Farewell to the Dancing Man Ch. 05-10

"Yes." We had arrived at where he picked me up earlier. I sat in silence for a few seconds after the car had stopped, trying to make up my mind whether to kiss him or not, he made the decision for me, leaning over, he kissed me on the lips. I returned his pressure more strongly than he had applied, and I felt his hand grasping my thigh. I did nothing to take it away.

After several minutes we separated and I left to walk the rest of the way home while he drove off. I could think of nothing else other than what had happened and looking forward to my next lesson.

"How was the lesson?" Daddy asked as I walked through the front door.

"Great! I learnt how to watch the other player to see what sort of stroke was being played, up until now I've waited for the ball to arrive before I decided what shot to play. I learnt how to put top and back spin on the ball. If I can learn quickly enough I'll have no problem making the team."

"Good, I hope you do, that's something I could never quite manage, your mother on the other hand was always good at sport, she made the school team in tennis and swimming."

Daddy went down to his room under the house where he worked on his hobby. I seldom went down there because it frightened me. Mummy never went there, she was terrified with them. At last count he had thirty seven little, furry and quite dangerous funnel web spiders.

Mummy was in the back garden catching up on her suntan beside the pool. She had loosened the straps of her costume so that she didn't have any white strap marks to spoil her perfectly tanned back.

"Hi Mummy."

"Hi, how did the lesson go?"

"Great! I learnt so much you wouldn't believe. I've arranged another lesson next Saturday if that's alright with you."

"That should be okay, what time is it, I left my watch inside?"

"I think it's around twelve."

"I'd better get ready." She stood up without doing up her straps, She scooped the top up and, holding her hand across her chest, walked towards the house. "That'll give the dirty old bugger something to look at."

"Mother!" I was shocked to hear her swear word coming from her. I think that was the first time I had heard her swear. "What are you talking about?"

"That old bloke next door, don't look, he watches me every time I go to the pool. I see him looking through the curtains waiting for something to happen. He's probably having a heart attack about now." She chuckled to herself at the thought of it.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since we had the pool put in. Actually it's exciting in a way knowing that there is someone watching you. One day I'll really give him a thrill."

"How, oh Mummy, you wouldn't sunbathe in the nude would you?"

"I might, depending on how I feel at the time. If I feel like stirring him up I will. Where's your father?"

"With his spiders."

"Ugh! I wish he could at least find a less deadly hobby. I loathe those things, they give me the heebie-jeebies."

The week dragged by at a snail's pace, the later it was the slower it got. Friday lasted for a hundred hours at least, in the evening Mummy and Daddy went out to some dinner party or other with visiting business friends. Time dragged on and on, I heard them get in at around one thirty, mummy was giggling and Father was telling her to shush or she'll wake me, but I was still awake. After they had gone to bed I tried to sleep but was too excited.

At last! Saturday! THE day! I was ready to leave at eight but had to hang around for ages until it was time to leave. Mummy and Daddy hadn't surfaced yet so I left a note telling them where I was and what time I'd be home and left.

Paul didn't turn where he was supposed to. "Where are we going?"

"To a friend's place, he has a grass court and it's a better surface to play on that the asphalt one at the club." His friend's court was nice, all green and pretty and, because it was surrounded by a high hedge, it was also very private. I was trembling with excitement even before Paul came and stood behind me to begin the lesson the same way as the previous week.

He took me through the stroke movements and showed me how to curve the ball from side to side. We then hit the ball to each other, practising the shots that I had learned in my two lessons for about half an hour before he called a halt. "Would you like to have a shower before you go home?"

"Can I?"

"Of course." He led the way into a wooden building next to the court. He took a towel from a cupboard and threw it at me. "The shower's in there." He said, indicating a door at the end of the room.

I went into a large room, on one side was a large shower cubicle while on the other side a long bench with hanging hooks along the wall above it. I stripped off my clothes, hung them on the hooks and stepped into the shower. The water was warm, the soap beautifully scented and I luxuriated in it. The door opened and Paul walked in and he wasn't wearing any clothes, he was carrying a towel in one hand that hid his front and two drinks in the other. He put both the towel and drinks down on the bench, I was seeing for the first time, a naked man. I was both excited and afraid. "What are you doing?"

He stepped into the shower and took the soap from me. "Turn around." I turned. He lathered my back in slow gentle circular movements, it felt amazing, his hands moved up under my right arm forcing me to lift it to allow him to soap my armpit. On the way down his hand swept forward in an arc around my breast. Instinctively my arm closed on his trapping it. "What are you doing?" I asked again.

"I'm washing you, don't you like it?"

"We shouldn't be doing this, what would my parents say if they knew what was happening?"

"How would they ever know? I won't tell them, will you?"

"No, I suppose not, but what if your friend comes in?"

"My friend has gone out for the day." I found myself in the very situation that I had dreamed about all week, but now that it was happening I was confused.

I released his hand and he continued to wash my breast. I was feeling just a little weak at the knees, his other hand started on my left breast. He was supporting me as he caressed me, I felt his mouth on my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He reached out and turned off the water. He almost had to carry me out of the shower I was still so weak from his touch. He dried my back with firm strokes but when he turned me and dried my front his stroking became slower and softer, I could barely feel the towel as it moved over my body but my skin tingled at his touch, especially when he dried between my legs.

When he had finished drying me he spread the towel on the bench and, picking me up as if I weighed nothing, he lowered me onto it. Kneeling beside me, his lips covered mine, the pressure of his kiss increased along with mine, his hand moved over my breast, brushing the nipple, softly caressing it.

"No, please don't." I couldn't have sounded less convincing.

"Why not" Who is to know?"

"It's not right!" common sense was returning. I've never done this before, there must be a law against it."

"It's what you want though, isn't it?"

"Well," I didn't know what to say, he was right, but this whole thing wasn't.

He continued to talk softly to me, a mixture of pleading and reassurance. "Nothing will happen, I'll be gentle with you." His hand was exploring my thigh, my resistance was weakening. He moved his body over mine and placed his penis between my thighs, moving it to its destination and thrusting gently at the threshold of my womanhood. I cried out in pain as my defences were finally breached. He paused for a few seconds before continuing with his work.

After the first flash of pain I felt better, he moved in and out for some time before pulling free. I felt my stomach being covered by a warm gooey liquid. He lay there for several minutes, breathing deeply, his head on my shoulder, his weight pressing me to the bench. I was uncomfortable, and just as I thought that he had dropped off to sleep, he raised his head and kissed me lightly on the lips.

Getting off me he picked up his towel and started to wipe himself down. "How do you feel?"

To tell the truth I didn't know how I felt, disappointed I think. I had felt the pain of his penetration followed by the sensation of his movement within me, but that was all. He seemed to have derived some sort of pleasure from it all. "Okay I guess, I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel."

"Did you have a climax?"

"Climax? What's one of those?"

"I's hard to explain but you obviously didn't have one otherwise you would have known."

"When will I have one?"

"Maybe next time. You do want to do it again, don't you?"

"I guess so, I didn't think much of this time, maybe next time will be better."

"It will be, you'll be more relaxed."

He gave me his towel so that I could wipe the mixture of me and him from my body. "I think I should have another shower."

"We don't have time."

"But I'm still yucky."

He gave me a damp face flannel that he had soaped, "Don't be too long."

I was deep in thought as we drove home. Would it really be better next time? Did he really care about me, or did he have something to prove to himself? Was I merely a convenient new lover? He dropped me off at the usual place, kissing me good-bye, his hand once more resting on my thigh. "See you next week for another lesson." It wasn't a question, more a statement of fact.

Mummy and Daddy had just got out of bed and looked awful when I walked in. Daddy mumbled a greeting before heading for the bathroom. The noises that came from behind the door told me that he wasn't feeling well. Mummy looked no better, the look that I got from her when I dropped my racquet on the floor was one of extreme pain. "Oh please be quiet, my head feels as if there is a whole road crew inside with those jack-hammer things trying to dif their way out."

"Did you have a good time?"

"If my suffering is in any way related to whether I had a good time or not, we must have had the most wonderful time. I'm afraid I don't remember a thing."

The Christmas holidays had arrived and I worked on my tan with some friends from school. Sometimes Mummy joined us and on those occasions I caught my friends looking enviously at her figure, which, for her age , was really good. The old man next door must have just about worn his eyeballs out watching as we gradually moved our tan lines further down our bodies.

Saturdays were still spent on my 'tennis lessons'. Paul was right, it did get better and one day I felt that I was getting closer to whatever it was that I was supposed to feel when he pulled out and emptied himself onto my stomach.

My tennis was improving in spite of the other 'lessons', I was gaining confidence by the day. "Why don't you try out for the club team?" Mummy surprised me by asking me after I got home from my lesson.

"Can I? When?"

"Why not this afternoon, there are no competition games and the club is holding internal trials to decide the gradings for next season."

There were several other players trying out for the various teams, they were a mixture of young, inexperienced, players and older players who had recently moved into the district. I was drawn against another young girl for my trial.

Jane Cripps was slim and attractive, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, her legs tanned and well shaped. From the pre-game hit up I saw that her game was based on power but lacked consistency and, remembering my lessons, I had little difficulty in handling her. I anticipated her shots and, moving early, was able to cover her game, preferring to move the ball around, mixing my game up with a combination of top spin and curving balls. I constantly had her swing and miss.

I won the set to love, something that she didn't like at all judging by her reaction to my extended hand.

"Would you like to play a game against me?" I turned to find Paul standing behind me.

"I don't think that I'm in your class."

"From what I've just seen you could beat all of the women and most of the men in this club. What you need is a hard game with the distinct chance of being beaten to put your game into some sort of perspective and to test how good you are under pressure. Your last game was too easy for you, she was a blaster hoping to beat you with sheer power, she obviously hasn't met anyone who wasn't afraid of her pace."

"I'll play you on condition that you don't get too hard on me."

"I'll try not to be, but if you play as well against me as you did against her, I'll be the one begging for mercy."

We took the court, attracting a fair sized audience. Paul served with a lot of work on the ball and I found that by watching the racquet as he'd taught me, I was able to judge the ball well enough to get most of my returns in. I took him to thirty in the first game and just managed to hold my service after three deuces. That gave me added confidence and on his next service game I took him to deuce twice before he held serve. I fared better on my next service game, taking it to thirty.

Paul's next service games found us engaged in long baseline rallies, both probing for the opportunity to take the point. I held advantage at deuce three times before he over-hit a topspin lob and it landed inches behind the baseline giving me the service break.

He tried all his tricks on my service to break back, I guess that I was just a bit more agile than he was. He had me running from one side of the court to the other. I managed to scramble in the game, I was leading 4-2. I couldn't believe it and judging from the expression on Paul's face, neither could he.

His next service game was close but he won after one deuce. I could see that he was trying to regain his concentration and confidence. I went for broke on my first serve, deciding to try something that I had discovered by accident and perfected by practising at home. I threw the ball high and as it came down I hit it with a lot of slice on it, but as the racquet was still moving up, it had the effect of putting a lot of topspin on the ball as well as slice. He read the slice but not the topspin and moved to his forehand side expecting it to curve away from him. It curved away as expected but, when it hit the ground it kicked back towards him leaving him going in the wrong direction. 15-0

The next serve he hit straight at my body and I fended it into the net, 15-15. The next serve to his forehand had him guessing, would I try the same or something different. I hit the ball harder than usual but still slicing it out to his forehand side. It landed right in the back corner of the service court and curved away. He took off after it, throwing himself at the ball but missing it by a couple of inches, sprawling off the court and slamming into the chain mesh fence. He lay there for some time before getting to his feet holding his wrist. "I'' have to forfeit this game, I think that I've sprained my wrist."

I had made the team, but in doing so had created a problem. "I don't think you need any more lessons." Mummy said as I walked from the court.

"But I will need lessons if I'm to maintain my place in the team."

"You'll be getting plenty of practice now that you're in the team, and that should be enough for the time being. If you have the talent to go on with the game we will think about getting you professional coaching, let's just see how you go here fist. Now let's go home."

I walked over to console Paul about his wrist and tell him the news about my lessons. "I thought it would come to this. You are very good and I feel that I have no more to offer."

"But what about my other lessons?"

"Without one I just can't see us arranging the other."

"So that's it then? Just like that, finished."

"I'm sorry. There is another reason, your mother knows about us."