Storm Warning
The measured voice on the radio continued until at last it said, "
Irish Sea. Wind -- variable 4 becoming West 5 to 7, perhaps gale 8 later. Sea State -- slight becoming rough later. Weather -- sunny becoming rain -- heavy. Visibility -- hazy becoming poor.
" The Shipping Forecast then went through the rest of the sea areas around the British Isles, a solid reassuring sound announcing what was going to be a dirty night here on the hills over-looking the Lancashire coast and Morecombe Bay. The forecast completed, the radio went back to the cricket at Old Trafford and to be honest the coming storm would be a blessing for the Aussies who were suffering greatly at the hands of a rampant English bowling attack.
It was, the TV weather people confirmed later, going to be the full monty. As it was the hot hazy morning was still, the day was sunny but the air thick and humid. That would change.
I picked up my mobile and rang my daughter.
"Becca? Are you and Kay still coming over this week-end?" My daughter and her friend were in Manchester -- about an hour down the motorway, they'd planned to come up -- separately but they'd be with me over the long weekend.
"Yeah dad," my daughter's voice sounded tense, "I might be later than I thought though, something's come up and I need to fix it first."
"Well be careful," I told her, "The weather's going to be foul."
Becca chuckled, "Dad! I'm twenty-four, and still you're fussing."
I laughed with her, "And you still don't get it, do you? I'm going to be fussing over you for the rest of your life, now deal with it. It's my job."
"Thanks dad." There was a sense of relief in Becca's voice, that I wanted to know more about, but reckoned it wasn't the time.
"Take care, sweet-heart, see you later."
"See you later dad."
I put the phone down and went through to the living room -- all of the windows were open, and the feeble breeze tugged at the curtains. As I was about to sit down, I heard a car pull up in front of the house.
"Kayleigh!!" I called out to the girl I often called my 'other daughter'.
The two girls had been the terror of their junior school. Firm friends from the day they had started in the reception class and it had gone on from there. A force of nature, chaotic neutral someone called it, chaotic mental I called it. They had watched each other's backs like something out of fiction. Teachers, boys, bullies, the lot, no one got the wrong side of the Twin Terrors.
In later life there had been bust-ups, but the bond between Becca and Kayleigh was such that it was genuinely a case of 'least said, soonest mended', and no matter what, it never came between them for long.
Despite both going to Manchester Uni together, Kayleigh had gone to work for a telecoms business, while Becca was working in the media.
The ever-sunny Kayleigh leapt up the steps to greet me, a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. She had obviously come straight from work and wore a sharp looking grey pencil skirt, with a white blouse with her jacket in her hand.
"Hi John!" her white blonde hair -- startling against her tanned complexion - was cut short these days, and she had started to wear more make-up, but she was a girl I often found myself just looking at, mainly because she was just so pretty with such a sunny smile.
"I heard from Becca," she told me.
"Yes, she'll be late."
"Is it okay if I go and get a shower? Manchester is sticky and 'orrible." She pulled a face to show how "'orrible" it was.
"
Mi casa.
" I laughed. It was true Kayleigh had been coming in and out of our house for so long it didn't matter that she wasn't actually blood kin. Kayleigh had grown up in front of me, from a little girl into a lovely woman. She even had her own room at my house, or at least a room that everybody thought of as 'Kayleigh's room'. I watched her turn and go and fetch her bag from the car,
She came in and went up the stairs to her room, "I can't wait to get out of these clothes -- they're just so bloody hot!"
I went back into the living room and the cricket.
As the players went in for the tea interval, I decided to use the loo myself. As I left the bathroom, I was aware of a sound, a prolonged low buzzing noise. This was followed by a low and equally prolonged groan. It might have been a moan, but whatever it was, it was low, long and very heart-felt, and the pleasure it conveyed was palpable. I chided myself for listening, but even as I did the image of Kayleigh on her bed pleasuring herself -- at least that was what I assumed she was doing - flashed through my mind.
I will admit I enjoyed the thought of her lithe young body writhing on the bed in the throes of her orgasm, but I banished it fairly quickly, after all she was an adult, and while it was good that she felt comfortable enough in my house that she could do something like that, it did feel kind of inappropriate to be thinking of her like that. So that settled in my head, I went into my own room to change into shorts and a t-shirt.
By now the intense heat of the day had settled over the landscape like a hot blanket. Even the distant sea coast didn't offer any sign of relief in a breeze. It was still, humid and heavy. There would be lightning later.
The English bowlers were toiling in the Manchester heat, but it was worth it as they brought the pain to the embattled Aussies, who were resisting as only Aussie batsmen can, but still the wickets fell slowly, despite the various commentators muttering about the growing storm clouds in the distance.
Kayleigh appeared, like me wearing shorts, tight ones that looked painted on - showing off her shapely legs, and a loose t-shirt that hung from her shoulders and showed a lot of skin. I was stunned to see it was one of my old Guns 'n' Roses shirts. On her considerably smaller frame it was massive. At some point, I guess Becca had had it, the sleeves had gone and the side-seams opened up. Kayleigh saw my face.
"Becca loaned it to me," she said apologetically, "I guess I never gave it back."
"You keep it love," I told her, "It looks a damned sight better on you that it does on me." I didn't mention that her small breasts pushed the front out delightfully or that her nipples made interesting points in the front of it, or even that the occasional flash of side-boobage was worth the loss of a treasured shirt. I should have felt guilty about looking but couldn't.
"Thank you," she said as she sat on the couch, "Do you want a drink? I'm making one." she asked. Kayleigh really wasn't a visitor anymore.
"I'm good," I told her, "I was going to do tea in a minute -- I've got some tuna steaks and makings for salad."
She waved her hand in front of her face, fanning herself. "Salad is good, it's too hot for anything else.
"Do you think it's going to storm later?" We could see the dark clouds building over the sea.
"Racing certainty." I told her at which she pulled a face. Kayleigh doesn't like thunder and lightning, she never has, ever since she was a child. Changing the subject quickly I got her to come and help me do tea. While I grilled the tuna, Kayleigh threw the salad together.
"Have you heard from Sarah?"
"At the start of last week. She and Carol are in Tibet."
"And you're still cool with all of that?" Kayleigh asked me. It was going quite dark now outside, I'd have to start closing windows soon, but at least it was getting cooler.
"Why shouldn't I be?"
