Lend Me...

This is a new story. All characters are over the age of eighteen before any sexual situations are involved.

Please cast your votes, and send me your thoughts, when you're done.

Thanks for reading.

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Yvonne was the daughter...well, one of them, anyway...of a couple that were friends of my parents when I was growing up.

She was one year younger than I was, and I last saw her when I was thirteen. She was a tall, scrawny, geeky, bespectacled girl with a bad attitude, fiery red hair and a smattering of freckles. The hair, freckles, eyes and attitude were inherited from her mother, which is one of the reasons I didn't miss the whole family one bit when they fell out of favour with my parents.

***

Years go by. Seasons change. I grew up and moved on with my life, which took me a long way from the small town I used to call home.

My job was to examine the loan applications received at my bank branch, plough through the numbers, and come up with a recommendation to either accept or reject the client's paperwork. Boring doesn't begin to cover it, but it was a paycheck.

I picked up the file from my 'in' box, and glanced at the name. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but it took me a while to place it, and the last place I placed it was twelve years and over two-thousand miles away. It could be someone else, but how many 'Yvonne Michelle Fevine's could there be? The surname alone was unique enough that I'd never seen it anywhere but that one family.

I picked up the phone, and punched a few numbers. The line rang once, twice...then crackled to life.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end said. The tones were soft, feminine, and bordering on sultry.

"Yvonne Fevine?" I asked.

"Yes!" she responded. I introduced myself.

"It's Richard Douglas, at Premier Bank...your loan application landed on my desk, and I have questions before I pass it on. Are you available to come in for a few minutes, sometime this week?" Truth be told, it could have been done over the phone, but I was curious. Could it be my old childhood acquaintance?

"Absolutely," she said evenly. "I could come in today, if you have time."

I looked at my calendar, and found that I did indeed have time.

"How's eleven sound?" I asked her.

"Eleven it is!" she sang. "I'll bring my business plan, and anything else that might be helpful. Thanks for calling."

I actually found myself looking forward to it. I'm not sure why, given that, if it was the same person, she'd always been quite the bitch to me.

***

I came out of the elevator, and walked past the reception desk.

"Your eleven o'clock is waiting in your office," the receptionist said.

"Great. Thanks," I replied turning down the hallway towards my office. I was lucky enough to get the larger room at the end of the hall, and my door was open, so I could see her immediately. It had to be her.

She was sitting in the guest chair, with her legs crossed. Her back was angled toward me, and a cascade of sexy, wavy, flaming red hair tumbled well past her shoulders. As I approached, she turned her head slightly, showing me her profile, with a cute nose, plump, pouty lips, and black framed glasses.

I walked in, closing the door as I did.

"I once knew an Yvonne Fevine," I began.

"And I once knew a Richard Douglas!" she replied, turning as she stood. I was right...it was her, but this was not the Yvonne I remembered. No...that scrawny, freckle-faced tomboy had definitely grown up. Wow! "Hi, Rick!"

She was tall, easily six feet in her heels, a pair of glittering silver and navy blue pumps with moderate spikes. Long, slender, shapely legs disappeared under a knee length navy skirt, that wrapped her apparently firm ass nicely. Up top, well, let's just say she had my rapt attention...and what appeared to be a larger than average pair of breasts. They were full, and round, but not so much that they looked out of place on her body. I don't know what fabric her blouse was made of, but it was cream coloured, and draped over those luscious curves in the sexiest way, magnifying even the slightest jiggle.

As good as her body appeared to be... and if you read the previous paragraph, I think you'll agree she wasn't chopped liver...her face was stunning. Huge blue eyes, surrounded by the black rectangular frames of her glasses, contrasted the fiery explosion of hair. She had fashion model bones, with high, wide cheekbones, a perky nose, and softly pointed chin line. The final piece of the puzzle was her mouth, a bee-stung masterpiece that had me wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips.

Most unusual of all was her smile, not because it was unique, or exceptional, or anything like that, although it was both of those. What made it unusual was that it was there at all, as I couldn't recall seeing it as a child. Anyway, it was there now, and it was shining at me.

"Hi Yvonne! Long time...no see," I replied, extending my hand. She looked at it and laughed.

"After, what?... Twelve years? I think we can do better than a handshake, don't you?" She stepped over and pressed against me in a hug that was close enough to a brother-sister one to be acceptable in a business environment. I say 'close enough', because it was a longish hug, and she couldn't hide those yummy, firm globes, that caused dents in my chest. "What are the odds... after all this time, and so far from home...that we meet this way? It's great to see you. You're looking good."

"Thanks," I answered, returning her smile, "I can't believe how good youlook," I continued. It wasn't until after I said it that I heard it. It didn't come out the way I planned. "I'm sorry, that sounded awful. Can I try that again? What I meant to say was that you look fantastic!"

"Aw, that's sweet of you," she laughed. "I know I look different than the last time you saw me. I was one geeky looking kid."

"Weren't we all?" I laughed, gesturing for her to sit, and taking my own chair. We got right down to business, more or less. When Yvonne leaned forward to hand me her business plan, her blouse hung away from her chest, giving me an enticing peek down to where her creamy boobs were cradled in a very brief, white, lacy bra. I got the same view every time she wanted to point something out on the document, which turned out to be quite often. It only took a few peeks to come to the conclusion that she had really, really nice tits, and when she did sit back, two distinct bumps marred the smooth fabric of her top.

She relaxed, crossing her legs, and bouncing her foot. The chair was far enough back that I could see most of her legs where she sat, adding to my list of distractions, which was getting longer all the time. So was my dick, but at least it was under cover of the desk. Then she uncrossed her legs, and reversed them as she re-crossed them, and my eyes were drawn to the slit in her skirt. A few inches of smooth thigh showed above her stocking tops, and I started volume two of my list of distractions.

She reversed her legs again, and the peekaboo thigh disappeared, reverting her look to that of attractive but demure businesswoman. A few minutes later, after another uncross / re-cross cycle, the thigh was back, and she took on the appearance of a hungry tigress, stalking prey.

That about did it for my concentration. Her well formatted and concise business plan began to make as much sense to me as Egyptian hieroglyphics do. I couldn't keep my mind on the task at hand.

"I must be getting hungry," I said, closing her folder, "because my eyes are fuzzy. Have you eaten yet, Yvonne?"

"No, I haven't," she replied, smiling. "Are you buying?"

"Sure. You're a client...it's a write-off," I laughed. "There's a nice place on the other end of the block. We can eat while we talk about your loan. A working lunch."

"Okay. Let's go," she added, standing. "You lead the way."

***

It was a short walk, but an awkward one. How do you walk along beside a beautiful woman without wanting to hold her hand? It just seemed wrong. If I led too far, I'd look like a jerk. Following too much made me look like a pervert, ogling her ass. Keeping the perfect pace with her was difficult.

The waitress seated us quickly, leaving us with menus and a few minutes to figure things out. She was back soon, and we placed our orders. Drinks arrived first.

"I need to visit the ladies room," she whispered. "I'll only be a minute."

"Don't you girls usually go in groups?" I laughed.

"I'll wing it," she giggled, sliding out of the booth.

I watched as every male head in the restaurant turned to watch her walk gracefully towards the back of the room. I didn't blame them, since I also had my eyes glued to the sensuous sway of her hips, and the sexy wiggle of her firm ass. True to her word, she reappeared a minute or so later, and this time I had to be a bit more subtle in my observance of her jiggling boobs as she walked back to the booth. A few steps away, she smiled at me, and I smiled back, shaking my head.

"What?" she laughed as she slid back opposite me. "Something funny?"

"Well," I said, deciding not to hold back. I'm sure she knew she was gorgeous, but it never hurts to tell a woman she's pretty. "I was just watching all the guys in here, watching you."

"Really?" she giggled, looking around playfully. "Li'l ole me?" she said, feigning modesty. I wasn't buying. "Alright, I know they look. I like it. That's not the question, though," she said, piercing me with those blue eyes.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's the question?" I asked.

"The question," she repeated, leaning forward a bit more, her eyes locked on mine, "is whether you are watching?" When she leaned in, her boobs rested on the edge of the table, bulging up into the neckline of her blouse, which seemed a little more open than it had before. I had a feeling I was being toyed with. I blinked, and let my eyes fall from hers, down to the tease of cleavage that was on display.

"Maybe," I answered, looking down and swirling my drink. "Is that important to you?" I looked up, and she was smiling.

"Maybe," she replied, suggestively caressing her straw with the tip of her tongue.

"Why the change in attitude?" I asked, curious still. "If I recall correctly, you loathed me as a child."

"Yes, I remember," she laughed, continuing her mock blowjob on the straw. "Don't take it personally...I loathed all boys...horrid, brutish things. But I was a kid. What did I know? As I grew up, my viewpoint changed, and I found that boys turn into men...wonderful, brutish things. I rather like men." Her smile had a little twist, and she flicked her eyes around my body.

This conversation was taking a decidedly personal turn, and it was getting to me. I tried to steer it back to business.

"So, your business plan? You're trying to open a women's clothing shop?" I offered. "Tell me more about your vision. It might make a difference in the loan decision."

"Party pooper!" she giggled, and pushed her drink aside. "Yes, a women's clothing shop, but not, um...a 'clothing' shop. I'm going to specialize in what women wear under their clothing."

"Bras and panties? Pretty heavy competition, there." I tried not to visualize her in her undies, but failed. Her perky nipples weren't making it easier. "Um, you'd be up against the big boys, or rather, girls."

"Yes, yes, I know all about Victoria's Secret. I was thinking more along the lines of things they don't carry. Much more...intimate...things," she added, with a smile. "I'm wearing some now, and they feel wonderful." She drew the last word out, and wiggled her bottom on the seat. 'Woooonderfulllllll'.

Gulp. I couldn't help wondering what garments her business attire might be hiding. My imagination was running rampant.

"Rick," she breathed, leaning closer. "Would you like me to tell you what I'm wearing? Or maybe you'd rather see what I'm wearing, and what I'm not?"

I'd very much love to, but given our history, and the length of time that had passed...and the fact that she really just met me again, and was making this offer...I smelled a rat.

"Yvonne, I think you know that I wouldn't turn down that opportunity," I said. "I'm not gay, and you're gorgeous, but..." I sat back, and crossed my arms,"...I get the feeling there are strings attached. You know, I can't get you your loan. I can only make a recommendation to accept or reject."

She shook her head in mock insult, then shrugged.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," she grinned, "and using all the tools she has available." She leaned forward again, resting her boobs on the table once more. I hadn't seen her do it, but she had obviously undone another button, or two, because I got the full picture this time. Cleavage to die for, between her full breasts, and a good portion of her bra...maybe even a hint of areola over the lacy edge of the cups...put on view for my eyes. She watched me taking in the show, then sat back, letting everything vanish from view.

"Are you sure you couldn't put in a good word for me? You have no idea what you're missing," she whispered, smiling confidently. "I'm very, very good, and I can do things to you that you wouldn't believe."

Who put the cotton in my mouth? Jesus, I'd had people flirt with me before, but never like this. If all she wants is a good word...there's no harm in that, is there?

"I can't guarantee anything," I said quietly, and she knew she had me.

"Meet me at my place, tonight at 6," she laughed, "and bring your appetite. I'll make you dinner, and then we'll see what happens." She buttoned her blouse, licking her lips and gazing into my eyes. Standing, she gave me a peck on the cheek, and sauntered out.

Shit. What have I gotten myself into?

***

Finding Yvonne's address was easy. It was on the loan application. Finding her actual house was easy. My GPS led me right to it, no problem.

Finding the courage to get out of the car, once I was parked in her driveway? Now, that was a problem, and no GPS could help me locate it.

I kept going through the permutations figuring out how far I was willing to go, what I was willing to compromise, and whether or not I would do more than just my job to assist her in getting the loan she wanted. I sat there long enough to get a grip on my emotions. It was, after all, just a client making me dinner.

I rang the doorbell, and saw the shadowy figure through the frosted glass as she approached from inside. As soon as she opened the door, all my careful calculations and freshly controlled emotions went right out the window.

"Rick! I'm glad you made it. Come in, please," she said happily, stepping aside with a flourish. I was frozen in place, staring at her.

She was wearing...well, she's the expert on women's clothing, so I would just be guessing...let's just call it a kimono. Black, silky, and cinched tightly around her waist, it revealed nothing, but it was wrapped snug around her curves, so it also hid nothing, except her legs. Oh no, there they are, peeking out with each step to give a glimpse of smooth thigh and calf, encased in nylons. The black contrasted with her flaming tresses, which were hanging in brilliant layers around he face, and down her back. It was a breathtaking picture.

"Come in, make yourself at home," she laughed, leading the way back toward the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready."

The house looked quite nice, having been renovated recently. It was an older neighbourhood, but the inside was updated, and opened up to a more modern plan. The kitchen was like a small amphitheatre, and I took a seat at the counter to watch her work. She buzzed about, and we chatted about nothing in particular. I was glad she had decided to give the blatant flirting a rest. I'm not sure how much more I could take.

"You haven't developed any allergies over the years, have you?" she asked. "I probably should have asked before I cooked everything."

"No," I smiled. She'd planned everything out so far, and had it all her own way. The thought that she might have been unprepared about anything was strangely comforting.

"Good, so seafood is still a favourite?"

"Yes," I stumbled. I was more than a little surprised that she remembered.

A few minutes later, we were seated at the table across from each other, tearing into the crab legs and pasta with gusto. Not the sexiest food to eat, unless you count her occasional attempt to suck the meat out of the tubular shells, or lick her fingers, it was nonetheless delicious. The crab never stood a chance.

We were sitting at the table, looking at each other in silence. The table was a mess, crab shrapnel strewn everywhere. I stood to help her clean up, but she waved me off.

"No, no. You just rest. Take a seat in the living room, and I'll call you when dessert is ready." The way she said 'dessert' made me nervous.

I did as asked. Well, sort of. I didn't actually sit, instead wandering around the room, looking at the bric-à-brac, books and furniture. You know...snooping. She had a few interesting books, and I was still going through the collection when she called.

"Mousse, au chocolat," she whispered, placing the bowl in front of me. She sat in her seat, and dipped her fingertip in her own bowl, licking it off with obvious delight, and a quasi-sexual moan.

"Damn, this stuff is so good," she groaned, "but it plays hell with my girlish figure. I'll need to work it off somehow." I guess the brief respite from flirting was over.

I think the only way she could have made eating her mousse more sexual, would have been to smear it on my dick, and then lick it off. Perhaps another day.

From her end of the table, Yvonne gazed at me. A smile tickled the corners of her sexy, pouting mouth.

"Alright," she purred, "time to get down to business." She stood, towering over me, her steps clicking on the hardwood as she walked around the table. When had she put her heels on?

And where did she get that riding crop?! She patted the palm of her hand with it, and reached out to tap me on the chin, which was hanging open in terror. She turned my head to look up at her.

"Relax Rick...I'm just pulling your chain. I'm not into the rough stuff," she smiled. "You should see the look on your face!"

My heart started again, and I melted back into the chair. She wasted no time in throwing one long leg over me, and sitting on my lap, facing me. Her hands rested on my shoulders, and with nowhere else to put them, I rested mine on her hips. I guess I don't need to tell you what other, warmer part of her body was resting conspicuously on my crotch.

"Rick, let me clear the air here, okay?" I nodded. "I need that loan, but that's not really why you're here. I'm willing to let my business plan be the defining factor in the decision. I know what I'm doing."

"Yes," I whispered, "I already recommended they accept it. I didn't want anything else to get in the way. It's out of my hands."

"But I'm not!" she giggled, putting her arms around my neck, and wriggling her hips playfully. "The truth is, I dressed up for you today, to see if you'd notice. You did, and I liked it, so when you invited me to lunch, I couldn't resist flashing you a little. Your eyes feel so good on me."

I relaxed. I was quite happy to spend time with her, now that I knew she wasn't expecting any special treatment, other than whatever it might take to get her into bed. I had a feeling that had already been decided.

"So where do we go from here?" she asked quietly, staring into my eyes from inches away.

She was leaving it up to me? Now? Hmmmm. I reached up, and gently removed her glasses, folding them closed and placing them to the side.