Dorsai - Taxi

A couple of seconds later, Helen told me "Anyway, even with Tom dead, there really wasn't any recourse for us but to continue as we had, even though there certainly wasn't any lack of men willing to 'console' a grieving widow – or her daughter, for that matter. Then, when we found out just how much life insurance Tom had, neither of us could help but wonder how much of the attention we were getting from men was interest in us, and how much was interest in our money. As a family, we'd been doing quite well while Tom was alive; he was a damn good broker, and made top commissions. But with the addition of all the insurance coverage he'd had… well, it was a Hell of a lot to have to worry about. Perversely enough, we even lost the few close friends we had before Toms death: they apparently didn't want us to think that they were after our money, either, and the relationships gradually grew apart. I can assure you, coming into sudden wealth is most certainly not all it's cracked up to be!"

She finished up by saying "The two of us finally decided that what we wanted to do -needed to do! – was simply get out of town for a while: get away from our new-found 'friends', all the people that we knew and know us, and just relax. We also thought that along the way, we just might happen across someone that one or the other of us, or even both, found attractive; but someone that wasn't interested in getting their hands on our money, and still had enough… character, or class, or whatever you want to call it, to be good company, too. We've been on the road for the last couple of months, actually, and generally enjoying ourselves when we decided to stay here and join in the Halloween parties. Both of us were greatly surprised to find that friend of one of our friends here; you did us a tremendous favor is helping us get away from him. But be that as it may, it's how you behaved tonight that got us interested in you. Both of us were fully aware that the outfits we were wearing were more than a little on the provocative side, but neither one of us ever caught you ogling us. Either you weren't looking, which I doubt, or you were far more discreet about it than most men would be. And when you took us to your bar, everyone there was as friendly as you'd said they'd be; but it was the way they treated you, and how you treated them in return, that really convinced us of your other qualities. So it didn't take much for us to agree that, if you were willing, both of us would like you to stay with us – even all night, if you can. Of course, we'll understand if you're put off by the relationship between Sarah and I; you've had less time to come to terms with it than I did. Both of us would regret the missed opportunity, but neither of us would take offense – we're fully aware that our relationship isn't something most people would be able to accept."

There was no way that I wasn't going to look at the two of them as I considered what Helen had said. When I looked from Helen to Sarah, and back again, they moved a little closer to each other before each put an arm around the other's waist – then calmly stood there, with no apparent concern.

As I said before, Helen was an attractive, leggy redhead. She's got the stereotypical green eyes, a peaches and cream complexion (all over!), and full red lips in a slightly oval face. Curly red hair falls well past her shoulders; when she was in her Godiva costume, she'd kept it in front of her to help conceal her breasts. Now, though, she'd moved it around to hang down her back; that left me with a clear view of her full, but not overly large, bust. Each of her breasts is capped with a pale pink areolas about an inch across and slightly puffy. Extending out from that was her nipple: the diameter of a large Crayon, and standing out perhaps a quarter of an inch. Her breasts sag only enough to make it clear that she hasn't had anything done to them. The rest of her body is fit and trim, with just enough padding to gentle the curves of her female form. Her lower belly is as flat as a woman's can be, and between her upper thighs is the thick, narrow triangle of her pubic hair – which is maybe just one shade darker than what's on her head. Her legs are long, trim, and made up of a series of smooth, gentle curves.

Next to her, Sarah simply looks like a 90% scale version of her mother; except that Sarah's red hair is a trifle lighter in color. Sarah's breasts are marginally smaller, but then she's still got some growing to do, I figure. It's easy as can be to see that they're related, and I don't figure that it would take much for them to look more like sisters than mother and daughter. Both have a light, sparse dusting of freckles across their shoulders and down onto the upper slopes of their breasts. Neither has any sign of blemishes, scars, birthmarks, or anything else to get in the way of enjoying the smooth, clear expanse of skin they're showing me.

When I'm through looking them over, I say to Helen "Even while you were telling me how and why you decided that there wasn't any reason you and Sarah couldn't become lovers, I understood what you were saying – and even agreed with your reasoning. Both of you are absolute knockouts" – that earned me a pair of pleased smiles – "so the only thing that concerns me is why Sarah hasn't said anything. She's certainly been pleasant enough tonight, but I don't think I've gotten a dozen sentences from her; and she hasn't indicated that she wants to contribute anything to what you just told me."

Helen opened her mouth, but I saw Sarah give her mother a quick hug to indicate that she wanted to speak, instead. Looking directly into my eyes, Sarah told me "Believe it or not, I'm actually kind of shy around people; particularly people I don't know all that well. I'm feeling a little scared and nervous to be standing here in front of you, naked. But what Mom said was right, about both of us wanting to share ourselves with you, and she was speaking for both of us when she explained why. I turned seventeen a few months ago, shortly after I graduated high school – a year ahead of the rest of the kids my age. I had several different boyfriends while I was in school, but it seemed like all any of them wanted to do was use me, whether it was to just show me off to his friends, get me naked and play with my tits, or get between my legs. Almost none of them was willing or able to pay any attention to what I wanted, and that made me even more reluctant to let anyone get close to me that way. A few months before I graduated, I believed that the guy I had been going out with was the kind of person I was looking for. He wanted us to have sex, but didn't push it when I said 'no'." She gave a wry laugh and continued "Oh, he was a good one, all right. It turned out that he was just playing me along until he could have sex with me; once he'd taken my virginity, he proceeded to tell all of his buddies what he'd done, like I was some kind of prize he'd won. The bitch of it is that he was patient enough, and good enough, that I realized just how much I could enjoy having sex. By the time I found out that he was telling everyone about us, we'd had sex several times; and each time, I liked it more and more. So when I broke up with him, it just made my physical needs and desires that much worse. From what Mom has told me, I'm going through pretty much the same thing she is, so I understand the things she's told me a whole lot better than I did before. As crass or crude as it might sound, I want to get laid, dammit! But I don't want it to be by some stud for hire, or someone that's only after our money, or some clown that's just looking to add another notch to his bedpost; I want it to be by someone that is able and willing to let himself 'open up' enough to be with me like Mom is and does. Somebody with class or character or whatever, like Mom said. And I think that someone is, or could be, you."