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It was 1980, and a time long before mobile phones, computers and all the other innovations for instant communication. Kevin Prentice was twenty three years old, single and lived alone in a flat in the city centre. Unlike most young men of his age, he was shy and quiet, often preferring to stay at home and watch television than go out drinking with his mates. He’s had a few girlfriends but they had petered out to nothing; they had usually got bored with his company and left him. His longest relationship, and only sexual conquest, had been with a girl called Susan who he’d first got to know at Junior School but she had got promotion to a job in London a year before, and although she had promised to keep in touch, she later wrote and told him that she had met someone else down there and was engaged to be married.

Kevin worked for the local bus company answering calls about bus timetables and fares, and handling complaints and enquiries about lost property. His office was situated on the first floor of an old Victorian building overlooking the main concourse of the city bus station. From his desk next to the window, he could see the buses as they arrived and departed from their stands and the people waiting to board them. He was part of a team of seven people and one of only two males. He was working with Gary, his other male counterpart one afternoon and was looking in a notebook for the phone number for the main bus depot when he spotted a handwritten entry which read ‘Kiosk 291731’.

“Gary,” he said, looking puzzled, “What’s this entry here that says Kiosk? Is it the Supervisor’s box downstairs because I always thought it had an internal number.”

Gary looked up from the newspaper he had been looking at.

“No,” he said with a grin, “It’s the phone box down on the concourse. When Stuart, your predecessor was here, we used to ring it if there was someone stood nearby and see what their reaction was. It would make some people jump out of their skin! Sometimes people would answer it and we would speak to them in a funny voice. Look, I’ll show you. See the lady with the red coat standing next to the kiosk? Let’s see what she does!”

He dialled the number on his phone and they could just hear the shrill ringing tone. The lady next to it jumped and stood looking at it uncertainly, as did a few other people. Most people however walked by and ignored it. After a few seconds, she hesitantly walked up to the phone and lifted the receiver.

“Hello?” she said. “This is a phone box at the bus station. I think you must have a wrong number.”

“The bus station?” said Gary in a deep booming voice, trying not to laugh. “Can you give me the times for the number nine to Shipton please? I want to travel on Thursday after ten o’clock!”

Kevin burst out laughing and Gary was unable to contain his mirth and put the phone down before the bemused lady had time to reply. The two men watched from above as she put the receiver back and scurried away from the phone box. Luckily her bus had come onto its stand and she boarded it with undue haste. Nothing more was said between the two men but the incident had given Kevin an idea. His flat was in a block four stories high above a parade of shops and overlooked one of the main shopping streets. Some of the local buses started their journeys there instead of at the bus station so there were always people milling about.

Opposite where he lived was a large department store. There were two bus shelters across and about fifty yards down from his flat and between them were two of the old style red telephone kiosks. There were often people waiting for buses there so perhaps he could get lucky and talk to a few of the ladies. On his way home from work that night, he casually popped in to one of the kiosks to note down the number of the phone inside it. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to bring any paper to write on, but somebody had left an empty cigarette packet on the shelf and he scribbled the number on it. He put the empty packet in his pocket and went home.

Later that evening, after he had had something to eat, Kevin was sitting in his flat trying to decide whether to put his plan into action. He looked out of the window of his lounge and noticed a lady waiting alone. It was mid-September and around half past six in the evening and still daylight and he could see that she looked around thirty years of age, had long dark hair and was wearing a red skirt and jacket. Nervously he dialled the number on the cigarette packet as he watched her down in the street. He couldn’t hear the phone ring, but the lady obviously did as she walked forward, opened the kiosk door and stepped inside. He saw her lift the receiver.

“Hello,” he said nervously. “Can I speak to Sarah please?”

“This is a phone box!” said the lady coldly. “There’s no-one else here.”

Without giving Kevin the chance to reply, she put the phone down and stepped out of the kiosk. He tried redialling but the lady just ignored it and walked away from the kiosk and stood at one of the shelters. Eventually he gave up and hung up just as her bus pulled up.

Kevin didn’t have much joy for a week or so. Each time he tried, sancaktepe escort his intended target would either hang up or else not answer. On a couple of occasions another person would come by and pick it up before the person he was trying to ring could get to the phone, usually because they wanted to use it themselves.

His luck changed one Friday evening in early October. It was just after seven o’clock in the evening and a light drizzle was falling. He looked out towards the bus shelters just in time to see a bus pulling away from it. Two young ladies were running towards it trying to attract the driver’s attention but he just ignored them and drove off. There was nobody else at either stop and the two women were now looking at the timetable on the bus stop and checking their watches. After a moment or two, they went and stood in the doorway of the department store out of the rain.

Sharon Ellis and Paula Flint had known each other since secondary school. Both had been in the same class and both now worked for the same company. Both were nineteen years old but Sharon was slightly taller than Paula and had thick, tousled strawberry blond hair past her shoulders. Paula’s hair was blond, collar length and loosely permed. Both wore long beige mackintoshes which were below their knees and similarly fastened with buttons and a large belt around the waist and both carried dark handbags with shoulder straps.

Kevin could see them both clearly and tentatively dialled the phone number which he had now committed to memory. The sudden shrill ring made both girls jump but initially they both ignored it. After a few moments, Sharon one stepped out of the doorway and walked quickly to the kiosk and picked up the phone.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. “Who’s that?”

“Gary!” said Kevin, suddenly feeling shy about divulging his true identity. “Is that you Sarah?”

Sharon giggled.

“No,” she replied. “I think you’ve got the wrong number. This is a public phone box in Queen Street, outside the Co-op.”

“Oh,” said Kevin, suddenly feeling a bit more confident. “Sorry, I must have misdialled! Is the number 271860?”

There was a slight pause while Sharon checked the number written in the centre of the telephone dial.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “Are you dialling the right number?”

“That’s the number I have written down,” said Kevin. “I don’t need a code as I’m ringing from within the city. I’ve definitely got 271860 written down here.”

“Well, someone’s obviously having a joke on you,” said Sharon laughing. “Who is this Sarah, anyway?”

“Just someone I met on the train back from London a few weeks ago,” said Kevin, now feeling really confident. “We chatted about this and that you know, and we seemed to get on, or so I thought, so I asked her for her phone number and this is what she wrote down on the back of a cigarette packet would you believe!”

“Well, she obviously doesn’t want to see you again,” said Sharon.

“I know,” said Kevin. “It’s the story of my life! I just wish she’d told me there and then, though.”

“Well you’ll find the right person one day,” said Sharon. “I’d better go; my bus will be here soon. It’s been nice talking to you.”

“Yes, okay,” said Kevin, suddenly realising that the call would soon be terminated. “By the way, what’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sharon,” said Sharon.

“And are you married or single?”

“I’m still single,” said Sharon. “What is this? Are you trying to chat me up?”

“No,” said Kevin lying through his teeth. “I just wondered. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nineteen,” said Sharon. “What about you. How old are you. Are you still single?”

“I’m twenty three and, yes I am still single,” said Kevin.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries about their respective careers and Kevin learned that she still lived with her parents and younger brother and worked in a building society office in the city centre. He was about to ask her what she looked like when he heard the heavy squeak of the kiosk door opening. Sharon had been joined by her friend who was wondering who she had been talking to for so long. Kevin could hear their voices but had not seen her friend enter.

“Sorry, did you say something,” he said.

“I was just talking to my friend,” said Sharon. “She was wondering where I was.”

“Oh,” said Kevin casually. “What’s her name then?”

“Paula,” said Sharon. “We work in the same office and have been out for a drink after work. We missed our bus because the driver wouldn’t wait for us and they only run every half hour at this time of night.”

“Right,” said Kevin. He thought it best not to mention the fact that he worked for the local bus company and could hear Paula quizzing her friend in the background and Sharon filling her in. The next voice he heard was Paula’s as she had taken the receiver from Sharon.

“My friend wants to know what you look like,” she said giggling loudly. Although they had both only had a couple of drinks, the drink seemed to be affecting Paula ümraniye escort more than Sharon.

“Oh, just average,” said Kevin modestly. “I’ve got dark brown collar length hair, brown eyes and I’m about five foot nine tall. What about you?”

Paula described herself to him although obviously he already knew what she looked like. He learned that she was five foot two inches tall and had blue eyes. When she had finished, he then casually asked her what her friend looked like and found out that she was five feet five inches tall and had brown eyes like himself.

“She’s smaller than me, but she’s got bigger tits!” he heard Sharon shout into the receiver when she had finished.

“Everyone’s got bigger tits than you, even a twelve year old at secondary school has bigger tits than you!” countered Paula. “Do you know, she wears a thirteen year old’s bra!” she giggled.

Sharon grimaced and poked Paula in the ribs.

“What did you have to tell him that for?” she hissed quietly.

Kevin heard the muffled voices down the receiver.

“What was that?” He said.

“My friend wants to know whether you wear boxer shorts,” said Paula giggling loudly.

“I don’t!” shouted Sharon. “It’s all her idea!”

“No, Y-fronts,” said Kevin without thinking.

The two girls burst out laughing when he told them, their little spat soon forgotten.

“What colour? Paula asked when she had calmed a little.

“Yellow,” said Kevin.

“My friend says she would like to see you in them,” said Paula.

“Take no notice!” shouted Sharon into the receiver. “She’s a trouble maker!”

Kevin was silent for a moment and suddenly felt a bit nervous. What had started as a bit of fun was turning into the possibility of the two girls actually wanting to meet him. He was in two minds as the thought had crossed his mind that it was just the drink talking and neither of them would come. On the other hand, he didn’t want to say no. The question was, where could he meet them? If he invited them to his flat it could give the game away that he had been watching them but on the other hand he couldn’t suggest meeting at their homes either because both lived out of the city centre. Then he had an idea, he had a mate who was a coach driver and often took trips abroad. He had recently been to Germany and brought back two bottles of white wine which wasn’t really to his taste. Perhaps the girls would like to come back to his flat to sample some.

“How would you like to continue your night out?” said Kevin. “We could go out to a pub in town or I’ve got some wine in my flat which a friend brought back from Germany a few weeks ago. Do you like white wine?”

“Sharon does, but I prefer vodka and orange,” said Paula. “Have you got any?”

“No, sorry,” said Kevin. “White wine is all I have.”

There was a muffled conversation between the girls which Kevin couldn’t make out, and then Paula came back on the line.

“Then I suppose white wine will have to do,” she said. “Where do you live?”

Kevin told them the name of the block of flats and its location and to his surprise neither of them had heard of it. Although his flat and many others in the block looked down onto the main shopping street, and there was an unsigned back entrance from that street, the main entrance was in another quieter street which ran parallel. By the time they had gone up in the lift and along the corridors they probably wouldn’t realise where they were, he surmised. Just so long as they didn’t look out of the window!

“I’ll come and meet you,” he said. “I’ll be about five minutes.”

“Okay,” said Paula. “We’ll be waiting!”

“Byeee!” shouted Sharon over her shoulder.

The phone line went dead as Paula replaced the receiver into its cradle. Kevin also replaced his receiver onto his phone and took a deep breath. Had he really just invited two young ladies back to his flat? He went to the lounge window and looked out. He could see Sharon and Paula now standing back in the doorway of the Co-op. They looked to be talking to each other and he wondered whether they were discussing what to do next. It was now nearly half an hour after they had missed their bus and the next one had now arrived at the stop. He half expected them to get on it, but they didn’t seem to be interested so perhaps they were going to wait after all. He pulled the curtains across and switched on a large table lamp on a nearby coffee table and pulled on his jacket. He had to work fast as while they were there at the moment, there was no guarantee that they would wait, and they could be on the bus home at this very moment.

He made his way along to the lift and down to the ground floor, walking quickly up the back street and down another little street which brought him out almost opposite the Co-op. The bus had left and Sharon and Paula were still waiting in the Co-op doorway. He crossed the road and walked up to them.

“Hi,” he said casually. “I’m Gary!” He had decided to keep his alias a little longer.

“Hi,” said each one in turn and introduced themselves.

“So, what tuzla escort would you like to do then,” said Kevin. “Do you want to go for a drink somewhere, or come back to my place for a bit?”

“I’ve had enough of sitting in noisy, smoky pubs,” said Sharon. “Let’s go back to your place.”

The drizzle had intensified and they each pulled an umbrella out of their handbags and put it up. Kevin led them back across the road, down the little street and along the back street to the main entrance to his block. He ushered them inside and into the lift after they had shaken the rain from their umbrellas on the doorstep.

“Can I take your coats,” he said when they reached the sanctity of his flat. Each girl unfastened her coat and slipped it off and handed it to him. Kevin took them through into the bedroom and found a couple of spare coat hangers, then took them through into the bathroom to hang up to dry. He went back through into the kitchen and poured two large glasses of white wine for each of them. When he returned, Sharon was sitting in an armchair facing the kitchen door whilst Paula sat on the right hand side of a two sweater sofa. He handed them each a drink and they each took a swig from it. He went back into the kitchen and poured himself a glass and came back and sat next to Paula.

“Well, this is nice!” he said, not quite knowing what to say or do.

Both girls smiled and took another drink. He looked across at Sharon who was dressed in her summer work uniform; a navy blue jacket and a long, blue patterned tea dress with its matching belt fastened round the waist, and then at Paula in her winter uniform; an identical navy blue jacket and matching skirt, and white blouse which was fastened at the neck with a small gold brooch covering the top button, then back at Sharon again. Her dress had a pleated skirt and was also fastened tight round the neck with just a small collar and ribbon bow so there was no cleavage on show and Kevin was unable to discern whether she did indeed have small tits as her friend had earlier indicated. Both girls also wore light tan hosiery and navy blue court shoes.

Sharon was sitting with her legs crossed smoothing her dress and sipping her glass of wine. It was Paula who spoke first.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Gary?” she asked.

“No,” said Kevin. “Not at the moment. That’s why I was ringing, you see I met this girl called Sarah on the train back from London a few weeks ago and we talked and exchanged phone numbers. I wrote her number down on a cigarette packet and she took mine as well, but I’ve not heard anything, so that’s why I thought I would ring. I’ve tried once or twice before but got no answer until you answered. Now I know why!”

“Hmm, it’s a bit of a mean trick, but a good one nevertheless. I must try that if I get any unwanted admirers!” she said.

“Me too,” said Sharon laughing. “I’ve met some real dingbats in my time who I would have loved to have done that to! You’ll have to write the number down for me, I can’t remember it off hand.”

She put her glass down on the table next to her and uncrossed her legs and stood up.

“Stand up a moment, will you?” she said to Kevin.

“Why, is there something wrong?” said Kevin putting his glass on the floor next to the sofa.

“No, just something I want to check, that’s all,” she said.

Kevin stood up as requested. He had been wearing blue jeans and a blue and white check shirt. Without saying a word, she unfastened the belt around his waist.

“What are you doing?” said Kevin in surprise.

“Just checking what you told Paula earlier,” she said pulling the stud on the waistline. She pulled the jeans down beyond his knees and noted the yellow Y-fronts beneath.

Kevin stood there, uncertain of what to do next. Sharon was looking at him from the front and Paula leaned forward, still with her glass in her hand. Both girls were trying to see if there was anything of note showing underneath the thin material. Sharon slipped her fingers into the waistband and drew them slowly down to rest on top of his jeans. His cock length at rest was a mere four inches and both girls looked at it with interest. Sharon pushed him gently back on the sofa and knelt before him. She pulled off his shoes followed quickly by his jeans and pants. Even his socks came off before she pushed her hair back over her shoulders and nuzzled her lips to the tip of his cock. She started to lick it gently with her tongue, teasing it and kissing it. Slowly it began to lengthen, the glans pushing back the foreskin until it was fully visible and his cock was almost double its original length.

Kevin lay back on his side of the sofa next to Paula who was on his right hand side. She turned to face him and gently cupped his face towards hers with her right hand, then leaned forward and started kissing him passionately on the lips. Her tongue started exploring his mouth and he reciprocated and began fondling her tits under her jacket and through her blouse with his left hand. They were big and round and he was able to trace the outline of her bra. He slipped the other hand round her back and pulled her closer. Each breast seemed to fill the material tantalisingly hidden from view. He was contemplating unfastening a couple of buttons for a better look but Sharon was busily sucking his cock and he could feel the sap rising within as he tensed and released a river of hot spunk into her mouth. She swallowed it expertly and not a drop was wasted or dripped onto her own clothes.

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