Share Your Toys Timothy Chapter 7
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Share Your Toys, Timothy!Chapter 1 free porn video
Smith meets Jones
TIMOTHY CHARLES Smith’s story begins about two and a half years earlier when his real relationship with the Jones family began. Smith and Jones; yes, it sounds corny but that’s simply the way things worked out. Tim was sitting in his sales office at Monroe’s Motors on a slow Monday morning, where he had been catching up with the paperwork for the weekend vehicle sales, when he noticed this gorgeous woman climbing into one of the shiny new sporty Jaguar motorcars out on the showroom floor. Mondays was always a quiet day at Monroe’s, following the intensity of the weekend, so half the sales force were absent for the first two days of the week. Therefore he thought he had better get out there and deal with this potential customer, irrespective of how beautiful or otherwise she looked.
As he walked across the showroom floor, she was just easing herself out of the low, hard-top sports car, giving Tim a perfect view of her lovely long legs, the hem of her thin summer dress hitched halfway up her smooth shapely thighs. She was tall for a woman, a good three inches taller than Tim’s five-foot-six, of slender build, with wavy multi-shade blond hair flowing down to her shoulders. The height of tall women had never worried Tim; being the runt of his parents’ litter, he had been surrounded by tall girls and women throughout his childhood and was extremely comfortable in such company. She had her back to him as she slowly ran a slender long-fingered hand over the sensuous lines of the sporty motorcar. She half-turned as she heard his crisp footsteps approach across the polished tiled floor of the showroom, showing off her hourglass figure and beautiful face, which opened up into a glorious smile in answer to Tim’s own charmingly welcoming one. Tim guessed she was about his age or possibly a few years older; say late thirties to early forties? Stunning, barely began to do justice in describing the effect she gave off.
“Good morning, madam,” he opened, “I’m Timothy Smith, the sales manager. She’s beautiful isn’t she?”
The lovely vision nodded in agreement with him and partly turned back towards the car and ran her hand along the smooth gleaming paintwork again.
“Mmm, beautiful, yes,” she turned back towards him, “Oh, I’m Jenny Jones by the way.” Her voice was like liquid honey, a cultured but local soft middle class Yorkshire accent rather than haughty Home Counties that her summer dress proclaimed.
He held out a large hand towards her and she put her warm dry slender fingers in his momentarily and smiled once more. It was a smile that could have launched a thousand ships onto an Aegean sea, Tim thought, so he was not surprised at the effect it was having on him and the rigidity of his knee joints. She turned back away from him and stroked that gleaming car once more. Tim swore he had never been so jealous of any inanimate object before.
“Were you particularly looking for a sports car?” he managed to say, his usual professional attitude kicking in being his saving grace, “This one is a hard-top but it can easily become a convertible with a soft-top kit.” He didn’t actually say it, of course, but he knew to a T that she would look better than simply good in that car with the soft-top down, hair blowing in the sunshine of a coastal road or cresting a hill in the nearby moors.
She turned her attention back towards Tim and looked him over, appeared to appraise him, checking him out, actually making him feel a little uncomfortable and he was normally very confident about himself and his appearance. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he had left his flies undone, mentally checking back through his recent movements, his last visit to the men’s room and steeling himself from physically checking the front of his trousers with tentative exploratory fingertips. However, she had clearly now completed her swift examination and was looking Tim in the eye once more and smiling as if she was enjoying a secret joke. This made him more, rather than less, nervous about the condition of his attire. She was a classical beauty. It has already been stated that she was tall, slim and shapely. In addition she was blessed with a long graceful neck, a narrow face, clear complexion and the brightest blue eyes that clearly demanded your complete attention. She was casually dressed in a light silk or cotton skirt and blouse; it was a hot summer day, ideal for going out shopping for an open-topped sports car. She looked cool, in every sense of the word, yet at the same time hot, oh yes, devilishly hot. Tim had donned his suit jacket as he walked out of his office and he felt warm and sticky and totally uncool in her impressive presence.
“I’m looking for a car for my daughter, actually.”
“A sports car like this or is she considering something a little more sedate?”
She laughed at that. It was a laugh that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, sending electrical pulses up and down his body.
“She wants to stand out in a sports car ... her father wants something safe and I ... well, I was ready to be persuaded either way or even go for something in between. In fact, since seeing you, Mr Smith, I am quite prepared to put myself completely in your hands.” Her beautiful smile went beyond her lips to include those sparkling blue eyes and she looked enchanting. The double entendre of placing herself completely in Tim’s hands did not escape him, as she no doubt intended, which had the effect of making him feel even warmer under his increasingly restrictive collar. ‘I will have to take off my jacket at the first opportunity,’ he said to himself. She had referred to her daughter’s father, which gave him food for thought; did she mean precisely that as a hint to her current unattachment, or did she ambiguously mean her husband? His eyes were focused on her sparkling eyes, eyes that held his gaze in rapture and he had no wish to break that contact for the moment; so he made a mental note to check her ring finger when the opportunity eventually presented itself. That offhand expression ‘Milf’, he thought, just didn’t do this beautiful woman justice, she was Helen of Troy, the Virgin Mary and Cinderella, all rolled up into one honey-coated fairy-tale package.
“Call me Tim, please. We are all on first names here at Monroe’s, we really don’t bite,” he smiled as if totally at ease in her presence, although he was anything but.
“I’m Jenny, in that case,” the vision smiled sweetly, “But I warn you, I have been known to bite!” She giggled as she delivered that line and Tim’s palpitating knees felt even wobblier for an instance.
“Well, this sports car would definitely fit the bill if your daughter wants to stand out from the crowd, but there are a wide range of other possibilities available here,” he said, trying his damned hardest to maintain his cool under fire, “We have a number of smaller cars on the lot that would be better suited for the young lady running about town, attending college or wanting something more comfortable for touring. The insurance on a monster like this would be crippling until she was over 25. Also, this thoroughbred would be quite a handful for a driver with, I presume, limited driving experience. Better to start with something smaller and less powerful for a couple of years or so, even as much as half a dozen years, before considering something as powerful as this beast.” Tim tried to disarm or deflect his observations with a smile as he joined the lovely woman in stroking the paintwork of this gorgeous car, adding, “I hope I’m not talking myself out of a sale...”
She laughed again; it was a sound that could launch any red-blooded man into orbit.
“I don’t think you are talking yourself out of anything, I hear only good sense from you, Tim. I hope Abbey can get her head around the practicalities of owning such a motorcar. Ah, here she comes now.” She looked up towards the entrance leading from the second-hand lot by the side of the showroom. Tim turned and followed Mrs Jones’ gaze. The newcomer was almost a carbon copy of her mother, a little shorter by an inch perhaps, somewhat coltish, slightly flatter chested and a little less shapely, but with similar coloured hair, worn long down her back a good half a metre longer. She possessed the same brilliant smile as her mother adorned, with the addition of the cutest of dimples in her cheeks.
“Nothing at all I like out there, Mother,” she said as she approached, her voice pitched slightly higher than her mother’s honeyed tones but not gratingly so. Her voice was clearly much more affected Home Counties to his ear, attuned as it was to the usual Yorkshire dialect of his hometown. Abbey’s accent dripped with what he imagined would emanate from a leafy southern suburban finishing school.
“Never mind, Abbey, we find ourselves in the excellent hands of Mr Timothy Smith here,” her mother told her daughter brightly, “He’s the sales manager and I’m sure he will sort out something suitable for you that fits you like a glove.”
“Hello,” Tim said, taking his cue from her mother, “Please call me Tim; may I call you Abbey?”
“Of course, Tim,” she replied with the sweetest flash of her dimpled cheeks as they briefly touched hands lightly in greeting.
“I just need to ask you a few questions so I can figure out the best way I can help you. OK?”
She nodded her affirmation.
“How long have you been driving for?” he asked, “and what car did you learn to drive in while you were taking lessons?”
“Oh, I passed my test last week, and I had most of my lessons in a Yaris, I think, yes a blue Yaris it was.” Her dimples put in an appearance once again as she rested her index finger on her chin.
“So this purchase is going to be your first car?”
“Yes.”
“And what will you be using your car for, primarily?”
“Mostly I need to get to and from college.”
“And that is how far away?”
“Newcastle.”
“Say about 100 miles, then. Will you be doing that every week or once or twice a term?”
“Probably four or five times a term. We have a busy social lifestyle.”
“What about the carrying capacity you need, because you wouldn’t be able to carry much in a sports car?”
Her mother jumped in then, “Her father and I will drive up to Newcastle with everything that she will need in his big Merc, and also to collect her stuff as and when required.” She also smiled just as sweetly as her daughter, only missing the dimples.
‘So,’ he thought with mixed feelings, ‘the husband/father is still on the scene. Oh, well, the thought was good while it lasted.’
“What about availability of parking at campus, and getting around the town?”
“Mostly I won’t need the car too much in town. There is plenty of parking at the halls of residence.”
“Do you feel very strongly about environmental conservation? Have you considered a hybrid or electric car for instance?”
“Not really, even an electric car uses power from an oil-powered power station, and the materials used for batteries is also wasting resources and polluting the atmosphere. No, I’d rather go for this car.” She pointed at the XK-R convertible. “It looks so cool.”
“OK Abbey, I’ll do a deal with you. We’ll take one of these cars out for a spin, but only if you will also let me take you out in a different car of my choice. Then afterwards we can consider whether you want to purchase the one you feel most comfortable with out of the two. Agreed?”
Abbey looked at her mother, who smiled back at her and suggested, “Two test drives for the price of one. Go for it, sweetie.”
“OK, then,” Abbey smiled with both dimples blazing. Tim grinned and excused himself for a moment as he collected the keys from the rack behind the parts and service desk, having a quiet word with Alec, the desk clerk, while he was there.
They had a gleaming black test-drive model of the Jaguar sports car they were interested in on the lot, that he pulled out for her to try. Through the open driver’s window, Tim went over all the controls with Abbey firstly, while her mother squeezed herself into the back via the passenger door. It was a two-door coupe and there was very little comfort room for her lovely long legs in the relatively cramped rear seats. Abbey hesitatingly pulled the long powerful vehicle out of the garage and they drove around the Halifax ring road for a while. Soon she found she was becoming used to the car and after about twenty minutes she visibly relaxed. She was quite a competent driver, Tim assessed, despite her lack of experience. This was too much car for her, though, in his quiet opinion. They drove back into the garage and Tim got her to reverse and park it safely in its parking spot using the assistance of the rear radar. She made a reasonable job of it despite the poor visibility from the rear window, especially with her mother’s head in the way. With Jenny as a distraction Tim imagined that he couldn’t have parked that car straight in a football field!
“Right,” he said grinning at the two ladies once they had managed as elegantly as was possible, in the circumstances, to extricate themselves from the car and stood beside the gleaming beast, “That is one serious motor car.” Then they walked to the front entrance of the showroom, where the smiling service desk clerk Alec stood next to a blindingly shiny bright yellow Mini Countryman, a sporty four-door version of the relatively diminutive motorcar, holding out a set of keys for Tim.
“On the other hand,” Tim turned, handed the set of keys to Abbey and chuckled, “This is anything but a serious car! Go on, Abbey, get in.”
Initially they travelled along the same route as the previous test run, then into some curvy residential roads and it was almost an hour before they worked their way back to base. Abbey wore a huge grin on her face the whole way round. She even smiled as she parked the little car, this time without the aid of any radar. Then the two women moved into Tim’s office, and were sat down with a cup of tea each before Tim hung up his jacket, sat down at the desk, got out his tablet and loaded up the purchase forms.
“Right,” Tim said with a smile, “Do you want me to run through the prices, options and details of both cars or just the one?” He looked at Abbey, who briefly glanced over at Jenny before turning back to Tim; both girls were smiling broadly in agreement.
“The yellow one, I loved it!” Abbey enthused, “I’d not seen a four-door Mini before.”
“That’s the Countryman version.” Tim explained as he started tapping into the tablet and bringing up images and data on the vehicle. “It’s got an efficient diesel engine, which gives excellent mileage both for urban and distance driving, the four doors make it easier for your girlfriends and your mother getting in and out, while maintaining their modesty and comfort. It’s got full climate control, so you will always be as cool or as warm as you want throughout the year and the windows will never fog up, so you will always be able to see all around you. As you know, it’s very easy to park and you should be able to spot that colour in any car park.”
“I love the colour,” Abbey said with a big grin.
“Now, down to the details,” Tim addressed the form on his tablet to start filling in the price figures. “It’s not a new car, as we are not a Mini dealer. This came in as a part-exchange this weekend for someone trading up to one of our Range Rovers. Nothing suspect about the sale, a couple just got married and traded in their two smaller cars and drove away with one family-size car.”
“How old is it?” Jenny asked.
“Eleven months old and has just over 8000 miles on the clock, so it is only just broken in, still guaranteed by the original warranty for another two years and should give three or four years’ absolutely trouble-free motoring and, if regularly serviced, should still be easily traded in at a reasonable price for your next car.”
“How much?” Jenny asked.
He grinned, “It’s about £70,000 cheaper than the Jag!” Jenny matched his smile with one guaranteed to make any man melt, as he tore away his eyes and typed in the figures for the base price of the car and the extras, and turned the tablet round for the girls to see the figures. He pointed to the breakdown figures with the tip of his pen.
“That’s the discounted base price, plus the cost of twelve months’ road tax, a full tank of petrol, basic service costs for the next two years and a set of rubber mats to put in during the winter months.” They could see the final price, which was very reasonable, broken into two figures, the deposit and balance payable.
They looked at each other and Jenny nodded, almost imperceptibly, before Abbey turned back to him and squealed, “I’ll take it!” giving him both devastating dimples. “Can I drive it home today?”
“No,” he said gently, with his own disarming smile, which had always worked well for him in the past, “We have a few formalities to go through first. The car only came into us this morning after a part-exchange sale arranged at the weekend, which is why it was in the workshop earlier and not out on the lot. I got the guys to give the outside a quick wash while we were out test-driving the Jag, but it needs a little more work and a proper polish. We need to give it a complete mechanical service and valet throughout, arrange for the transfer of ownership and purchase the road fund licence as there is less than a month left on the old one. Also you need to sort out your motor insurance, and we can go through the payment terms. You can pick it up first thing day after tomorrow if you can bring in an insurance certificate tomorrow by lunchtime.” Tim looked at Jenny, “How do you want to pay? I need a small deposit now and the balance when you collect the car. Do you need finance arranged?” He thought it was an unnecessary question, but he had to ask.
Jenny shook her head, “Is credit card OK for the deposit?” Tim nodded, “That’ll do nicely.” They all smiled. “Right, I’ll print out all these papers, we’ll go and look over the car again for any knocks or scrapes that need correcting and then we can sign the paperwork and relieve you of your deposit.”
“I’ll call your father,” Jenny said to Abbey, as the three walked towards the door, “He wanted to see what you ended up with.” She turned to Tim as she pressed the speed dial on her phone and put it up to her ear, “It won’t affect your sale, Tim, Roger will arrange the insurance through his company but he wanted to see it before - Oh, hi Hon ... Yes ... a Mini ... Nice ... Safe, bright yellow ... Yes, very bright ... Mmmm ... Yes ... Now? OK.” She hung up. “He’s coming down now, in five to ten minutes.”
By this time they’d reached the car again and Abbey wanted to check out how roomy or otherwise it was for her friends in the back. As she ducked inside, Jenny pulled him to one side with a hand on his arm.
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