Wallflower Blooming

When it finally did, we hugged each other for the longest time. Sharon kept sobbing and as for me, well, crying girls alway got to me anyway. When we finally stopped our emotional meltdown I tried to get it together long enough to speak.

"I love you."

I said it first. That was my contention then just like it still is today, but even if Sharon did say it a split second later, she didn't say it as an automatic response. She meant it.

"I've loved you since that day in the cafeteria," I told her.

"I didn't like you much then," Sharon admitted. "But I love you so much now that it makes up for that."

...

Chapter Eleven: Never dreamed of this.

"This will be an evening to remember," Sharon said as she propped her leg up onto the rim of the bathtub and watched me with an amused look.

"Really?" I asked as I feigned shock. "Why would that be?"

"Let me count the ways," Sharon proclaimed. "I was deflowered, did a bunch of things to your thingy that I never thought I would ever do..."

"My thingy?"

"Your dick, and by the way it's pointing at me again," Sharon informed me.

"Get used to it," I told her. "It's going to happen a lot, especially when you're naked and sexy looking in the tub like you are now."

"I can't believe I'm sitting like this in front of you," Sharon said. "And I also can't believe you want to do this. You must be a masochist."

"I don't necessarily 'want' to do it," I corrected her. "But if you're going to do it anyway, you might as well let somebody that loves you do it."

What I was going to do was shave Sharon's legs, and I had already lathered her left leg up above the knee and now had her mother's razor in my hand, poised and ready for action.

She had mentioned doing it earlier, and after we had made ourselves so sweaty and sticky with our assorted body fluids and ended up in the shower, she had mentioned it again.

"I want to look beautiful for you," Sharon had said. "Or at least as good as I possibly can."

"You look gorgeous to me now."

"You're amazing," Sharon informed me. "You're so non-judgmental. Guys usually seem so different."

"I am different," I agreed. "Now I must concentrate here, so please don't disturb the artist."

"Go upward," Sharon reminded me.

"Ssh!" I said as I brought the blade down to her ankle and slowly brought the blade upward, mowing down the hairs that grew so thickly on the inside of her calves.

"Mmm," Sharon sighed. "That feels nice. Way nicer than when I do it."

As I kept sweeping the razor up her legs, I found myself getting more an more aroused. There was something about this that felt really special to me, like I was doing something really personal. Almost like I was peeking inside a girls' locker room and getting to see things I never saw before, only in this case I was a part of it.

"Wow!" I said after finishing Sharon's left leg and had sprayed the excess shaving cream off of it. "There was a leg under there after all."

"Wise guy," Sharon replied.

"And it's a beautiful leg too," I added. "Should we do the right leg too?"

"I think so, if you're up to it," Sharon said. "First though, I think we should take care of my buddy there. He's dripping."

Indeed, my cock was springing up and down with a string of pre-cum hanging off of the tip.

"I guess you can tell that I'm enjoying this," I confessed, having started this out as a lark and found myself getting really into the experience.

"Okay, any ideas?" I said.

"Stand up and I'll show you."

I stood up while Sharon knelt in the tub, very eager to do something that she had already done a couple of times earlier, and for somebody that had never been in the same room with a dick before, Sharon was not only showing an ability for fellatio, but she was seeming to like doing it a whole lot.

This time was different, because after her lips went up and down my shaft for a few minutes and I had warned her that I was going to cum, Sharon grabbed my ass and kept going. She kept sucking while I spurted into her mouth and down her throat, only choking briefly in the process.

"Okay," I gasped, practically having to pry Sharon's hand off my balls as she seemed intent on milking them dry.

"Tastes funny," Sharon said. "Like a salty milkshake. Not too bad though. Besides, if you can take what you did before, it's the least I can do."

What I had taken was a blast of her bodily fluids flush in the face while I was going down on her enthusiastically, and while I didn't really understand what had happened, I knew that it had left Sharon's body twitching uncontrollably for a minute or so afterward, so it was good for me too.

"Get your other leg up here so you can have a matched set," I said.

"Change the blade first," Sharon said. "I think my legs need two."

"While you have the razor out, is there anything else you want to shave?" Sharon asked coyly while watching me lather her right leg up.

"Not me," I said. "I like everything else just the way it is."

"Even this?" Sharon asked, raising her arm and toying with her armpit hair.

"Especially that," I said. "It's your body and all, but I don't want to be a party to that desecration. And by the way, after trying to peek up your sleeves for the last couple of weeks, and after fantasizing about seeing your armpits since ninth grade, I have to say that they're even more incredible than I had imagined. They are so sexy looking!"

"In that case, I'll never shave them," Sharon declared.

"If you want to get this other leg done, I suggest that you lower your arm, because you might get pointed at again pretty soon at this rate."

"That means more milkshake!" Sharon giggled.

"Can I ask you something?" I said seriously.

"Ask away," Sharon said.

"When we first did it, I was surprised - happy I guess, that you didn't bleed," I began to ask.

"Maybe something went up there before," Sharon said.

"Oh," I said. "I remember hearing that some girl in school did it with a carrot and had to go to the hospital."

"That story is one of those that has been going on forever," Sharon said. "No, it was no carrot for me."

"Is it an interesting story?"

"You're a guy so it probably would be. If you really want to know, I'll tell you. After all, you told me stuff about your past."

"Only if you want to tell me."

"I was with somebody before you," Sharon said, looking at my face for a reaction. "Still want to hear about it?"

"Shoot."

"I had a friend at school. Not a man."

"Oh," I said, recalling what her brother had said. "I had heard a rumor one time but didn't really think much about it."

"Does that bother you?" Sharon asked. "My saying that?"

"No, not really," I said. "Everybody needs somebody."

"I sure needed somebody. She saw that and tried to help me. It didn't just happen overnight and I don't think it was part of a plan to seduce me or anything. We got close and then - got closer. I don't think I could have survived school without her."

"That's cool," I said. "Now I have to go through the yearbook to find out which of your classmates it was. Fun to try to figure it out."

"Well, it wasn't a student," Sharon said.

"Oh."

"I just didn't want to have you hearing stuff about me and having to wonder whether it was true or not,"Sharon told me. "That's my one secret and now you know it."

"That's okay."

"Just so you know, that wasn't an apology," Sharon said.

"I know."

"And why is your thingy getting hard again?" Sharon asked, feigning annoyance. "How can that be? Is it from shaving my leg or hearing about my big lesbian confession? Either way, you're perverted."

"Guilty," I said, finishing off her leg and declaring the job a success.

"Not even a nick!" Sharon exclaimed, examining my work.

"Maybe I'll become a professional," I suggested. "In the meantime, there is another matter that has come up."

"Race you to bed," Sharon said, getting a head start by brushing past me and running down the hall.

I followed in hot pursuit, but didn't try to catch her, instead enjoying the view of her butt jiggling in front of me as she led the way.

...

Chapter Twelve: Breakfast.

I was going to leave, but never quite got around to it. Late at night, or should I say early in the morning, we heard John stagger in from the prom, and we were giggling when we heard him bump into something and curse loudly. We dropped off ourselves soon after that, but I was too restless to sleep very long after the sun rose.

Being in bed next to Sharon was also very distracting, and as I slipped the sheet off of our bodies a little bit, I found myself visually examining my love. My eyes gravitated to Sharon's arms, and the fine hairs that covered her forearms, thinking about how for years all I yearned for was to catch a glimpse of her in a short sleeved blouse.

Now here she was in the nude, which all her forbidden treasures completely exposed for me to enjoy. For a second I thought that if Sharon happened to wake up right then, she might be embarrassed at me looking at her like this, or think me strange.

The strange part, well, maybe she thought that already, and that was fine with me because I was aware of my eccentricities, but the part about Sharon being self-conscious about the way she looked might be history, at least when she was around me.

In just the short time we had been together, and especially the last eight hours when she had been naked every minute, she had grown more at ease with being nude in front of me. Sharon had come to realize that she I really and truly cared about her and that she felt she could trust me, and she was right on all counts. I did care deeply about her and would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of my life proving it to her.

I wasn't intimidated by being with a woman that was smarter than I was, and more intelligent than 98% of the people in the world. Hell, I didn't even know what being a member of Mensa was or meant back then. It was something that a teacher had gotten her hooked up with, and it wasn't anything that Sharon had even flaunted or even mentioned. It had just been an escape from the world that didn't seem to like her very much and a place where it didn't matter what she looked or sounded like. A world where she was accepted for being herself.

As my eyes strayed down past that pale white tummy and down to the thin trail of hairs just below her cute little "innie" belly button that would fan out into the most wondrous jungle of deep brown curls imaginable, I thought about what Sharon had asked about early on; whether I had a fetish for hair.

Maybe I did, I thought, although I thought that a fetish was having an unnatural obsession for some object or body part, without which you could not be aroused. I thought that hair was about as natural as something can be, so while I was definitely aroused by its presence, it wasn't a life or death thing with me.

Besides, I had been attracted to Sharon right from the start. Those eyes, and those bangs, and that sultry and sexy voice that I found irresistible were all things that won my heart from the beginning. So some people laughed at her voice? I didn't care what others thought. Lauren Bacall had a voice that wasn't much different than Sharon's.

"What are you doing?"

Sharon's voice woke me out of my trance, and I got to find out first hand what she would think if she woke up, because she was very awake and looking at me through sleepy eyes. Groggy but not mad.

"Looking at the most erotic looking woman on the face of the earth, and trying to decide how for once in my life I got incredibly lucky," I said before kissing her forehead. "And you know that question, will you still love me in the morning? The answer is yes. Even more than yesterday."

"Morning mouth," Sharon said apologetically after our mouths finally came apart.

"We balanced each other out, I think."

"I want to show you something I wrote," Sharon said, reaching over to a drawer in her night stand and taking out a little pink book before hesitating.

"I think I'll save it for another time," she decided, and instead asked me if I was hungry.

"Sure," I said, and after we got dressed we tiptoed past John's room and out to the kitchen.

Sharon started cooking some bacon, and I assisted as best I could, beating eggs and finding where things were in the cupboards so I could set the table.

"We should try to be quiet," I said. "John just got in a few hours ago."

"He'll be up anyway," Sharon predicted. "The smell of bacon gets him out to the kitchen regardless."

"Oh!" Sharon said, stopping suddenly. "If he comes out and sees you here?"

"Will that get you in trouble?" I asked, wondering whether this was my cue to leave.

"Trouble? No. I was thinking more in terms of you - you know - him seeing you here he might get the idea that you and I are..."

"We are," I said. "Aren't we?"

"I guess so."

"In that case, he had better get used to it," I said. "Because I'm not going to hide my love for you any more. In fact, it's all I can do to keep from running out into the street and screaming to the world how much I love you."

"I can't cook bacon if I can't see," Sharon said, taking off her glasses and drying her eyes. "I'm in a wacky emotional state of mind right now."

"Okay," I said, reaching around her and cupping her titties through her robe. "Instead of making you cry I'll just occupy myself like this."

"That's better, although you're poking me again."

John did wake up, just as Sharon had said he would, and he looked like hell. Staggering out in a robe, he did a double take when he saw me sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hey, what's happening?" John said. "What are you doing here so early? Come for the juicy prom gossip?"

"Not really," I said.

"How did - did Sharon let you in?" John said, looking behind himself just in time to see Sharon whizzing past him with a plate full of bacon.

"Morning John!" Sharon chirped, giving him a big smile as she went past before hurrying back to tend to the eggs.

"Morning," he mumbled, and then did a double take when he saw his sister dressed in pajamas and a bathrobe.

"What the?" he started to say, looking back and forth at his sister and then me, sitting at the table like nothing was up.

"Want some breakfast, brother?" Sharon asked, clearly amused by John's confusion.

"Uh, okay," John said, easing into a chair while watching Sharon spin around the kitchen, asking me, "Where am I, The Twilight Zone? Who's that?"

"You really must have had a rough night," I said.

"I didn't recognize her at first," John said, who may have been groggy but had sized up the situation pretty quickly, and my opinion of him changed dramatically when he didn't make any wisecracks through the meal, instead regaling us with some news from the prom.

"Thanks for the meal," John told Sharon after we cleared the table. "Time for me to go to bed again."

John shuffled around the corner only to reappear a moment later.

"Now I know why I didn't recognize you," John told Sharon as he ducked his head back around the corner. "It's the smile. It looks good on you. You might consider keeping it."

...

Epilogue:

That was forty years ago, and for the most part that smile has stayed on Sharon's face. I can testify to that because we've been together every step of the way. Not all perfect years, no more so than anybody else, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and neither would Sharon.

We got married four years after that night we spent together, and the night before the wedding we were in her bedroom, reminiscing while everybody milled around the rest of the house. My name was still on Sharon's mirror, and not much else had changed either.

"I was always afraid to touch anything," Sharon said. "I thought if I changed anything since that night, something would happen. My carriage would turn into a pumpkin or I would wake up."

"If you want we can just bring everything to our place just like it is," I suggested. "It's fine with me."

"I wanted to show you something," Sharon said, going over to her night stand and pulling out that pink book. "I don't know if you remember, but..."

"That first morning of our lives you started to show me something that you wrote but you changed your mind," I told her.

"How could you remember that?" Sharon said. "Well, anyway."

Sharon fanned through the book, which was her diary, looking for a specific date. When she found it, she held open the book to show me what she wrote.

"This was what I wrote after our first date," Sharon said. "We had gone to see..."

"Persona."

"Amazing!" Sharon exclaimed.

"I still don't understand the damn movie."

"That's okay. The point is that after I got home I wrote this."

Written in her flawless handwriting, it said...

"Tonight I kissed a boy - really kissed a boy for the first time. I know that it's stupid but I think I'm in love. Maybe he'll turn out to be just like the rest, but something tells me he's not. Is it dumb to think that you found the guy that you're going to marry after one kiss?"

"Corny, huh?" Sharon asked.

"Hey, you're talking to the guy who has had a poster of you on his wall for so long that it's curling around the edges. And by the way, that poster is coming with me. Maybe we can get it done over and have it framed for the living room."

The poster was of Sharon, and I had it blown up from of picture I had taken of her up at Lake George on the boardwalk, with her looking so natural and lovely in her tie-dyed tank-top.

"I think not," Sharon said, and while I knew that wasn't going to happen, I also knew that she had come to look at the girl in the picture a lot differently than she used to. The girl in the picture was good looking after all, and the smile was a big part of it.

With the smile came a new attitude about herself, and that was something that gave her the confidence to do a complete about-face in college. Abandoning her original plan of becoming a teacher, she set out on a course to become a veterinarian, and even though some people tried to talk her out of it, she knew what she wanted and over the years has become something of a icon in our town for her pro bono work with abandoned animals.

"You'll never get rich like this," is the phrase that the guy that does our taxes uses when he looks at our books and sees what goes out in relation to what comes in, but what good is money if you aren't happy?

Now here we are forty happy years later, 35 of them married, and with two grown children of our own to boot. They have her mother's brains and her mother's looks too, I might add. I don't know what they got of mine, but hopefully it's something good.

...

thank you so much for reading.