“Nah,” said Ted, “She was a proper weirdo. I only remember her because we were buying that Doctor Who annual for your Susan’s Norman and she kept me talking for ages about how it had never been as good after the fourth Doctor and I said ‘What, Tom Baker?’, and she didn’t know who that was and it turned out she’d only ever read the novelizations. Barmy”
Brenda paused for a second. “That’s right. And while that was going on, I was petting those two dogs they had by the fire-side. Oh fuck, it is her! She had those exact same dogs and all.”
“Yeah,” said Ted, “Well there’s naught to be done about it now. She’s not going to say anything. She’s not going to remember us and if there is any trouble, at least we know where it’s coming from.”
He stubbed the butt of his cigarette out on the floor and came to back round into the front of the van. He propped the phone up on the dashboard and they watched the rest of the video in silence. There was little chance of any more action this evening, but they also weren’t ready to go home quite yet.
About halfway through the second round, Ted had sat the phone-camera up on the divide between the cab and the back and joined in, railing his wife while she continued to suck off their partner for the evening. After that, they’d swapped places and, despite her earlier protestation, Brenda had pulled the condom off him about halfway through the fuck. He’d come in great spurts right inside her and as he did, Ted had come almost straight afterwards.
“Wait, watch that again,” said Brenda.
“It was good, wasn’t it?” said Ted who was particularly pleased with his art direction. Watching it was almost as much fun as doing it. Almost.
“No, ye ha’porth, just go back…There! See it?”
“No, what?”
“Over there in the top right. Something moved. Can ye zoom in?”
“Ye can wi’ pictures. Wi’ video. Let me see. There ye go. How’s that?”
They watched the screen. They agreed that was some kind of movement in the bushes behind the van. They replayed it two or three times until they got the framing right.
“It’s her!”
Ted squinted at the screen. “Is she naked?”
“She’s got naught on from the shoulders up, that’s for sure. She was watching us the whole time. How’d she even find us?”
Ted drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Some windy roads around the moors and ye can see everything from up top. Not a lot of cars either. If she’d headed in a straight line and kept an eye out for us headlights, she could have kept track of us. She’d have to have been fairly moving and wade across the occasional stream, but she obviously got here in time. She’d didn’t see whole thing, I’d wager, maybe just turned up for the finale.”
Brenda bit her top lip. “Now, what in God’s green is she up to?”
“I’ll tell ye what. Looks like you’ve got a fan-club. Or, I dunno, an apprentice maybe?”
Brenda cycled the video back to the best shot of the girl and sucked air back through her mouth. “Tchh, chance’d be a fine thing.”
“Come on. Let’s call it a night. We’ll stop for chips on way home.”
3. The Tribute
The morning brought further discussion for Ted and Brenda and a couple of rewatches, but not a lot of decision about what, if anything, to do about their new stalker. They talked about dropping round the book-shop to check her out, but couldn’t decide if any pretence more than buying a book on geraniums was necessary.
The girl was young and attractive, in her own way, and that brought its own problems. The average dogger had been around a bit and knew what was what. Making a move on this girl seemed more problematic and more likely to blow up in their faces.
In the end, she came to them — almost immediately.
It was coming up to midday and Brenda was just starting to think about taking her lunch break from the shoe-shop when the girl came in. She was wearing a full, if rather plain, flowery dress, glasses and no make-up. She didn’t come directly up to Brenda, but instead looked around a bit, seemingly focusing on the boots. Brenda’s boss had opened up the shoe-shop ten-years ago with the intention of selling high-fashion ladies footwear, but had quickly found that what people, or tourists rather, wanted was footwear that could survive a week’s hiking round the local hills. She’d tried sell a mixture of the two.
Brenda wasn’t sure if she should approach her or not, but she paused for so long at a pair of riding boots that it would be inappropriate not to attempt some customer service. She wandered over.
“They’re nice, aren’t they? Would you like to try them on?” said Brenda.
The girl turned to face her. There was a flash of surprise, but her face quickly returned to normal, not showing any further signs of recognition. Could this really be just a chance shopping visit? If, so, how could she make the most of it?
“Oh, yes, thanks.”
“What’s your size, love? I can nip round the back and pull some out for you.”
The girl was either naturally shy, or else didn’t do a lot of shopping because it took her a fair while to stammer out her size, “A four, please.”
Dainty, thought Brenda. They said that all the additives in modern food was making the average foot size bigger. She could well imagine this girl surviving on a diet of lentil soup and broccoli pasta. She certainly had a figure born of abstinence.
She fetched the boots from the storeroom and helped the girl put the boots on. She didn’t normally find her day-to-day work particularly arousing, but a shiver of anticipation did run through her as she helped to tie the boots all the way up, getting a good look at and even a bit of a feel of those long shapely legs. Their experimentation hadn’t included her with other women yet, but if Ted did every get lucky with this one, she’d be happy to keep the girl’s engine revving while her husband refuelled. It’d be a treat for the both of them.
She snapped herself out of it. Professionalism first, at least while she worked out the lay of the land.
“Now, there we go. Do you want to have a walk around in them? They might feel a bit uncomfortable. New shoes always do, of course but that goes doubly wi’ boots like these. You also have to be careful about what socks you wear underneath. Have the wrong ones and they can make the rubbing worse. We sell specially made ones by the counter, if you’d like.”
The girl didn’t respond immediately but walked up and down the shop testing the weight and feel. They really were good boots – largely practical with a low heel, but leather and calf was always a sexy combination and the long winding laces all the way up the front and the double buckles round the ankles flirted with ostentation. They weren’t cheap, and Brenda wondered if she had the money for them. Not that that was a question she should highlight. The girl seemed so taken with them.
“Horse-rider, are we?” she asked.
“No, I was going hiking,” the girl replied almost apologetically.
“Oh, well in that case, you do better with something a little shorter. We’ve got a good range of hiking boots. Not quite so feminine, but probably better for tramping through the mud.”