Multiple Parameters
-or-
Custom Brassieres
A story by XXscribbler
Rhonda was a minor mystery to Kevin.
German by birth and education, she spoke English fluently but with the common Germanic problem of failure to handle well English's use of articles 'the' and 'a' -- and frequent imposition of German word-order within sentences.
Over the past few weeks they had met multiple times, for several hours at a stretch, always in her office or lab. She was an exceedingly bright scientist, and they got along famously at many levels simultaneously. For them both, rapid, multilevel repartee was a specialty, and rarely encountered: it led to ongoing friendly word-duels that each appreciated.
He did find her somewhat physically attractive -- at least in the abstract. He felt that she could have been much more so, but the possibility wasn't realized - she either affected gender neutrality quite effectively, or was genuinely so.
He wondered occasionally if she were gay, but it wasn't his business and it mattered not a bit. He would have thought it the height of impropriety to ask either her or others who might know.
But the physical parameters were okay - she was inches shorter than he --say, 5'5" - and twenty years younger, at thirty-six. Solidly muscular yes, but not aggressively so. She, like he, was an enthusiastic bicyclist, and beneath her uniformly loose-fitting lightweight trousers he could detect a solid, but not over-sized, Germanic butt and heavy-muscled thighs -- not all that different from himself.
Superficially she was quite plain but with a hint of real attractiveness whenever she relaxed and smiled. Square-jawed, with high, wide cheekbones, intense piercing pale-blue eyes, long brown hair, a snub nose and upper cheek that carried a minor splattering of small purple blotches, 'port-wine stain' birthmarks.
As they faced one another over a desk, or stood side-by-side at a work table, Kevin was occasionally aware that she was genuinely busty, but she dressed in oddball shapeless European-ish torso-underwear that seemed more a wrap than a bra, plus multiple over-layers: collectively, the clothing certainly subdued any shape her chest might have. For all his discreet studying there was never the slightest visible suggestion of a nipple-bump. His only clues were her overall body morph, plus the rare peep past the upper button of a blouse (often curiously undone!) to where a few square centimeters of flesh, the topmost edge of cleavage -- apparently significant cleavage -- were sometimes visible.
They had been working on a scientific paper since Monday -- it was now Thursday and they'd been facing one another across a light-table for most of the afternoon, discussing graphs and data. They made a great deal of eye-contact most of the time, and every once in a while he thought it carried --momentarily- a tiny male-female gleam, but it could easily have been his imagination, which was usually active when it came to women.
Utterly preoccupied, neither noticed the gradual departures of the other denizens. Nor did they register the fading-away of daylight. Then, abruptly, Rhonda jerked to attention, looked through the window at the fully-dark outer world and said in embarrassment "Oh, mein Gott!! Look at the hour, Kevin! Already dark it is, and it's supposedly about to be raining shortly. It is also the rush-hour. I'm sorry! Too deep it was, our concentration on the data!"
Kevin stared at the window, shrugged. He could manage and said so.
Rhonda wouldn't hear him: "KEVIN! NO! This is my fault and I cannot allow you to attempt to ride home in the rain in the dark and in rush hour all at once! Your forty minute ride will take at least two hours and be horribly dangerous. NO! Besides, I'm sure you do not have even any rain-cloak with you, am I right?"
He grinned, nodded. Seattle, in wintertime, on a bike, and sans rain gear -- simple idiocy!
She thought quickly: "Kevin, I have a plan. Let us ride together to my apartment -- it's only about five of your silly miles -- eight kilometers in REAL units, and it is all back streets, no heavy traffic. Even in the dark it is not so bad a ride. Then we can get some dinner -- I owe you a dinner anyhow, you know, and then afterwards we can put your bike on my car-rack and I will drive you home. We can turn my mistake into something nice and useful -- there is a lot more to talk about in these numbers! So many parameters to integrate for a final result!"
Kevin's own situational analysis was dominated by the same three factors -- traffic, dark, and wet -- so he agreed without argument.
Rhonda led -- she was as strong and fast as her butt and thighs suggested: he had to work hard to keep up, but it didn't turn into an impromptu race. Not quite.
One mile down and four to go, the rain started. Not gentle, and not light. Downpour. With thunder and lightning overhead. By the end of mile two, they were both drenched -- rain-gear wouldn't have made the slightest difference.
And at the half-way point, the sleet began -- sleet and light hail, and an almost twenty degree, instantaneous temperature drop, a quintessential summertime Midwestern thunderstorm, but in winter in Seattle. Unreal!
They wheeled their bikes into her apartment building, leaving trails of wet footprints: others had preceded them, so they didn't feel bad about the minor mess. Aboard the elevator they looked at themselves in the mirror-walls and laughed. Both were utterly soaked, chilled to the bone and shivering violently: she muttered "We look like a pair of drowned rats or something! An experience to remember!"
He held both bikes as she dug for her keys. She found them, looked at him and laughed again, said "Kevin, I think that what you need is a hot shower! Look how you shiver! I will insist -- you are cold and the building has a very large supply of hot water, almost infinite! My own apartment has a wonderful big shower, not one of those tight little European hotel things!"
She unlocked the door: they wheeled the bikes into her storage closet. She continued her thought: "While you shower I will put your clothes in my drying machine. You can wear one of my robes when you get out. While your clothes dry, we can have a glass of wine and then consider our options for dinner -- many restaurants are nearby."
Kevin grinned at her: "Wonderful idea, and thank you. But Rhonda, you are just as cold, and you're shivering just as much as I. The rain and hail weren't your fault, you know, so you needn't feel guilty. You need a hot shower, too -- and I'd feel a bit weird if I went first. Ladies are supposed to go first, aren't they?"
