Miracles do Happen

Indeed, it was a daily problem for many of the male members of staff, many who struggled to look the pretty blonde in the eye when talking to her, whilst the others merely satisfied themselves with surreptitiously ogling her whenever they could. And today was no different, as her chosen upper garment clung to her body emphasising the shape and size and apparent firmness of her impressive boobs.

Her shapely legs also drew much male attention, and whilst she normally wore tights, she'd recently read a fashion magazine article extolling the virtues of stockings. Eager to see what all the fuss was about she had decided that today she would try a pair of 'thigh highs' for the first time. So far she liked them, although she kept noticing that the lace pattern at the top was on display more times than she would have liked. Even as the thought entered her head she unwittingly pulled at the hem of her skirt, once again trying to cover up her shapely thighs.

And to add to the allure of her legs and completing her outfit, Pamela today had worn a pair of black court shoes with a 4" heel. Always concious about her perceived lack of height, it was the size of heel she usually wore to compensate, and today had been no different. Having said that, these shoes were really too expensive and too smart for work, but newly purchased for an upcoming party, she was wearing them today to 'break them in'.

She looked at the clock again and sighed. It was only six minutes past five. Why was time passing so slowly? That last minute had seemed like ten.

She mentally shook her head. That clock can't be right. She rooted about in her handbag and finally locating her mobile phone, checked the time. Damn, the clock was right. She re-read the message from Simon. Damn him. It still infuriated her. She took a crafty look around, and seeing that Mrs Brown had seemingly stepped out of the office for a while, she quickly checked out her social media sites.

There was nothing new on Facebook, nothing on Instagram, nothing on Twitter - she would never get used to calling it X - or Snapchat. No more messages, no contacts, no emails, nothing at all. God, why was her life so boring!

It was then that she heard rather then saw that Mrs Brown was on her way back. Not wanting to be told off again she quickly tossed her phone back into her handbag, completely missing the red warning light that showed her battery was about to expire. Propping up her chin in her left hand she sighed and picking up a pencil began to beat a tattoo on the desk top.

"Pamela! Do you have to do that?" Mrs Brown snapped at her. Her harsh tone conveying the fact she wasn't happy.

"Sorry," Pamela replied as she put down the pencil.

Thank God it's Friday, she thought. She looked at the clock again. Seven minutes past five. Goddamn it!

"Pamela!"

Pamela jerked to attention, brought out of her daydream with a bump as Mrs Perkins, one of the partner's secretaries appeared at her side and made her jump.

"Yes Mrs Perkins?" she replied, looking up sweetly.

"Can you go up and see Mr Jackson immediately please; he has a job for you."

At last, a job, she thought sarcastically, glancing at her watch as she trudged upstairs to Mr Jackson's office. Absolutely bloody typical. It's nearly home time and I bet he only wants some more filing doing.

Finally reaching Mr Jackson's office door, she knocked and waited outside.

"Come." Mr Jackson's voice boomed out. Pamela entered, closing the door behind her. Mr Jackson was sitting behind his desk, struggling to put a large file into an envelope that was clearly too small.

"Ah Pamela, Can you sort this out for me please," he said, thrusting the file and envelope towards her. "And I need it to be delivered by hand tonight. The address is on the envelope. It's the new housing estate over there," he added, vaguely waving his hand in the general direction of the estate, which was some distance away behind the offices. He looked up and smiled weakly. "And when you've done that, you can get off home."

She glanced in the direction his hand had waved, leaning down to peer out through the window. She could just make out the shiny red tiled roofs of the new houses in the distance, a stark contrast to the sombre dark grey slate roofs of the older houses that stood before them. It looked miles away so by the time she'd walked there and back she'd be working unpaid overtime. So much for getting off early.

She turned back, catching Mr Jackson ogling her backside and legs. His eyes shot up, hesitating briefly at her chest area before he looked her in the eyes.

"Thank you, Mr Jackson," she replied sweetly, taking the envelope, "have a nice weekend."

He grunted his reply.

She went downstairs and put on her thin jacket and grabbed her bag, stuffing the envelope inside. Wishing the other girls in the office a pleasant weekend she exited the office, crossed the reception area and went out the front door.

As she stepped out onto the street, a strong gust of wind hit her, nearly knocking her off balance, as she felt the first drops of rain.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed, glancing up into an angry looking sky, "and now I'm going to get wet as well."

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her small telescopic umbrella and pulling the zip of her jacket all the way to the top, she set off.

To get to the new housing estate meant going through the increasingly derelict old part of town. She knew the way, vaguely, in daylight, but it was already pretty gloomy now with the intermittent street lights casting their eerie yellow glow over the wet pavement.

Within minutes of leaving the office the rain began to fall more heavily and the wind was blowing stronger. Pamela gritted her teeth ignoring the thought to turn back. A sudden gust blew her umbrella inside out and as Pamela tussled with it, she missed her turn. Not realising her mistake, she walked straight on.

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PANIC IN THE STREETS

Bill could hear the little bastards as soon as he opened his front door to sort out his dustbins. They had been emptied earlier in the day and he needed to bring them back through his house and put them out in his backyard. Living in a long row of terraced houses it was easier, and shorter, to take them through the house rather than along the myriad of alleyways that serviced the backs of all the houses.

It was the yobs off the new estate. He could hear them yelling and cursing in the distance, their voices echoing around the empty streets. They were only young kids, some of them not even teenagers, but they had been terrorising the new estate for some time, the police seemingly unable to catch them in the act of performing any crime. Perhaps it was low on their list of priorities. But the yobs didn't bother Bill, they rarely if ever came down his street.

>>>

Pamela too heard the yells in the distance, but didn't know who, or where, or what it was. She was too busy watching where she put her feet so she didn't trip over, as she squinted her eyes against the driving wind and rain. Sizeable puddles had already begun to form on the broken and uneven pavement as the rain hammered down. She'd managed to get her umbrella turned back the right way but the damage was done. Some of the struts were badly bent.

She also knew she was lost. She pulled her mobile out of her handbag to check Google Maps and cursed when she saw it was dead. She carried on walking as the thought crossed her mind as to whether she should give up and try and find her way back into town. She could always come back tomorrow to deliver the letter. But as she pondered on what to do, so she reached the end of the street and turned the corner.

"Fuck!" she muttered, immediately startled when she saw the group of youths huddled together across the road. Some were slouched against a brick wall with the rest standing together in a loose circle on the footpath. They all seemed to be wearing the customary street uniform of hooded tops and baseball caps pulled down low to mask their faces.

It sent a shiver of fear down her spine, especially when she realised that they had spotted her. She hurried on, hoping that she could make it to the next corner without them becoming too interested in her.

But it was not to be. It wasn't long before she heard the first rude comments about the fact that she was a woman. She nervously tried to pick up her pace, silently cursing her choice of wearing her new shoes, which were now pinching her toes.

"Hey sweetheart, where're you goin? Why don't you come over here and show us yer tits," she heard one of the yobs yell out.

"Hey, how much do ya charge for a blow job?" she heard another screech. Raucous, childish laughter filled the air.

She risked a quick glance across in their general direction and saw that the youths who had been leaning against the wall had moved away to join the others. A couple of them stepped off the kerb and began to walk slowly in her direction.

She swallowed hard. Oh Shit! They seemed so much nearer now. Her breathing was strained as her heart began to pound loudly in her chest. From being a little bit concerned she was now flat out scared.

"Fuck me... she's fit!" she heard one yell, his voice sounding too close for comfort. "Fuck it - let's get her. We need to get a better fucking look at her tits."

She risked another quick glance over her shoulder and then wished she hadn't. The rest of the group had stepped off the kerb now and were following the first two.

"Fuck me - do you fucking think she's got fucking big tits?" she heard one lad say. His voice was so high pitched she wondered if he was even a teenager. The raucous, childish laughter started again.

Oh my god! She could feel her heart rate peaking as a knot of panic gripped her stomach. Shhhhhhhittttt!

She could see another road junction just up ahead. It was so close and she was convinced that if she could reach it, she could get away. She began to walk faster. As soon as she turned the corner she was going to run. She sensed they were closing rapidly and quickened her pace as much as her feet would allow her to.

Finally... finally... she was there. Turning the corner, she began to run. Splashing through puddles, wetting her legs, she didn't care. In a blind panic she plunged on. She threw away her umbrella. It had blown inside out again. Broken, it was of no use to her now. Thunder rumbling loudly, the rain had become a deluge of biblical proportions, and she was soaked through as well as freezing cold. With her lungs burning, her heart pounding, her breath catching in her throat, she felt her legs weakening. She could sense the mob were closing in on her and were going to catch her. She began to sob loudly as she urged herself to run faster.

>>>

After hearing the yobs in the distance, Bill had gone back inside the house, taking the bins through to the backyard. Returning to lock up, he realised he hadn't brought in the recycling boxes. He opened the front door, leaving it open and temporarily bathing the street with light from his hallway as he went outside the front gate to retrieve them.

>>>

Desperation gripped Pamela. She was scared now; really scared. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was about to explode. Her panic was making her breathing ragged and her throat felt so hot. She could feel her legs beginning to buckle and give way as the lactic acid built up in them. She knew about stuff like that from the gym. Fat lot of good that was going to do her now!

She began to look frantically about her, searching for an escape from the gang who she felt were only seconds away from grabbing her.

And then she saw it. In the distance. A light... she could see a light. She urged herself on, a shot of adrenaline coursing through her body as she saw a possible salvation appear before her. As she drew nearer she could see someone... oh thank God, thank God, she screamed to herself.

>>>

Bill looked up in surprise as through the driving rain a young woman ran up to him. Even in the darkness he could see her visibly shaking with fear.

"Help me... please... please help me... please," Pamela screamed, her voice cracking as she just carried on running straight past him and into his house.

Bill spun around. "What the fuck?" he muttered to himself. He turned back and was horrified to see the gang of yobs coming towards him. "Fucking hell!" he exclaimed loudly. He turned, hobbling back inside as fast as he could, where he quickly closed and locked the front door and slid across the extra security deadbolts.

Outside, he heard the mob yelling and shouting, hurling obscenities towards his house before their voices subsided as they walked away, laughing and shouting at each other. And then it was quiet.

Still reeling from the surprise, Bill walked through to his rear living room. As he entered he saw a bedraggled looking girl standing in the middle of the room, water dripping from her onto the floor. And even though she was stood close to the fire she was shivering and shaking. If she'd been chased by those yobs then no doubt she had been badly traumatised by the events of the last few minutes.

"Now then love, just what the hell's going on?" he asked as he looked at her with growing interest. She looked soaked to the skin, her blonde hair was hanging limply, a loose strand plastered across her forehead. Bill ran his gaze lower. Her skirt was wet through, as was her jacket.

"I... I... I was so... scared... they... they... chased me," she babbled, sobbing bitterly between words, "then... then I... I saw your light... I... I don't know... I..." She stopped as the tears fell.

"Well you're safe now love, so just relax," Bill said gruffly, "they can't get you in here." He moved forward to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "What's your name pet?" he asked softly.

"Pamela... Pamela Day," she stuttered in reply. She shivered from the cold, her whole body racked in spasm.

"Okay... Pamela. Come and stand nearer the fire. I think you're in shock, so if you just hang on a moment I'll go make you some tea. That should help calm you down."

Bill turned, entered his kitchen and opened a cupboard. He bent down to rummage through the contents before he finally laid his hands on what he was looking for. He pulled out his bottle of whisky and when her tea was made, poured a large shot into her mug, adding a couple of teaspoons of sugar as well. He walked back into the living room.

"Here, drink this," he said thrusting the mug into her hand, "It's tea. Strong and sweet. It'll make you feel better. Straight back mind!"

She took the mug of tea and took a tentative sip. She screwed up her face as she got caught the taste of the whisky.

"I can't drink that, it's got something in it," she said as she handed Bill the mug. He pushed it back towards her.

"You must," he replied, "it's only a shot of whisky and it'll get your blood circulating and help take away the shock." Pamela accepted it back and reluctantly took another sip and then another.

As she struggled to drink her tea, so Bill took the opportunity to look at her properly. In spite of her bedraggled appearance he immediately liked what he saw.

Blonde, blue eyes and undeniably very pretty. 'Not bad, not bad at all', he mused, pursing his lips and nodding sagely to himself. His gaze dropped lower, appreciatively taking in the shape of her legs, noting the shape of her slender calves, and the promise her thighs held, their curvaceous definition displayed wonderfully, due in part because her wet skirt was plastered to them.

She was young, probably about eighteen or nineteen years old, just like the girls in the DVD's. And then it hit him. She was a dead ringer for the secretary, the one he'd seen gamely taking the old man's cock. Fucking hell!

He felt a growing nervous excitement flood his body. Had God finally answered his prayers? Could he take advantage of this gift? He felt his cock twitch as the evil thought that maybe he could, grew.

He noticed Pamela had finished her tea. "Here pet, let me take that from you. Feeling any better?" She nodded but was still shaking badly from the cold.

"I'll get you something else," he said, "I think you're still in shock." He limped off to his kitchen and came back a minute or two later with a glass in his hand. It was a large shot of brandy diluted with flat lemonade to make it easier to drink.

"Knock it straight back love," he said as he offered it to her. As she raised it to her lips, he kept his hand there and tipped the drink straight down her throat. She coughed and spluttered and her throat felt like it was on fire as the hot liquid gold rushed down into her body.

Taking the glass from her hand Bill went back to the kitchen and refilled it, although with less lemonade than before. Rooting around in a cupboard he finally found what he was looking for. He unscrewed the lid of the small glass phial before he added a good dose of a little something extra. It was a well known aphrodisiac sold by the sex company he bought his DVD's from.

As a Platinum Club Member he'd got it free. The advert claimed that any woman who took just a couple of drops of the liquid in her drink would become more aroused within minutes. One Hundred Percent Guaranteed. He was pretty sure it was a load of old bollocks. However, he was also certain that if, as it claimed, it was made from herbal extracts it wouldn't do her any harm if it didn't work. And in the unlikely event that it did - then that had to be a "Big Brucey" bonus, now didn't it!

He came back into the room and handed the glass back to Pamela. "Here you go love, now just sip on this one every minute or so," he leered. "It'll make you feel better."

She nodded and bringing the glass to her lips, took a sip.

Bill nodded his approval before limping back to the kitchen. He returned with some towels.

"Right now love, lets get you out of these wet clothes."

Pamela shot him a look of horror. "I... I can't... I..."

"You're soaked to the skin love, and in shock. We need to get you dry and warm. You can't do that if you stay in those clothes," Bill said interrupting her. "Come on, it'll be alright."

With no further objections from Pamela, Bill licked his lips in anticipation as he looked closely at her thin jacket. Being wet through, it clung to her upper body, bulging pleasingly in the breast area, so much so, that he suspected she had big tits. It was time to see what lay beneath.

Holding his breath, he took hold of the zipper and began to pull it down. Despite the fact her jacket was soaked, it slid down fairly easily, which surprised him. That was until it he reached the point where it bulged out over her breasts. Here the zipper became stuck, as the size and weight of her breasts caused the jacket to gape open. He tugged at the zip, growing increasingly annoyed as it refused to budge, before having a eureka moment, he took hold of the bottom of her jacket, pulling the two sides together so he could lower the zip unimpeded all the way down.

"Let's get this off you pet," he croaked, as with trembling hands he slid her jacket off her shoulders, down her arms and tossed it to one side. He turned back to face her.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed, as his eyes finally focused on her large breasts.

Her thin jacket had afforded little protection from the monsoon like conditions so her tight grey sweater was soaking wet too. So much so that the outline and detail of her lacy bra was clearly visible. He could also see her nipples poking through. His cock got instantly harder.

He glanced up into her eyes. She looked dazed, disoriented, bewildered almost. Seeing her glass was still half full he took her hand, encouraging her to raise it to her lips.

"Here pet, drink up, you'll feel better if you do," he said.