The Strawberry Tease

Part One: Seedlings of the Beginning

Strawberries are the most provocative fruit. They are an elongated heart and a reddish flush of blood when the juices squirt. They are bitter and delicate like some lovers can be, but most of all they are terribly sweet to the core and must be taken care of in an old-fashioned and doting way.

It was only towards the end of May and the sun was already beating mercilessly down on Alex and the other strawberry pickers. Alex wiped his forearm across his brow. Is it really worth all this? he asked himself. The schoolyear had just ended and, at age 26, he was wondering how many of these summers he could take in the heat; and the heat wasn't the only oppressive factor in his life, there was his father to contend with as well.

Despite the trouble his father often was to him, he cherished his summers. It would not be long before he graduated from his law studies and found a place and career of his own. During the schoolyear he lived in the dorms and worked as a waiter to help support himself. In the summers, however, he lived at his father's strawberry farm, staying with him, and picking fruit, his only work-free weeks of the year being July to mid-August, and then it was back to the grind of schoolbooks, exams, and cranky professors. But the college girls - oh my - they had a way of raising his mood in the midst of the meanness. They were sweet and gentle and willing, and he usually sought out the prettiest one in the chaos of a college party and necked with her in the corner. But, for the most part, that's as far as they went with him; they were puritanical and boring, and often on those nights, in private, Alex took matters into his own hands and squirted his ivory desire down a gurgling, circling drain.

But back to the trouble of his father, Patrick. Alex knew, deep down in his heart, that his father meant no harm to him, not in any intentional way. A decade before, Alex's mother had passed and since then Patrick had become an overbearing and possessive father. Alex was all he had left, and he wanted to make sure he had an iron grip on the boy, even if it meant smothering him and leaving him nearly empty of his independence. But the young man, who was now plucking the strawberries like a quick machine, knew his phase of rebelliousness was long overdue and that something needed to be done.

Patrick was incredibly straitlaced, stern, and old-fashioned in his approach to women and sex. He had not dated anyone since his wife died and did not intend to. Alex knew his father still suffered from the loss of his mother but could not shake the feeling to get away from his dad and become free of him. It was his father's suffering that brought out Alex's empathetic side and felt he could not defy his father for fear of hurting him further or fear of perhaps Patrick thinking that his son had turned on him, just as his wife had.

In spite of himself, Alex had turned out very much like how Patrick was now. Stern. Straitlaced. When dating a girl, Alex had always chosen "the good girl," the one who behaved, the one who bowed down and was subservient to her man. But in his solitary moments, Alex knew that these things did not please him, and often longed for a different type of woman, someone who would blow him out of the water with her spunk and vivaciousness, someone who lived for the moment, and most of all, who lived for laughter and good times. There was only so much purity a man could take.

Now, bending over the rows of strawberry plants, snapping each one off above the cap and storing it away, Alex felt a kinship with his fellow man. There they were, dozens of fruit pickers, hunched over, suffering in the sun, backs aching, legs starting to buckle, drops of sweat tickling the strands of hair on their heads. Most of them were young people, but a few were long in the tooth, just as hardworking as any of them, if not more so. The sun seemed to blaze so much that it hummed a steady buzz throughout the land, taking place of the chitchat that had once been so plentiful when the day began at dawn.

Alex found a rather diseased-looking strawberry: it was puny and red-faced, kind of shriveled and unhealthy looking. It reminded him of his father. The young man enjoyed this little inner joke, smiled, and disposed of the strawberry. There. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.

Part Two: She is Ripe

Later that morning, the clock approached 9:30 and it was time for a much needed and well-deserved break for the fruit pickers. The workers flocked to the farmhouse, some in a hurry, some heavy-limbed and tired. Each day usually wrapped up between noon and one o'clock. It was important to stay hydrated and well-fed in conditions such as these. There were several picnic tables lined up on the lawn at which to sit while others liked to sit in the cool grass beneath the extended tree branches and eat and drink there. It was a solace that afforded them time to gossip and breathe. These breaktimes were started and stopped by Patrick with the blow of a whistle and a wave of the hand, urgent and rushed. Farming Fascist, one might say.

Alex plopped down at one of the picnic tables and opened his lunch bag that he packed every morning, taking a giant bite out of his peanut butter sandwich and guzzling the Gatorade that awaited him like water in the desert. He knew he looked like a complete pig, eating and drinking like there was no tomorrow, but this didn't bother him: everybody there looked like they had been through the ringer.

There were many worn workers scattered at the tables and on the lawn and Alex had to admit to himself that he didn't know a lot of them. There were dozens of them; some were quiet and kept to themselves and others were rambunctious and loud, happy for the time to relax and rest their bodies.

He bit into a large, juicy apple and twisted off the stem like his mother had taught him to do when he was a child. A noise caught his attention from one of the adjoining tables. It was a twinkle of laughter, something feminine and foreign to him. He looked in the direction of the giggle: there, sitting at the one of the connecting picnic tables, was a young woman. He did not know her name, but she looked slightly familiar to him. She looked to still be in her late teens, maybe 18 or 19, and Alex wondered if she was one of the graduates who had just finished her senior year in high school. He remembered reading in the paper that the kids had been dismissed for summer several days earlier - could she be one of them?

The girl was sitting diagonally across from him, several feet away and she was lively. She talked animatedly to the boy sitting next to her, gesticulating, and gesturing as if it were a dying art form. Her energy almost outshone that of the sun. Alex unconsciously ran his fingers through his blondish mop of hair and watched her. She was beautiful, she was young, she was hot.

The first thing he noticed about her was her hair: it was a dark brown color and very long and shining, down to her elbows. And she had bright, sparkling blue eyes, full but natural lips. She tossed her head back and laughed, exposing her two solid rows of white teeth between pink lips; her face glittered under the natural light and Alex admired this wet dream that had come to life. Even though all the workers had been out in the fields since the early dawn, she looked surprisingly fresh and vibrant, as if she could spend another several hours doing this backbreaking toil.

Being that he could not see below her waist, his eyes feasted on what he could see. Her neck was delicate and smooth, and her bared arms were already tanned by the sunlight. But from what he could see at this point - the main focus of his eyesight - were her breasts. They strained against her white cotton t-shirt, and they were full and round and large, though not outrageously so. There was a subtle hint of hardened nipples showing through the fabric and he could feel himself in his shorts, excited and growing. He already liked her.

For some strange reason, Alex did not ask the guy next to him what this girl's name was. Perhaps this man would've known? The young man chuckled to himself: here he was, 26, a grown man - though still young - and fawning over this young lady like he was still an adolescent himself. Though not yet 30, Alex thought he would surely be seen as "a dirty old man" chasing after this vibrant teen. Do men ever grow old? Again, he laughed at his own quip.

Alex, being somewhat of the shy, reserved type, did not do anything to try and grab her attention. He figured she must have so many men lined up to take her out that just a good old farm boy like himself must look awfully drab. He glanced at her again. She laughed at a joke told to her, her mouth slightly open, and out from within peeked a sweet, pink tongue that sent his imagination over the edge.

No, there was no chance he would likely ever talk to this girl, let alone take her out. Still, something was so enchanting, so charming about her; and yet he looked down at his clothes, dull and dirty from the farmwork, and thought his chances slim, if they were even there at all. He rested his elbow up on the picnic table and covered part of his face with his hand and grinned at her. Unbeknownst to her, he smiled and glanced in her direction and hoped - sincerely hoped - that this girl would be the welcome trouble he so wanted in his life.

Part Three: Wet T-Shirt (in the Garden of Eden)

Mary drank from the garden hose. Normally this was a habit she did at her home, usually after mowing the lawn for her parents, but this day she could not wait; her thirst needed to be quenched and how! The end of the day had just announced itself with an obnoxious blow of the whistle and while the other farmhands were propelling their bodies into cars and the waiting bus, anxious to grab a hearty meal and a nap, Mary helped herself (and her mouth) to the hose that tempted her. True, it was the farmer's property, and she didn't have his permission to just help herself, but she took it upon herself to do so anyway.

The crystal water flowed steadily from the green, rubber rope. Her beautiful, pink lips were perched forward, gulping greedily the water that was offered to her. On either side of her were two friends, Gus and James. They were not boyfriends, they were simply guy friends. Both were ugly as sin with pockmarked faces and Gus, with his cap tilted upwards like Gomer Pyle, and James with a giant scar along one side of his neck. James said it was from a farming accident two years ago, but Mary knew his amorous inclinations and suspected something of a sexual nature had gone awry.

She looked up from her watering fountain and saw a young man walking towards her. He was extremely tall with a sloppy head of blonde hair and glimmering blue eyes. Mary recognized him as the boy who had been looking in her direction during the mid-morning break at the picnic tables. He had shyly hid behind a hand upon his face and grinned at her sweetly, almost embarrassed. This boy - whatever his name was - had fancied her from the get-go and she knew that, though she coyly did not let on. She grinned at his long strides coming towards her. She glanced at Gus and James with only mischief in her mind. She had turned in her Girl Scouts' badge a long time ago.

Approaching shyly and unable to find anything interesting to say, Alex spoke to his new crush. "What d'you think you're doing there?" he grinned. He had created an opening line.

She lifted her eyes up from under her long lashes only now pretending to notice his attention. She smiled. "Who wants to know?"

Gus rolled his eyes and straightened his cap out. "Uh Mary, this is Alex, he's the boy of the house."

Mary threw her head back and laughed. "'The boy?' Oh, that's rich!"

Now that Alex had a closer look at her, she was even prettier and more youthful looking than he had remembered just a few hours before. And he got quite an eyeful of her body below the waist: she was wearing snug and short denim shorts which wrapped around a svelte waist and her legs were absolutely beautiful. Like her arms, they were already tanned in the early summer heat; they glistened in the noon sunlight. They looked so touchable, as if they would melt if he were to fondle them. Alex stood there stupidly, admiring her like a schoolboy.

He smiled and straightened his shirt, regaining his composure. "Hi Mary. I'm Alex."

"Yes, I know, darling."

She straightened her back and let the water tumble out of the hose. They stood there for a moment looking at each other. Alex had a feeling she was quite verbose, but at this moment she had nothing to say. Big-mouthed woman, he thought and smiled to himself. He laughed and extended his rough, big hand.

"Good to meet you, Mary."

She slipped her hand into his and gave his grip a gentle shake. "You too." She paused and held the hose up as if it were a glass of champagne. "Wanna drink?"

He put his hand up. "No thanks. I prefer to get my water on the inside."

"Well," she smiled. "La-dee-dah."

James, who had been quiet up until that time, cleared his throat. "Mary, this is Patrick's kid. You don't want to get on his bad side."

"'Bad side?'" Alex echoed incredulously. "No, she's fine. It'd take a lot for her to rile me up." He blushed at his own small flirtation.

"So, you're the farmer's boy," she said and, once more, laughed that wonderful, twinkling giggle that had made him notice her in the first place. What a woman, he thought to himself. "I guess I'd better be a good girl and behave myself then." She brought the hose up to her lips once again and started to gulp at the stream like a deprived fish.

"Eh, there you go Mary. That's the way. You gotta cooperate." And with those sarcastic words of encouragement by Gus, he joyfully slapped her on her back. This caused her to gurgle and spat, and the hose, wet and slick, tumbled out of her hands and fell to the ground, wetting her white t-shirt in the process.

The spray of the hose dampened her t-shirt considerably, making her fabric stick to her body. She hopped out of the way quickly to avoid the splashes of water, but the damage had already been done. Alex, unable to tear his eyes away from her, took pleasure in observing her soaked body. Her shirt, which clung wetly to her waist and breasts really gave him an eyeful. He could see that her tight tummy was punctured by an innie belly button. And her breasts, my, he could make out the outline of her white bra, the cups dipped low on the swell of her bosom. Her nipples, which seemed often in a state of excitement, protruded even more now, demanding his attention. His eyes wandered up to her almost swanlike neck and it, too, glistened with dampness, as did her pretty hair that seemed as soft as satin, though he had not had the chance to find out. He stood there in dreaminess, wanting to lie down with her but unable to speak a word.

Gus and James were wordless as well, but for a different reason. They did not ogle her like Alex did. Instead, they waited for the volcano to erupt. Knowing her for the short time they did, they perceived fairly quickly that she had a fiery temper. They looked back and forth from Mary to Alex, trembling with fear at her 5'3" 110 pound body.

Mary approached Alex with an edge of fierceness in her stride. "Get a good look?" she said abruptly and loudly. And, without waiting for an answer, she slapped his stunned face across the cheek and stomped off, beckoning Gus and James to follow, as they had all arrived in the same car.

Now, left alone in the yard, the fallen hose still pumping quietly its endless supply of water, Alex stood there somewhat surprised, somewhat turned on. His erection had not dwindled; in fact, it had grown when she had hit him. He brought his hand up to his struck cheek. It burned and stung a bright red color. Damn. He had really screwed that one up. Somewhat in awe of her violence - which he found sexy and sweet and exciting - he walked over to the side of the house where the knob of the hose was and turned it off, not wanting to flood the lawn. He stood upright again and, once more, felt his cheek. He grinned. This one's a keeper, he thought to himself, and went inside to bathe and prepare lunch.

Part Four: Love at First Bite

With a bit of good-natured violence having started off their friendship, it was only natural that Alex and Mary took a liking to each other - after he apologized, of course. Making sure that Alex had apologized profusely and sincerely for his lecherous behavior, Mary was pleased and decided to let them proceed with things.

Over the next several days, during their breaktimes, they often sat together at a picnic table or beneath a shady tree on the soft grass, eating, guzzling water (not from a hose), talking, and joking together like old chums. Alex learned much about this young woman during those humid mornings: she was, in fact, 18 years old and had just graduated from the local high school. In addition to her work as a farmhand on his father's farm, she was also a babysitter for a family in her neighborhood. She was extremely hard-working with plenty of guts and moxie. Mary sensed that he enjoyed her fieriness which she often paired with sexual passion.

And she learned much about him in their conversations. His law studies were almost all-consuming during the schoolyear, as was his work as a waiter to try and satisfy the bills that came his way. She decided, after much deliberation, that he was a good-looking man: he stood 6'6", nearly 6'7", and was long-limbed and lanky at maybe 200 pounds (or so she guessed). He had beautiful blonde hair which was streaked an even lighter color by the sun. His eyes were a blue color like her own, only his were of a lighter hue. His face reminded of her a hologram: one moment it could be sweet and boyish with a dimple on either side of his face, while other times it looked almost cruel with his angular, high cheekbones and sharp, strong jaw.

She also enjoyed looking at his body. His arms were muscled and shapely but not overly so. His biceps bulged in their curved, subtle manner, and this subtle, almost quiet strength intrigued the young woman. When he worked out in the fields shirtless, she noticed his chest wore very little hair but, again, it protruded with slight muscle which moistened her panties with desire. She also couldn't help but notice that his stomach was flat and almost taut with tightness and slimness, and she dreamt of his lower back positioned between her spread legs in a frenzy of eight limbs gone wild.

During these last several days when they became closer and closer, their friendship grew into flirtatiousness and finally at a stage were both wanted it to blossom into a sexual relationship. But, as most people know, there is so much hesitation before crossing the edge, and they enjoyed indulging in the sexy teasing and innuendo. They were dancing and enjoying every moment of it as they dreamt of one another. They each starred in the other's fantasies and they both seemed to know this, though it went unspoken.

Neither of them had a lover in their lives and this especially surprised Alex. Mary was the spunkiest, most beautiful girl he had ever met, and he wondered what was wrong with the boys in town - unless she spurned their advances, and if that were the case, he had just gotten lucky knowing her, he thought to himself.

One other thing that surprised him was that he learned Mary had worked at their farm the year before. Though it was only a year ago, she looked so much different now then she did back then; now he remembered where he had seen her: here! Last year, when she worked for Patrick picking fruit, her body was like a twig, underdeveloped, and scrawny. At that point, her breasts were barely the size of oranges, and the general shape of her body was shapeless, like water. Now, at age 18, her full breasts swelled out, her waist was tucked-in in a natural way, her hips flared out (something to grab at opportune times), and her thighs were smooth and plentiful all topped off with smooth, delicate feet. Or so he had seen when she took her shoes off during their breaks together.