Alistaire Ch. 02: Mary

Mary took her time slathering generous amounts of screen on her front, her breasts deforming malleably as she rubbed into them. She even ran lotion-covered fingertips up under the edges of the fabric.

Then she clipped the top clip back in place, squishing her breasts back into place. Honestly, the suit showed (marginally) less flesh this way, but I thought it was way sexier.

Then Mary unclipped the center clip.

Now there was a single long opening in the front of her suit, from below her navel, up to where her clavicles met. Her hands slid lotion across her softly rounded belly, and then her fingers dipped unnecessarily deep under the fabric at the bottom.

As she clipped the middle clasp closed again, I realized that I unconsciously had rubbed about four layers of sunscreen over my stomach while concentrating on not being obvious about watching her.

Of course, she had to be putting on a show for me, right? I know what it takes to screen up, and this was pretty over the top. But why? And was she, really? It had been a remarkably efficient application process, after all.

As she moved on to her legs, her movements became less crazily hot, simply briskly covering the fronts of her legs with a thick layer, then working it in. I still watched as I did my own legs, but I was thankful she seemed more businesslike. I was disinclined to see how well my not-as-baggy-as-it-was-supposed-to-be swimsuit hid the nascent erection inside.

I was just relaxing about that situation when Mary rolled over onto her belly and held out the bottle of her sunscreen to me. "Can you do my back, Al?" she asked matter of factly.

Thank God for the dark glasses. They may have kept my eyeballs from literally falling out of my head. They certainly kept her from seeing my eyes as they bugged out.

"Me?" I almost squeaked.

"Either you or that mom over there," Mary lazily pointed at the less than attractive mother with her two kids who were fussing over lunch about fifty feet away. "This is a new suit, and I really would rather not get burned."

"Uh, sure," I said, taking the bottle. She settled down and I squirted white lotion on my hands. I know how to apply suntan lotion, guys. I really do. But not to someone else! Much less someone as hot as Mary.

With a deep breath, I told myself I could do this without embarrassing myself. I reacted to that inner assertion skeptically. Somehow, I drew on reserves I did not know I possessed, in order to keep my hands from shaking.

Damn, her back was nice. Mary was not lean or bony, far from it, but the softness of her skin covered a body that was firm and warm under my touch. I held things together while doing her back, but I did not linger. I didn't want her to think I was lingering. And I didn't trust myself not to breakdown and outright shiver as I kept going. Even so, I almost lost it rubbing a final dollop, at her direction, into the back of her neck. I could feel her relaxing at my touch and that about made me die.

"How's that?" I asked.

"My legs will burn too," Mary said in a relaxed voice, her head resting softly on her hands.

I stared down her body, over her sweet, sweet, only half-covered ass, and down to her curvy legs, and gulped quietly. "Duh," I said, as if I did this every day.

I shifted down to her feet, which at first seemed the safest area to touch her. I did not remember if she had done any part of them at all, so I covered them all, tops and bottoms. "Careful, Al," Mary admonished, still relaxed and casual. "I'm a little ticklish."

That weird 'Male' element of me that I had first encountered with Carrie wanted me to immediately tickle Mary unmercifully. I kept it in the box, and was as careful as I could. As I moved up the backs of her calves, I realized that the problem with starting at her feet was that I was now staring between her legs as I moved upward, giving me a spectacular view of right up into the gap between her thighs, and how little of that rippled gap was covered by the fabric of her swimsuit.

I was getting distressingly hard by the time I reached her knees. My hands did shake a little, no matter how hard I tried to stop them, as I started on the backs and outsides of her thighs. Mary just relaxed further as my hands rubbed her, and she let her legs spread a little, in obvious invitation to do the insides of her knees and above.

I was dying now. Other than, you know, asking me to rub lotion onto her bare legs, Mary was sending no signals of arousal or even teasing. Not that I could see.

But... damn.

My fingers slid higher, and I started studiously avoiding the insides of her thighs. My bigger problem was that I realized I was getting close to her ass, and half of that was in need of protection too. As I moved closer, Mary just lay there. In fact, she started talking about school and college. Of all things, she wanted to study Meteorology while she was at Auburn.

Did not see that one coming...

Fuck it. Seize the day, right? I squirted some more lotion and just kept sweeping my hands upward from thigh to buttocks, working the lotion into the exposed expanse of her ass and hips. She didn't even flinch. I was feeling up Mary's magnificent ass, and it was like nothing was going on.

And then I was done.

Except for the tops of her inner thighs.

Did I dare?

Seize. The. Day. I let the Male Instinct take a shot.

I slid my hands down off of her butt and a short way down her thighs. Then I let me fingers dip down between her legs and start working back up.

"Ahem," Mary said, rolling away from me. "I think I can reach there myself," she said with a skeptical grin at me.

"Uh yeah," I said. "Probably a good idea."

Swiftly, but very distractingly, Mary rubbed lotion in between her thighs and against her crotch. She really must have spent a lot of time shaving that morning...

She set aside her lotion and held out her hand to me. "Now give me yours."

"My what?" I asked.

"Your sunscreen, moron," she said, as if I had not just had my hands all over her. "I need to do your back too." I stared at her. "Dudes burn too. I read that in science class or something. Especially pale dudes who spent their winter in the frozen Tundra."

Ouch.

"Uh, thanks," I said, rolling tensely onto my belly. At least this had the virtue of hiding what had become quite the raging erection that I was now fully aware was not well-hidden by my shorts. I actually jumped slightly as her fingers first touched my shoulders.

"Relax, you big baby," Mary said acerbically. She then proceeded to swiftly and purposefully cover my back in a good layer of sunscreen. I found myself realizing how grateful I should be for her sparing me the weird, patchy sunburn I would certainly have suffered if I'd tried to do this myself. She wasn't stroking or caressing me, just applying the lotion. But I still found my muscles relaxing. Even the big, problem 'muscle' calmed a bit, despite the fact that I was being touched by the second girl to do so in my life.

I breathed a sigh of relief as she moved to my legs. This would be less intimate. Unfortunately, turns out the leg bone is connected to the embarrassing bone, and I got hard as hell again, even though she was just as businesslike as she had been with my back, and never went above mid thigh. The undersized board shorts were still at least that long.

When she was done, she sat up and started talking more about college.

I kept lying firmly on my chest, willing the stubborn boner to, er, beat it.

"Are you going to talk to me," Mary asked, "or are you going to lie there and take a nap?"

"Sorry," I said, keeping on my stomach. "That actually felt relaxing. Almost as good as a massage." Flattery might deflect any speculation about why I didn't want to turn over right then.

"Sure," Mary snorted. "Like you've ever had a massage."

"I have," I said, looking at her and glad for a change of subject. "Last winter, I wrenched my back lifting weights and..."

"Oh that's right," Mary laughed. "Al Taylor is a jock now. Look at you, lifting weights!"

"I am not a jock," I laughed. "But we all have to do some sport or something every damned season. In the winter, well... I can't skate, so hockey is out. I'm too tall to wrestle at my weight. And believe me, nobody wants me on their basketball team. Not even their intramural one. So I have lifted in the winters the last two years. Hence the wrenched back and the doctor prescribing a massage for it."

"Wait," Mary said tauntingly. "Your school doctor prescribed a massage? It must be nice to be rich!"

"I go to a school with rich kids," I emphasized. "Doesn't mean we are rich. My dad about shit when the bill came."

Mary laughed.

The conversation moved on. After Mary tried taunting me about the Auburn versus USC football programs, I told her that when she finds the giant hall that Auburn had to build to house all its Heisman Trophies, she could send me a picture of it. (USC's room full of Heismans is mandatory part of all admissions tours.) More importantly, I finally got the 'situation' under control, and could sit up.

It turned out to be a very nice day at the beach. We ate lunch at the hotel a ways down from our home base, played paddle ball in the surf (badly in my case), and we even built a sandcastle. We talked more about school. And that was it. No more touching, alas. And definitely no real flirting... beyond the sexual tension inherent in a girl that looked like Mary simply talking to a hormonal, inexperienced, eighteen year-old guy like me.

It was still early in the year, though, and the wind started getting chilly at about 3:30. We covered up, packed up, and headed for Mary's car, where we added beach sand to the chips and fries on the floor.

Driving back, about halfway the conversation died off into companionable silence. It still made me quickly nervous that things were getting awkward. I also realized that I had had a super great time, and that I wanted more time with her. Out of character for me, I decided to try to make that happen. It wasn't even spontaneous this time. I thought before I opened my mouth.

"Uh, thanks for calling me, Mary. I had a great time," I said quickly, before I could chicken out. "Listen, are you busy, like, Thursday or Friday night?"

"Thursday or Friday?" Mary asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"I, uh, just wanted to say thanks. Maybe I could buy you dinner? I was thinking someplace beachy like the new Red Lobster they just built..." I trailed off, my nerve expended.

"Someplace beachy... like the Red Lobster," Mary laughed. I did too, chagrinned. It had been worth a shot.

"Friday sounds great, thanks," Mary said almost absently as she negotiated our exit from the freeway.

Without meaning to, I actually said, "Whew," out loud. "Really?" I went on, too quickly. "Great!"

"Don't sound surprised, moron," Mary said, smiling a little. "I just asked you to spend the day with me at the beach. Seems like I might be open to a date..."

"Sorry," I chuckled, and she chuckled back.

*

The next day, I realized that I should not wear the same Robert Graham shirt for this date as the one I had worn out with Carrie. Mary might have seen our selfies... No, she certainly had seen those pictures.

Much to my mother's amusement, I drove to the Whiskett Shopping Plaza where the Robert Graham store was. I was still getting the hang of dressing well, and at least I knew that brand. After last Sunday, it was now practically my fashion spirit animal. "Voluntarily shopping for himself..." my mom muttered to herself happily as I walked out.

I was just walking into the store when my phone rang. It was Chris. "Dude, come over. Spring Break is burning away, and we need to get the clubhouse in shape!" The clubhouse was a pre-fab shed in Chris's back yard which provided his only refuge in a house with three much younger sisters.

"One, unlike you, I won't be able to use your clubhouse for months," I replied quellingly. "Get Tony or some other patsy to help you clean out the mouse shit. And Two, I can't. I am out shopping, for crying out loud. I need a new shirt."

"A new shirt," quoted Chris incredulously. "Wait not another one of those things that looks like a crayon factory threw up on it?" He paused. "No..." I heard him breathe. "Do you have another date with Carrie?"

"No, I do not have another date with Carrie," I snapped. "She and her family are in Vail for the rest of vacation. I won't see her again until the summer, if ever."

"Sorry dude," he said apologetically. Then he seemed to sense the surprisingly low level of despair in my last words. "Wait a second... You said no date with Carrie. Are you going out with someone else? Who?!?"

There was no use in hiding it from him. He'd find out the broad outlines regardless. Chris was a geek, but he kept his ears open.

"Mary," I said, shortly.

I heard the phone literally clunk to the floor on the other end of the line. Chris scrambled for it and enunciated very clearly. "Let me get this straight. You go out for your first ever date. It is with Carrie god-damned Croenke. Then four days later, you are going out with her best fucking friend?"

I just hung up the phone. Boring conversation anyway.

I had barely gotten in through the door of the mall when he sent me a gif of Wayne and Garth from Wayne's World, bowing, and captioned "We're Not Worthy!"

Asshole.

But I was kind of getting arrogant enough to say into the thin air, "Damn straight you ain't."

The shirt I ended up buying was a pretty dope cloud pattern of sky blue and white. The only place the Crayola factory had thrown up on it were the insides of the collar and cuffs.

*

I pulled up at Mary's house and popped out to the front door. She came to the door in moments. "Hello, Mary," I said, emphasizing her name. She smiled at my opening sally and lifted her head, turning her chin to make sure I got a good look at the birthmark I'd already looked for. Damn, she had a nice long neck for her height. My eyes still briefly slid lower, however. Even in the tight, short-sleeved shirt with high neckline she was wearing, there was ample viewing to remind me of how those tits had looked in (partially in) her swimsuit, Tuesday.

Behind her, the house was quiet. "Your parents out for dinner already?" I asked.

"Out for the weekend," she chuckled. "Mom is at some lawyers' continuing-education boondoggle in Gulfport. Dad went with her. Maddie and I have been instructed not to burn the place down before they get back."

"Good luck with that," I smiled. She laughed.

I led her to the car, did the gentlemanly hold the door thing, and we were off to that temple of the banal, Red Lobster.

It was a really nice date. The place was busy, but not crowded. The food was... from Red Lobster. But the company was very cool, to be honest. And not in a sexual overtone way. There was none of that, 'is she teasing me or not?' business from our beach day. Mary just enjoyed herself and we had a good time talking. Turns out, if I had just a little confidence, and talked like I did to my male friends (or my track girls), I could occasionally make a pretty girl laugh... even blush once or twice.

At least one, if not both, of us had already seen every movie in the theaters that weekend. Instead, we just took a brief walk around the little commercial district surrounding the restaurant, and stopped for ice cream. The whole time we were out was sweet, and almost, um, kind of chaste?

Okay, Mary did really use a lot more visible tongue while eating her ice cream cone than was strictly necessary. But that was it for the flirting. Really.

My dick barely stirred. Barely.

The problem was, there wasn't much to do, and I felt like I wanted to make sure I didn't bore Mary. With a shrug, I at last said diffidently. "I guess we should head back?"

Mary shrugged. "Yeah. Probably."

We continued to chat happily as we drove back toward her house, but I could not help but feel a little like I was letting her down. And letting myself down.

I mean, I was absolutely not expecting this date to end with me bending Mary over the hood of my car in some farmer's field. But a guy could dream of at least a little something, right?

A week before, I had been a virgin who had never been on a single date. Yeah, I had gotten spoiled rapidly.

I pulled up at Mary's house once more, and walked her to the door. She opened it and paused. "This was fun," she chirped.

"Yeah, I had a great time, too," I said. Then I screwed up every ounce of my new-found courage, and leaned in to plant a light kiss, right on her lips. She kissed me back a little, but then broke it off.

It had been a wonderful night, honestly.

Mary shoved the door open a bit further and said blandly, "But aren't you coming in?"

With that, she turned inside and I dumbly walked after her, letting the door slip closed behind us.

Mary waved at the couch. "Have a seat," she said casually. She started toward the kitchen. "Want a beer?"

"It seems imprudent to drink your dad's beer," I observed doubtfully.

"Relax," Mary giggled. "He poured out his last two before he left, just to make sure we wouldn't drink them. But Maddie and I have been poaching one or two every few days since we found out that they'd be heading out of town. There are now seven unauthorized bottles he doesn't know we have, chilling in the fridge."

"Then please," I said.

"'Imprudent'," Mary laughed to herself at my reflexive use of SAT vocabulary as she danced off to the kitchen. What is it my Uncle Tommy says about a pretty girl? 'I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go'? Yeah. That summed up watching Mary's ass in that short skirt as she retreated to the kitchen.

She was back in a minute or two with two open bottles of Miller High Life. She handed me one as she plopped down next to me on the couch. Right. Next. To. Me on the couch. We clinked bottles and I winced at the flavor. "You don't drink much at school?" Mary asked inquisitively.

"Me? Not a lot," I said. I had had a secretive drink at school maybe five times in four years, but I was getting good at hiding the truth while not lying. "And my friends and I don't drink beer. You can hide a lot more Rum and Coke's worth of rum in a single aluminum water bottle, than you can beer in easy to identify cans!"

"Sound idea," said Mary, and I could see her mind filing it away.

We took another pull of beer, Mary faster than me.

"So," she asked me briskly, "when are you going to finally kiss me?"

Uh.

"Uh," I said brilliantly. "I already have! At... At the door."

"For real, Al," Mary said heavily, leaning toward me.

Thank God there was a table I could reach to instantly put the beer on, because a split second after I did, we were kissing. Hard. This was not the gentle little busk we had shared at the door. Nor was it the gentle exploration Carrie and I had shared, at least at first. This was a hot, horny girl trying to inhale my tongue. And it was me, eagerly attempting to let her.

I was still taken aback this time, but was way more ready to try to do my part than when I had first made out with Carrie. I almost immediately put my arms around Mary's waist and she let me pull her even closer to me. Her arms just as quickly wrapped around my shoulders. I probed her mouth with my tongue in turn. Her mouth tasted of beer, but then, so did mine, I was sure. I certainly was not going to stop to complain!

I felt Mary press her chest against mine, and oh man did that feel nice. The substantial flesh of her boobs against my body made my nostrils flare.

I took a shot.

I drew one hand from her waist and slid it up the side of her torso. When my wrist was pressing against the curve of her breast squished against my body, I pulled back slightly and slid my hand in between us and over her boob. Mary just growled approvingly.