Psychology 1 - Virginity 0 Ch. 02

He relieved her of her several bags and offered her his free arm. Arm in arm they strolled through the park, looking for a shady spot to have their picnic. They settled down under a two century old oak and Patricia started laying out food while Andrew did man-magic to extract the cork from the bottle. He'd brought disposable napkins, basic cutlery and even two wine glasses: This was not his first picnic. The wine was warm but the rest of the picnic was good and the afternoon sunlight dappling Patricia's calves was a pleasant distraction from tepid chardonnay. When they'd finished eating, Andrew rummaged through the shopping bags to see what Patricia had bought herself. He was especially interested in the lingerie, holding up bras and thongs, stretched between his thumbs for inspection. At the bottom of the bag, he found plain cotton panties. He held them up and recognised them instantly. He looked at Patricia meaningfully.

"You changed already?"

She shook her head. Andrew was quick on the uptake.

"They were getting damp..." Patricia glanced down coyly. It still wasn't easy to talk so boldly. Andrew fingered the gusset of the panties thoughtfully.

"So I see." He pressed them to his mouth and nose briefly then put them back in the bottom of the bag. "Elena did say you'd be very sensitive after the depilation. She always is, but she said it would be much more so for you, first time." He moved closer to the semi-reclined girl, lifting her chin to force the issue of eye contact. "Do you have any idea how sexy it is to find this out?" He glanced around to make sure there was nobody within earshot. The other park visitors were all quite distant. He eased her long, conservative skirt up her legs. She didn't move a muscle. Her knees were now visible and his hand smoothed its way up her thigh unhindered. He moved closer, lifting her chin and gluing his mouth over hers. Now she responded.

His hand found its way through the dark and with little urging, eased her thighs enough to let his fingers rest along the smooth lips of her sex. She clamped his hand there.

"You're a bad girl, going knickerless in a royal park. Now you're going to have to stay really quiet so that nobody will notice - none of that yelling you do in the shower." He gently kneaded her puffy lips between his fingers, pressing his palm to her clit.

Patricia buried her face against his shoulder and moaned. She knew she should feel ashamed but all she felt was passion. While his fingers raised her temperature, his voice, soft and low, crept into her ear, sowing seeds of new fantasies.

"Imagine Elena's tongue doing this. Elena's head buried between your thighs, her tongue delving into your body and thrashing around your clitoris. She wants to. She wants to make love to you without any barriers. She loves you and she wants you two to be lovers. She wants to feel your breath between her legs just before you kiss her pussy. Imagine how good it would feel ... being licked by your sister and licking her to orgasm in return. Hmm. It makes me hard just to think of it. I know you want it too. I can feel how much you want to make love with Elena..." He stopped talking as Patricia trembled and clamped his hand tight as she stifled the sounds of her climax against his shoulder. As she relaxed, he slipped his hand from its warm hiding place, embraced her and steered them both to horizontality on the blanket, holding her close and kissing her softly.

Patricia was still for quite awhile, relaxing in the afterglow of her clandestine climax. Eventually she whispered. "Does she really want to...?"

"Yes. We had a long chat about you earlier and she's as horny as hell for you. And I agree. It's a natural thing for her to feel: She's loved you as a sister all her life and she likes sex with girls so why wouldn't she want to make love to you while you're sharing our bed?"

"She told me it wasn't sinful: that the Bible doesn't say we can't. But..."

"But?"

"But...I... I've never looked at women that way. I love her too but... not that way."

"Yet the idea excited you just now. Or was that just my fingers?"

"Not just your fingers. You made it sound so lovely. It's just..."

"Patricia. Elena is the only woman I've ever wanted to marry and I'm willing to share her with you because she loves you as much as she loves me: More, because she's loved you longer. Being lovers can only make you two closer. Think about it and do what feels comfortable."

"You're very persuasive."

"It's not my job to persuade you. I'm just telling you that you have options you may not have considered. A few days ago, you were shy, embittered, deeply unhappy and - unless I'm wildly off track - you came for the BBC interview because your old life was becoming unbearable and a radical change of environment was the only hope you had." He paused. Patricia nodded solemnly. "Now you have tons more self-confidence. You've laughed more in two days than I've seen you do in the two weeks you've been here. You've got an exciting new job and if waking up naked with your two lovers isn't a radical change of environment, I don't know what is. Tell me you're not happier."

"I am, and I owe it all to you." She leant close and kissed him briefly.

"No. You owe a lot to Elena for loving her sister enough to talk me into it. But you owe most of it to your willingness to embrace change. You must have been terrified, but you took the plunge. I was very careful about that. I didn't want to force you into anything you'd regret later. Remember struggling with your buttons?"

"Yes."

"I could have helped but you had to take every step yourself. I navigated, but you drove. It was an incredibly brave thing you did and you shouldn't give away all the credit for that." He let her kiss him again.

"I'm still grateful for everything you've done for me."

"Grateful enough to buy me a coffee?" He smirked.

"There's still half a bottle of wine."

"I know, but I really feel like a cappuccino."

"It wasn't very good wine. Was it?"

"It was too warm. Stick the cork back in and we'll take it home and refrigerate it."

Patricia tidied up the remains of their picnic, walking as far as the lake to throw the rest of the bread to the ducks and swans while Andrew shook out and folded their blanket.

"Andrew."

"Yes?"

"Do you always open your houseguest's mail?" Patricia had thought about this just after leaving the house. Now seemed a good time to ask him.

"No. I wouldn't have opened yours except that it was in a BBC envelope. I needed to know if it was a job offer or a 'better luck next time' letter."

"You should still have let me open it." Patricia wasn't angry, but...

"And risk sending you out to walk the streets all day with a rejection crumpled up in your pocket? Not on my watch! If that letter had been bad news, I'd have saved it until Elena was home so you wouldn't have to deal with the disappointment on your own."

"You think of everything. Don't you?" She was hugging his chest again, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

"I try to. So? Am I forgiven for opening it?"

"Of course you're forgiven." She kissed him for good measure.

"Good. Now see the couple behind me on the bench?".

"Yes?" Patricia saw they were about 40 metres away.

"They've been there ages."

"So? It is a park." Patricia was puzzled as to where this was leading.

"So they couldn't take their eyes off us before..."

"Oh!" Patricia's hand shot to her mouth. Had they really seen her? Had they realized what Andrew had been doing to her? She blushed furiously.

"And now we have to walk past them to get to the gate. "This wasn't strictly true: There were other gates. "Hold my hand." He offered it and clasped her fingers reassuringly, picking up all the bags in his other hand. "Now, as we pass them, if they look at us, just smile sweetly - at her, not him."

The couple did look at them, quite blatantly. Patricia smiled at the girl as she passed, still flushed in the face. As they reached the gate, Patricia could hold her composure no longer and spun into Andrew's chest, hiding her face and heaving with - with laughter. This took even Andrew by surprise.

"Oh Andrew!" She said. "Did you see their faces? He wouldn't even look at us. I think he was more embarrassed than I was."

"And tonight, when they get home, they'll fuck like bunnies because of what they saw in the park this afternoon. You've just improved their sex life - for the short term at least. Did you see he was holding a newspaper on his lap? I bet you a cappuccino - double or quits - that he was hiding an erection."

"No bet. I'm not going to go and ask him - And neither are you! Shameless man! Wait until I tell Elena all this."

"She'll be turned on too. Just like them. Sex is like that. You see it - you want it. If you're getting it anyway then you want it harder, faster, longer and more. Other people's orgasms are the best aphrodisiac in the world. You still owe me a coffee." He urged their steps in the direction of the nearest decent, non-Starbuck's, non-Costa, non-multinational-chain coffee shop.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Patricia was thinking about the girl on the bench and the look they'd shared.

"I did. Did you?"

"She was beautiful."

Andrew realized that this was an opportunity to steer Patricia's thinking in a direction that would lead to Elena. "Patricia, try to imagine her naked. What would you say was her appeal? Specifically?"

Patricia's brow wrinkled in incomprehension.

"What makes her beautiful?"

"She had a very beautiful face. Her eyes... Her eyes were very lovely."

"And her figure? What about her body?"

"She wasn't wearing a bra. Here bosoms were eye catching."

"I noticed. Patricia, you realize that you've just checked out another woman and decided she was sexy?"

Patricia was contemplative for a few yards. "I have. Haven't I? Its all that talk about Elena."

"Its a good thing. Try a few more as we walk. See how people dress to emphasise or display the parts they feel are most attractive. See if you agree with their self-assessment."

They walked on in silence. Patricia looked at the girls that passed them, trying to see them in a sexual context and finding it surprisingly easy. Andrew just looked at the girls for fun. As a very pert youngster exited a shop just in front of them, Patricia spoke low for Andrew's ears only. "That's exactly the pair of trousers I bought today."

They both watched the girl's bottom moving rhythmically a few steps ahead of them. "Very nice." Observed Andrew. The trousers in question were of the currently fashionable hipster cut that so often flashes glimpses of underwear. The girl wearing them had a black thong on with a diamante something just visible over the waistband. Andrew had decided a long while back that he liked this fashion. Patricia seemed reluctant to take her eyes off the sparkly thing too.

"Good choice." Andrew said as the girl entered another shop and broke the spell. "But what can you tell me about the girl wearing them?"

"She wiggles when she walks. Deliberately."

"And? What did she make you think about?"

"Her bottom was a lot like Elena's... It was... sexy." She finally got it out.

"It was. I'm glad you saw it that way. You'll look better in those trousers though because she was really a bit skinny. Your bottom is rounder."

"Mine's too big."

"No it isn't. Your figure is quite balanced between top and bottom. You have a bottom that compliments the size of your breasts. It's going to look great in hipsters. In here." He steered her into a coffee house and found a quiet table. A waitress came over straight away.

"A large cappuccino please." Patricia ordered Andrew's usual. "And... Make that two large cappuccinos. Thank you."

"We were discussing your bottom and its probably a good opportunity to deal with the whole figure issue. D'you know why we men have the prejudices we do about women's figures?"

"No, but I suspect you're going to tell me."

"Indeed. Because everyone should know who's pulling their strings. This would be taught in schools if I had my way. It's all about babies really. Did you ever see the poster for that Raquel Welch film where she was supposed to be a cave woman? Well for pretty much the whole of human history, the ideal woman was that shape. Even today, though the fashion industry creates aberrations with ideas like heroin chic, look at any teenage boy's bedroom wall - or under his mattress - and the pin-ups and porn will be built like Raquel Welch. It's hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and it bites us every time we get complacent about being civilized and cultured." He paused as their coffee arrived. "Thank you." He sugared his cappuccino before continuing. "That's the ideal shape for a woman because a caveman looking for a mate to bear his children - and that's what he wanted a mate for - would look for a woman with broad hips - we still call them child bearing hips - broad hips to avoid difficult births that could kill mother or baby or both: Decent sized breasts because well fed babies grow strong and are more likely to survive the rigours of caveman life: good skin is a strong indication of healthy diet and no nutritional deficiencies: Supple limbs and a flattish belly indicate that she is strong and therefore not lazy. So there you go. Hips are for bearing babies, tits are for feeding babies, complexion is for surviving long enough to raise babies and good legs are for running away from danger carrying babies. If she could cook, it was a bonus but in caveman society there would have always been older females around to do that."

"That's so sexist."

"Not really. The point is that the ideal female form isn't primarily about sex - it was always about the odds of survival - yours, his and the baby's. The women who looked like that would choose men that had broad chests, slim hips & obvious strength for similar reasons. They wanted a provider and a broad chest indicated that he was probably handy with a spear while slim hips would imply he was fast on his feet and could chase prey and flee predators with a certain amount of success. Strength was desirable as he'd have to defend his woman against other men and the strongest usually won. The woman wanted a man who could feed and protect her and their children."

"Like animals?"

"Exactly like animals. Everything else in relationships is secondary to the biological imperative. The true purpose of all civilization is to protect the family and ensure that there actually is a next generation."

"So what about women who like older men?" Patricia asked without a hint of self-interest.

"When you see pretty young women on the arms of older men, aren't the men usually wealthy and/or powerful?"

"You're not." She smiled.

"Still. Wealth and power equal the ability to support, protect and provide in our modern world. Some women are attracted to powerful men rather than handsome men for exactly the same biological reasons that Raquel Welch wanted a big strong mammoth hunter."

"And where do you fit in?"

"There aren't enough handsome or wealthy men to go around. I'm just filling a gap."

"What about male characteristics like having a big penis? Didn't that ever cross Raquel Welch's mind?" Patricia is, to her own surprise, caught up in Andrew's train of thought.

"A big penis has often been seen as a sign of virility. Lots of pagan idols had huge phalluses and the maypole was originally meant to be one that virgins danced around and bound with ribbons as a fertility rite. There are exceptions though. After coffee, we'll stroll along to the British Museum and look at the Greek pots. You'll see all the heroic Greek men have tiny penises. The Greeks believed a small penis indicated a higher level of consciousness - more human intellect, less animal instinct."

"You said you didn't have a very big penis. Were you joking? It seemed quite big to me." She surprised herself by being able to ask this without a single hesitation.

"Ask your sister. Elena's had quite a few lovers and she'll tell you that they were all bigger than me. It's a fair bet they could all manage more than twice a night too. I know for a fact they were all younger than me, quite a lot younger. Elena cares too much to hurt my feelings by saying as much but she's had much better lovers in rge past."

"But she loves you."

"There is that. Though God only knows why." He smiled to take the sting out of his cynicism.

"You must know why too. You analyse everything so you must have thought about it."

"Indeed. We have trust. That's a big thing in a relationship. It's not all about sex you know. We make each other laugh. Humour is critical to relationships. A relationship that takes itself too seriously will self-destruct. Ask Elena how I look in a tu-tu. Comfort. That's important too. Neither Elena nor I would ever want someone else's shoulder to cry on while we have each other."

"That's so sweet."

"But none of that explains love. Nobody has ever explained love. All I know is that Elena's the last thing I want to see at night and the first I want to see in the morning. That, when we're apart, time is just a way of measuring how soon I'll see her and, when we're together, time might as well not exist."

"You really do love her. Don't you?"

"Really."

"And you still slept with me." Patricia didn't mean this to sound like a bad thing. It just came out that way.

"Firstly, it was Elena's idea. She badgered me into agreeing. But I wouldn't have given in if I wasn't fond of you and attracted to you. If I'd done it just for her, it would have done more harm than good and I'm not in that business. You didn't need to get laid: You needed to be loved, in a very physical sense. I explained to Elena, before I agreed, that it wouldn't - couldn't - be just one night of passion.

Secondly, sharing you with her has brought Elena and I even closer together. You should know that you're welcome in our bed as long as you want. There's no need for you to go flat hunting right away." He stopped because he saw that Patricia was welling up.

"Patricia. Look at me. You should get your own place - have your own space - at some point. You'll be able to afford it and I believe it will do you good to be independent, but there's no hurry." He reached for her hand and found his fingers clasped tight.

"I'm sorry...I'm just being... silly..."

"You're not being silly. You're being emotional. That's not a thing you should need to apologize for. It's been an emotional few days and it'll take awhile to find your equilibrium again. But be mindful of the fact that tears are an aphrodisiac."

"Tears?"

"Yes. A man sees a girl crying and the back of his brain thinks 'She's weak and vulnerable and I'm strong and manly. I'll protect her.' And the next thing you know you're in some guy's arms, soaking his shoulder. Then, when you're all cried out you realize his hands have headed south and he's holding your ass and, when you look up at him, to exclaim your shock at his behaviour, he kisses your open mouth and the rest is biology, a little chemistry and a whole lot of Newtonian physics. And all because you cried."

Patricia smiled as she wiped away her tears with a napkin. "You have an explanation for everything and it's almost always to do with sex."

"The caveman wasn't to do with sex. It was to do-"

"Enough! I surrender." Patricia raised her hands. She was laughing. Andrew, despite his thesis, found her laughter much more attractive than tears.

* * * * *

After coffee, they walked around the West End and eventually, via Patricia's new place of work, Broadcasting House, found their way to The Young Vic to pick up Elena. There was hugging and squealing and frantic talking in Portuguese, presumably about the job, then there was quieter talking which Andrew supposed was about him. Elena glanced at him questioningly and said "In the park?"