Lovers of the Classics Pt. 01

Ben's thoughts were a tangle of arousal and intent. The idea of bringing a woman to such heights, of being the conductor of her pleasure--it set his blood alight with possibility. As they approached the front door, Ben's gaze dropped to his own hands, imagining them on the mystery woman's skin, mapping out the landscape of her desire.

"Watch her," Hugo advised, his tone earnest. "Her body will speak volumes if you're attentive. The flush of her skin, the arch of her back, the tightening of her grip--these are the signs that you're charting the right course."

Ben pictured the woman from the bookshop, her face obscured by shadow and mystery, yet now an enticing canvas for his newly acquired knowledge.

"I suppose the only problem now is that I have no idea how I'm ever going to see her again," Ben said with a wistful laugh. "Short of installing myself at the bookshop hoping she returns."

"I'm sure Cupid will find a way to bring you both back together," Hugo chuckled. "And in the meantime, why not practice your new-found knowledge on someone you find at my party? My sister kicked up enough of a fuss about having to spend time with me and my friends that she'll be bringing a half dozen of her friends from London."

Ben had only met Hugo's older sister, Lilian, once. But he knew from that one meeting, as well as from what Hugo had told him about her, that she was a force of nature, a free spirit that, to someone like Ben, embodied the modern 1920s woman.

Hugo and Ben entered the house and went up the stairs. They shared a smile, as they parted on the landing. A sense of eager anticipation surged through Ben. He imagined 'Chloe', tracing the contours of her form, discovering each hidden cove and secret inlet where ecstasy awaited. The thought of tasting her, of hearing his name spill from her lips in a crescendo of pleasure, was intoxicating.

As his head hit the pillow, the beer caught up with him and he was asleep within seconds.

***

The next morning, Hugo and Ben had a quick breakfast and headed in Charlbury together for a third and final time. Hugo called into Tom, picked up his repaired car and, with much on his mind, made his farewell.

"Remember, Benny," Hugo called out as the car pulled out of the garage, "dress sharp this weekend."

But Ben had barely heard him. His mind was still a whirlpool, each thought a current dragging him back to 'Chloe' and their conversation in the bookshop. Her image flickered in his mind's eye: the curve of her smile, that knowing glint amidst the shelves of books.

Without much thought, he found himself back in the bookshop.

"Back so soon?" Mrs Davenport's voice sliced through Ben's thoughts.

"Did you perhaps catch the name of the woman with whom I was chatting yesterday?" Ben asked. "Wavy auburn hair... she had an air about her," Ben added somewhat limply, his voice betraying a hint of desperation.

The bookshop keeper peered at Ben over her spectacles, lines of age deepening as she smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't, Master Farrington."

"Of course," Ben murmured, his heart sinking, feeling the sting of disappointment like a physical wound. He lingered among the shelves, fingers brushing the spines as if they might yield some hidden message from her. She had been a phantom, a fleeting dream leaving nothing but the echo of her laughter within these walls.

"Damn it!" he swore softly, more to himself than to the room. Frustration coiled within him. For some reason, each tick of the clock beside the counter in the shop grated on him, as though it was a taunt.

"Any particular title you're after?" Mrs Davenport added a few minutes later. Ben remembered with a jolt that he had come to the store yesterday to buy a birthday present for Hugo but had left empty-handed.

"Oh yes, I was thinking one of the classics. Maybe something on love, perhaps... Or obsession," Ben replied, the words slipping out before his guard could catch them.

"Ah, the follies of youth," Mrs Davenport sighed, a wistful note in her tone. She gestured toward the shelves Ben had been at yesterday. "Over there, you should be able to find a few things that fit the bill."

"Thank you," Ben said, though he knew now his main mission, improbable as it had always been, was destined to fail. He looked through the shelves, fingertips grazing the cloth covers, cool and impersonal, until he found a copy of 'Erec and Enide' by de Troyes.

"Will that be all?" Mrs Davenport asked.

"Sadly, yes," Ben conceded with a heavy heart. He cast one last longing glance around the shop, half expecting her shadow to materialize from the gloom. It did not.

"Good luck, Master Farrington," she offered, but her eyes then returned to an open volume in front of her.

"Thank you," Ben echoed, stepping back into the street, the door closing with a definitive thud.

*

Evening fell and then night came, bringing shadows to the corners of rooms that danced like illicit lovers. Ben sat on the edge of his bed, the creak of the mattress beneath him a lonely echo in the spacious chamber.

"Damnation," he muttered under his breath, Hugo's words from the night a salacious screenplay in his mind. "Control is an illusion when you're under her spell."

He rose, pacing the length of the room, his footsteps a muffled rhythm against the thick rug. Each movement was a conscious effort to banish her image, yet even the air seemed to whisper her name, laden with scents of musk and desire.

"Chloe," he breathed out, a prayer to an unknown goddess. His fingers brushed the crisp linen of his shirt, undoing each button slowly as if she might be there, watching with those penetrating eyes. He peeled off the fabric, the cool draft of the night air raising goosebumps along his skin.

"Touch... It's a language all its own," Hugo had claimed, a sly grin on his lips as he imparted the secrets of flesh and pleasure. Ben's hands roamed across his chest, down his abdomen -- a poor substitute for the phantom caress he longed for.

"Would she be gentle?" he wondered aloud, slipping into his sleeping trousers. "Or would she trace every line and curve with a demanding hunger?"

His thoughts were a tangle of intrigue and passion, images of Chloe's lithe form intertwining with the lessons of seduction Hugo had so vividly described. In the sanctity of his bedroom, Ben lay back upon the covers, the restraint of the day unraveling with every ticking second of the clock.

"Would she yield to me, or command me?" The question hung in the air, his voice a husky murmur lost amidst the rustle of fabric as he shifted restlessly. He closed his eyes, the darkness behind his lids an empty canvas soon filled with the bold strokes of his imagination.

In his mind's eye, Chloe was a vision in sepia tones, cycling towards him with an effortless grace. The cap on her head did nothing to tame the wild curls that escaped its confines. Her blouse clung to her, while the contours of her trousers promised secrets only he yearned to uncover.

"Chloe," he whispered again, the name a talisman against the ache of longing. By now, his cock had become firm, straining against the bedsheets above him. As he drifted to sleep, he envisioned her above him, guiding him into realms of ecstasy where only they existed.

*

Ben found himself in a vivid dream. The musk of aged parchment told him he was back among the shadowed shelves of the bookshop, the dim light casting a sepia tone over his dream. The quiet was absolute.

"Quite a collection, isn't it?" a voice like velvet teased from behind a partition of books.

He turned, heart hammering, to find her--Chloe--standing in the doorway, sunlight haloing her figure. She eased the door shut with a click, leaving the world outside forgotten. Her cap sat jauntily atop those wild auburn curls, and her blazer--tailored to perfection--nipped at her waist, hinting at the curves concealed beneath.

"Stunning," Ben replied.

She approached, each motion fluid. The blouse she wore clung to her like a lover's caress, its fabric whispering secrets against her skin. And those trousers--God, how they outlined her legs, which seemed to go on for miles and mile. It made him yearn to chart their length with his touch.

"See anything you like?" Chloe asked, her green eyes alight with mischief.

"Everything," he admitted, the word barely more than a breath.

Their gazes locked, twin infernos in the hush of the room. The air between them crackled with unspoken promises, the distance closing with inevitability.

"Such a scholar," she teased, standing close enough for him to inhale her scent--a blend of lavender and the fresh air of the open road.

"Only for certain subjects," Ben replied, his voice low, every word weighted with the hunger that tightened his frame.

"Will you teach me?" she whispered, the challenge clear in her eyes.

"I would like to learn you," he corrected. It was both a statement and a plea, his hands itching to map the terrain of her body, to explore the valleys and peaks that had haunted his waking thoughts.

"Ben," she replied, her breath fanning his face, close enough to kiss, yet worlds away. And in the silence that followed, filled only with the racing of his heart and the deep pull of longing, Ben knew this dream was where he wanted to dwell, lost forever in the allure of the enigmatic Chloe.

The dim glow of a single lamp cast an amber halo around Chloe, igniting flecks of gold in her auburn hair. She moved a step closer.

"Is this how you imagined it?" Her words slid across his skin like silk.

"Every detail," he managed, voice thick with desire.

"Good." She reached for him, her fingers dancing over the buttons of his waistcoat before undoing it.

Her hands reached for his tie next, pulling it free with a slow, deliberate motion that made his knees weaken. The silk slipped through her fingers, the sound impossibly loud in the hushed surroundings.

And then she started to unbutton his shirt. With each button undone, Ben felt the air grow thicker, the space between them charged with electricity. She peeled back the fabric, exposing his chest, and his breath hitched at the feel of her fingertips tracing his skin.

"Your heart is pounding," Chloe observed, leaning in so her lips brushed his earlobe. "Are you afraid?"

"Enthralled," he corrected, his hands balling into fists at his sides to keep from reaching out to her.

"Let me lead you," she murmured, sliding his shirt from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a whisper.

"Look at you," Chloe teased, eyes gleaming with mischief. "All unwrapped and no place to hide."

Ben knew he was dreaming. But still, he swallowed hard, feeling the heat of her gaze as his trousers came next, the belt unbuckled, the fabric loosened. His erection pressed urgently against the confinement of his underwear as she tugged at his pants, lowering them inch by torturous inch.

"Chloe," he gasped, his flesh burning where she touched, every nerve ending alive and desperate for more.

"Shh," she soothed, her hands now on the final barrier between them. "Feel this moment, Ben. Feel everything."

As she drew down his drawers, his arousal sprung free, his large cock standing proud and eager. Chloe didn't flinch or falter; instead, she admired him with a boldness that both shamed and thrilled him.

"Beautiful," she said simply, her voice laced with raw hunger.

Ben's body thrummed with need, every muscle taut as she explored him, her fingers ghosting over his chest and his legs, her touch feather-light yet enough to send him spiraling.

"Chloe..." It was a plea, a prayer, his voice breaking on her name.

"Patience," she chided softly.

His thoughts fragmented, his mind went blank, save for the extraordinary urges inside him.

"More," he whispered, bucking his hard cock towards her hands, seeking friction, chasing release.

"Everything in its time," Chloe replied, taking a step back away from him.

"Please," he begged, closing his eyes.

"Open your eyes," she instructed, and he obeyed. Ben watched, his chest heaving, as Chloe reached up to remove her cap with a deliberate slowness that was agonizing and exquisite all at once. Her wavy auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face in a wild, untamed halo.

"Like what you see?" she murmured, the corner of her mouth quirking upward in a knowing smile.

"God, yes," Ben exhaled, his voice barely a whisper, entranced by the vision before him.

With elegance, Chloe slipped off her shoes, one foot poised in the air for a moment too long, ensuring that Ben's gaze followed every move. She stood barefoot on the worn wooden floor, the coolness of the planks against her soles sending a shiver up her spine that, in the dream, Ben could almost feel himself.

Next came the blazer, which she shrugged off with a casual grace that belied the tension coiling within him. It fluttered to the ground like a discarded dream, leaving her in her blouse, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that made Ben's hands twitch with the urge to explore.

"Patience," she repeated, taunting him, as her fingers worked the buttons of her blouse, each tiny pearl slipping through its hole with a soft pop that sounded like a symphony in the hush of the bookshop.

"Chloe," Ben's voice broke, his naked body straining toward her as if pulled by invisible strings.

"Shh," she coaxed, the blouse parting to reveal the creamy expanse of her collarbone, the gentle swell of her breasts under her bra. Her skin glowed in the dim light, the shadows playing over her like caresses he was desperate to replicate.

Her trousers were next, and she undid them with a casual flick of her wrist, the fabric sliding over her hips and down her legs, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of the ring of cloth, standing before him in nothing but her bra and panties, a vision of allure that sent Ben's heart racing.

"Touch me," he pleaded once more, his entire being focused on the thought of her bare skin against his.

"In time," she said, the words both a promise and a torment.

With a seductive look in her eyes, she slid her fingers under the waistband of her lace panties. Inch by torturous inch, she teased the elastic away from her skin, revealing a perfect triangle of hair that drew Ben's gaze like an arrow to her pussy.

Finally, with a quick snap of her fingers, she unhooked the clasp of her bra and let it fall to the ground, revealing the soft curves of her bosom. Her full breasts bounced slightly as they were freed from the tight fabric, revealing dusky pink nipples that stood at attention. Beckoning with their alluring shape and color, Ben knew from Hugo's lessons that their firmness showed her arousal.

She looked at him and then followed his eyeline until she was also looking at her breasts. "Like what you see?"

"Beautiful," Ben gasped, the sight of her nakedness searing itself into his mind. Chloe stood revealed, her body a masterpiece of curves and planes, her green eyes dark with desire.

"I'm yours," she whispered, stepping closer until he could feel the heat of her body mingling with his. He could feel the pulse of her blood beneath her skin, the heat of her breath as she leaned in.

"Please," he begged again, his voice raw.

"Please," she echoed back, closing the distance ever so slowly. They moved together, two bodies hungry for connection, lost in the rhythm of desire that danced them closer and closer to the edge of fulfillment.

"Are you ready?" Chloe's voice was a breath, brushing against his ear like a secret.

"God, yes," Ben managed, his hands trembling, his body taut with anticipation.

She stepped forward, her fingers tracing a line from his chest down to his waist, sending shivers across his skin. The warmth of her touch seared through him, igniting a fire he could no longer contain. Her gaze locked onto his, pupils dilated with desire.

"Chloe," he whispered, a plea enshrouded in the only name by which he knew her.

Her hand touched his chest. The moment her fingers touched his skin, a jolt of pleasure coursed through him, blurring his vision. He felt his cock swell further, alive in a way he had never experienced before.

"Chloe," he repeated, the word fragmenting.

"Ben," she murmured in response, naked in front of him. Her movements were deliberate, exploring his naked body.

With each delicate touch, the friction of her skin against his driving him wild, the dream grew hazier, the edges blurring into irrelevance. His hips bucked involuntary, his cock begging her to touch him.

"Please," he gasped one last time, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut as the tension coiled tighter within him, a spring wound to its breaking point.

"Come for me," came Chloe's husky command, her hand reaching lower until her thumb circled the head of his penis, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had emerged.

And with that, Ben's face contorted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a silent scream. His body tensed, muscles bulging.

"Come for me," she repeated, gently peeling back his foreskin. This time, the sensation was too much. Ben shattered, spilling himself with a guttural cry that echoed off the walls. His body trembled and convulsed with the intensity of his release, his face twisted in ecstasy as his cum shot out, again and again, onto Chloe's stomach.

"Chloe..." But the dream was receding rapidly now, her image fading even as he reached out, desperate to hold onto her.

Reality crashed back with the harshness of morning light, and Ben bolted upright in his bed, panting as if he'd run miles. The sheets clung to his skin, covered in his cum. It was everywhere, sticking to his thighs as a crude reminder of the dream's intensity.

"Damn," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face, feeling the stickiness between his fingers, the lingering heat of imagined caresses.

He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the fantasy that had felt so real. His pulse still raced, his body thrummed with unsatisfied longing. He wanted her--this Chloe of his dreams--more than he'd ever wanted anything before.

"I'll find you, Chloe," he vowed silently, the resolve hardening in his chest like a promise etched in stone.

And with that thought anchoring him, hope started to grow beneath the layers of frustration and lust. Their paths would cross again; he was certain of it. Fate owed him that much, didn't it? As the sun climbed higher, casting a golden hue across the room, Benjamin Farrington resolved that when they met again, he would be ready--for Chloe, for whatever flames they might ignite together. And until then, he'd let the dream keep him warm.

[To be continued. Part 2 takes place entirely the following day.]