by Felix Baron
‘Thank you.’
He moved to kiss her again.
‘Aren’t we going somewhere?’ Penny reminded him.
‘Your choice. The Empire State Building? Staten Island? The Statue of Liberty? Central Park?’
‘Isn’t there a famous museum?’
‘The Guggenheim? Sure. You into museums, art, architecture and all that?’
‘You’re an engineer, aren’t you?’
‘The Guggenheim it is!’ He unhooked a phone from the wall. ‘The Guggenheim, please, driver.’
‘He can’t hear us?’ she asked.
‘Only on the phone, and he can’t see us. No one can.’ He rapped a knuckle on a dark window.
‘We can see out but no one can see in?’
‘Exactly!’ He grinned and took her back into his arms.
The kisses were nice but his fingers started to work up under her sweater. At that rate, he’d be out of control long before their day out was done. Penny knew how to slow him down. She eased out of his embrace gradually, making it seem like a mutual decision.
‘Thank you, Andrew,’ she said in her most earnest voice.
‘Thank me? What for?’
‘For making me feel so safe. I haven’t been comfortable to be all alone with a man for a very long time.’
He preened a little at her calling him a man. ‘Something happened? Something bad?’
‘I had just turned fifteen,’ she said. ‘Back home, the river, Ridge River, is gorgeous in the summer. It’s got wide beaches. That’s where the kids hang out. There’s swimming and picnics and stuff by day. After sunset there’s bonfires and weenie-roasts, sometimes a little beer, and the kids make out, just kissing and petting, nothing too heavy.’
‘Sounds like fun.’
‘It was, till that awful Sunday.’
‘What happened?’
‘You can pretty well guess, I expect. An older boy, a football star, Billy Blair, took me into the bushes. I was eager enough to go. I didn’t know he’d had a few too many drinks. We kissed and fooled around some and it was fine by me, until he put his hand up my skirt. I told him “No!” He didn’t stop so I slapped his face. It got ugly. He was on top of me and my clothes were all ripped when some other guys heard my screams and came to rescue me.’
‘Thank goodness!’
‘They roughed him up some and I should have let it go at that but we went to the same school and he scared me. I told my folks. They pressed charges – attempted rape.’
‘Well, it was, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but he didn’t actually rape me. He didn’t succeed. I mean, he didn’t get his . . .’ Penny’s voice broke.
Andrew patted her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to tell me if it’s hard.’
‘There’s not much more to tell. I wasn’t the first girl he’d attacked. He was still on probation from the last time, so he went to jail and he never did graduate. His folks blamed me. We moved to Seattle. We thought it was all over until a few months ago, when he was released, “a ruined man”, as he claimed. We started getting phone calls. Sometimes he shouts obscenities. Sometimes it’s just heavy breathing. That’s when Mom decided we had to move again.’ Her face brightened. ‘And here we are, thanks to you and your Dad!’
Andrew frowned. ‘That’s terrible, what happened to you, but at least it brought us together.’
‘And now I’m safe, with you.’
His chest expanded. ‘Absolutely!’ Andrew sat back with a smug look on his face, just because, Penny imagined, he wasn’t at all like Billy Blair.
At the Guggenheim, Penny listened dutifully as Andrew lectured her on Frank Lloyd Wright and his struggle to get his revolutionary design accepted and about the genius of his ‘nautilus-inspired’ construction. She got no more than a glance at any of the art but there’d be other days, now that she lived in New York.
The Guggenheim is close to Central Park. The day was fine enough for a picnic. Penny felt as if transported back to the nineteenth century, sitting on a rug, under a tree, with a wicker hamper full of expensive treats and sharing a split of champagne with a handsome boy. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in a flowing white dress, twirling a frilly parasol, and Andrew in a striped blazer and straw boater, reading Tennyson to her and getting a raging erection from a glimpse of her ankle.
She sometimes drifted into fantasy like that, if the man or boy she was with proved boring. Andrew’s newly deferential attitude, his care not to touch her unless it was absolutely necessary, his lack of flirtation, was all her doing, of course. Her Mom called it ‘man-guilt’. If a decent man is told about another man doing something evil to a woman, the decent one feels guilty, just because the brutish one was male. Men are silly.
Penny decided that although she didn’t want Andrew climbing all over her again, not just yet, she’d had enough of him treating her as if she were his older and very plain sister.
She knew how to take care of that.
Back at the limo, she asked, ‘May we keep the hamper in the back with us, Andrew? There’s lots left and I might fancy a nibble later.’
‘Sure.’ Andrew asked her, ‘What next? Broadway? Times Square?’
‘I want to see everything, Andrew. Can’t we just drive around New York with you pointing out the landmarks to me?’
Andrew grinned. ‘Welcome to Andrew’s Personal, Customised tour of New York City, Miss. On your right . . .’
For ten minutes Penny darted from side to side of the limo, peering out left, then right, then left again.
‘Could we have the sunshine roof open, please Andrew?’
‘Of course.’ He pressed a button. The roof purred open.
Penny stood up, in the middle, facing the front, and rested her arms on the limo’s roof. The car swayed around a corner. She let the sway move her and faked being about to tumble. Andrew, of course, grabbed her legs just above her knees to save her.
‘Oops! Sorry!’ he blurted.
‘No. Thanks, Andrew. I could have fallen. I’d feel much safer with you holding me, just like that.’
His fresh grip was a fraction higher, just under her skirt. Penny wondered if he could see up it at all. He must have been tempted to slide his fingers higher but he resisted the lure of her skin, even if the balls of his thumbs did caress the backs of her thighs, subtly. Penny made sure to flex the muscles in her legs with each sway the limo made. Good boys should be rewarded.
She thought hard but there was no reasonable way to tempt him further without it being obvious. He was being very restrained. She couldn’t even feel his breath on the backs of her legs, which she’d expected. It wasn’t until well after five, when they’d driven through most of Manhattan, that a car in front braked hard, making their driver do the same. Penny used the lurch as an excuse to topple back on top of Andrew and to roll from his lap to the floor with her skirt twisted up high around her thighs.
He pulled her up, both laughing. She sat back on his lap and kissed him and even let him get a hand on her breast under her sweater. Andrew had educated fingers, considering his age. At first he touched her nipple as if in awe of it, which is always nice. When she allowed her excitement to show, his fondling became firmer, more urgent. Andrew, she decided, had the makings of an excellent lover. A girl could do a lot worse.
She wriggled more, bearing down, enjoying the rolling of his erection under her thigh and deliberately stoking both his lust and her own. His, she would take care of before the day was done. She’d have to endure her own until she was alone, or would she? Penny considered letting Andrew touch her between her legs but decided against it. It was too soon in their relationship and she doubted he had the skills to bring her to climax with just his fingers. Anyway, for now, orgasms were for her to give and for him to enjoy. The ‘giver’ of orgasms always has more power than the recipient.
She giggled into his mouth. If boys only knew what girls thought about while making out!
‘What’s funny?’ he asked.
&nb
sp; ‘Nothing. I’m just happy.’
The limo pulled over and stopped.
Andrew looked at his watch. ‘It’s six already. We must be at the restaurant.’ He stood up to put his head through the roof. ‘Yes, we’re here, Penny. My Dad picked it. Is Thai food OK with you?’
‘It’s fine. Could I have my things from the trunk, please?’
Penny changed in the car while Andrew waited on the sidewalk. When she stepped out, alluring in a long black slub-silk hobble-tight skirt and matching jersey-knit off-the-shoulder top, his attempts to compliment her tripped on his stuttering tongue. Penny smiled and tottered ahead, into the Thai Delight Golden Garden.
A sweet little Thai girl served them green tea. Andrew asked Penny to order, as she’d eaten Thai food before and he hadn’t. She chose deep fried tiger shrimp, papaya salad, curry fried rice and peanut red curry seafood, that he insisted they wanted ‘extra hot’. Andrew’s face was red and sweating before he was halfway through his curry. Penny called for a Singha Thai beer to cool his taste buds and a soothing dessert, mango and lychee sherbet.
During the meal, Penny had selected titbits to offer to Andrew’s lips on her chopsticks and made sure to touch his hand frequently. She’d asked him about his courses and did he have his own digs or live in a dorm? Penny said it was such a shame that he’d be leaving in just a week, and she really meant that. Their relationship was blossoming. She didn’t want Andrew to forget her and take up with some simpering little co-ed. He’d be a target, she knew. As he was taking extra degrees, he’d be older than most of the other young men. Add that relative maturity to him being athletic, handsome and having a rich Dad, and the girls would swarm him.
Penny had one week to get Andrew so obsessively infatuated with her that he’d be blind to the charms of all other girls. It was a fine line that she had to walk. If she took him to her bed, which she would have really enjoyed doing, he’d yearn for her less. Even the best sex can’t be as good as it’s anticipated to be by the fevered imagination of a celibate young man.
He was currently celibate, she was sure. It was even possible he was still a virgin. That was OK, by her.
Andrew said, ‘The show Dad got us tickets for is called Spamalot. It’s at the Shubert Theater, on West 44th Street. Have you heard of it?’
‘Lovely! I’m a Python fan. Are you?’
‘Python?’
‘Monty Python?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve heard of that. British, isn’t it?’
Inwardly, Penny groaned. If he wasn’t a Python fan, chances were, he wouldn’t understand or enjoy the show. She was proved partly right. ‘I’m Not Quite Dead’ left him cold and puzzled. Penny rested a hand on his thigh in compensation for what he was enduring. Andrew perked up when The Lady of the Lake revealed her skimpy lingerie, as most of the men and many of the women in the audience, would have, Penny thought.
In the interval, he had a Molson Canadian lager and she had a Cosmopolitan, mainly because her Mom didn’t like her to drink anything too sophisticated in public – bad for her image – so she was taking advantage of her mother’s absence.
They were back in the limo by ten thirty-five. ‘How long will it take us to get me home from here?’ Penny asked.
‘Half an hour, maybe forty minutes.’
‘Oh. We don’t have to be back before midnight, do we?’
He beamed. ‘No.’ Andrew picked up the phone. ‘Through Central Park, please, driver. Take your time.’
Either the passion Penny’d inspired earlier was still hot in his blood or else the chorus line’s lovelies had rekindled it, because his kisses were fierce and he didn’t wait to take advantage of her off-the-shoulder neckline. He was a quick study. Obviously remembering her preferences from their tryst on the hotel’s patio, he turned her to face away from him and worked both sides of her top down to her elbows, baring her delicate young breasts and trapping her arms. His teeth nibbled on her nape. His fingers teased and rolled her nipples until they were hard and then plucked at them in an urgent rhythm. Penny writhed without having to exaggerate her passion. Once again, she considered letting him fondle her between her legs but shook the temptation off. It isn’t wise to let lust change a decision you’d made when you were calm.
When she judged it to be about eleven-thirty, she worked her hands back behind her to grope Andrew’s cock through his pants. He groaned.
‘Andrew,’ she whispered. ‘Let me go for a second, OK?’
She could feel his reluctance as he released her. Penny reached over to the hamper and opened it.
‘You’re hungry again?’ Andrew asked in a hurt tone.
‘No. Andrew, take your pants down, please?’
He asked, ‘What?’ but didn’t hesitate to obey.
Penny turned to him with the pot of butter and a napkin from their picnic in her hands. ‘I don’t want to spoil your pants,’ she explained.
He looked blank, and somewhat ridiculous with his pants around his knees. His expression changed when Penny smeared butter over the palm and fingers of her right hand. Her elbow nudged the tails of his shirt aside. Belatedly, Andrew shoved his underwear down to join his pants.
‘Don’t do a thing,’ Penny told him. ‘Just enjoy.’ Her slippery hand closed around his shaft. She squeezed as her fingers slithered up to his cock’s head and relaxed her grip as they slid down again. ‘Is this good?’ she asked.
Andrew nodded.
‘Faster?’
He nodded again.
‘Harder?’
He made a noise in his throat.
Penny pumped, not as hard or as fast as she imagined he’d have liked her to, prolonging the act. It was such a shame that she had to restrain herself. Her body yearned for his seed. It had been a very long time since she’d made love to a boy and even then, she hadn’t ‘gone all the way’, as she’d wanted to. Most young women of her age were getting fucked on a regular basis. In a way, she envied them, but she’d chosen a different path, one that demanded strict discipline of her.
Andrew’s legs straightened out in front of him. His thigh muscles bunched. He was making strangled noises. His hips rose and fell, fucking his cock through her fist.
‘Please?’ she asked. ‘Do it for me, Andrew.’ She cupped the napkin in place.
Andrew emitted something between a screech and a bellow. His cock throbbed in her hand and spurted a thick rope of liquid ivory into her napkin. Penny pumped some more, drawing out his after-shocks until his expression told her that pleasure was turning into discomfort.
The limo stopped. Penny stood up to look through the roof. ‘We’re here,’ she announced. ‘I’ll go up and send your Dad down. You’d better be decent by then!’
Twelve
Rolf blinked awake, alone in Trixie’s bed. He tried ordering his cock to twitch. It responded, even though it was limp. Good. He wasn’t a young man any more and the orgasm Trixie’d given him had been spectacular. It was good to know he was still able to go more than one round in a day, provided he got a break in between.
The room was a bit brighter. The drapes were parted but the gauzy curtains weren’t. Trixie’s naked body was silhouetted, in profile, gently curved tummy, flaring bottom, slender at her waist, her breasts plump and pouty-nippled. She was on the phone with a martini in her free hand but put the phone down as soon as he saw her. By her body-language, she hadn’t enjoyed the call.
‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘No, Lover. The phone’s on, at last, and would you believe it – my first damned call is a heavy breather.’
‘Not a wrong number?’
She shrugged. Her breasts wobbled. Rolf’s cock twitched again, by itself. Trixie said, ‘I don’t think so, but maybe you’re right. I hope so.’ She strode towards him like a predator, clicking on the three-inch heels of satin pom-pom slippers. ‘Ready to torment me?’
As she came closer he could see that she was still wearing black hose, but different ones. This pair had narrower lace at the tops and didn�
��t come quite so high up her thighs. She’d added a velvet choker with a little bow at her throat.
‘I’m ready.’
She stopped close to the side of the bed, posed like a pin-up from a risqué magazine out of the 1940s.
Rolf inhaled musky perfume and talcum powder. ‘You’re gorgeous!’ he blurted.
‘Thank you.’ She followed his gaze, down to her pubic mound, which was bald except for a tiny golden triangle of sleek fur. ‘You like that?’
‘Love it!’ It was weird, considering that she’d already performed the most intimate and exciting erotic act on him that he’d ever experienced, but this was his first look at her sex. Its outer lips were puffy and a deeper pink than the surrounding skin. He got the impression that they’d be very sensitive. The only sign of her clitoral shaft was a delicate double-crease where her lips united just below the proud pout of her mound.
‘It’s all yours,’ she promised, ‘but you did promise me an extended teasing.’
‘Until you beg for it,’ he said, showing that he’d remembered her words. Rolf tossed the bedclothes back in invitation.
‘Exactly,’ she said. Trixie set her martini aside, turned and sat her dimpled bottom on the edge of the bed. For a moment she didn’t move, allowing him to admire the slenderness of her waist and the dramatic curves of her hips. Rolf’s hand lifted to touch her but she lay down and wriggled back to sit in his lap, ‘spoons’ style. Her left leg worked between his. Her right covered his right. Both of her legs moved, subtly, and her bottom wriggled against him. Rolf was intensely aware of the slithering rasp of nylon on his skin, and the slick smoothness of her bare thighs on his hairy ones. His cock responded, straightening and thickening, but her bottom’s cheeks trapped it, uncomfortably bent. As if she understood, Trixie squirmed and released its shaft to spring up and press against her tailbone.
‘Like this, please,’ she said. She pulled his left hand down over her left shoulder and his right one around her side so that a warm plump breast nestled in each of his palms.
‘We fit perfectly,’ she said.
