Mel's Phone Call Pt. 02

"I don't want to put my nicer stuff on," Mel said as they returned to the bedroom and she looked at the piles of clothes on the floor, "got anything I can borrow?"

He smiled and nodded and led Mel to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer, which was full of old and new soccer shorts and jerseys and similar clothes.

"Hey," she said, "those?"

She pointed to a pair of faded red shorts and a faded jersey, white with a horizontal red stripe across the chest. Chris handed them to her. She held them up then pulled on the snug shorts.

"They, um," Chris stammered, "fit very well. From a few seasons ago."

"Snug," she said as she pulled the jersey on, "how do I look?"

The old jersey may as well have been a second skin, too many wash and dry cycles had thinned fabric and turned the red stripe closer to a cheek blush. The shapes of her nipples were clearly outlined and their colour discernible in the light as darker smudges against the blush. Outside in the night, who knew. The shorts clung to her ass.

"You, look, great," he said haltingly, as they had not quite 24 hours earlier her nipples ensured his brain and rational thought were for the moment only passing acquaintances.

He pulled on the black pair of gym shorts discarded early in the morning and added a replica jersey with black and white vertical stripes.

"Juventus?" She asked as she read the badge, pronouncing the 'j.'

"Soccer team, Turin, Italy" he said, letting the pronunciation go, "mail order. My mother's Italian so... Bunch of their fans just died last month in a riot in Brussels, playing against Liverpool."

"They take the sport serious over there, huh?" He shrugged, not telling her about last season's all-in brawl at one of his local matches.

She nodded and went for her shoes.

As Chris was tying his shoes he said, "I notice you don't have sandals or flip-flops, seems unusual from what I see women around here wearing."

"I don't like my bare feet showing," Mel simply said as she tied her Converses.

Chris tried to process that as he tied his shoes. They'd just put on a hard-core sex show for some number of viewers and she'd had no qualms about that. She had on a skin-tight practically see-through shirt and shorts that weren't much tamer. But she didn't want anyone to see her feet? She'd kept her running socks, and only those, on for their show and he recalled her specifically pulling socks on while she changed clothes in his car. Her feet seemed perfect to him. Then again, Chris mused, he'd worn socks every waking minute and even to bed until he was 13 or 14. Or was it 15? As quirks went this was nowhere near disqualifying. In fact, with her it likely meant there would never be pressure to go swimming or to the beach. That was a very definite plus in in his mind.

The phone rang and Chris answered the extension on his side table.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi Terry," a pause, "just a sec."

"Mel, want to play racquetball on Friday night? At the Uni rec centre."

"Um, sure."

"Terry, yeah, I'll have a friend along. Teresa getting the courts? Ok, see ya then."

"Let's go," Chris grabbed his keys and wallet, "a few of us get together to play racquetball now and again for a couple of hours then get pizza or something. We just get two or three courts and alternate, singles, doubles, cutthroat."

"I've played but not sure how good I am. But I'll kick your ass, revenge for what you do to mine!" She mouthed an 'Ow' as she patted her shapely rump.

"Ha. You can try," but his thought was she was quite fit and seemingly very competitive, she had chased him up that hill and made it. Could be interesting.

"You said you told one friend about me, is that one of them? The one who doesn't believe you?"

"Nah. These are all folks I've met since I've been here. That friend was Frank, I've known him since junior high. Only one I'd share the full details with."

"Well, introduce me. We'll freak out his little mind."

They left the house and walked the couple of blocks. She held his hand and when he saw her face in a circle of illumination under a streetlight he saw an eighteen year old, something her usual self-confidence made him forget, seemingly wreathed in quiet serenity. He was again unsure how he'd gotten here or if he truly deserved it. Then in the next ring of light he decided it wasn't vital to know but he would try to earn it.

The ice cream parlor was an old service station at the opposite end of the same block the Pie was on and converted into a sandwich shop and an ice cream shop. The ice cream side stayed open late during the summer. It also had the advantage of being very good ice cream.

Before going to sleep Mel coaxed him erect again, although that hadn't been difficult, and she crawled on top to insert him into her pussy and move herself slowly up and down and back and forth as Chris caressed her breasts and this time was allowed to suck her nipples. After a few minutes she pushed him down and kissed him softly then rolled sideways off of him and pulled him to face her.

"In the morning take your shower then come in and we'll finish what we just started. I want my smell on you so any women at your work will know they'll have to go through me to get your cock," she said as they were falling asleep again facing each other, "don't worry, men won't even notice."

"It's a factory. They make lighting fixtures. I doubt they'll be many women."

"Just in case," she said with finality. So that's what he did.