Sarlene's Touch Ch. 23byFuinimel©
"Thank you for inviting me over," said Kaeranna, stepping into the kitchen, "it's been a while."
Fentik nodded; there had been a number of reasons why he had not seen the gnomish woman recently, and many of them were ones he did not want to admit to. Nor was he going to admit to his ulterior motive for inviting her to his house tonight. Instead, he simply said, "I agree, it's been too long, but with one thing and another... well, I hope to make up for it tonight. Just you and me... you don't mind that, do you?"
"No, of course not," she said, smiling, "I think the last time we really met was at Lugdan's, and it seemed that half the gnomes in the city were there. It will be nice to have a bit more quiet..." her eyes widened, as she saw how he had decorated the table, with a white cloth and his best cutlery, not to mention two silver candlesticks, which cast the only the light in the room aside from the roaring fire in the hearth. "All this in honour of me? I'm impressed."
"Thank you," he said, "as you said, it's been a while, and I wanted to make up for that. I hope you like the food as much."
He pulled out a chair, and motioned for her to sit. As she did so, he rested his hand briefly on her shoulder, feeling her warmth through the white cotton of her blouse. He kept it there just a second longer than was strictly necessary, but she did not respond. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? Possibly good, he thought, but he would have to see how the evening played out.
He stepped over to the fireplace to pick up the hot food, placing it carefully on the table. He kept glancing at Kaeranna as he did so, admiring the way the firelight caught her face. They had known each other since they were children, growing up together in the gnomish quarter of Haredil, and Fentik had had a crush on her for as long as he could remember. She liked him, certainly, but they had always seemed to be no more than friends.
Or so he had thought until recently – now he wondered whether that had just been his natural reticence. He had, after all, never really done anything to indicate he wanted more than just friendship. Looking back, that was as much due to a fear of rejection as for any other reason. He was, if truth were told, still worried about that possibility, but things had changed.
The reason for that change, of course, was Vardala.
"Wine?" he asked, pouring some out for her when she accepted. He sat down opposite her, and removed the lid of the dish to reveal roast chicken and vegetables. He had spent some time on the preparation of the meal, which had, as it turned out, been timed to perfection. If nothing else happened tonight, at least they would eat well.
She complemented him on the dinner as he began to serve it out, watching her every reaction. She was dressed in traditional gnomish garb, with long skirts that reached to her ankles, and a white blouse beneath a brown felt waistcoat embroidered with yellow and green thread. His eyes wandered over the flower patterns around the edges, and the small ivory buttons down the front. It was a good quality waistcoat, surely one of her best, but he tried not to make it obvious that he was also admiring the curve of her body beneath its tight contours.
"So what have you been up to?" he asked, sitting down and beginning to tuck in.
He listened attentively to the answers, the stories of the domestic lives of the local gnomes, their small trials and tribulations. This, he reflected, was what he could never share with Vardala, for they just did not have any connection on that level. She probably had a servant for domestic chores, but they had never even talked about that. Twice now she had come into his house, they had had energetic sex, and then... well, pretty much she just got dressed and left again.
It was bewildering. The sex was certainly good in its own way – if physically exhausting, for the rogue was a demanding woman. Perhaps that was all she needed, but it was not enough for him, and the next time they met he resolved to tell her so. But she had, in a way, left him with a gift: the newfound confidence to approach the woman he really wanted, that he had always wanted. He just hoped that Kaeranna felt the same about him.
He watched her across the table, admiring her blue eyes, the way her lips moved when she smiled, the coiled braids of her blond hair. How had it taken him so long to build up the courage? Why had it taken another woman, not at all like this one, to make him appreciate his true desires?
"Enough about me," said Kaeranna, breaking his reverie, "how have you been? Met anyone interesting lately?"
"Uh, no..." he said. Unbidden, the memory of Vardala's second visit sprang to his mind. She had just turned up one evening, strolled into his house, leaving him flustered and a little embarrassed. She had said something about going away for a short while – tonight, in fact, which was why he had chosen it for this meeting, knowing he would not be interrupted. It seemed that just a few moments later she was leaning across this very table, trews and panties around her ankles as he took her vigorously from behind.
He glanced down at his food, trying to hide the blush of shame, and not wanting to meet Kaeranna's eyes. He was glad that the table hid the swelling in his trews, but he shifted uncomfortably in his chair all the same. Vardala was not who he wanted to be thinking about tonight.
"Still on your own, hmm?" asked Kaeranna, apparently misinterpreting the cause of his sudden embarrassment. "Well, you know you always have a friend."
She reached across the table, holding his hand in hers, making his heart leap at the gentle touch. He shot her a grin, perhaps wider than he had intended, but a few seconds later, the hand withdrew.
"Not entirely on my own," he confessed, "I mean, I go down to the tavern in the evening with the lads. And there's the neighbours..."
"I didn't mean you were a hermit, silly!" said Kaeranna, laughing, "just that you live here on your own. I may still live with my family, but there's nobody special in my life at the moment, either, so we're the same like that, if you think about it."
"Both looking for companionship, you mean?"
"Yes," she said, leaning forward on the table, resting her chin on one hand. Her voice lowered, and he saw that her blue eyes were fixed on his, "perhaps we haven't been looking in the right place?"
Instinctively, he leaned forward too, until their faces weee just inches apart. She made no move to back off. "Or looking, but not really seeing?" he asked.
"Something like that."
He raised himself up slightly until he could reach her, and kissed her briefly on the lips. Her eyes never wavered, so he kissed her again, slightly longer this time, feeling her respond, eyelids fluttering shut. Then the moment was gone, and they pulled apart, attention returning to the meal, each lost in their own thoughts.
At last, they finished the last of the food, and it was Kaeranna who broke the uncomfortable silence, "Do you have any more wine?"
"Yes, of course," replied Fentik, jumping to his feet, and pouring her another goblet.
"Thanks – I think I need it," she said, taking a deep draught and then motioning for another refill.
She stood up then, and walked across to the rug in front of the fire, sitting down demurely, folding her long skirts beneath her. Fentik stood still for a moment, remembering how he had first taken Vardala in front of that fire, how it had taken every ounce of his strength to satisfy her. Forcing his mind back to the present, he moved to sit beside the other gnome, wondering how far he could take this tonight, and silently praying that it would be all the way.
Kaeranna snuggled up against him, putting an arm around his back, and taking another sip of the wine. "What were we saying earlier?" she asked, her voice soft.
"This, I think," he replied, putting one arm around her, and raising her chin with the other, melting into a long kiss. She responded in kind, shifting slightly against him to get a better angle as his tongue tasted the wine in her mouth. Her eyes closed, and the kiss seemed to go on for a long time before they finally released each other, each drawing deep breaths. She quickly drained the remainder of her goblet, putting it away carefully at the edge of the carpet.
Kaeranna rested her head on Fentik's shoulder, cuddling up against him, reaching out to hold his free hand. He traced her fine fingers one by one, watching the flickering firelight play across them.
"This is nice," she said, and he moved slightly to kiss the blonde hair on the top of her head, saying nothing. "My parents will be wondering where I am," she added, not moving from her position.
He felt a stab of disappointment, but trying to keep it from his voice asked, "how long do you think you can stay?"
"Oh, a little while yet," she said, moving to kiss him again. "I don't want this to end," she added, "just you and me. Why haven't we done this before? You know I've always liked you."
"I... I don't know," he admitted, "I didn't know what you'd say, I guess. Uh, you've really always liked me? As more than a friend?"
"Of course – don't tell me you didn't know!" She laughed, and they kissed again, her hand behind his head, as his own traced the shape of her thigh through the long skirts.
"Not for certain. I wish I had. It would have... well, it would have made some differences."
She smiled again, a flash of white teeth behind pale lips, "well, you have me now. All to yourself. For a little while at least."
Fentik composed himself, realising that now was the time to ask, to see how far he could go. "Do you think you could stay until breakfast?" he asked, the words coming out in a rush, "I'd like to make one for you." Oh, how different this was than it had been with Vardala! This time it mattered, and that made all the difference.
"Fentik!" she said in a shocked voice, eyes wide, and pulling away from him a little.
He cursed himself inwardly, his mind racing through ways to recover. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."
"Yes, you did," she replied, her eyes still wide, but her voice a little gentler again. "On our first date! Our first proper date, anyway, it's not that I don't know you. And..." she paused, casting her eyes to the floor, "it's not that I..." She stopped, and began again, "it's just that it was unexpected, that's all. But... but..." she looked at him, and he tried to read the expression on her face, as she was doubtless trying to read his, "but I really would like to try one of your breakfasts. Really."
He moved round to lift her up, one arm round her shoulders, the other under her legs, holding her close to his chest as he stood and turned to face the door that led to the stairs. Kaeranna pressed herself against him, her arms around his neck.
"Fentik," she said, as they reached the foot of the stairs. Her voice sounded serious, and he stopped, waiting for her to continue speaking. When she did so, her voice faltered slightly, "I'm a virgin."
He kissed her forehead; surprised to find that the thought had not particularly occurred to him. "I'll be gentle," he said. And he would be; this was not Vardala.
"Could you light a candle?" asked Kaeranna, "I'd like to see you."
Only the lesser moon was above the horizon at the moment, and it was a crescent, shedding little light into the bedroom. Fentik fumbled in the darkness, soon locating and lighting a candle, then placing it on a table. In the pool of yellow light, he could see the gnomish woman sitting on the bed, her hands clasped together on her knees, twisting the fabric of her long dress.
She was still fully clothed, although he himself was already stripped to the waist. He pulled his boots off, and, seeing no further movement from her, moved to sit beside her. Kaeranna's eyes wandered over his chest and belly, but still she made no move. Hoping she wasn't having second thoughts, he took one of her hands in his, and kissed her on the cheek.
"You're all right?" he asked, receiving only a silent nod in response. When he kissed her, she took a second or two to respond, but soon she melted into his arms, reticence forgotten for now. Her hands caressed his bare back, and slowly she slid round to the front, running her fingers through the short hair on his chest.
Still leaning across to kiss her, he reached for the buttons on her waistcoat, undoing them one by one. She pulled away from him for a moment, but only to remove the item of clothing, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bedside cabinet. That done, she turned back to face him, her gaze now moving downwards to the hem of his trews, where the bulge was becoming uncomfortable.
She fumbled with his belt, undoing the clasp, and he stood up, helping her to pull his trews down, and then stepping out of them. Her eyes were fixed on the visible tenting of his drawers with what seemed to be trepidation. He reached across and squeezed her shoulder, trying to look reassuring, and she smiled at him in reply.
Her hands went to her own blouse, pulling the base free of the wide leather belt she was wearing, halting for a moment as she glanced at him to see his reaction. Obviously detecting nothing but his rapt attention, she lifted the garment over her head, pulling her arms free, then folding it neatly on top of the waistcoat. She even pressed it a little, smoothing it down, taking a few extra seconds over the task.
Underneath the blouse she was wearing a typical gnomish halter, a light garment covering her breasts, with a strap behind the neck and done up with three small buttons at the front. Fentik's eyes drank in the curve of her body beneath the cotton, and the smooth skin of her belly beneath. He moved to sit beside her again, taking her by one bare shoulder and kissing her on the lips. Her hands fluttered along his flanks, dipping lower to the curve of his hips at the waistband of his drawers.
As they broke free from the kiss, he leaned backwards as her gaze returned to his only remaining piece of clothing, the tenting now more visible than ever. It was she that made the first move, sliding it down, and letting out a little gasp as his erection sprang free,
She seemed to be frozen, so he reached out, stroking her neck and arm. "It's," she cleared her throat, "it's larger than I thought."
Fentik tried – and failed – to suppress a grin at the remark, but she didn't seem to notice his reaction, for she was not looking at his face. She reached out to stroke his hips, sliding her fingers across their inner curve, making him catch his breath. She brushed his public hair, before moving her hand round to feel the shape of his balls. He gasped out loud as she traced her fingers along his length, and she flashed a grin in his direction, evidently pleased with his response.
He kissed her again, taking her in his arms, their lips locked together passionately, hands exploring each other's bodies. She was breathing heavily when he finally released her, breasts rising and falling beneath the halter top. He undid the lowest button on the garment, but it was she who raced to undo the others, turning away from him to remove it and place it with her other clothes.
She turned back, her arms across her breasts, blushing. She was about to say something, but seemed unable to find the words, so he pressed a finger to her lips and made a slight hushing sound. Gently, he took her arms, finding no resistance as he moved them to her sides. Her breasts were pert and rounded with large pale aureoles, and she made no move as he began to stroke them. For long had he dreamt of seeing them, touching them? Encouraged by her reactions, he continued his fondling, rubbing his fingers across both nipples as she gasped in response.
He kissed one of her breasts, running his tongue over the smooth skin, sucking the nipple before turning his attention to the other. Kaeranna threw her head back, letting out a few quiet pants of pleasure, and pressing her body towards him. He released her breast, taking her head in both hands to kiss her again, feeling the shape of her against his chest, the rhythm of her breathing.
He felt her hand on his cock again, stroking it, and he moved back to watch, as she gazed at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. She was still wearing the long skirt, covering her legs, and held up by a wide leather belt. Hungrily, he reached out for it, undoing the buckle, slipping it free, and pulling her skirts down. She reached for them as they slid down her calves, evidently planning to place them on the bedside cabinet.
"Don't worry about that now," he told her, sliding her legs free, and lifting them up onto the bed, so that that she was now half-sitting on it, propped on her arms, naked breasts rising and falling with each breath.
She had not removed her boots, which were dark in colour, laced up at the sides, reaching to above her ankles. It would take a while to undo them, and he did not feel the need to do so just yet, instead admiring the curve of her legs, now free from the confines of the long skirt.
He sat still, in rapture, eyes wandering over every feature of her body, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. This was the woman he had admired for years, who had haunted his dreams. For so long he had been enthralled by the beauty of her face, her deep blue eyes and soft blonde hair, her pink lips and cheery smile. Now she was lying in front of him, clad only in lace-up leather boots and a pair of brief panties. How often had he fantasised about this moment, yet never daring to take the initiative to bring it about?
He wanted to just sit there, drinking in that view. Her belly was smooth, yet not too slender, her thighs and calves deliciously curved, pale skin contrasting against the dark of her boots. Her breasts were magnificent, just the right size, and had felt so delightful beneath his hands and against his lips. He remembered the feel of her nipples hardening beneath his tongue, and his cock felt as if it might burst.
Kaeranna smiled nervously, breaking him out of his reverie. Looking down, he ran a hand over one of her knees, and drifted it over the outer thigh, bending to kiss the pale skin there. Then he teased her legs apart a little, kissing the inner curve just a little higher up. He shifted up on the bed until his head was level with her hips and the brief cotton that still concealed her sex.
He pulled her panties down, revealing her blonde bush, but she suddenly pressed her thighs together, making it difficult for him to continue the task. As gently as he could, he pulled her legs apart again, and at last, she was naked, apart from her boots. He stroked her mound, and then kissed it, feeling the hairs against his lips. Pulling her legs further apart, he gazed at her pussy, illuminated only by the glow of the candle, and ran a finger along its damp length, making her shudder with pleasure.
There was one thing Vardala had taught him, one thing he was determined to try on the beautiful gnomish woman before him. He took one of her rounded thighs in his hand, and moved it so that it lay over his shoulder, as he lowered himself towards her. Hungrily, he kissed her pussy lips, running the tip of his tongue from one end to the other, savouring the taste of her.
As if puzzled by his actions, Kaeranna let out a little cry of surprise. "What are you?..." she began, followed by a little "Oh" of understanding, and then a much longer one of unrestrained pleasure. The young gnome gasped as he continued licking her, probing deeper into her folds. "That's good," she said, dropping her arms to lay full length on the bed. "Oh yes, keep doing that..." She reached a hand down to tousle his hair, encouraging him. He flicked her clit with his tongue and she let out a wordless moan, her hips reflexively bucking against the bed sheets.