Chapter 3

Esther Rampent showered, spotting the tall elegant complex owner pass through to a vacant booth. Hmm! Not you Frances, a bit rumpled and sweaty looking the slim, black, shapely, promotions girl thought, not her usual immaculate self. That towel not exactly concealing all your fabulous old body. It was Esther’s night out that night and the swim and exercise routine she’d completed set her up for a few drinks and boogie in whichever club her and her friends picked out of the one. Yes a stark shortage of money night in the area meant the group of four 18 and 21 year olds, plus Martha the 28 year old cougar would cast their shag happy nets over a meagre bunch of prats and nerds ... as usual in the Target Nightclub.

At home Esther, after a quick snack and a yet another shower, rummaged through her night time clothing attire, consisting of three large large drawers in an old pine chest. One of the drawers was stuck. Naked, she heaved angrily at it, silently cursing Jimmy her father who had promised to fix it. She had got home early surprising Jimmy who was in the back garden feeding and cleaning his collection of Silver Grey show rabbits. He had left her to get on with things, getting the impression she was in a hurry ... when is she never he thought.

The familiar rattle of the drawer alerted him and he swiftly sneaked indoors to quietly rise the stairs and enter his workroom, ostensibly the third of three bedrooms in the small terrace house in Eden Road. He shifted rabbit breed books, brushes and some clippers off the table and knelt down on a cushion in the small space beside it, Swinging a rabbit show calendar aside. What a view!

Through a spy hole in the panel wall, across Esther’s room he had a clear view past the foot of her bed to her wardrobe and the chest of drawers. Her gorgeous, shapely, bare brown bum wobbled as she rifled through her gear. Jimmy knew she was going out on the town and it was Friday night, so no work for his promotion girl daughter till Saturday night when she would be prancing round a boxing ring at the Acklam Iron and Steelworkers Athletic Club holding up a large card informing the raucous – because of her skimpy attire, the round number.

He had a clear vision of the next bout, when she knelt on the floor and tilted her arse up to dig into the back of the drawer which Jimmy knew stored her little used brassieres. As always, having spied on her for years, he was astonished how she had resisted the modern girl treatment of their cunts and left her hirsute growth of glossy black wiry pubes intact. Her sphincter winked temptingly through the forest as did her snatch which opened a little to reveal vivid pink membranes. Memories of hairy Gladys his deceased wife flooded back. Esther found a suitable garment and stood, after shuffling that also sticking and noisy drawer back in place. Jimmy heard her muttering to herself as she chose a white thong from a top drawer ... the words and terms, Dad ... how many tines ... fucking ... sticking ... floated to Jimmy, resolving to delay the little DIY job for as long as she lived with him.

Esther at 21 was blessed with big tits. They had developed from mere bumps when she was ten to 40CC standing firm, with little droop. A perfect hour glass, calendar girl, light brown body 175cms tall and 50k weight got her many promo jobs, she was not blessed with high intellect but knew which side her bread was buttered so to speak To Jimmy in one way she was a fucking pain in the arse, with her haphazard hours and the incessant phone calls. In other ways, she was a blessing in her incredible culinary skills and house work – plus the thrills he got peeping on her and wanking. The fact that she was an absolute charmer, liked by everyone the Rampent family knew, even the vicar at the local Evangelist Church, where she sang in the gospel choir, all added up to a thoroughly likeable girl.

Dad and daughter parted at six thirty that Friday and she tripped to the bus stop, to meet the girls in a Wetherspoons bar and hit more ... and more, before the club. The bus was crowded with college and university students plus people going going home from work. Drinks at four bars saw them entering the club and Esther went to the ladies to have a piss and tidy their makeup. She had to wait for a cubicle, the one at the very end of five seemed to be permanently occupied. Finally she entered, at the very limit of pissing her panties ... or thong ... why did she leave it so long. Esther had been hopping from one foot to the other and resorted to showing her desperation with one hand shoved under her skirt, hand clasped over her cunt ... as if that would stop the gusher, that now gushed noisily into the toilet.

Following a light fluffy fart, she snickered, pulled a face and squeezed her pelvic muscles for the last time, draining the last drop of piss before the heavy booze night. She reached over to the badly placed paper dispenser, pulling off her requisite fifteen sheets and noticed something odd in the gap below the cubicle walls. A small black object, no bigger than a modern car key ring. Her urine was finished and she again checked the gusset of her thong, not that there was much material and thankful there were no stains or even dampness which surprised her.

The strange alien small black object aroused further curiosity and before standing and righting her clothing, she bent double and peered under the thin barrier. She saw a pair of feet, large, male feet clad in very fancy embossed, tan and white winklepickers, with blue laces. The shoe owner’s trousers hung saggy and low over the back of the heels, frayed and dragging on the tiled floor. She thought she knew whose feet they were.

“For fucks sake Esther, how long for a piss? Come fucking on, I’m nearly wetting me knickers” shouted Martha angrily.

Female laughter, giggles and cackles accompanied the statement. Esther stood, drew on her thong and skirt, patted it all neat, opened up, clattering into Martha halfway through the door, not giving the object another thought ... it was paaarrrteeee”

Esther and Mandy were groped, Emma was groped and shagged behind the club after a joint with a black bloke, Martha kneed a pimply youth in the crotch who tried to chat her up, fancying an old woman, but managed to get her saggy knockers felt by one of the bouncers, the DJ and one of the waitresses. So a good night was had by all.

Saturday night at the club. Ladeeeees and Gennelmen! The next bout is between...” was all Esther heard as the roar from the crowd, plus the hand in her crotch, ostensibly helping her up the rickety steps into the boxing ring made adrenaline rush through her. She was at her best, her employment peak, in the spotlight, cash already stuffed down her brassiere from grateful ... well not admirers, more lecherous gropers. Round the square ring she strutted, her brown, oiled, glistening arms holding the sixty centimetres square piece of white board, announcing the contestants. Wolf whistles drowned the MC’s voice when she bent to clamber through the ropes, knowing a goodly proportion of her buttocks and her crotch were on show under the flimsy white satin skin tight shorts.

“Alright love?” Cyrus Beliate asked in his rumbling baritone. He stank of body and Sloans Liniment, the muscle soothing unctuous lotion pervading his aura.

“Yes thanks Cyrus,” she accepted his helping and butt feeling hand down the steps, smiling graciously and as she reached the penultimate step, she noticed Shea’s shoes ... The shoes. Seamus Harbinger O’Malley was the ever present odd job man, glove cleaner, waste bin emptier, lightbulb changer, dressing room sweeper upper at the long established athletics club. Tonight he was the second for all the club boxers in the BLUE corner as the MC shouted. Esther smiled at the 65 year old single man, she knew was a good al of her Dads and a similarly keen rabbit fancier.

He grinned gap toothed back, preparing sponges and a bucket of water, but still doffing his greasy perpetually worn flat cap, in the time honoured polite gesture. He told her he would be coming round tomorrow to mate one of his prize winning bucks with one of Jimmy’s does. She answered that she would make him a cup of tea and some chocolate digestive biscuit making him beam. Her main task was morning based at a photographer’s studio, modelling some boots and shoes.

“Fuck! I’m on jury duty, forgot ... fuck Seamus wants to shag my baby...” Jimmy moaned as Esther was getting ready to go to Syd Perveyor’s the one and only photographer in Linthorpe. It was nine in the morning and they left the house at the same time, both aiming for the same bus. She told her father she would be back by lunch time anyway so she could deal with Seamus as long as the rabbits were sorted. He would call the Irishman on his mobile and advise.

At Syd’s studio Esther happily endured the very smart, upstanding, retired press photographer, who was not only a classy happy snapper as the town folk called him and his fussiness, but his incessant requests to take some shots of shoes with lots of her gorgeous legs, more leg than shoe with the camera angle set extraordinarily low. She had no knowledge of the tiny remote cameras concealed round the dais amongst lights etc. Her bent over poses and the legs wide apart shots would capture the stunning globes of her black arse and the sliver of light grey thong. He already had a wealth of shots of Esther’s privates, intimacies and habits from similar cameras in the changing room.

As she traipsed away from his studio, Syd ogled her wiggling walk, Esther’s white, six inch high stilettos not easy on the broken uneven pavement slabs, her tiny pussy pelmet of light grey plaid skirt swishing side to side. She wasn’t a beautiful girl in his opinion, her face had a brutal look, with a vast brow, quite a wide flared nostril nose over thick upper and lower lips which showed more of their textured surface outward and forward than usual. Esther had used the same make-up as Saturday night painting her lips in a fluorescent shade of pink, the darkness of her skin tones rimming the contrast colour remarkably. But as Syd discerned she was one hell of a sexy and such a nice, lovely, pleasantly smiling package. A waste collection truck rumbled by and the three burly operatives leered at the attractive sight as the wheeled the household bins to and fro.

Back at home, she did some paper work, modelling and exhibition contracts, having visited her room and slipped off a low cut white, tight fitting top with cut-out shoulders. A maroon baggy T replaced it, but not until Esther removed her bra. The pelmet skirt and stilettos were also discarded, her butt and legs in a bright red pair of jogging bottoms taking the skirts place. Thoughtfully chewing a well chewed Biro she filled what she could of the documents, hearing the door bell chime.

Seamus fidgeted outside, his hard soled spectacular shoes clicking on the concrete, and broke into a big smile when Esther opened up. He hefted the big rabbit carrier with a big rabbit inside through the house and into the back garden.

“Jimmy’s got lumbered eh?” he grinned, taking the shed key she offered him.

“Yeah silly bugger,” she replied. You know where everything is mate. Can I see him? Fuck that’s a big bugger,” she snickered as Seamus revealed the male rabbit, visiting for a reason.