Fonding and Permission Ch. 02

And then there was a moment when their wandering eyes met, and it seemed to be full of openings.

"Mr. Dwight?"

They both jumped at the sound of Dr. Velcôte's voice from the corridor outside.

"Ms. Liegestütz?"

The other compartments were silent. It seemed there was no-one else left. Startled, but strangely calm, Felix looked around for somewhere to hide and his eyes found Theresa's open locker. He motioned her to get inside it and she obeyed without hesitation.

"I'm here!", Felix called, as soon as Theresa had squeezed out of sight. He realised they had forgotten to lock the back door with Alice's departure. "Please don't come in, I'm still changing!" He grabbed the two-piece bathing costume Theresa had got out, intending to stuff it out of sight in his own bag.

"Can we expect you in five minutes?" came his instructor's reply.

"I'll try."

"Ms. Liegestütz!" Dr. Velcôte's voice was heading further down the passage.

Felix wondered whether to respond, then went for it. "I think she talked about a bathroom before we went to change." Absolutely true, he thought. The probability that she had never spoken of a bathroom before was negligible. He heard Theresa subdue a snigger in the locker and felt mightily pleased with himself.

He stood still for a moment, listening to Dr. Velcôte's angry mutter and her footsteps receding along the corridor, then knelt down by the closed locker and lowered his voice.

"Theresa?"

"Yes?"

He spilt out a jumble of words that just managed to turn into a proper sentence. "She's gone, but we'd better change quickly and get to the pool before she comes back for us."

But Theresa wasn't waiting. She was already getting back out of the locker right in front of him. "Don't worry, Felix. We'll take our time," she said, standing up in front of him, dusting herself down lightly and looking quite unconcerned now. "Would you mind giving me those?"

He followed her grin to his sides and saw her bathing costume, one piece of it still in each of his hands.

"Oh", he said with a laugh. "Sorry, I was about to hide them." He offered them to her.

She took one piece, leaving him waiting with the other. "Thank you, Felix" she said, taking the opportunity to look him straight in the eye for a split second.

He felt a painful throb in his chest and drew breath. We're naked, smiling at each other, and she's letting me help her into her bikini, he thought. Remember this forever. He closed his eyes for a second to capture the image, found he couldn't bare the blindness, opened them again and, for the first time, looked unashamedly straight at Theresa's naked body, noticing how she kept up a generous, knowing smile as he did so, and made no haste to pull on the bottom, coolly turning it inside out in her hands, tilting her head sideways as though puzzled by it.

He had lazily imagined perfection, a shapely goddess of firm flesh and smooth skin. And perhaps her body would have looked that to a distant, casual glance. But close to and immersed, he saw someone softer, earthlier and more approachable. A healthy, young female human, her skin decorated with subtle detail, tiniest colour variations, scratches, scars, birthmarks, witnesses of twenty years of life. Of course he took in the two soft, pale hills with their little purple summits and the well-tended black meadow in the valley beneath, both afraid to look at them and at the same time trying to consign every square inch of her to his memory. He drank in the sight of her and he knew that she was aware of his starved gaze all over her. She could have turned her back to him at any moment, but just remained standing, baring herself to his eyes. The implication hit him time and again like a warm wave and he heard himself think, "Now!"

"Wow." His own voice surprised him with an awed whisper. You're lovely, he thought, but couldn't quite say it. Then he did.

She answered with a little laugh, a light, musical sound that seemed to sit perched on a high bed of contentment. "Thank you, Felix. You're really sweet." She hadn't returned the compliment. But maybe that was too much to expect ...

She moved the bikini bottom into position, pulling it to one side for adjustment and, in effect, a final glimpse. He watched her every move.

"Now my top, Felix ... if you would be so kind?" she said.

He adored her politeness. He let her take it from his other hand, felt her fingertips stroke over his palm as she took it, and waited as she began to pull it behind her shoulders, watching her private ritual like a child. Then, to his surprise, she stopped and frowned.

"Felix", she said innocently. "Would you mind helping me with the knot? It's always a bit tricky from above ..."

His mind gave a frightened whoop and he almost let it out. "Of course," he managed, his throat tight. He was sure the knot posed no problem at all for her, yet he still hardly dared believe the alternative. "You'll need to tell me what to do," he said.

"Just take these two laces," she said, close to him now, one in each hand. "And tie them between my breasts ... like you're tying a shoe."

He took them clumsily, hotly aware that his her lately covered groin was hardly a foot from his unprotected own. She suddenly seemed to be wherever he looked and he bumped into her clumsily for a moment, before stepping back. They both laughed. There was a moment when he stood basking in her smile, still holding open the triangles of her bikini top like a pair of shutters next to a window, then he laid them on her bosom and gently began to guide the laces around each other, trying to avoid touching her too much, yet grateful for every time he did ... How much of her there was ...

She reached out and he felt her fingertips on his left shoulder, gentle as his own, but so much less predictable. He felt the hairs on his left arm rise as she stroked down it, felt a ripple spread out from the trail of her touch and flow all over his skin.

"You've got goosebumps," she observed, fascination in her light voice.

"I know," he said. "It's freezing hot."

She moved her fingers over his wrist. He saw and felt her stroke the back of his own left hand, and he let it pause in its work to appreciate it. The half-tied knot sprang open as he relaxed his grip, and the bikini top rose off her chest.

With a smiling gasp she thrust herself forward to meet his palms, and he found himself stroking her naked breasts for a heaven-sent moment, feeling their benign roundness fill his cupped hands, move in them, her nipples catching between his fingers. He heard her intake of breath as he made to embrace her. Then, suddenly, she withdrew.

"Sorry, Theresa!" he said, hastily pulling back his hands and lookingat her with concern.

"No," she said. "Don't be sorry. It's just ... there's no time now. "

"OK ..." he whispered, half disappointed, half relieved. "Should I finish?"

"Yes, please."

He resumed his efforts.

She reached up and touched his forehead, took one of his own curls and twisted it twice around her finger.

"I like your hair."

"Yours is better ... I never knew you had so much of it."

"My secret," she said with a laugh. She put one hand to his chest and he giggled as her fingers combed through the hair.

"Ticklish?"

"A bit."

Her interest in his own body was a revelation. He had never imagined that a girl or woman would actually want to touch him, explore him in return. Well, with all he knew he might just have been born.

"Like this?" he asked eventually with room still to spare between the triangles. "Or tighter?"

"Nice and tight," she said. "Just don't hurt me ... But I don't want anything slipping out in front of the others."

The others. He still couldn't grasp that didn't include him ... He pulled at the interwoven strings, drawing her heaving breasts together as firmly as he dared, feeling them brush across his fingertips and palms, as his hands worked. He said nothing, held back this time, but his mind was bathing in her beauty.

"Would you be so kind as to tie a double knot?" she asked. "For safety."

"I take it you want it to be undoable, though?"

"Oh, definitely!"

The way you said that, he thought, tying and doubling the knot with cautious movements. Gentleness, he reminded himself. Touch gently. Be remembered as a gentle toucher. And he softly took the edge of her bikini top and pulled it into position.

"There, Theresa."

"Thank you very much, Felix."

And to his bewildered gratitude and lasting awe, she stepped forward and closed gently about him. He felt her clasping hands bring alive his back, her hair, finally all open, flowing over his own shoulders, and, among a dozen other wonders, her lips pressed against his cheek, then her warm breath as they parted and her voice, tender and fragile right by his ear: "I want to do more of this later, Felix."

His voice had trouble leaving his shaking body. "Yes ... me too ... I-- thank you, Tessy ... Thank you."

She tightened her embrace as he said her pet name. His arms had managed to respond by now and for the first time ever they were holding each other. And something massive seemed to loosen in his chest, a knot of many years, so old and covered in dust that he had lost all hope of untying it, ignored it and arranged life around it. And as the dust rose, all tension left him. He felt weak in her arms, felt his face sink into the cushion of her hair and knew he was close to leaving tears of relief in it.

"We'll get back to this later", she repeated at a whisper, her own voice cracking. "We can't go on now."

***

The rest of the trip had been subdued. They hadn't spoken another word to each other, barely even exchanged a glance. If there had been a quiet, hidden corner anywhere, he would have wandered there and waited, hoping for her to come. But Darren and the rest seemed to be everywhere, so he had gone swimming while Theresa lay on a bench outside, only for the roles to be reversed after an hour. They seemed to have fallen into an unspoken agreement to avoid each other in front of the others.

And now, bicycling home, he wondered whether this attitude might extend into the next few weeks. Theresa had actually left to change twenty minutes early, so there had been no second encounter in the locker room. Some relief went with that, but more sadness. And he was sad to be relieved. Sad at his lack of daring ... It had been a melancholy trip back to the campus. Now, on his bike by himself, he felt better. Sadness seemed to lie in wait around the corner, but at a safe distance. And there was no need to turn that corner. Remember her with all your fondness, but don't miss her desperately, he told himself. And there'll be more with her. There will!

He tried to recall just what Theresa had done to and for him today; the feeling of her warm arms suddenly around him, her hair and cheek against his own, her breasts pressed against his chest and, yes, her stomach rubbing against his naked sex when she had hugged and kissed him. She must have felt his wetness. He'd grown half-hard, hadn't he? He tried to remember what she had shown him: her pale, goosebumpy skin; the long curls lying playfully across her shoulders; and then her ... what to call them? Boobs? Breasts? Penduline tits? Tit was a small, naughty word, suggesting pointy firmness but no volume. Boob sounded round like an inflated ball with nothing pointy at all. Unfocused and stupid. The word was just wrong. Breast spoke of a soft, clearly defined fullness with just the right amount of pointiness on the end. It was far and away the most beautiful of the three. Yes, Theresa definitely had breasts.

And she had shown them to him, shown him everything, let his eyes feel her all over. What a girl. Woman. ... And she had smiled all the while! He hoped that she wasn't alone somewhere, regretting it all. Her voluntary gift, her willingness to let him absorb all of herself naked, had been sweetest of all. How could anyone ever enjoy coercion, when it so obviously lacked this? Desire and conscience playing in tune, and the greatest expression of trust ... Maybe a person who had no hope of consent would exert force ... but he never would. Never, even if all hope of her left his life and he was condemned to return to loneliness ... he would hold her memory sacred by keeping that promise. But that wasn't all he longed for.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember her neat, black triangle in detail. Every hair on her mound had lain bare to his sight ... Theresa standing above him, opening her thighs ... He raised his head, let his tongue kiss the afternoon sky and nearly bicycled into a fence post. A couple of grazing cows bounded out of the way, mooing in protest. He swerved aside, apologising to them, cursing his rashness and then laughing at it. Don't forget the world, he thought. Good rule, that. Where had he heard it before?

Fantasy was kicking in again. Reality already felt far away, unreachable. Would there really be more, or had the heat of those few minutes burnt them? There was no way the coming weekend would last long enough to bring them back to normal if it had. But he didn't want normality to return. He knew his mind would spend the rest of the day wandering through the realms of memory and imagination, but the real world and the real Theresa were out there, waiting impatiently for a sequel. He realised with trepidation that he would probably have to do something soon. Approach her. She had done everything so far. She and Alice. Her initiative had surprised him, but it was absolutely his turn now.

But how? He had no number, no Email, nor any idea where she lived these days. His old friend ... to have known her all these years, but never, ever come this close ... Not really seeing what use it would be, he reached into his anorak for the sock he kept his mobile in. It felt strangely large, as though the phone had swollen inside it. He frowned and peeled it away.

Paper. He braked swiftly and stepped off his bicycle, excitement coming at speed. He was quite sure he had never ever wrapped his mobile in paper. His heart pounded out a furious crescendo as he flattened out the rolled up envelope, opened it and pulled out the handwritten note. The writing was neat and small.

Dearest Felix,

If you, too, like to imagine we had had all the time in the world this morning, please come and meet me at 20 o'clock by the Bear's Cave and we can at least have all the time in the night.

I'll be waiting for you.

All my love to you,

Tessy

PS: Close shave ;-p

There was a mobile number underneath.

His heart ballooned as he read and reread the note. Tessy. He was allowed! Well, of course you are, said a voice of reason, but he wouldn't let it dull the sensation. He let out an ecstatic laugh, thinking vaguely that anyone who had watched him for the past few minutes would take him for a madman. But he was out in the fields and there was no-one nearby. Nor would he have cared, as he held the note against his cheek and kissed it gently. To think he counted as close now ... really close, she had said. He could still hear her words in the library and relished the memory. He opened the envelope to put the note back in and stopped dead.

One single very long curly brown hair lay folded along the bottom of the envelope. He picked it up with reverence and pressed it to his lips. How had she known he wanted one? It was as he made to put it back in the envelope that he saw it was not alone.

Its companions were black and just a fraction of an inch long. He counted five, so few as to require no explanation. But he knew where he had seen them before ... "Close shave", right? He checked her note again, just to be quite sure those were her words. Then he saw the smiley. Blood surged between his legs at the possibilities suddenly open to him. His underpants were already a mess, he could feel his own moisture on them. Had she really done this, risked his revulsion? Or had he been so obvious in showing what he yearned for as to leave no doubt in her mind? Well, maybe he had. He had stared plenty ... but for her to do this ... Oh, the fabulous boldness of it! He was almost afraid himself. He let out another exhilarated laugh.

"I don't believe this," he said out loud. "Whoa, Theresa ... Tessy!" Dare I, he thought? She wants me to. She wouldn't do this if she didn't. And I know I will. "Now."

His hands trembled, as he poured the shavings into his cupped palm. He looked at them for a moment, thinking that it was extraordinary how powerful so tiny a thing could be. Then he raised his hand and slowly, luxuriously drew his tongue through them, licking them up, all of them, trying to taste her on them, imagining he could, imagining her thighs hugging his cheeks, as surely they would one day, remembering her leaning forward and gasping as he caressed her breasts ...

He tried to concentrate on what had just happened. Theresa, I have just tasted your pussy hair. It was a bloody stupid thing to do and I wish I could do it again and again. Thank you for my ecstasy. He said it out loud. And he knew that he wanted to bathe his tongue in the warm, wet meadow where the sample had been cut.