Dreams Ch. 04

She didn't know, of course, which station her sister would get out at. Jill now had her headphones in her ears, sitting casually about 30 feet away from her. Although Lily's line of vision was blocked partially by two people, she could still see her, struck by confidence in the way she held her head and the way she was sitting; not how she remembered her from her childhood. She was extremely pretty. With disdain, Lily noticed a man sitting opposite from Lily to watch her intently and admiringly, resting his eyes on the delicate features of her eyes and well-formed nose, but mostly on her chest and the pair of well-tanned long legs emerging from underneath her miniskirt. Lily almost sighed in indignation when her sister, rather than pretend the man didn't exist or tell him off for his attentions, smiled at him openly. Although she didn't stop listening to her music, she evidently enjoyed the attention. She'd changed!

The man got off on the next station without a word exchanged with Jill. They'd been on the train now about 25 minutes and Lily enjoyed (strangely!) the sensation of constant exhilaration of staying unseen and spying on her sister who didn't wish to know her. Who was Jill now? Where did she live? Was there someone else? And what did she do for a living? Why has her attitude and confidence changed this much? These thoughts and questions ran through Lily's mind with the speed equal to the train she was on and equally shaky. They'd now left Kenton and it was clear Jill would be leaving the tube at the next stop - the Bakerloo service terminated at Harrow and Wealdstone. Lily suddenly grew terrified she'd be spotted - at Kenton, three people got off the train and nobody new entered, with just one person between her and her sister, but thankfully, Jill seemed to be engrossed in whatever was playing on her headphones and looking the other direction. For safety, Lily stood up and walked up to the doors nearest her, facing slightly away from the enigmatic sibling, waiting for the train to stop.

"The next stop is Harrow & Wealdstone. This train will terminate here." Jill stood up and once the doors opened, she walked out of them onto the platform briskly. The ticket gates were right in front of them. Lily kept her distance, now her heart pounding again, sensing it wouldn't be long now before she would find out where the sister lived—short of something unexpected happening!

She wasn't even thinking about what she was actually planning to do—Confront Jill? - with what? Say what? Argue? Apologise? Knock on her door when she's inside? Then she'd need to explain how she knew her address—None of this she knew or was even thinking of figuring out—she just needed to find out where her sister lived and then she'd think of something—

It turned out to be a 20-minute walk from the station. Jill was a fast pedestrian, taking long confident paces as though she was hurrying somewhere or as if her confidence came at a price of some tremendous anxiety. Lily was out of breath again, but Jill's speed did mean it was easier to maintain the distance. The pavements were wide and mostly very green - a classic London outer zone residential area. The streets were peppered with numerous trees offering much-needed shade as the day was oppressively hot. They were soon leaving Harrow behind them and Lily could tell they were moving west in the direction of Pinner.

Pinner! That was supposed to be rather well-off, wasn't it? Certainly, by comparison to where she lived! Her heart was now pounding and she was getting butterflies, guessing they were awfully close to the destination. She knew she was being bad with all this stealth and secrecy, but this was the only way really, wasn't it? She'd come this far - she wouldn't just give up now!

After they'd passed a fire station and a high school, they were essentially now in Pinner - a lot of it feeling like a park, it was so lush and green everywhere, and with many large, multiple-bedroom detached houses, many of them proper villas and somewhat pompous, Jill thought. She preferred more modest. Was this who her sister turned into? After wealth and riches?

Eventually, five minutes later, they got there. It was in Church Lane - a very green narrow street with sizeable houses on both sides, although certainly not as huge as some of the houses she'd seen before on the brisk walk. Lily watched as Lily walked up a small rising drive up to a cream-painted large house with a garage adjacent to the main building and two cars parked on the drive. The detached house was surrounded by gorgeous well-trimmed hedges and it was quite clear there was an extensive garden at the back. Lily wondered why Jill hadn't used the car if she had one?

"Now what?" suddenly occurred to her. Church Lane was quiet; standing on the other side of it, she could still hear what went on in front of the house. She watched the door open and a tall male figure greet her sister. She couldn't really tell, but he looked much older than her. "Hi darling. Was Hollie no trouble?" He kissed her and then closed the door behind them, leaving Lily now to finally consciously wonder what she should do next. She instinctively liked the man's deep attractive voice, even from afar.

When the doors shut, she stood there, watching the deserted drive, the hedges and most of all the white front door of the house, which seemed to guard the mysteries of its interiors. Out of the blue, everything went quiet in the street for her. Not just silent or hushed up, but almost completely dead, having her wonder if she found herself in complete vacuum. She leaned against the wall of a building next to which she stood; in the shade, it also felt cold and uninviting. She felt deserted and alone. What on earth was she doing here, stalking a family member like that?

She sighed. There was no way she'd just knock and waltz into that house. The presence of the man, however attractive his voice was, put a different complexion on things. She'd only "confront" Jill, if she were even able to do such a thing, without anyone else present. She needs to go home. If the sister doesn't want to know her and the family, perhaps she, and mum, should just let her be?

She shook her head in indignation at her own behaviour. Slowly, she began walking back and crossed the street to the other side to have her last look at the house.

Sometimes life arranges events so that a chance event changes everything. It was chance that had it that at that precise moment the same man walked out of Jill's house only to fetch something from one of the cars and instantly caught her eye. This time she saw him better, although it was quite certain he didn't know he was watched. Tall and well-built, probably in his 40s, he had short dark crew-cut hairstyle; his jaw was chiselled and eyes, although it was difficult to tell from this distance, seemed to be able to be both confident and soft. She thought he moved with grace; there was smoothness and manliness to his actions and he seemed to glide through space with authority and assertiveness that she could trust. Having opened the car's door to fetch something from there, he had no idea she was observing him, even though she couldn't be further than fifteen feet away from him. He slammed the car's door shut with a folder in his hand, looking towards the house. Then he strode back towards the front door - she couldn't help watching his buttocks on his way back. He disappeared inside without ever being aware of her presence.

It was as though she was suddenly on drugs. Her heart was beating hard like blows of a hammer, an odd cold sweat dewed her forehead and she realised her fingers were sticky. A minute ago, she had definitely been intent on going back; now, it was too late. She had to see him again! He was gorgeous!

She didn't know then, but for the first time in her life she let go of her well-rehearsed ethics and succumbed entirely to her feelings, allowing them to rule her. She let down her guard, revelling in the fresh memory of Jill's man. It seemed that it was stronger than her, this sensation, making her want to do something, anything, to just look at him.

Cold sweat trickled down her back. A sudden pang of a need previous unknown to her burned inside her so suddenly and so badly that she moaned it out and limped two wobbly steps to the nearest wall to lean against it. That's when she saw it! - in between two houses, one belonging to the man's house and another next to it, there was a tiny little path with well-trimmed holly hedges on both sides. At the end of the path, somewhat shaded and dark now, was a tiny wooden gate on the side of the man's house side. It was Jill's house, too, of course, but she felt resentment deep inside her towards her sister now that appeared to her greater than it had been before; why, she didn't know exactly.

The little gate led to the garden at the back of their house! At first, it seemed locked and Lily gave out a grunt in exasperation, but she realised next second there was a latch on the inside of the gate that she could just push up and enter. And so, she did.

In the late afternoon sunlight on this splendid summer day, the garden was simply spectacular. A little stone path led to the back door of the house with dahlias, English roses and many more enchanting multi-coloured plants and shrubs edging it. On the edges of the garden were perfectly trimmed fir trees, creating an unexpected Christmassy feeling. The vivid green lawn spread everywhere else; the grass, short but nonetheless growing wild, allowed dandelions to grow freely. The spectacle enchanted Lily for a good moment. Did she just step inside a Secret Garden?

Suddenly, she heard him. One of the windows was ajar and the man's voice was coming through, muted, but still carrying those deep, manly features. He was standing, partially illuminated by the setting sun. She couldn't see Jill, who he was clearly speaking to.

She realised with a good measure of fright that she was standing in their garden in full view if they only chose to look out into the garden! She leaped towards a group of firs and hid in the shade provided by them, her figure partly obscured by their branches, hoping for the best.

Entranced, she just watched him. She didn't know what the conversation was about, could not be bothered to think anything about Jill; all she cared for was the man: the handsome stranger that had never spoken to her that was making her entire body tingle, her lips quiver and, if she could see herself, her pupils dilate. Suddenly and inexplicably, she thought - experienced, rather - that it would be so good to be touched by him, to feel his strong arms round her, and for her to melt under his gaze—She whimpered and slid to the ground, hiding entirely now behind the tree, gasping, trying to catch her breath. Instinctually, she ran her shaky hand past her breast and shuddered at the sheer jolt of tension released.

When she looked back at the window, they were gone, no longer to be seen. She was devastated; a young girl pining away after him already. "Oh dear—" she whispered, addressing both him and her, attempting to console herself after losing him.

She wouldn't dare enter the house. Not in the state she was in and not with her in there. On unsteady legs, rattled, not understanding anything of what had just happened, she took herself out of the garden and back onto the street.

Her legs felt heavy, as though now cast in lead, and each step away from the house felt difficult. She walked a hundred yards at most before needing to sit at a bench at the nearest bus stop. A few tears trickled down her cheek; her only consolation was that the hot sun was drying them fast today.

A black elderly lady sitting on the same bench looked at her curiously and with care. Lily had a gentle aura about her that made her stand out from the crowd. Shy, sweet and gracious, she was completely unaware of her enchanting beauty flowing from both her kindness and physical features. For the lady at the bus stop, seeing her sobbing and sniffle broke the age divide between them. "Dearie," the older woman with a kind caring expression put her hand on Lily's shoulder, "whatever's the matter?" Lily could only sniffle more in response.

"Here, take this." On offer was a beautifully embroidered and very old-fashioned handkerchief. The lady's shaky fingers caressed Lily's beautiful, weepy, crestfallen face. "A beautiful kind girl like you shouldn't have to cry."

Lily took the silky handkerchief and put it to her watery eyes. "Th—thank you," she sobbed.

"Now what is the matter? Now, don't worry about that bus coming, Plenty of them buses in Pinner. You're telling Stella what that crying is all about, aren't you?"

Confronted with such kindness in London is not something Lily would expect to happen to her even on a good day. Stella's voice was benevolent and sincere, too benevolent and sincere. "Oh—" she whispered. Her chest vibrated, then convulsed and the dam broke. The tears came in a free-flowing stream and instinct told her to put her head on the good lady's shoulder.

"Oh—" she tried again, through the tears. "I—I think— I have just—" she was trying her best battling on, swallowing the tears as she went along. "—fallen in love—and he doesn't—even—know I—exist—"

Stella took her on two buses in the end to get her back to Harrow & Wealdstone. Lily was both grateful and ashamed - grateful for a human soul to help her out and ashamed for making such a scene.

By the time she got back home, at 7pm, she had managed to compose herself. Whatever Stella genuinely thought of her, with her full life's experience, Lily had no idea, but it was certainly true that she helped her regain some stability and the 90-minute journey back home helped her stop crying. One thing it didn't do was to make her stop yearning after the tall, short-haired, handsome man from Pinner. Once the tears stopped, the dreams of his hands, lips and body came, always against her own body, his strength against her suppleness, his man's authority over her soft submission. By the time she got back, her body had been aching and the sensation of being consumed by some invisible flames was all over her. It was unbearable - somehow, it needed to be relieved or it'd consume her from the inside!

She was fortunate that day in one thing - her mother would be out for the evening with a friend! In the empty house, on the kitchen table, there was a hurriedly scribbled note: "Will be out with Joanne for dinner to catch up. Back after 10pm." That was over two hours before she'd be back!

Lily rushed upstairs to her room without even taking a shower. Her legs carried her; she was in a state of elation. Her previous misgivings about the presence of the cross were not an issue anymore. It was there on the wall, but no longer did it bother her.

Undressing as fast as she could to her white lacy bra and white lacy knickers, she burned to touch herself, knowing full well that when she did, it would be him in her mind doing so. No longer was it an unknown person, a figment of her imagination of before; this time, her fantasies and longings were after a real person, and that made all the difference.

An outside observer, if they were watching her at that moment, would be bound to have the impression that they were admiring a young 18-year-old goddess, completely unaware of how refined and enchanting she was. Here she was, sitting upright on the edge of her bed, slender, barely a freckle anywhere on her skin, her skin itself silky, her slim legs lightly touching the floor, her eyelids shut just lightly and fluttering, just below her positively alabaster brow and above her pink thin adorably sweet lips. If the observer were an artist, this scene would be a superb impressionist painting. And yet, she had no notion of her beauty whatsoever, which - come to think of it - only added to her allure.

Imagining a man who she only had seen once in her life, she glided her hands over her arms first, slowly and softly, then over her legs and thighs: gentle, polite feathery touches such that the man, any man, would be unlikely to be able to achieve. Then, her feathery hands caressed her breasts, perfectly shaped, through the bra material. Slowly, she pushed one of the straps of her bra off her arm, then the other, not allowing the garment to fall of yet, instead very delicately stroking her breasts, panting lightly, taking her time, before letting the bra to slide down slowly onto her lap. Her breasts were a work of art, with dainty dark brown nipples protruding out surrounded by fragile looking areolas. Softly, she cupped her freshly exposed breasts under the stretched-out fingers of her palms, moaning quietly. "Oh yes, darling—yes—" her voice was sweet and inviting as was her close-to-divine countenance.

Her slender fingers continuing to move over her girly breasts, with almost imperceptibly growing insistence, she moaned lightly and lovingly, parting her lips and running just the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. She lied down on the bed, continuing to stroke and caress her nipple, purring gently and panting, inviting the man to "kiss her" and "touch her". Occasionally, she squeezed her breasts harder pushing them up, demonstrating their true size and appeal and the lust brewing inside that supple teenage form. She was a girl turning a woman, finding her sexuality, long repressed and denied to herself by herself, no longer able to contain it.

Presently, caressing her breasts no longer sufficed - her hand slipped down to her panties, instinctively finding where it felt the best through the material. She gasped sharply at first in surprise in how good it felt and found that tiny circular movements over the nub were the most satisfying. Her figure exuded pure bliss, with her beautiful breasts and their hardening nipples and her eyes shut gorgeously while she breathed out softly. All by itself, wishing to add to the ever-rising pleasure, her hand moved inside the material now. Two fingers rubbed against her clit and this time she looked at it, fascinated and entranced. "Yes, sweetie, it's there for you—" she moaned, her voice as sweet as red roses in full bloom.

It wouldn't suffice for long, either. She lifted her legs up into the air, holding them close together adjacent to one another and slowly and very gracefully pushed her knickers up past her knees and off her legs entirely. Her pussy, with its inviting female crack was now exposed to her and in her mind to the man's gaze and touch. She pushed her index finger in to spread the crack apart and rubbed more boldly. "Oh sweetheart—this feels so wonderful—" she moaned, and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. "Please please don't stop, please?" She was in Dreamland already; a novice at pleasing herself but very quick study, finding what felt good and where.

Her impulses told her when she was moist enough; she slipped her middle finger almost tentatively first, virtually surprised by the sudden onslaught of sensations. Her body jerked. "Oh darling, do not stop—" she moaned to her imaginary lover again. "So beautiful—" Her moaning was definitely tinged by romance; softness and primal desires blended together on her way now to the orgasm that she so desired. She would look innocent, gorgeous and loving to any witness, but her carnal needs were definitely beginning to run amok and tipping the balance in their favour the longer she went on. She soon found out that putting her legs down and spreading her thighs wide was easier; she began using the fingers of both her hands to spread her petals just slightly more and, eventually, while always rubbing her clit, now considerably more determinedly, although without losing its softness, she did slip another finger in.