shed blood on this adventure.

In moments the trio are over the bank and it's my turn. Holding the cat firmly, to avoid more clawing, I nimbly hop over the ditch and up and over the bank. Only to find the others missing.