Yorkshire Pudding Ch. 05

Her dark red landing strip is just as he remembered it, a 1 1/2 " wide patch of thick pubic hair running from just above her hood and fading out just a few inches shy of her navel. The rest of her is waxed smooth and bare, her English rose complexion almost porcelain white.

But her face is flushed and her eyes are wide with desire as she pushes herself back, fully onto the bed, knees bent, feet flat, spread wide apart, she reaches down and runs her finger up and down through her cleft. She pushes the finger inside, brings it out, rich with her excitement which she smears back and forth onto her labia, adding a second finger to the party.

Reaching under her thigh with her other hand, she pulls herself open and the two fingers, spread her outer labia, bringing her inner folds into the light.

She and Hank have not spoken since her knicker request. She watches him as his eyes flit back and forth from her vulva to her face. She cocks her head, an unspoken 'Well?' in her eyes.

Hank unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly and reaches in to free his raging hard on. Stepping down onto the flared sole of his trainers he pulls his feet out of each one, then lets his pants drop to the floor and steps out of them.

"Nicely done." She sinks both fingers into herself and begins digging around as he begins to stroke.

"You know, I think that sometime this week we should masturbate for each other, all the way to climax. I want to watch you make yourself come. But right now, I want you to eat my cunt because I have been fantasizing about it for six weeks."

Hank needs no urging and grabbing her ankles, pivots her and pulls her bottom back to the edge of the bed. Dropping to his knees, he hangs her knees on his shoulders. She is holding herself open for him and he dips down and starts licking her in long deep furrows. Her need rushes to the fore and her hands clamp his head to herself, urging him on.

She rolls her hips back, exposing her ass and he begins licking from her anus to her clit in sloppy, wet madness. He easily slips a finger into her ass and focuses on her clit. She has become very vocal and has crossed her legs behind his neck, keeping him to the task.

Sliding his finger in and out of her ass, he can feel it sucking on him and he knows she is close.

"Oh Hank, Hank." She begins to come and he works her ass furiously, trying to heighten her enjoyment.

Abruptly, she seems to be done, her legs fall away from his shoulders and she starts scrambling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. There heads are level and she kisses and licks her fluids from his face.

"Stand up Hank, it's my turn." She tugs at him and he rises. Before he can lock his knees, she has his cock in her mouth. She takes long draws with her tongue cradling the soft underbelly of his penis, then moves to sucking the crown with just her lips. Just as the feeling seems unbearable, she moves to sucking his balls, getting both jammed into her mouth as her hand strokes his slimy cock.

In a fashion similar to his recent eating of her pussy, she is sloppy, wet and nearly mad with her lust.

Finally, she jams him deep into her mouth, his crown tickling the entrance to her throat. She begins manically throat fucking him, his cock never leaving her mouth, her tongue and cheeks squeezing away at his shaft.

She finally pulls clear and looks up at him. Her hair is askew and sweat is now matting it to her forehead. Throat drool is dangling off her chin. "Come for me Hank, I want to taste you now."

She wraps the drool around her middle finger and reaches between his legs and smoothly sinks it into his ass.

She slides her mouth back around his cock and he steadies himself, palms on her head. He squats slightly, allowing her finger to push deeper into his rectum. She hooks it up against his prostrate and pushes in time with her mouth movements.

Hank cries out and begins unloading himself into her, his sphincter spasming around her finger.

She locks her lips around the base of his shaft as she concentrates on swallowing the load pumping from him into her mouth. He feels her swallowing against his crown. While her right hand keeps working his prostate, her left arm wraps around his butt holding him tight against her face, pushing him to her as she continues her feast.

Finally, she releases his ass and stands. He leans down and they kiss. Her mouth coated with his semen, her tongue pushing trails of it into him.

"Oh, god that was wonderful. I wanted to fuck you but I did not want to have your come spilling down my legs at Prada or Yves St Laurent. At least not today. And with the load you just shot into me, I could have left a slug trail the length of the Champs Elysee!"

"Let's get dressed, because a man that eats my cunt the way you do should look as good as he licks. And there is nothing in your wardrobe that is up to that."

Miriam picks up his trainers, moves them to the closet and pulls out his worn but well cared for RM Williams ranch boots.

"No trainers allowed in the shops we are heading to. Plus those Aussie boots of yours are a nice match for mine."

Miriam watches him dress, marveling at how unselfconscious he is and how he makes her feel the same way -- remembering their final moments in Yorkshire when they discovered they were something so much more than a one night fling.

When will he disappointment me? When will I disappoint him? It's inevitable. Whatever it is, will it be enough to dull this magic lightning between us?

Hank, feeling self-conscious as can be, looks at Miriam as he dresses. He marvels at how comfortable he feels when naked with her, but now feels like he is Johnny Bumpkin. Clothes are not going to change me. I will never match her for style and sophistication. But god, I am more than willing to try.

I wonder, when will she disappointment me? When will I disappoint her? It's inevitable. Whatever it is, will it be enough to stop this amazing river that is sweeping us along?

"Miriam, I am not sure you are going to be able to polish me up as shiny as you are hoping."

Henry,........ It is Henry isn't it? I am quite confident that you are the one who will be mistaken when we are done. You are going to shine pretty brightly when I am done. If not, you can give me a good spanking. Well, maybe I should flip that. If not, I won't let you give me a good spanking."

"Yes, it is Henry, but no one ever calls me that, although it sounds great when you say it. As far as a good spanking goes, you continue to be one of the most interesting, compelling women I know and I hope you are right and get to reward you with a nice pink bum."

"That's my Hank! Now zip me up."

She has stepped into a shirtwaisted, off white cotton dress and is folding her breasts into a demi cup bra that gives the round neck of her dress a tantalizing peek of cleavage. He zips up her back and marvels at how sexy a woman in her mid sixties can be.

She folds a large scarf into a triangle and knots it mid chest, covering her shoulders. Then she steps into one jodhpur boot and waits...............

Hank laughs and easily drops to knees, zipping the inside and wrapping the straps around her ankle. She steps into the other boot and he repeats the process.

"Thank you. I can't wait to return the favor!"

Leaving the hotel, it's a few blocks to the Rue du Rivoli and an immediate dogleg into the Jardin des Tuileries.

She hooks her arm through his and leans against him lightly as they stroll it's length.

At the Place de la Concorde, she pushes him to the right, directing him onto the Rue Royale and the real estate rapidly changes as they near the intersection with Rue de Faubourg St Honore.

"Do you remember surrendering yourself to me in Yorkshire."

"Which time?"

"You know which time, when I milked your prostate and invented our Yorkshire Pudding."

"Oh, yeah, how could I forget." Hank laughs.

"Well, I am going to ask you to give yourself to me just as fully this afternoon. Don't roll your eyes, don't tell me what is right for you, don't do anything other than letting me dress you for my pleasure. If you do this, I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

"Okay, I am willing to surrender and trust you absolutely."

"Thank you Henry. Allow me to be your Pygmalion."

At the corner of FBG St Honore they enter the Prada boutique and she confidently guides him to the second floor. His French is far too rudimentary to keep up with Miriam and the saleswoman, who quickly guides them to a couch by the changing rooms, seats them and heads off on what appears to be a detailed mission.

Before she returns, another salesperson delivers a liter of Voss water and two glasses, fills them and steps away.

Hank has shopped in fine stores before, but this treatment is bit beyond his experience, but he made a promise and relaxes into being pampered. In the back of his mind, he wonders what they must charge for this type of service..............

The saleswoman returns with two identical shirts and two jackets.

Miriam smiles. "I took a peek at your jacket and shirt sizes, which seem to vary, plus these are cut a bit tighter, so let's see which work best. In you go!" She motions to the mirrored changing room door that the saleswoman is holding open.

Hank enters the room slowly unbuttons his shirt, feeling young, foolish and out of place having a woman shop for him. Terri never took him shopping.

The shirt feels a bit slick to the touch and he examines the label.........77% cotton, 20% polyamide, 3% elastine.......... Yuck, it's almost a quarter synthetic. He puts it on and begins to button it up, but can already tell from the sleeves it is going to be too small.

Tossing it onto the chair by his formerly thought of "fancy" Ralph Lauren, he slips into the next shirt and notices that it stretches a bit as he buttons the cuffs. Tucking it into his waist band, he turns and faces the mirror.

The rich navy blue actually looks fantastic and seems to have been custom made for him. He crosses his arms and feels the shoulder yoke give way to the stretch. The shirt almost feels alive.

Huh! Okay, well maybe...........

Examining the jackets, he pulls the larger of the two.

The first thing he notices is it's tactile impression which is so soft as to define luxury in one touch. He doesn't have to look, but does anyway........ cashmere. He slips into the jacket and it actually feels like a caress, a hug.

At first glance he thought it matched the shirt, but while also navy blue, it is several shades darker and against the shirt is almost black. He turns side to side and for the first time notices canted mirrors flanking the main one.

Damn, he looks pretty great from every angle!

"Come on Henry, we are waiting out here."

He pushes the door open. Miriam and the saleswoman simply stare for a moment.........

"Bravo!" exclaims the saleswoman.

"Oh Hank, I am speechless. I mean, I thought you would look good, but damnit man..................! How do you feel?"

"Actually, I feel fantastic! These feel like they were custom made for me. And this shirt is a quarter polyester!"

" Non, monsieur, it is Prada poplin..... polyamide et celsatine. Sir, you look marvelous."

"Hank, please go try these slacks and jeans with it."

He retreats back to the dressing room and puts on the jeans first. They are too large by an inch or two.

Holding the waist excess, he steps out and says, "I think the length is okay, but the waist is way too big." And he retreats back to his changing room.

Almost before he can get the jeans off, the door opens and Miriam steps in with another set of slacks and jeans.

"Did I tell you recently how much I love you? Thank you for doing this and by the way, Jacqueline was right, you look marvelous."

She turns and leaves Hank standing there, all socks and bare legs, feeling somewhere between Adonis and Barney Fife.

This pair fits really well. The waist is perfect, it hugs his butt, but when he squats, it gives a bit, probably the..... elastine....he guesses.

Turning to the mirror, he is a man transformed and actually hurries himself out of the jeans and into the slacks, eager to see his next metamorphis. They slide onto him like snakeskin.

Apart from the lack of a belt and suitable shoes, he is transformed. Before he can say anything, the door opens and Miriam's arm comes through with a black, alligator belt. He cinches it up and as the French say; "Voila!"

He pulls on his RM Williams and steps out onto the main floor.

"Okay, Jacqueline, we will take the lot. Jacket, slacks, jeans, belt and two more shirts in the colors we discussed."

"Whoa, wait a second...." Hank pulls his right wrist up to look at the tag on the jacket....... €3,500! Even with the dollar now at parity, that is $3,500 and we have not even gotten to the shirts and pants. "Miriam, let's take a beat to discuss."

"No, Hank, this is part of the deal and you did make a promise."

It's not really the money. Well, actually, yeah it is the money. This is more than he has ever spent on a piece of clothing. He has a leather jacket that cost $1,500 and that was the former zenith of his wardrobe spending.

Retreating to the changing room, he quickly looks at the shirt €850 (times three), jeans €400, slacks €600 and belt €1,000. Quick math plus the jacket brings the total to €8,200. This is insane. Can he afford it? Actually, yes. The suite they are staying in is costing him €2,000 a night. It's just he has never spent this kind of money on clothing.

But damn, he looks good! He puts the jeans back on and takes off the jacket. Not crazy about the dress belt with jeans though, going to need a wider one for them...... He changes back into his Ralph Lauren shirt and Levis and bundles the clothes across his arm.

As he steps out of the changing room Jacqueline sweeps them all away from him and takes them behind the counter and begins folding and bagging them up.

"You look shell shocked!"

"I am, a bit. You were right, they look great and feel great too. I actually cannot wait to put them back on."

Hank wanders over to the belt rack looking for a wider belt for his new jeans. Miriam watches him, smiling and loving him for being so open with his pleasure and pleased that he stuffed his sticker shock so quickly.

"What are you looking for?"

"A wider belt for the jeans. Mine is a bit worn and I think the dress belt I just bought is too skinny."

"I love that you have immersed yourself in this."

Jacqueline comes around the counter with two large, black bags and presents them to Hank. "Merci, Monsiuer, bonne journeé." Hank reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Miriam stays his arm against his side, blocking the exit of his hand from his pocket. "This was my treat."

"No, absolutely not." He attempts to pull his wallet out and is surprised at how firm her grip is.

"It's already done.......... Merci, Jacqueline." She hooks her arm through his, grabbing his wrist and keeping his hand pinned into his pocket. They descend the stairs and step out into that unique light that is Paris.

"Good god, Miriam, that was unnecessary."

"No more unnecessary than that suite we are staying in. Watching you blossom in there was truly worth the price of admission for me. Your acceptance of what I know was massive sticker shock was impressive. And we are not done, you still get to participate, after all, you still need some shoes and an overcoat."

She leans into him again and the feeling is one of being in synch with the world.

At Ferragamo, she delights in him doing the actual shopping, but asking for her opinion on each choice. Finally deciding on a pair of classic Ferragamo loafers with thick, walking soles and a pair of black, dress Chelsea boots. He also finds a reversible belt that will work with his new jeans and the dress slacks.

At YSL, Miriam is greeted by name and he is beginning to think there may be a bit more to her than is currently known to him. On the ground floor, they are escorted to another seating area and this time offered champagne, still and sparkling water. Miriam takes a flute of champagne while Hank sticks with water.

The saleswoman introduces herself and apologizes that it being summer, they don't have the fall line yet and the remaining summer items are somewhat limited.......... She shows Miriam a few tops and dresses and takes those chosen to the changing room for her.

"Have a seat Hank, you are going to be my stylist for today."

Hank sits back and proceeds to watch her come out in each outfit. A few get exchanged for another size, a few get discarded.

The final piece is a shift of floral lace that is beyond see through. Miriam steps out of the changing room................... The lace is an open weave with sequin flowers and metallic overtones worked into the random pattern. A strategically placed flower covers her delta, barely hiding her burgundy landing strip. But in hiding her pudenda, it further emphasizes how naked she is. Braless, her areola are on prominent display, nipples erect, flowers in their own right. Hank swallows, the sales girl applauds and Miriam just smiles.

"I would never do this in London. And I am not sure I will wear it in this fashion outside of our suite."

Hank is still speechless as she leads him upstairs to look for an overcoat. They don't have a large selection of overcoats as it is summer, but Hank already has something in mind. Since he is constantly traveling, he wants something light and preferably water resistant, if not waterproof.

He finds exactly what he was hoping for. A long, belted raincoat that has plenty of style, but can be rolled up into a suitcase corner when not needed. Miriam claps her hands in delight as she watches him go through the options with purpose.

He makes his purchase. When they return to the ground floor and add her purchases, they realize they have reached critical mass in terms of shopping bags and decide to call it an afternoon. The YSL doorman quickly flags a taxi and bundles them into the cab, laps filled with black, orange and grey bags.

They discuss dinner options, but the drive is so short that no decisions are made before they arrive at the hotel. The doorman, gathers up all their purchases and turns them over to a bellman. Hank is used to 5 star properties but has never been that comfortable with porterage. However, he goes with protocol on this one.

Squeezing together like little kids, they share a pie slice of the revolving door as they enter the hotel. Then they walk hand in hand to the front desk where Hank inquires about a package he is expecting.

Looking across the lobby, he notices a young woman staring at him. Something about her feels familiar............ She is the spitting image of Miriam, but younger. Miriam follows his gaze. Her complexion flushes to a rosy pink.

"Oh shit, what is she doing here?"

The woman has risen and is crossing the lobby to them. She is as vibrant and elegant in motion as Miriam. In knee high boots and denim skirt, her stride draws the attention of every man in the lobby. A black silk blouse makes the deep burgundy tones of her hair stand out even more. She is Miriam 30 years younger.

"Hello mother."

"Hello Jane, what brings you to Paris?"

"Well Mum, I guess the same thing that brought you here. I wanted to meet this man. Hi, I guess you have already learned my name, but I am at a loss on yours."

"Hello Jane, I'm Hank."

"Oh god, an American!"

"Guilty as charged."

"Well that is indeed a surprise as my mother generally finds Yanks to be a bit beneath her."

"Jane, let's not make a scene here in the lobby."

"Who's making a scene, I just wanted to find out what had changed my mum. Hank, I don't know you at all, but you must be an incredible man, because you have transformed my mother."