Young Heat
Copyright 2011 Bad Penny Press
Smashwords Edition
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All characters in this work are portrayed as consenting adults.
Any assumption otherwise is solely in the mind of the reader.
Taylor Maid
“You won’t regret it dad,” Tiffany said happily. “Taylor is going to really be helpful.”
My college-age daughter Tiffany was speaking of her friend, Taylor. Tiff was headed to New York on some sponsored tour for her college volleyball team, leaving her good friend and me behind while Tiff and her teammates were to be gone for three months on some promotional east coast tour put on by an energy drink company.
In the meantime, Tiff had suggested that I hire someone to help take care of “domestic” stuff while she was gone. Or, more accurately, that I hire her very good friend. Jobs in the area were scarce this year more than ever and Taylor needed to make some money to help with her own school expenses. I initially argued with Tiff that I was fully able to take care of myself while she was gone, but Tiff pressed that my hiring Taylor took care of two of her greatest concerns; her father and her best friend.
So, where did this persistent need for Tiffany to run things come from? Ever since her mom, my wife, bailed out on us for some guy she met on-line, Tiff had taken on the chores of being the lady of the house. And, now that she was the “mom” of the house, Tiff felt that it was her duty to keep things in shape for us – okay, me – while she was gone.
I didn’t take my wife’s sudden up-and-leaving very well, so Tiffany got very protective of me after her mom flaked on us and she took it upon herself to take care of me and the home. Housekeeping, cooking and shopping became her chosen domestic obligations.
“Fine, fine,” I said, knowing full well when to just quit arguing with Tiff and let her have her way on things. “Taylor can take care of the house for me while you’re gone. I’ll just go hide in the corner at the end of my chain like a good little kept dad.”
In a lot of ways I didn’t want anyone taking care of things while Tiff was gone. Her east coast trip was going to be a bit of a vacation for me where I could make some of my own decisions on living, dining and, with luck, dating. Although she didn’t think I knew it, monitoring the behaviors of less-scrupulous women in our town who might try to take advantage of her heartbroken dad became a duty that Tiff took very, very seriously.
The problem with that was that I hadn’t gotten laid in two months. Maybe three. Hell, I’d lost track. Let’s just say that I was fucking frustrated.
I took Tiff to the airport the next morning and saw her off, then headed on to work. I understood that Taylor had a car, a key to the house, and instructions from Tiffany on what needed to be done and how my daughter wanted it done. I went on with my work day and didn’t think anything of it.
When I came home, the place looked perfect. Everything was done as well as Tiffany would to things; clean and spotless. Maybe even more so because Tiff still had to devote some time to her studies. Taylor, I understood, didn’t have any school obligations at this time, so apparently she was able to put maximum effort into caring for the home.
“Does it look all right?” Taylor said as she walked out from the kitchen.
“Everything looks great –”
My words caught in my throat as I saw Taylor standing there in a bikini, cooking mitts on her hands.
“Wh- what are you doing?” I stammered, flabbergasted by the sight of the sweet-faced, auburn-haired, bikini-clad young lady with oven mitts, and strangely excited because she was incredibly sexy; sexier than I remembered of any time I had ever seen her.
Taylor had a soft, beautiful body, not as tight and taut as a model perhaps, but one that was well complimented by the bikini that showed off her supple curves. The white fabric contrasting with her nicely tanned skin was an added visual highlight.
Looking more closely, Taylor had very nice, round breasts on her chest and I could actually make out the shape of her aureole surrounding the nipples that were poking out through the swimsuit fabric. Likewise, the clingy bottom piece hinted at another treasure as it followed the fold between her legs, creating a camel-toe look that meant Taylor shaved far more than her bikini bottoms required of her.
“Is there something wrong?” Taylor asked through her full, pouty, pink lips.
“Uh, no! No. Not at all,” I said, trying to shake my rather impure thoughts from my sex-starved mind and hoping that I wasn’t drooling like a fool. “No, I just kind of wondered… why you’d be cooking in a bikini. I’d hate to think of you burning something… important.”
“I have mitts on,” Taylor said, almost sounding a little airheaded.
“Your hands will be safe,” I acknowledged, “but it’d be a shame to damage anything else on that sweet body of yours.”
“What did you say?” Taylor asked.
“Uh, that I didn’t want you getting burned,” I said, realizing my Freudian slip.
“Did you say that I have a sweet body?” she asked, probing me with her huge green eyes.
“Uh… yeah,” I said, surely breaking out in a sweat. “I didn’t mean to sound so forward. You have a… very nice body. You’ve become quite an attractive adult over the years. Uh, not that you ever didn’t look pretty before.”
Taylor laughed hard enough to make her perfect tits bounce on her chest, which didn’t help things one bit.
“I’m not doing a very good job of digging myself out of this hole, am I?” I asked, feeling completely embarrassed.
“That’s okay,” she replied sweetly. “I’m glad you like my body.”
Hell, what man wouldn’t? Thank goodness Taylor took my response as a compliment and not as the ravings of a lecherous old man. Which, in my case, was both.
“So, what are you baking?” I asked, trying to change the subject and because I was actually getting as hungry as I was horny.
“Tiff said you liked meat loaf, so I thought I’d try to make you meat loaf!” she said gaily.
I resisted telling the little cutie that my meat wasn’t even close to loafing at the moment.
“It’s just about done,” she said. “Do you want me to bring you a beer?”
I had to pinch myself at that moment. Try to see it from my perspective: I had a sexy, young but legal-aged tanned hottie in a tight, curve-hugging bikini cooking me dinner and offering me a beer. She could serve me a deep-fried tennis shoe right now and I’d wolf it down.
I took the offered beer and sat down on my couch for a moment to check out my mail as Taylor puttered about setting the table and getting food ready to serve. She then called me to the table while she went to “dress for dinner”.
I walked to the dining room to find two place settings across from one another, a decently cooked meatloaf and some fried potatoes between them, and another cold can of beer awaiting my arrival. As I took my seat Taylor bounced in, literally, and took the seat across from me. Her idea of dressing for dinner? A rust red t-shirt that read across the chest, “A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.”
I didn’t know for sure whether or not her moves were intentional, but, Christ, it was gonna be hard – again, literally – to sit across the table from this hot little vixen.
We chatted over dinner, which was actually quite good. More accurately, Taylor did the chatting. I was content to just eat and listen to her rattle on and watch her animatedly talk about whatever passed through that pretty head of hers. Her hair flew wildly as she talked and gestured and her breasts bounced freely under her provocative shirt.
It was then that I noticed that she had apparently taken off her bikini top before she changed into the shirt. God, she had to know what she was doing to me by now. Worse yet, it had to be intentional, too.
I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on eating dinner and listening to the pretty livewire that, I had to remind myself, was the same age as my daughter. When the meal was complete and the second beer in me, I was feeling fed, relaxed, and very, very horny.
Still nattering on about God-knows-what, Taylor got up from the table and started to clear it. She told me that I could go in and watch some television or whatever, but I was feeling quite entertained just watching move about as she went back and forth between the table and the sink, cleaning things up while still chatting aimlessly, almost nervously.
Then came the move that changed it all.
Taylor opened the cupboard and reached up to a high shelf to put something away. The shirt was long enough to cover her butt while she was moving all about, but once she stretched her arms over her head to reach the upper shelf the shirt came up and revealed a beautiful bare ass highlighted by the bronze tan line, the skin of her butt nearly as white as the bikini bottoms that were no longer there.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I got up from the table and walked up behind the sexy young woman. “Taylor,” I said.
She spun around in surprise and faced me, her beautiful green doe-eyes looking up at me.
“Yes, sir?” she asked innocently.
“Taylor, you’ve gotta know what you’re doing to me,” I said. “The food, the beer, and you running around one step from naked… you should probably leave before I do something stupid.”
“Like what?” she asked again with the same child-like innocence.