Eve

"Um... Mr. Randall?"

I tried not to blush, but I knew I was not being successful. "Er... Um... Carrie needed me to get these and, uh... and send them for her, as she can't find this brand at the local stores there."

"These" and "them" was a reference to tampons, and as awkward as it was for me to be buying them, as much as I wished that her mother was still alive to take this situation into her control, I tried to maintain as normal a demeanor as possible as I took out my wallet to pay for them. Fortunately, my daughter's best friend was working the only open register, so she would at least understand why a man was buying tampons.

Fortunately, Eve understood. "I hadn't even considered that about studying overseas," she admitted as she began to process my purchases. "At least she has a loving Daddy willing to do something like this for her."

I understood, for I had known Eve's father quite well. Bob was taken at a young age in an accident at a construction site; he had fortunately been knocked into a coma instantly, but the internal injuries were too severe for him to have a viable chance to recover. I had been there with Eve and her mother for the final moments of her father and my friend.

"Your father would've done the same," I reassured her.

"I hope so. I barely remember him."

There was a pregnant pause as she finished scanning the purchases. She announced the total, and as I handed her the credit card, our fingertips touched briefly.

That simple touch, brief and innocent, connected us.

As she took the credit card from me, Eve looked up from the card to my face, as if seeing me in a new light. There was a grief we shared over the loss of someone close to us both, and that trumped the awkwardness of a middle-age man buying tampons for a daughter currently on the other side of the world.

"If it was me instead, would you do this for me?" she asked softly, even though I was the only customer and the few other employees were either in the break room or were stocking at the other end of the store.

"Sure," I acknowledged without hesitation. I had spent so much time around Eve that in some ways, she seemed like a second daughter to me. Carrie already considered Eve like the sister she never had, and my wife had also been fairly close with her mother, so our families were linked by something almost beyond mere friendship. To buy tampons for Eve when she was not in a position to do so herself seemed just as awkward as buying tampons for Carrie, but certainly no less meaningful.

As I walked out of the drug store, I sensed something was different, but it was too soon to truly identify what it was.

*****

Working from home as a consultant has its challenges, but it also has its benefits. One benefit was the ability to send the tampons via FedEx by using their online form and printing the label – no need to go to an actual post office and embarrass myself further by writing "tampons" on the custom form where plenty of people might see the transaction. Since this meant that I was sending a personal package using business funds, I would reimburse the company from my personal funds once I knew exactly how much this delivery would cost.

Another benefit is that I am often home. It was great when Carrie was in school, as I could always be home when she returned from school, but the time she had spent in college was rather lonely, knowing that she would not be returning in a few hours, but perhaps in a few weeks. And with my daughter studying abroad, she would not be returning for a few months.

Because of that, there were many evenings when I would sit at the table alone, practically in tears as I attempted to eat dinner.

It was during such an evening, just a few hours after the usual FedEx driver had picked up the tampons, when the doorbell rang. That sound allowed me to set aside my loneliness and grief, and by the time I reached the front door, I was feeling more like my normal self again.

I was stunned to open the door and see Eve on the front porch.

"Mr. Randall... Hi."

I invited her inside, wondering what had brought her to visit me when she definitely knew that my daughter was not even in the same hemisphere.

Eve and I chatted for a while as we shared my dinner. The conversation primarily revolved around Carrie and a letter Eve had received from her earlier in the week. But eventually, the conversation turned.

"The economy's getting worse," she said, in a tone which sounded much older than her twenty years. "Working part time at the drug store won't be good enough much longer, even with still living at home with my mom."

"I see," I said. "So you came to me for some career advice?"

She hesitated. "Not exactly," she finally admitted. "I like working at the drug store, especially the closing shifts since they pay a little more. But I've decided to try to find another part time job, perhaps four to six hours per day. It would help me to save for community college this fall and hopefully a true college next year, and I wouldn't feel so lazy and unproductive during the day."

"That's quite admirable," I commended her. "So if you aren't looking for career advice, why come over to let me know about all this?"

Eve hesitated again, then looked me straight in the eyes. "I'd like to work for you," she said, "just like Carrie did in high school and during the summers home from college."

Her presence suddenly made sense, and I immediately recognized that her offer would be win-win for us. If Eve was available to run my business-related errands for me and take over many of my administrative tasks, I could focus more on assisting my clients. Since I had already known her for almost her entire life, I was quite comfortable with having her in my home during any absences, such as when traveling, and on the extra-long business trips, she would effectively be a much-needed house sitter as well.

...and on a more personal level, it would be nice to have a feminine presence in the house on a consistent basis again.

"That plan has plenty of merit," I agreed. "I'll definitely think about it. Why don't you give me a call sometime tomorrow, say in late afternoon? I should have a good idea by then of how this could work."

Reaching across the table, Eve grasped my hand, smiling warmly. "Thank you, Mr. Randall! I know this will be good for us both."

I gave her hand a squeeze as I returned her smile. I had not considered this situation before she had mentioned it, but I suddenly wondered how I had managed to work for so long without a consistent assistant.

*****

It was almost 4:30PM when Eve called. "I've reviewed my business budget, and I can do this," I informed her. "Can you start on Monday and do four to six hours per day five days a week?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Randall." Her smile was evident in her voice, and I could tell that she was trying to mask her enthusiasm. "I could work for you from, say, Noon to Five, take a few hours off, and then go to the drug store for my closing shifts."

"Fair enough. But the most I can pay you right now is one dollar over Minimum Wage, and you'll need to work as a 1099."

"That's good enough for me, Mr. Randall."

"And by the way, there is a dress code with this job."

"There is?"

"It's simple, really: 'Wear something.'"

Eve's laugh was genuine and infectious, and as I hung up the phone, I knew deep in my heart that I had made a good choice.

*****

"Wear something," indeed!

I had anticipated that, being the last gasp of winter, Eve would have arrived on Monday wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, or perhaps nice pants and a sweater. At first, she seemed dressed appropriately enough wearing a winter coat and jeans with tennis shoes and socks, but shortly after I closed the door, she shed the winter coat to reveal a swimsuit.

...and a pair of nipples wishing to greet me.

To say that I was surprised was an understatement. For an instant, I could have sworn that it was my precious Carrie standing before me and not my new employee.

"She was right," I heard, which snapped my attention back to the present. "You do like seeing young women in swimsuits."

I know I blushed, so I tried to cover my embarrassment as best as possible, laughing about the situation. "Okay, I'm caught!" I admitted, and she fortunately grinned with me.

Eve had brought a backpack with her, and I had assumed that there was a sweatshirt or other more "mundane" top inside for her to wear, but she did not put on any other clothes over the swimsuit. Her nipples soon were not quite as prominent due to the warmer temperature in the house, but it was still strange – but definitely in a good way – to have an administrative assistant wearing a swimsuit in my working environment.

The day went well as first days go. Eve did make a few mistakes, but that was to be expected since she really did not know how I worked or how I thought. Yet to see her nipples still unmistakable against the swimsuit whenever she faced me or to see her mostly-bare back when she was turned away from me provided a unique distraction.

...a welcome distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. I know that there were a few times when my eyes lingered upon her for just a little too long, but if Eve noticed, she did not say anything about it.

Then again, that was probably the point. I had once heard Eve confessing to my Carrie that she thought I was "hot." Personally, I just did not believe it. Carrie had often complimented me on how I looked, but I had always shrugged that aside – after all, she was my daughter, and quite likely predisposed to thinking so favorably of me, especially since she and I had been on our own for so long without her mother.

And, admittedly, there were a few moments that afternoon when, gazing discretely (I hope) upon my new assistant, I felt a stirring in my slacks and a stronger beating in my chest. I had to remind myself that Eve was my daughter's age, that while not "forbidden" and illegal, she was certainly not someone I could be seen with publically in any romantic manner, so I should not be reacting to her like a horny teenage guy.

However, the swimsuit essentially turned me into a horny teenage guy. In my discreet gazes, my eyes noted the form of her breasts, how they were accentuated by the swimwear, how they drew my mind away from my work...

In a way, it was a relief when it was nearly time for Eve to leave and prepare for her next part time job. Perhaps it was my mind playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn that she made a show of donning her coat in my presence just so that my eyes could linger upon her twin swells one final time that day.

Throughout the evening and well into the night, Eve was on my mind – both because she was a rather fast learner, and because I found myself attracted to her.

*****

The next day, Eve did not wear a swimsuit. Instead, she wore a tight-fitting ribbed top, its gray color seeming to accentuate her breasts. It was easy to discern the outline of her bra, which also explained the lack of indentations from her nipples. The expansion and contraction of her chest was also quite noticeable as she breathed.

Similarly, her jeans were practically molded to her. If I had not known better, I could have sworn that she had been poured into a stiffened version of her jeans, with her innate body heat causing the jeans to flex enough for her to walk.

Wearing such an outfit, Eve's curves were very much accentuated. Whenever she walked away from me, my eyes lingered on her buttocks, noting how they shifted gracefully as she moved about. Not until that afternoon had I ever noticed just how toned and essentially sculpted her legs were – particularly her thighs, which strained nicely against the denim, seeming to nudge it slightly outward from its intended position even when she was standing still.

...and when she bent over while facing away from me, the first thought which came to my mind was: I wish I could spank her, just to see her reaction.

That thought haunted me the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening. For the first time in months, I dug out an old videotape and watched it: The last time I spanked my wife, culminating with powerful, possessive thrusts into her all-too-willing body and my hand over her mouth to prevent her from making too much noise and alerting the neighbors of what we were doing in our bedroom on that wonderful evening.

Yet as I watched the faded images and listened to the distorted sound, as I stroked myself in the darkness, I saw not my wife's face and I heard not my wife's voice, but the face and the voice of my daughter's best friend, my new administrative assistant.

"Eve!!!"

I could not even utter all of her name before orgasm wracked me, and while it felt good to climax after such a long time without that carnal pleasure, I truly wished that I could unleash my seed upon her.

...or, even better: inside her.

The thought of filling her young body reinvigorated me.

The thought of her age concerned me.

The thought of her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades as she milked me with her precious sex tipped me over the edge once again.

I did not sleep very much that night, for my mind was filled with images and imaginings of Eve.

*****

Given that Eve was my daughter's best friend, I had seen her semi-often over the years. I had watched Carrie grow from a sweet little girl into a fine young woman, and I had noticed the similar changes in Eve. Since I had not seen Eve nearly as often, when I did see her, the transition from girl to woman had seemed quite profound.

What I had really never seen – or, more precisely, really never noticed – until Eve began working for me was her sexual aspect. It had been clear on the first two days she worked for me, given how her clothes were essentially molded to her body. The third day was no different in that respect, for she wore a strapless dress which was also designed to force others to notice her graceful curves.

That Wednesday was different, however, in that she touched me.

Often.

For no apparent reason.

Her arm would brush mine as I stood beside her to show her how to conduct a new task. Her fingertips would make brief contact with mine as she handed me something.

And then, toward the end of the day, much to my surprise, she stepped around my chair and stood behind me and began to massage my shoulders.

There was an electricity in her touch. There was care and concern, as well as desire.

"You don't need to do this," I said in a half-hearted attempt to keep this from blossoming beyond the realm of my control.

"It's okay," Eve countered softly. "I enjoy massages, both receiving and giving."

Closing my eyes, I gave in. Leaning back in the chair, I allowed her to work upon me, even though I realized that if she happened to look, she would see how her touches were exciting me.

I must admit that Eve did a good job. It had been several months since I had last been treated to a massage, and that was at my daughter's hands. That had been when I was laying upon my bed, and she sat beside me and leaned over to work upon my back. Absently, I wondered if Carrie had taught Eve her skills, for the way my young assistant worked was very similar.

"You're hard." It was not an accusatory tone. Instead, it was merely an observation, yet I still felt my face redden with embarrassment.

The massage ended, and she draped her arms across the front of my chest, leaning forward so that the back of my head rested between her breasts. Her hands meandered absently across my chest, and I wondered if she could feel the quickening rhythm of my heartbeat.

I began to lift my hands from the armrests, then hesitated. The twitching within my slacks propelled my hands higher and higher until they pressed Eve's hands against my chest, side-by-side over my heart.

We remained like that for several minutes, my head at one point turning to press a cheek directly against a breast. Permeating the sensual material of her strapless black dress, the soft warmth against my cheek was wonderful, and I realized that it had been far, far too long since I had last enjoyed any intimacy with a woman, since I had last felt cherished.

"I'd better go, Mr. Randall," Eve whispered, a note of sadness in her angelic voice. I nodded against her breast as she extracted her hands, then lifted my head away, still "feeling" the warm material of her dress against my cheek.

All too soon, she was gone. All too soon, I was alone.

That evening, I could feel a headache forming, and only then realized that I was out of Tylenol since I had given the last of my Tylenol to a client who had dropped by for a rare visit a few weeks earlier. Before the headache grew too nasty, I trudged out into the cold night air and drove.

I did not go to the nearby convenience store, however, nor to the grocery store a few blocks beyond that. I went instead to the drug store where Eve was working.

She had changed into the store uniform, so she did not look quite as stunning as she had in my home earlier in the day. Yet her eyes sparkled when she saw me enter the store and she waved at me with enthusiasm before returning to her duties at the only open register.

Soon, I was at the register with a box of Tylenol. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Randall," she noted happily.

She was glowing. I do not know if anyone else in the store had noticed, but to my eyes, Eve was glowing. I felt warmer, as if she was radiating the heat of the sun itself. My headache receded, lessened. Simply being in her presence seemed to be vanquishing the distress behind my eyes.

Our fingers touched briefly as I handed her the money, then again as she handed me the small bag with the Tylenol inside. During the transaction, our chatter had been brief, friendly, respectable, mundane, yet I could feel an undercurrent of something else, something more...

And soon I was again in the cold night air, crossing the parking lot to the car, still able to "feel" her touch upon my fingers.

*****

Thursday, Eve was back to being rather obvious with the fact that she wanted me to admire her. She wore a skirt, and when she removed her coat, she revealed the swimsuit underneath. She soon removed her shoes and socks, and even the skirt quickly followed, so that she pranced around all afternoon wearing just the swimsuit, a necklace, and earrings. All afternoon, my eyes kept returning to her, admiring her openly. Several times, she was clearly aware that I was watching her, caressing her with my eyes, undressing her in my mind, and she smiled seductively each time. Throughout the afternoon, she touched me as often as she could, sometimes simply standing beside or behind me with a hand on my shoulder.

Toward the end of the afternoon, as I took a quick break and made coffee in the kitchen, Eve came to join me, still clad in the swimsuit. "I'm glad you think I'm pretty, Mr. Randall," she confessed as she leaned against the refrigerator. "It's nice to be appreciated."

I had to wonder where this conversation was going. "You are definitely pretty," I conceded. "It's been rather hard not to notice."

"I guess so," she responded somewhat quickly, "given that you've been rather hard several times this week, including today."

I tried not to blush, but I was not successful. "It's okay, Mr. Randall," she said quietly, stepping away from the refrigerator and approaching me. With her hands clasped together behind her and her elbows drawn in as tightly as possible, her chest was naturally thrust forward enough to definitely cause my eyes to take note of her breasts. They were not big, but they definitely were not tiny. They were adorned with hardening nipples straining against the material of the swimsuit.