Tom and the Dazzling Fiona Ch. 01

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He wanted them to marry but she wasn't sure.
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Part 1 of the 7 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 02/11/2014
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He wanted them to marry but she was doubtful.

This story is entirely fictional.

Tom Cassavettes was sprawled in a canvas chair reading the book list of the university course he was about to attend. The afternoon sun was hot and the air was humid enough to be stirred with a spoon when his thoughts were disturbed by a shrill voice.

He followed the sound and saw a disembodied head visible over a hedge way above then with eyes squinting in the strong light finally identified the speaker. It was the vicar's wife who was clearly giving orders to someone.

"Go and try to amuse Tom while I have a cosy chat with the housekeeper."

A young woman then appeared. She was making her way down the steps and presenting an extremely sensual picture. Fiona was almost the same age as Tom having been born only a few months later but in very different circumstances.

He was the only son of vastly wealthy man and heir to a fortune, but she was the daughter of their local vicar who relied upon his salary and a free house just to survive. Although living so near to each other Tom, since his first attraction to opposite sex, had admired from afar this gorgeous creature. However she had always preferred men to boys.

"Hello Tom," was all she said upon arrival while displaying a face set in a moody scowl. And having eventually thrown herself onto a nearby sun lounger and set the swinging seat moving she seemed resigned to spending a boring hour or two in his company.

Because she had done so badly at school Fiona Napier had taken a dead end job as a Dental Receptionist in a nearby town. But as the acknowledged beauty of the village and the surrounding area she led a busy social life which was only marred by her father's insistence on a ridiculous curfew regime.

"As long as you live under my roof you obey my rules." Was his regular reproach to his only daughter.

Tom assumed, correctly as it happened, that Fiona still looked upon him as a callow youth but as he covertly watched the glum face he knew for sure that she had changed.

Since his last sight of Fiona she had gone from an admittedly sexy but still developing girl into being a dazzling young woman from whom he had great difficulty in dragging his eyes. So despite the confidence he had gained during a recent summer affair this highly desirable and hitherto unattainable woman had in a moment, and without any effort on her part, simply knocked him sideways.

Having only lately grown a bit wiser in his dealings with the opposite sex Tom tried belatedly to hide his interest only to find that the effort was all in vain for Fiona was paying him no attention whatsoever.

But perhaps because he then made no attempt to initiate a conversation it wasn't long before the young lady did become intrigued. She wasn't used to encountering young men who remained entirely unaffected by her presence and was suddenly unsure what had changed in their previous nodding acquaintance.

Then as she began secretly to take stock of the young man sat opposite she became convinced that this new version of the boy she had previously ignored might now be worthy of her notice.

Having regained some measure of self control Tom became happy just to drink in the sight of this peerless young woman. With her one foot lifted negligently onto the cushion he could see a firm sweep of smooth golden thigh visible through the opening in her split skirt, and the swell of mature breasts emphasised by a tight blouse. Her sun bleached hair was long and heavy and her sensual lips glistened in the strong light.

Catching sight of his admiring look she suddenly and magically smiled and her whole face lit up but, delightful as this sudden transformation was, Fiona then raised deep cornflower blue eyes to meet his own and his whole world shifted in an instant.

"Let's go for a walk," he said now feeling way out of his depth and unable to sit still a moment longer.

Fiona Napier had joined Tom in an artificially constructed bowl which was sited well below the West front of his home at Tremaine House. The eighteenth century landscape architect had used the natural slope that fell away from the building to form a sheltered sun trap. He had planted the basin with scented shrubs and in an inspired addition had formed a small ornamental pool with a fountain at its centre. The stone paving had weathered over time into a soft buttery colour and the brick and oak gazebo which overlooked the pool was at present dripping with the blooms of climbing roses.

The heady perfume was soporific as Fiona followed him around the pool to leave the close surroundings of the house and stroll down one of the gravel paths with the terrace and croquet lawn on their left and below that the vast polo lawn.

A topiary arch eventually led them out into the mature 'Capability Brown' landscape, with framed views formed by groups of carefully sited trees revealing occasional glimpses of the rolling deer park beyond.

Tom steered Fiona onto an Italianate bridge where they paused to look down the entire length of an ornamental lake with the pet graveyard on its small rhododendron covered island.

But as they stood in this most romantic of settings, Tom felt an imperative need to test out Fiona's previous preference for older men. He hoped that his tall athletic appearance and his floppy black hair which was cut to fall romantically over one eye would attract Fiona just as it had other women. It was a help that his quartered polo shirt also showed off his tanned muscular arms and the faded jeans emphasised his trim backside, but would Fiona be impressed?

However all this internal probing came to nothing when her quizzical look turned his knees to jelly and he grabbed at her with rather less finesse than he wanted. But she came into the circle of his arms without protest and in doing so her firm breasts became pressed against his chest and with his face then buried in her hair he was completely smitten.

On later reflection he recalled this as being the moment when he was lost to the attractions of any woman other than Fiona. This was a hardly surprising result for he had never before come across a girl quite like Fiona who was in all ways his idea of perfection. Not only was she gorgeous but she had not thrown herself at him and, what's more, she was clearly not on the make.

Up until now all the girls he came across could be put into three categories. Most would have fallen into his bed within days, had he given them the slightest encouragement, and all hoping for a glittering marriage. A smaller group used the promise of sex as a lure and a very few were actually okay girls but they just didn't turn him on. However Fiona was another matter entirely and in his eyes she was now simply without compare.

They eventually continued their walk with Tom feeling in a strange but heightened state of awareness and ended up leaning on a gate at the entrance to the home farm. There Fiona made a move to depart.

"I think my mother must be ready to leave by now. Perhaps we should be getting back to the house."

For answer he finally plucked up the courage to raise her unresisting head in his cupped hands and kiss her deeply. Fiona's body when they came together was soft and compliant and her mouth was already open for his probing tongue. His erection was hard against her stomach and for a moment she writhed against him but then disengaged and smiled.

"Haven't you grown up all of a sudden Tom."

On the walk back to the house he seemed unwilling to move far from her side but finally interrupted the highly charged silence to speak.

"I'm starting university this autumn."

"Where will you go?"

"To the LSE. It's handy because I can live in my apartment in London and come down here at weekends."

They threaded their way through the tiled sculleries and still rooms towards the kitchen which a flush faced Tom finally entered with Fiona close behind.

His arrival spurred the girl's mother to collect her things together ready to depart for she was anxious not to overstay her welcome in front of the owner's son. However so thoroughly flustered was the woman that she quite failed to notice Tom's glowing face and her daughter's look of quiet satisfaction.

...

Tom answered his car phone to hear Fiona's voice. He had already driven through the village and was about to turn into the gates of Tremaine Place but wasn't to know that she had heard the unmistakeable sound of his Porche 911 as it had passed the vicarage.

Three years had passed since he had tasted her lips but the call made it seem like yesterday.

As a result it was later that day when he watched her fall back on the same swinging seat as on that earlier occasion looking flushed and totally delectable. The flush could be attributed to the welcome home kiss that she had surprisingly bestowed upon him, but the delicious appearance far exceeded his memories. In fact her Mona Lisa smile had taken years of rehearsal in front of her bedroom mirror to reach its present state of perfection.

"Do you still fancy me?" She asked out of the blue.

Not surprisingly Tom needed time to think before he could even formulate a reply. Why had she asked the question so directly? What was in her mind?

He had in fact spent the years whilst attaining his Degree in a vain attempt to get her out of his mind. He had played hard and worked hard and had slept with more than his fair share of women but it really hadn't even dented his all-consuming desire for Fiona. Her first words on the phone not three hours ago had revived all his dormant desire, no, his hopeless love for her.

Now being with Fiona again he was forced to acknowledge that she was without doubt better than all his past conquests. The more he thought about the matter the more he realised that she was the only woman that he had met who did not appear to be motivated by greed. Indeed she seemed totally unaffected either by his riches or by the prospect of grabbing some of them for herself.

"What do you think?"

This eventual reply was pure sitting on the fence but he followed it up immediately with his own telling retaliation.

"But never mind that...why aren't you married by now, especially considering all the blokes that hang after you."

"I might have been," she said eventually, "but for the fact that their life centres around what's in their trousers."

He grinned because observing Fiona over the years had taught him that she didn't suffer fools gladly. But she wasn't finished yet in damning her hangers on.

"And it's all so boring when they reckon that for the price of a night out they can get in my pants."

Then suddenly he couldn't read her face anymore. Her expression had become closed to him so Tom took the opportunity to explore his own feelings even further. There was now no doubt in his mind that he loved her, loved her to distraction, but he needed to be very careful how he proceeded for rejection now would be unbearable.

The ice rattled as he got up to refill their glasses and then returned to his seat from where he continued his covert watch until there came a time when she suddenly broke into a lazy smile.

Now fully aware of his attention she shifted slightly, lifted her shoulders to emphasise the line of her bosom and when he eventually dragged his gaze from her breasts Tom realised that her eyes were now fixed upon his.

"I've got to go now but could we meet after church tomorrow?"

Her voice was unusually husky and he reacted entirely viscerally but also fully aware that she was hanging desperately upon his reply.

"Yea, okay,"

Clearly relieved and pleased with this promise she made a production of extricating herself elegantly from the lounger and departed through the topiary with her hips swinging in triumph.

...

At eleven o'clock that night Tom's mobile rang. He answered with a grunt.

"What are you doing," Fiona asked. "Are you alone?"

"On the computer, and yes," he replied non committedly although the sound of her soft voice had given him an instant erection. "What are you doing?"

"I'm lying on my bed"

Then a sudden thought entered his head and he risked all when he spoke.

"What are you wearing?"

There was a silence as he heard her exhale, then, "wearing? Nothing."

The reply temporarily removed his ability to breath but once he recovered enough to noisily drag in a lung full of air she finally got to the point of her call.

"Tom," she paused dramatically, "I'm not a prick teaser, am I?"

There was a strained silence before he finally managed to reply in a neutral voice which, especially to his own ears, lacked any conviction.

"Of course not."

He was now wondering what on earth had brought this on.

"It's not that I don't sometimes want to go all the way it's just that I've never met anyone that I wanted to do it with...so don't you dare laugh when I tell you that I'm still a virgin."

Now he was struck silent by amazement. He had assumed that Fiona must have lost her cherry years ago. Surely twenty years was far too long for such a fabulous woman to be still virgo intacta?

Then suddenly he was beginning to see where this was leading but couldn't really bring himself to believe it.

"I think I've got a reputation around here for being just that."

"Wow," he mouthed silently to himself. There was then a highly charged silence as he waited for what he was now hoping would follow.

"It would be nice if you were the first." She whispered making all his dreams come true. "Nice if you volunteered."

There was an understandable moment of silence before she signed off.

"See you tomorrow in church."

Unknown to Tom she had then turned onto her stomach and with a hand thrust under her body and with fingers caressing her erect clitoris slipped easily into her current and increasingly elaborate fantasy.

She was being held captive in a desert oasis by a hard eyed and hook nosed sheik. She was being forced to wait on this man hand and foot and to suffer thrilling but unspeakable sexual indignities. (Fiona would have been scared out of her wits if this actually happened in real life but as a dream it was all somehow acceptable.)

At the critical point she was rescued by a handsome dashing hero whose face that night somehow morphed into the features of Tom Cassavettes. He had pulled her up before him on his Arab steed and after a most satisfactory orgasm she had fallen asleep held firmly astride the galloping horse.

He in contrast just punched the air and shouted his thanks to whatever god was at that moment watching over him.

END OF PART 1

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1 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago

I got bored less than a quarter down the page.

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