The Amateur Players (Closed for TheWorldBuilder)

[TheWorldBuilder]

Paul's restless dreams were populated by a plethora of Andis. Some snuggled next to him, some walked in the sunshine, a few wrapped their legs around him from behind and clung tight to his waist..... there were Andis on stage, Andis in the theatre kitchen and some shopping with him. The one thing that all the vivacious women by his side had in common, apart from being Andrea, was that they were naked.

A part of his rational mind still told him that the young lass was just a friend, then his desires replied, "What about that kiss?"

It was true, Paul could feel the tingle of her soft lips as if they were still pressed to his.

.....and fish. She'd tasted of fish. In a good way, he thought, a memory of their shared meal.

He wished that she'd chosen his room, sharing a bed like they did at her flat. But no, she was just a friend. A completely un-selfconcious one, happy to strip off in front of him, but still nothing more.

He pondered for a moment: trying to reconcile her apparent panic at the discovery of her stage rôle's true nature, against her relaxed attitude to nudity when she was alone with him. Her enigma persisted, hidden depths beyond that - apparently - guileless façade.

Paul snoozed for a while, but his inconsiderate bladder woke him in the early hours to another fading image of her slim, but definitely feminine, perfection. His conscious mind took up the baton and filled in the details he recalled from that delightful moment when she dropped her towel as she waved her bra for his approval. Fleeting glimpse or no, the sight of her delicately curved and slighly conical pert young breasts was engraved deeply. The old safety circuits that nature had provided took over to eliminate the uncomfortable pressure and, as his erection thickened, all thoughts of the toilet vanished from his mind.

He was about to wrap his hand around his shaft when he recalled that she lay in the next room. He couldn't risk it, what if she heard his involuntary noises? With a reluctant groan, he made his way from the bed to the wet room.

As the light of an unseasonably bright October dawn battered against Paul's curtains, he awoke once more. He lay for a few moments, thinking of those parts of his nocturnal fantasies which still lingered. He could hear faint sounds of motion in the adjoining room and then she crossed to the shared toilet. He pulled his underwear on and left his bedroom, just in time to see her naked back as she returned to hers in just her knickers.

"What do you want for breakfast? I'm having an omelette." he called, as he passed her door.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"That sounds great!" she mumbled, not wanting to think about food, not having the energy to suggest an alternative or explain that she wasn't hungry.

Closing the bedroom door behind her, vaguely aware of the bear walking past in just undershorts, "it's Thursday," she said to herself.

Thursday.

Morning lectures, lunch, evening rehearsal. Rehearsal. Would she be able to do it tonight? Could she actually drop the tunica top on cue and just stand there, half naked? What if someone saw her? Well, that was the whole point. To be seen. It was a stage play, after all.

But she'd never meet anyone from the audience who would see her; by contrast, once off stage she had to meet the looks of the fellow Players. What would they think? Would they be disgusted with her because she undressed on stage?

Paul would be ok because he knew it was part of the script and anyway never seemed to care if she was dressed or not. He probably didn't even notice. Like just now on the way back from the toilet. He cared so little, that he was only in his underwear himself.

No, the problem would be the others. What would Polly think? Mike? Lee? Mandy, Lucy?

Coming back out of her room in just yesterday's t-shirt and knickers, new toothbrush in hand, she clumped her way barefoot downstairs to the kitchen to put the kettle on for her much needed reviving cup of Yorkshire brew.

"Hey," she greeted him. "Is it ok of I take up your offer and use your shower after breakfast?" She waved her toothbrush at him as if the gesture communicated everything that needed to be said; about half moving in, about feeling at home, about wanting to be with him, about wanting him as part of her life.

She sat down at the table, hands cradling the hot brew as was her habit, blowing steam from its dark surface.

"Did you sleep ok?" she asked because it seemed polite, but then dreaded having to explain why she herself had slept so badly. Which made her think she must look hideous.

Andrea smiled to herself. If Paul didn't fancy her before now, there was no way an unshowered, un hair-brushed dishevelled mess with no makeup and sleep in her eyes was going to attract him! But then he'd seen her before, first thing in the morning, the last two times they slept together.

By the time she was sitting in the first of her two morning lectures she was at least awake and fairly alert, even though not exactly concentrating.

Her mind kept drifting from scene to scene. A perfect domestic start to the day with breakfast made by Paul, he liked omlettes, shower in his amazing wet room where she could sing and swing her elbows, and smother herself in one of his enormous towels that would be a sail on any respectable ocean yacht, and kiss his cheek before going to her room to dress.

Then also regret at spending a whole night in his house but not in his bed, snuggled close, his body pressed to hers.

And again to the rehearsal tonight. If she did go for it tonight, would her hands obey this time? They had frozen on Tuesday; would tonight be any different?

Looking down at her lecture notes she saw that she'd only written one word.

Paul.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Andi's tiny feet pattered down the stairs as quietly as a cat. "Is it ok if I take up your offer and use your shower after breakfast?" she asked, waving her new toothbrush.

“Did you see a lock on any of the inside doors?” Paul replied, rhetorically, from the gas hob. “You are welcome to go into any room in this house at any time you want.”

He looked across with tenderness as she sat at the table and asked if he'd slept well. She looked even more adorable in the morning light. Her hair in disarray and her face fresh and natural only increased his perception of her beauty.

”.....dragged through a hedge backwards.” as dear Polly would have put it.

There was a simple reason for her heightened attractiveness, but it lurked in the deeper desires of Paul's hindbrain. He was being aroused by the thought that, in her current state, Andi looked as if she had recently been properly and thoroughly fucked senseless.

His rational mind offered the far more practical, “You need to bring a change of clothing to leave here.”

After Paul had dropped her at Craven College, he continued to the theatre to work on his variation of the traditional tale for the pantomime. He already had an idea of the costume he wanted her to wear, but would she oblige? In a certain way, it was even more revealing than the tunica intima, yet also more modest because of the panto's family audience. It would certainly highlight his favourite part of her.

The clock advanced relentlessly towards 6pm. Paul felt an increasing tension, he really wasn't sure who would stand on that stage with him tonight.... defiant Amazon or timid mouse.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

On her way to the theatre Andrea's phone vibrated to an incoming text.

"Sarah!" She exclaimed in guilty astonishment as she read the message. Andrea had completely forgotten about her sister in the last week or so, being caught up as she was in the mental gymnastics of her relationship with Paul.

Relationship. That made her smile and almost laugh. No one who knew either her or Paul would dream of calling what they had a 'relationship'.

Even so, she had ignored Sarah, who now demanded some attention. Andrea certainly wasn't going to let on about the Players, and how absorbed she had become. She may have mentioned something of it in the early days of her time here in Skipton, but it would be best to quietly ignore more recent developments. Especially developments along the lines of Theatrical Sartorial Disrobement.

Sending back warm greetings, apologies for becoming preoccupied as a New Student coming to terms with the Challenges of College, and accepting the invitation to get together when Sarah came to the approaching College Open Day for next year's prospective students, Andrea then put her phone away and strode quietly into the theatre.

First she checked the kitchen and put things back where they belonged, singing her happy version of the Cohen classic, then drifted into the Green Room where she greeted the other players already starting to change into costume, before topping up the urn and making good shortages in beverage supplies.

By the time she was done there was quite a buzz in the room while the cast donned their various costumes and laughed and chatted. Taking her own minimal costume off the rail, Andrea again slipped away to the Ladies to change.

Once there and alone she stood before the large mirror and tugged the tight t-shirt up over her head, then unsnapped her jeans and forced them over her hips amd bum, laying them on top of the counter next to her top.

Climbing into the tunica intima as Dot had shown her, she forced the garment up over her hips and bum in a reverse of the operation required by the considerably more substantial denim, pulled the top over her shoulders, and reaching under, she tugged her knickers down and off, dropping them on top of her jeans. Then hands behind her back undid the strap and discreetly slipped her bra off, adding it to her pile of discarded Street Clothes.

Good. She could change into costume without flashing.

Now to rehearse. Capturing an image in her mind of Paul on stage moving into position as her cue, she commanded her hands to move and slipped the tunica top down to pool at her waist, naked from there up, tiny insignificant almost invisible mounds bared. Surely no one would actually notice them. But she'd done it. A few more practices and she was ready.

Wearing the costume correctly she gathered her pile of discarded clothing in her arms. Returning to the Green Room in plenty of time she left them like before, as close to the kitchen as she could. Yes, she was ready, and finishing her makeup she chatted happily with Polly and Mandy and the other girls, though her nerves were probably apparent.

Then it was time.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

The four backstage hands.

They were huddled in the narrow passage behind the backscene which allowed the cast to cross sides out of view.

"Have you noticed they're always the last to leave after rehearsals? I reckon he's already bending her over the desk in the office." suggested the skinny one.

"Well, his car was still parked outside when I went to work yesterday morning and she only lives round the corner." offered the taller one.

"OK, who had 'mid-October' in the sweep?" asked another.

The fourth simply held out a hand for his winnings.

Paul

There was a good buzz in the Green Room tonight. With opening night now less than a fortnight away, the cast was coming together nicely. Hardly any fluffs, everyone on their chalk marks, Mike not up to his usual antics of trying to corpse everyone....

Paul climbed the narrow stairs to check that everything was in place on the stage, tonight they'd introduce props for the first time. As he neared the wings, he heard voices further backstage. Something conspiratorial, clandestine. That unsettled Paul, the four younger men weren't as randy as Lee but they could be trouble in their own fashion. He'd keep a closer eye on them.

Letting his footfall on the top few stairs echo across the open space ahead, he strode onto the stage and into the tiny area next to the prompter's chair where the properties were kept. There weren't many for this production, as items such as arms and armour were considered costume. Satisfied that everything was in place, Paul turned back to the stairs.

As he did so, two of his suspects emerged from the flats.

"Hello, Paul. Just tightening one of the battens."

He regarded their flimsy excuse with internal disdain, but outwardly suggested approval by nodding sagely. Continuing back to the rest of the cast, he cleared his throat to cut through the babble.

"Right, we're nearly three weeks into this." Paul began. "You've all read through enough times, you know your cues and your marks, I want tonight straight through without any interruptions." They all knew the timetable, none of them needed reminding that first performance was only eleven days away. He spotted Andi near the kitchen door, fully costumed and applying just enough stage makeup to avoid looking washed out under the bright lights. He recalled how she had looked at his table that morning, bare skin radiant and tousled hair like a filigree halo.

"OK, first call, Act One."

 

[AndreaSubbie]

The first part of the rehearsal carried on around her, almost like a background activity. The Chorus were on stage a lot, but didn't have many demands put upon them; they just had to be there and look pretty.

Well, ok, not pretty. An unfortunate phrase. And anyway, they were slave girls, conquered and subjugated. Even Paul said they weren't supposed to look glamorous. Except the others did. Or at least looked pretty.

No, more than half her mind was on the Impending Moment when she'd be under the spotlight. Literally. So yes, the first part of the play washed past in a blur.

Then it was Act 11. Her Act. She was keyed up, nervous, scared. She knew she was going to fluff it again. Which was ok. Paul had kind of given her permission to take her time over this. She didn't really have to do her bit properly until next week. So ok. Good. Pressure off.

The knot in her tummy got worse. She needed the loo. And not just a wee. But Paul had said, "Straight through, no interruptions," they wouldn't stop to let her have a toilet break; or to throw up.

Yes, it was getting bad. Her tummy was rebelling. Why had she had supper? Now it was all going to come back up, probably over Paul in her moment of shame. And her bowels. And her bladder. She pictured herself front of stage under a large spot light, emptying herself in all directions from every orifice.

Suddenly she was aware that Paul had moved from the left to the centre of the stage, down at the front. Her cue.

HER CUE!

Shit fuck bugger shitty fuck! Her cue! She wasn't ready!

In panicked desperation her hands did what she had trained them to do. She slipped the tunica off her shoulders to gather at her waist, uncovering her top half totally.

Shit, she had to move, too! Stepping forward out of the Chorus, the Villagers slightly behind her right shoulder on the other side of the stage, pretty much below Lee in his Lighting Box way up high, she strode purposefully past the five Guards and level with Mike, ignoring their stares, and stopped just behind Paul's screening bulk.

Hands on hips, left foot forward, shoulders back, chest out, chin up, eyes flashing defiance, she glared at the back of his head less than a metre away.

When he turned, would he look in her eyes? At her chest? The character surely would stare at her chest. After all, that was the gesture she was making, her character had deliberately bared herself to make a statement to this Captain of the Guards. So he would look. At her chest. Oh, she so hoped he would look at her chest.

Would he?

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Paul waited, some instinct telling him not to turn yet. He heard a cut off gasp from one of the guard cohort to his right and a faint footstep from just behind. Pausing for one more second, Paul turned and lowered his gaze just enough to look into Andi's eyes and not across her head.

Then, as if his character was realising her defiance and noticing her brazen stance, he dropped his eyeline a fraction.....

....and froze.

Play forgotten, Paul thought of the many pairs of breasts he had seen on stage, screen and in his personal life. He couldn't recall a more perfectly curved upper slope; nor a firmer, more pert projection of exquisitely symmetrical natural globes.

”Paul,” hissed Mike, ”PAUL!”

His senses returning, Paul's body turned towards his old friend.... followed by his neck, his head and finally his eyes. He barely stammered out his two short lines and found himself sweating as the lights went off.

He wasn't sure how he stumbled through the remainder of the play, but he mentally thanked whichever deities happened to be listening that tonight was a rehearsal, not a full performance.

After the final curtain dropped, an eternity later, Paul heard snippets of whispered conversations as the cast filed back into the communal area.

”....'without any interruptions' my arse.”

“Have you ever known him freeze like that?”

“....looked like he'd never seen a pair before.”

“....looked like he'd never seen hers before.”

“Put that twenty quid back in the pot. They can't have yet.”

Paul looked over to where Andi stood, surrounded by the rest of the chorus, wondering if she had also noticed his rudely prolonged stare. He felt terrible, she had shown her inner steel and he'd been the one to ruin the scene. He knew that couldn't face her, but he had to tell her how proud he was of her performance.

Torn by his conflicting emotions, Paul did something totally out of character. He refused to confront the challenge and withdrew into his office.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Andrea was high. As the proverbial kite. No one seemed to see it but she was on a rush.

The girls were surrounding her, comforting her, congratulating her on being so brave, mistaking her shakes and high colour.

That had been a most incredible experience.

As they made their collective way back to the Green Room Andrea wasn't really listening to their chatter. She was reliving the moment.

Standing next to her piled clothes she closed her eyes a moment and pictured Paul turning, looking deep into those same eyes with an expression she couldn't place. Then as Captain he lowered his gaze to her chest. It had made her suck her tummy in even more, put extra puff into her chest as he acted so brilliantly. You would truly believe that as Captain he was quite surprised and taken with the sight of her audaciously bared breasts. You would believe that the Captain was stunned.

Unfortunately Mike kind of ruined the suspense with his unscripted prompt, and threw Paul a little off his game. Unless Paul never intended to step away from Andrea at this point in the rehearsals. But there was no one in the audience so it didn't matter if he exposed her to the auditorium or not. But yes, he was probably just being the Gentleman.

It had got a bit tricky when Lee eventually killed the lights, because going from having bright bulbs glaring into your face one moment, to a total blackout leaves a girl blind. She had turned and stumbled her way upstage to where she thought the Chorus was, and thankfully was drawn back into the sisterhood by welcoming hands. They even helped her readjust her costume so she was covered up in time for Act 12. But she had been shaking so much she thought her knees would give way, and needed the physical support of both Mandy and Polly to keep from collapsing.

By the end of the play she had mostly recovered, except that she had just mechanically followed the other girls through the scenes, the Acts, oblivious to what was happening. Her whole being was consumed with her Moment. She had done it. And she loved it.

Andrea decided that she couldn't really talk about it incase she offended anyone. Her earlier fears of everyone hating her for doing it at all proved unfounded, and so many of them said nice things, including, "do it like that each night, Andi."

At first she didn't know what they meant, but then remembered that she'd dropped her top before moving, instead of after. Most of the Guard seemed to agree it was better Damatically. Could she ask Mike or Polly about it? Probably not.

Coming out of her reverie she dressed carefully. Knickers on under the tunica, then bra, then jeans. Next came the tricky part of forcing the light stage-garment over her hips with jeans on, then she tugged the t-shirt over her head and down.

It occurred to her that she hadn't seen Paul. He should be here qauffing juice, telling jokes, teasing someone about their great performance.

She slipped away quietly through the kitchen to his office, carrying his jug of juice.

Not thinking, she just knocked once and barged in, putting the drink on his desk and flopping herself down in the only available chair, legs splayed and arms drooped in sudden exhaustion.

"That was amazing!" and she grinned into his rather sombre face. "You have got to be the world's best actor. You were amazing!" And she gazed at him with a mix of adoration and respect.

"Are we going to mine or yours tonight?"

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Andrea burst through the door in a flurry of manic energy. She put the large glass on his desk and then dropped onto the stiff chair at the other side of the desk as if a switch had been flipped. Sliding her buttocks right to the edge of the seat, Andi leaned as far back as she could manage and spread her legs to each side. Her expression reminded him of a loyal puppy that had just learned a new trick: expecting a big fuss and maybe some treats.

She gushed joyfully, “That was amazing! You were amazing!" Her smile disarmed him, as it always did. He couldn't be angry or withdrawn when she was so bubbly and friendly.

"Are we going to mine or yours tonight?" she continued, as if he had done absolutely nothing wrong that evening.

Paul was confused. Did she not realise how rude he'd been? He'd gawped at her exposed body like a hormone riddled teen. He recalled that, in the past, apologising to her had only made matters worse and wondered, should he accept that she had no embarrassment about him seeing her undressed - even though she seemed shy in other ways?

He decided to answer her question as though nothing had happened.

“It's easier to pick some clothes up from yours and go to mine than the other way round. You seemed to enjoy dancing in my wet room, from what I could hear this morning.”

Her giggle softened the last fragments of the hard shell he had surrounded his heart with. “You did well, Andi.”

”OK for an ugly duckling?” she asked.

“Ugly duckling?” he replied, shocked. “That's not how you look to me, little swan.”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Little swan?" Andrea giggled in delight, "Oh Paul, you're so sweet! It's one of the things I love about you!"

But his comment, his apparent pet name for her, split her face in the biggest, happiest grin and energised her like she'd stuck her fingers in the electric socket.

She remained completely relaxed in his uncomfortable chair, but it was like Paul had opened the Gates of Loquacity and with barely a pause she launched into an excited monologue that lasted all the way through locking up the Theatre; grabbing enough clean underwear from her little bedsit, "Do you think three pairs of knickers is enough? And bras? I can always get more?" without pausing for an answer; travelling to his house; and settling once more in an ingainly heap on his settee.

"Paul, you were so brilliant tonight. I mean I knew you could act, but seeing you work, and so close, it was amazing; you were amazing. I mean, I could feel the power of your stare as the Captain, the way you looked at me, the way you made me feel! I wish the audience would see your face at that point! It was like suddenly I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and every woman in the audience will want to be me.

"I know it's acting, but the Power in your look! Did I say you're amazing? You made me feel, what's the word? Empowered! Yes, I felt empowered, like the gesture of baring my breasts affected you so much, my slave girl achieved what she intended. Oh, it was so amazing! Did I tell you it was amazing? I loved it! I loved being part of it. I want to do it again! Ok, so yes I know we get to do it again on Tuesday, but it was just amazing! I'm not sure if I mentioned it was amazing and you were amazing?"

"Of course, it's such a pity Mike kind of spoiled our scene a bit. You did say 'straight through', and just when you were building the most delicious tension and suspense, he spoiled it with that unnecessary prompt. I mean! I hope he doesn't do that again.

When Paul finally sat next to her on the settee she couldn't restrain herself, and instead of snuggling in like usual, she pounced on him, straddling his legs as she perched on his lap, her knees either side of his hips. Hands on his lovely strong chest which she could feel trough his shirt, she gave him a quick shy kiss on his lips. Brief, almost fleeting. The lightest touch but unmistakeable.

Then blushing at her forwardness, hoping Bear would forgive his little swan, she flopped forward to lie on top of him, right cheek on his left shoulder, hands on his chest, knees gripping his hips, purrs of contentment vibrating her chest.

Eventually they had to move upstairs.

"Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don't like sleeping on my own any more?" She raised her head to look in his eyes, hoping he would see that she wasn't trying to manipulate him or make more of what they had then there was. "I just need to be with you, to snuggle in to you, to feel you holding me. Little swan promises to not fidget too much?"

She realised that she was asking his permission. The last times they'd slept together it had been because Paul had put her to bed, and there was nowhere else for him but to join her.

This time, there was an alternative. She had her own room. It wasn't necessary. This time it was choice. She didn't think he'd say no. There was something in the way he looked at her that said he was hers and she was his. Andrea had no idea quite what it meant or how that would work out, but it was there. And it made her happy. Very happy.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Definitely happy.

He had noticed that she either sang or chattered when she was feeling good about things and at the moment she was barely taking a breath. The contented chirruping didn't stop when they left the theatre, nor whilst she grabbed a few skimpy scraps of fabric from her drawers. It hardly diminished during the short drive to Embsay and was still gushing from her when she collapsed on the settee as he loaded the washing machine and added powder.

Among the effusive praise she showered on him, Paul caught a snatch of a Prince lyric which he had often hummed whilst thinking of her and his introspection made him miss her next few sentences. He tuned back in as she was saying something about Mike.

Ah, yes. Good old Mike. His hissed prompting had obviously cut short Paul's contemplation of Andi's perfect bust just before the point where the young woman found the older man's stare 'creepy'. Nothing had changed, their friendship was still intact. An odd friendship, Paul mentally admitted, but one where they both enjoyed the other's company and especially those mutual cuddles. He smiled once again at the memory of hearing her singing happily in his wet room and anticipated her curling by his side once he'd finished his brief burst of housework.

As he sat down, Andi seemed to galvanise herself once more and she scampered across his stomach, brushed her lips across his and lay her svelte body over his ribcage. Her face was inches from his left cheek and he felt her soft, warm breath against his chin. He wrapped his arms gently across her back and cradled her for an hour that simply wasn't long enough.

Eventually, the bane of his years made its plaintive call and he had to stir. As he switched off the downstairs lights and they climbed the stairs to the landing, Andi asked, "Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don't like sleeping on my own any more?"

“Do you remember what I told you at breakfast time?” he replied, looking down into her upraised eyes, “You are welcome to go into any room in this house at any time you want. If that means you want to snuggle as you sleep, then that is what you shall do.”

Even as he uttered the words as steadily as he could, Paul's emotions fluttered. She was choosing to be with him, could she really see him as more than just a friend? He usually slept naked in his own bed, but that certainly would be a step too far tonight. Maybe if he took his cue from her actions? Stripped down as far as she, but no further. He took her hand and led her past the smaller room and through his own bedroom door.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

She let him lead her by the hand into his own Master bedroom. It seemed significant, symbolic, and made her insides quiver with a mix of nervous excitement and anticipation. She didn't quite understand it all, but if it felt kind of like a Wedding Night.

She dismissed the idea immediately. When that time came she'd be properly prepared.

Letting go of his hand, she smiled up to him, "just a mo, I need to get my Jammies on; we can't sleep in the day's undies, or naked you know, not yet!" And she scampered out of his room, returning moments later.

Andrea came back in without knocking, dressed in an oversized man's flannel PJ top, the three buttons fastened. "It's half of my favourite pyjamas; don't you just love Black Watch tartan?"

Without a pause she went straight into Paul's wetroom carrying two pairs of knickers. Leaving the door open wide so she could still chatter with him, or at him, she emptied her bladder and after washing her hands ran a bowl of water and washed her bottom, drying herself carefully before climbing into the clean underwear, then running another bowl washed the day's skimpy garment and hung it to dry over the towel rail. She didn't even stop talking while she brushed her teeth, standing in the doorway with her left hand against the frame above her head, left knee bent and bare left foot resting on the toes of her right.

When she was done she skipped back into the bedroom and jumped onto Paul's bed, landing on her knees, and chattering again tried out the comfy surface; rising to all fours, sitting cross legged, then with legs straight and feet splayed, and finally knees together sitting on her heels, hands in front; it felt nice not wearing a bra. Freeing, and she didn't think Paul would mind,

She was happy. So happy she hardly let Paul answer or interrupt her incessant babbling.

Once they were in bed together she snuggled back into him, her bum nestled comfortably into the fold of his body, her back against his chest, almost regretting the flannel between them. She consoled herself by arranging his arm to lie across her waist, his hand held by hers firmly against her bare belly, under the PJ top, on the skin between her tummy button and knicker line. It felt good having his hand there.

"You will tell me to shut up when you've had enough of my talking, won't you Paul? It's just that I'm so happy, You make me happy, I'm always happy when I'm with you. And I love it when you hold me, and have your hand here, or stroke my hair, or my cheek, or anywhere really, Did I tell you you make me happy and that you're amazing?" And she drifted off.

At one point in the night she woke briefly, aware that his hand had migrated north and firmly cupped her naked breast, clamped there by her own. She smiled to herself and drifted back into a contented sleep.

When eventually she awoke in the morning she had the biggest smile on her face.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Andi was still burbling contentedly as she stood in her baggy pyjama top, which barely covered her shapely bum. His eyes flicked restlessly between her own and her supple, toned thighs. She came back into the bedroom and bounced around the bed, finally ending up kneeling next to Paul with her arms squeezing the sides of her globes.

He reluctantly left her for a moment, grabbing a clean pair of pants as he went to the wet room. Quickly performing the necessary contortions, he returned to find her under the covers on the right side. When he was settled next to her she took his left arm and, turning to her right, pulled it over her as she wriggled backwards. His hand folded at the wrist and his thumb delicately brushed her tummy. As Paul began to gently rotate it in circles on her flesh, Andi pressed his hand more firmly into her body. She was still mumbling happily when she fell deeply asleep.

Paul held her nubile body in his arms, wondering at the evening's roller-coaster, as he too relaxed into a contented slumber.

In the early hours, he awoke again to find her still tightly clamping his left hand but now, instead of resting on her flat belly, his palm was filled by the soft, pliant flesh of one of her youthful boobs. He was loathe to take his hand away from such a delightful place, but his need couldn't be postponed. As carefully and gently as he could, he slipped out of the bed to the toilet. Rewashing his cock and balls afterwards, he then returned to find that Andi had rolled into the warm place he had vacated.

He tenderly lifted her right arm and shoulder as he slid back beside her. Turning onto his right side, he draped her arm round him and placed his hand between her shoulder blades. She gave one of her delightful wriggles and pressed herself even tighter to his chest, the upper fastener of her loose top popping out of its buttonhole as she rubbed against him.

Just before Paul fell back to sleep, he felt her leg move across his calf and her thigh slide up his own.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

She had somehow turned over, and they were now face to face.

And her right leg was hooked round his. And her right arm was over his hip.

It was nice. She lay there for a moment getting used to how it felt. Different from when she snuggled backwards into him. Perhaps tonight she'd try cuddling into his back, instead of him into hers? Then she could have her hand on his chest.

On his chest. That made her think. Did he really cop her boob last night? She had a distinct memory of his hand on her tit. And her keeping it there. Yes, there was still a memory in her flesh of his touch. Somehow she needed to get a lot more of that.

Untangling her limbs from him she sat up, trying not to wake him, pushing the covers down to her waist and rubbing her eyes. She yawned and stretched, thinking about kettles and tea bags and steaming mugs. And a jug of juice.

If she knew how to make an omlette she could cook him breakfast and bring it to him, but he might not want to be presented with that before being fully awake.

She felt something hard underneath her. Rummaging with her left hand she found a button. Familiar. Hm, the top button of her PJ top. Now she'd have to do some sewing before tonight. Putting it on the table beside the bed, she slid out and gathered her top closed, then padded into the hallway and used the upstairs toilet, not wanting to disrturb Paul until she returned with his drink.

Within a few minutes she was back, pushing the bedroom door open with her elbow and carrying a tray held at her waist. Her tongue protruded a little from between teeth clenched in concentration as she made sure not to spill her tea or his jug.

"Morning, sleepy Bear!" She carried the drinks over to Paul's side of the bed and set the tray down with great care. "I didn't make you breakfast; I figured you don't deserve to be tortured first thing in the morning."

She placed his drink on his table then sat on the edge of the bed on his side facing him, right foot on the floor, left knee bent and left foot on the bed by her right knee, both hands cradling her steaming brew as usual.

"Damn, I meant to brush my hair and repair my face before you woke up! Oh well," and she gave a little half embarassed lop sided grin.

"Today is Friday and I have lectures, but not for hours."

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

“Repair?” he asked, groggily. “But it isn't damaged. I like your hair done that way, too.”

He stretched one hand out and gently stroked her knee. Something told him she wouldn't brush it away. “I'll run you into College again after lunch, now what do you want to eat?”

Sitting up, he noticed that the neck of her pyjamas gaped even wider than before. The way she perched on the edge of his bed pulled the right side back and her pert nipple and pale aureola peeked round the cloth to say, ”good morning.” The lower hem sat in a slight bunch on her thong and the angle of her crooked leg revealed the taut stretch of the adductor at the top of her inner left thigh.

Thinking back over the time that they had been together in the past few days, Paul began to realise that Andi's mood hadn't shown any of its previous changeability since Tuesday evening. She had been irrepressibly chirpy and even more comfortable than ever with him around. She had virtually moved in and was talking non stop. He wondered if their companionship had really developed into something deeper. Was that still his fantasy doing the thinking, or perhaps - just perhaps - there might be more. He thought again of his hand on her breast and her own holding it there.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, he looked again at her slim figure perched on the edge of his bed.

“Are you showering first or should I?” he asked.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

She resisted the urge to suggest they shower together. There was plenty of space since the whole room was the shower, but she didn't want Paul to think badly of her. They weren't ready for that. Yet. She needed to be sure that he wouldn't reject her, that he wouldn't feel the need to apologise.

"Um, why don't you go first while I finish my tea? And I'll have some of your omlette?" she suggested, letting her sensible head do the talking, "I might just dance a whole ballet in there this morning, so you'd best go first. Last time I was very restrained, I'll have you know!"

She wanted to go get her clothes while he was in the wetroom, and bring them into his bedroom to change after her shower. That way she'd not have to be apart from Paul for very long, but there was still a lingering worry that too much familiarity would scare him away. The poor man needed some space from the silly schoolgirl who was infatuated with him. Yes, she admitted it to herself.

And to prove her determination, she actually stopped talking for a few minutes so that he could get himself ready in peace.

Reclining in the space he'd just vacated in the big bed, she stretched out on top of the covers, legs straight, right foot over left, cup still cradled in both hands on her belly. She'd pulled the PJ top closed again when she moved; it had acquired a habit of spreading open a bit without that top button. She really should sew it back on this evening.

Then a horrid thought struck her. She wouldn't be sleeping over with Paul until maybe Sunday night? That made her sad, but she had to put a brave face on it. She didn't want Paul to worry. He had enough on his plate.

When she had burst in on him after their rehearsal she'd ridden right over his obvious worries in her excitement. Now that she thought about, he'd had something on his mind, almost certainly about the rehearsal. And he'd not dealt with it straight after.

Then it dawned on her; he was disappointed in something. It could only be with Mike. They were freinds, how could he tell Mike off in front of everyone, for interrupting with that totally unnecessary prompt? And he couldn't 'call Mike in for a chat' because it would be obvious. Probably he had been waiting for everyone else to go so he could have a quiet word. Except a stupid girl had invaded his office.

Now she felt like a fool. Selfish, self-obsessed, inconsiderate. It made her sad.

Somehow she'd have to make it up to him. Bring him flowers and chocolates? He seemed to like that by way of apology. Or just ignore her stupidity? Paul seemed to have forgiven her already, maybe.

Yes. Better to just carry on as if nothing was wrong.

When it was her turn to shower she put her empty mug on the tray and skipped daintily into the wet room, closing the door because you have to or else Paul's bedroom would be flooded.

She tried to be quick but couldn't help singing snatches of the happy 'Halleluia' and dancing round at least a little. Coming out wrapped in another voluminous towel so that only her head and shoulders, arms and feet were visible, she kissed Paul on the cheek and went back to her own room to dress.

Despite Paul liking the 'ravaged' hair stlye, she was downstairs for breakfast clean and tidy, hair in a ponytail and light makeup applied. She was suddenly hungry. And lunch and college were still hours away.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

The ham, pepperoni and cheese omelette nearly filled the large serving platter. Paul placed it in the centre of the fold-out table that he'd erected earlier. He collected other food items from various places around the kitchen and arranged them around it, finishing by putting the toaster next to a large pile of sliced bread and the teapot and plugging it in.

“Omelette, apples, pears, bananas, satsumas, muesli, toast, strawberry jam and tea. Anything I've missed?” he enquired.

Andi looked askance at the array of food, but her stomach gently let her know that it wanted her to choose something - and quickly. She reached forward to slice a sixth of the eggy mass from the mound and refilled her freshly washed mug. Andi watched Paul help himself to exactly half of the main dish, surely he couldn't be expecting her to finish off the rest? She forked the last chunk from her plate to her mouth, thought for a moment and then sliced another portion equal to her first and laid it before her.

Amused, Paul smiled as she dolloped jam on her fourth slice of fresh toast. She'd polished off a third of the giant omelette and then started on the bread and preserve, all whilst drinking two mugs of tea. Once again, his hormonal mind offered up innuendo about stuffing her full and his analytical side caught the thought and moulded it differently. When did she last try to flirt with him like that? He'd bitten back his responses because he had believed it was her naïvety and she'd stopped doing it. Had it been deliberate? Did she have feelings for him two months ago and he had rebuffed her because he couldn't believe it to be true? His smile faded. This was something that he needed to think seriously about.

She flopped onto the settee after the meal, her chatter stilled and she was glad it was still two hours before they needed to leave. Paul came into the room after clearing everything away in the kitchen to find her head thrown back and that characteristic purr escaping from her open mouth.

He dropped her at the College and continued on to the Theatre. He'd barely opened up when Mike and Polly arrived. He couldn't say anything to them yet, he hadn't got the thoughts straight in his own mind. Could he recall? Were there any signs that suggested she even possibly felt for him some of the repressed feelings he harboured for her?

There was one topic he might raise. He would wait for the right moment and then ask Polly.

Mike brought the assorted envelopes from the letterbox cage and Paul groaned when he saw the depth of the pile. That stack was going to take him most of the afternoon to get through. It was now or never, “Mike, do you really believe what you told me at the end of August?”

”What? That I didn't think Borisov's comet could possibly be interstellar?”

“No, you fool. That Andi has a crush on me.”

”Oh, that. Of course she has, she just hasn't realised it yet. Ask Polly.”

“I think she might have done last night. She didn't say a thing about me ogling her tits, in fact all she could say - over and over again - was that I'm 'amazing'.”

“Well I wouldn't knock that, it's probably the best review you've had this year.”

“Don't take the piss, Mike. You know I want her and damn the town, how do I tell her without scaring her off?”

”You'll just have to let her keep setting the pace. That is what you've been doing so far, isn't it?”

“Yes, but I think the pace is accelerating.”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Andrea got through her lectures, forcing herself to pay attention, but fortunately most of the material was also in her texts so she'd be able to go through it again, learning what she needed to learn and comparing the References for her next essay.

Back in her once cosy but now lonely bedsit she sorted her laundry and tidied up, preparing a light supper. She wasn't really hungry; breakfast seemed to have fuelled her for a week. No way could she cook an omlette as well as Paul, so she'd get stuff in and let him do the honours.

While putting clean underwear away in the top drawer she gently placed each item, wondering which Paul would like best. She was having a little internal argument. He hadn't really expressed a preference for what kind of knickers he liked to see her in. Did he go for thongs, or more traditional bikini cut, or maybe the tanga compromise? And did he have a favourite colour?

Then there was the question of her bras. He'd said quite clearly he preferred her in a bra to going braless. But that look he gave her on stage when she bared her tits, how much of it was really acting? The more she thought about it, the more she suspected, well hoped, that it wasn't all stage craft. Did he actually enjoy seeing her topless? That would be nice. But if so, what should she do about it? And if not, was she going to put him off by showing too much? He hadn't really given much indication yet that he knew she actually had tits, apart from hating her push up bra, and then their scene on stage.

It was very difficult. Could she ask Polly? Or her sister Sarah? What about Lucy or Mandy, they were nearer her age. But so far no one knew about her wanting Paul. Polly probably still suspected though she hadn't said anything for ages so maybe had forgotten, and to everyone else it was a secret, a surprise to come out only if things developed. Only if Paul liked her that way.

Which she was beginning to hope was the case.

But now she was making some progress she didn't want to blow it. Blow, ha! That made her laugh. She'd never 'blown' anyone, just tried a few clumsy handjobs with older boys at school, They'd been uncomfortable and messy experiences and most unsatisfactory. But no, she'd never blown anyone. What would Paul think if he wanted her to and she was useless at it? What if she hurt him? She'd heard that guys were a bit fragile down there.

And that kind of went for everything else, too. What if eventually he decided he did want her, and they tried it and she was frigid? What if she was no good because she was inexperienced. She'd heard the talk at college, about how guys didn't want to date virgins; that there were special arrangements that could be made to lose your cherry and become dateable. No way would she do that, but the point was, if Paul knew she hadn't ever, would he want to with her?

Her new insecurities kept her on edge through the evening and all of Saturday, which was a mix of shopping in Skipton, meeting some girls off her course in a cafe for tea, having a long text conversation with Sarah, planning her next essay, and trying to sleep.

By the time Sunday morning dawned she was in a right state. An unsatisfactory blend of previous insecurities, exhaustion, loneliness, and desperation to be with Paul again. She was showered, dressed, ponytailed, lightly made up and unbreakfasted by the time he was due. She was in her button front green floral-print cotton dress and low heels with a simple white bra and white cotton tanga knickers, a cream coloured cardigan over her shoulders. She sat at the little table, her third mug of tea cradled between her palms.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Paul had woken early and now he was watching the clock. He shouldn't really turn up earlier than his normal 10am, but he hadn't seen Andi since Friday lunchtime and he was missing her. Five minutes would be enough to get there on an autumnal Sunday morning. He checked the forecast for the third time: increasing cloud, blustery showers from mid-afternoon, heavy rain overnight. No drive into the Dales, nor walk alongside a babbling brook, back to his with the heating on for a film and a snuggle.... or maybe an early night?

Even though he knew his heart ached to have her close, he had to move carefully. He still wasn't absolutely sure that his interest, 'No' a voice said, his infatuation with Andi wasn't colouring his judgement. Slow and gentle he reminded himself.

Excruciatingly slowly, the time neared the earliest possible moment when he could justify leaving the house. He checked that everything was in order for their later return and slipped out of the door.

Every foot of the short journey into the market town seemed to stretch for a mile. Eventually he parked the little Triumph outside the Theatre and walked up to her door, knocking twice in his usual way.

He hoped the present he had brought her would be acceptable but did he reveal it now, or later when they had eaten?

Andi opened the door in a simple flowery green dress, with a woolly thing thrown across her shoulders. He waited for her to step back, as the episode with the bookcase had proved it would be uncomfortable to squeeze past her. Closing the door behind him, he followed her up the narrow staircase.

As they entered the main room of the little flat, Paul gently took Andi's shoulders and turned her back towards him. The kiss he brushed her lips with lasted just a few seconds again, but it made him tingle all the way from his mouth to his balls.

“Morning, Andi. You're looking nice again.”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Thank you, Paul, you are too," and she blushed shyly.

He was a good kisser. No, a great kisser. It was like plugging in to a source of delight that lit her whole body, making her glow from the furnace lit within. Two images flashed through her mind. One was the vintage advert she'd seen on tv shows where kids were given a porridge type breakfast and walked to school like they were radioactive. The other was from a sci fi film where aliens visited an old folks home and ended up with people shining like searchlights.

The point was her whole body became a single radiating beacon of womanly passion and hunger prepped to make babies right there and then.

She knew the kiss was quick but it was even better than last time, and that had been at least a 12 out of 10. This time she wasn't as unprepared and she knew that she'd let her feelings pour out as she kissed him back. Surely he really did want her? Could he kiss like that and not mean it?

The discoveries made her a little shy. Happy, even ecstatic, bubbling inside and hot between her legs, but shy.

My goodness, was she actually turned on? Aroused? Horny? Well duh! She'd already admitted it to herself; she was ready to make a baby right now right there and never mind lunch.

She coughed to cover her embarrassment at her passionate feelings and skipped to her bathroom. Closing the door behind her she lifted her dress and checked. Yes, she needed clean knickers!

Putting the soiled ones in the basket she wiped herself, flushed the loo and washed her hands then came back out, "I'm almost ready!"

Crossing to her dresser she took out a fresh pair, pale blue tangas this time, and slipped them on under her dress, her back towards him. He'd seen her put knickers on before, it would be no big deal. He wouldn't know that his kiss made her gush hot juices and get all puffed and swollen down there. She couldn't actually get her insides back inside. No, putting them on in front of him should be no big deal.

Smoothing her tight dress back down over her legs she turned to face him.

"Shall we go?" And she smiled warmly, lovingly, linking her right arm in his left for the long three paces to the stairs. She kind of pushed him forward to lead the way, her hands on his shoulders and followed as close as she could without projecting them both down the staircase in a jumble of bodies and intertwined limbs. Hm, what an image; hot sweating naked bodies writhing together, limbs wrapped roumd each other, and his Big Bear skewering her until he pumped her full of his seed ...

She reached the door safely but had to wonder what had got into her his morning. Not what she wanted inside her!

Enough! She had to stop thinking like that, clear her mind. Think of something else.

"Um, what's the forecast for today, Paul?" She hoped he wouldn't say Eight Inches.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Andi must be very nervous about something. She knew he'd be there around ten, so why would she need to rush to the heads as soon as he arrived? He put the thought aside for a moment and replaced it with the more pleasurable recollection of her kiss. No fish this time, more an odd mixture of strawberry or some other summer fruit and a suggestion of mint.

"I'm almost ready!"

She crossed the room and fished in a drawer, producing a scrap of pale blue fabric. Turning towards the wall, she pulled the flimsy knickers up and her dress back down.

Paul's breath caught once more as he watched her nonchalant display. Surely she couldn't have been commando when she answered the door? If not, why suddenly change them? Could she have dribbled after she made that headlong flight to the little room? Maybe this wasn't the best week of her month? His whirling mind was interrupted by her normal, cheery voice.

"Shall we go?"

Andi guided him back towards the door, almost urging him along. Paul wondered where they were going, they normally lazed around in her flat for an hour or so before driving to the carvery. He felt her little hands resting on his shoulders as they descended. As he reached the tiny vestibule, she was still on the first step. He felt her hot breath on his neck, almost panting. Opening her front door, he heard her say, "Um, what's the forecast for today, Paul?"

“Warm and damp this morning, maybe drying out for the afternoon but probably getting very wet tonight.” he replied. “Where are we going this early?”

“The Craven Heifer, I just want to be there a bit earlier today.” she answered.

He felt the bulge of the thin garment hidden inside his jacket. Perhaps they could spend some time at his.

"Don't you remember, they don't open until 11. Let's go back to mine, I bought you a present, I hope you like it." He opened the car door for her and her eyes sparkled as she returned his gaze.

Letting her into the semi-, he retrieved the simply wrapped package and, as he handed it to her, said in a slightly hesitant tone, "You asked me what would suit you, I think this will."

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"A present? I don't deserve a present!" but she took it nonetheless, and eagerly.

She danced her way to the settee and flopping down placed the elegant wrapping on her knees.

"It's very small and light?" she looked at his face; was he worried she might not like whatever it was? "I bet it's expensive!" her tone a form of indulgent mild telling off that showed how delighted and touched she was.

Careful not to rip the soft tissue paper too much she peeled back the wrapping to find ..

"Oh!"

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes misted over. She picked up the delicate item and held it in front of her.

"Oh my!"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, just one each side. "Oh, Paul!"

She could hardly see him, just a blurry image now. How did you tell someone you were deliriously happy?

She jumped up and dashed to him, throwing her arms round his neck and wrapping her legs tightly to grip his waist with her knees. Kissing his cheeks, his chin, his lips just briefly, forcing herself not to spend an eternity there, she dropped again to the floor and held out the lacy garment, again, admiring it.

"This is mine?" she asked unnecessarily, but stunned that someone would buy such a grown-up thing for her. Ok, she knew Paul was sweet and didn't se her as she really was, but this wasn't what you gave an Ugly Duckling.

"Can I try it on?"

Without waiting for an answer she grabbed the rest of the little parcel and dashed upstairs to the wetroom.

Inside the wrapping she found a second part of the set, and grinning to herself quickly shed her dress, her bra and her tanga briefs.

Once in the new lingerie she studied herself in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. And because of the colour she could pretend.

If only she had a pair of white heels, too. But that could be remedied. She walked downstairs as gracefully as she could and stood in front of Paul in just the Basque and briefs. Trying not to smile too widely she turned a slow circle on the spot, in little steps, her hands by her sides, letting him see what he'd bought from the back as well.

She wished she could go like this to the pub, wear it all day. "Can this be my little outfit for when I'm at yours? Always? You won't be cross with me? It's not just for special occasions?"

It was time she stopped talking. Her eyes shining, she had one more thing to ask.

"Does little swan look the part, generous Bear?"

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Paul quickly laced his fingers together and placed his palms under her buttocks as she jumped excitedly up. Once again, the vision of a manic spaniel popped into his head, to be quickly pushed aside by the real vision gripping his neck and waist as she showered parts of his face with her kisses.

”Can I try it on?”

Andi rushed up the stairs and along the passage, leaving Paul to surmise that he had chosen correctly. The item had been fairly expensive, but her overjoyed reaction made it worth every penny. In his befuddled state concerning all things Andi, he hadn't actually considered when and where she could wear it. Certainly not in bed, it was far too delicate. Nor at the theatre. Paul sighed, he would just have to buy her an expensive dress to compliment the ensemble.

Her soft, gentle paw pads as she came downstairs were a complete contrast to the stampeding wildlife which had gone up.

She was barefoot. The next parts to catch his attention were her shapely legs. Not overly long - not at her height - but firm, toned and well proportioned. She emerged from the stairwell and Paul stared harder than he had when he froze on the stage. She walked slowly towards him and stopped slightly out of arm's reach. Her next act was to pirouette, very slowly, until she faced him again.

He would keep the memory of her pert bum but now it was her flat tummy, with its slightly defined musculature under the skin, which fell under his gaze. Just below that, he noticed the pure white of the fabric was stretched across what appeared to be a patch of darker skin. It took a moment for the obvious to sink into his mind, through the layers of delight, desire and affection. She was all woman, the external effects of her puberty plain to see - not only in her delightfully pert breasts.

His distraction blurred out most of her question, all he caught was ”It's not just for special occasions?"

She paused for a moment. "Does little swan look the part, generous Bear?"

“Oh, Andi. You look so grown up. Yes, you do. You could never be an ugly duckling in a costume like that.” He smiled so broadly that the tiny lines by his shining eyes creased up and his lips parted, enough to show the notch in one front tooth where he'd fallen from a climbing frame over forty years before.

“Come on, back upstairs with you. It's time for lunch.”

As they drove the short distance from Embsay to the Heifer, Paul glanced sideways repeatedly until he was sure: the little minx hadn't put her regular underwear back on.... she was still in the basque.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

She didn't say much on the way to the pub, just glowed in contented silence.

And she wasn't hungry, either. She told his as much. Taking just a small serving of roast beef with all the accompanying vegetables and the rich, dark gravy.

Back at their usual table she wolfed down her plateful so fast that Paul was still barely halfway through his own, so she speared two his potatoes and ate them as well.

"I'm stuffed," she announced, and waiting a decent interval to allow Paul to finish she manoeuvred round from her chair opposite him to curl into his right side on his bench seat, her legs tucked under her to her right. Grabbing his right arm she put it round her so she could snuggle comfortably imto him, her left cheek resting on his right chest, her right hand holding his on top of her right thigh, under her dress. She stroked her leg with his hand a few times then pressed herself closer, moving her right hand onto his chest, even sliding it between buttons so her fingers could gently toy with the fur that covered his skin.

Stuffed. Yes, she was full of food, but it wasn't roast beef she wanted to be stuffed with. She wanted Bear meat. Her imagination again pictured Paul's strong arms lifting her effortless until he lowered her, her legs spread, until she was properly stuffed, Big Bear filling her up like she was made to be filled. Then doing it again. And again until she couldn't take any more and her whole being exploded in ecstasy. Would she see fireworks? Would the Earth move? It would be so nice to find out.

Andrea relaxed her intense grip of Paul's chest hair. Oops!

"Sorry Bear," she mumbled, half asleep.

She didn't say much on the way home either, and sprawled on his settee while he did whatever Paul things he always seemed to do when they got home.

But once he too was settled on the settee, she rose up, slipped her dress off over her head, and wearing just the gorgeous white basque and matching briefs snuggled into him again, making sure his hand was firmly on her bare hip. She moved it to her bum cheek and thigh and tummy then back to her hip, letting him know she was happy for him to touch her there.

Although she wanted more, she wasn't ready. And she knew it. And anyway, he might not want more either. Ever. Which was ok, even though it wasn't.

She could be happy with what she had. Very happy. She fell asleep.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Paul had never been in and out so fast. Andi certainly hadn't loaded her plate in the usual fashion and finished even quicker than he, a renown gobbler, did.

Her declaration of "I'm stuffed." was belied by the two potatoes she helped herself to whilst he was finishing his chicken. She moved from her place to be next to him and pulled his hand behind her and then down her body.

Paul could tell by the way that she snuggled into him that she was ready to fall asleep, so he got her into the car and back to the house as expeditiously as possible. She lay across his settee, apparently sated, until he had put a hotpot in the oven on a very low heat and joined her in the lounge.

Standing, Andi unzipped the green dress and pulled it over her head. She sat down in her skimpy gift and again rubbed his hand against her bare flesh. Squeezing ever tighter to his flank, she slipped back into her slumber with his hand on the edge of her pelvis.

Paul opened his recent playlists and activated the top entry: 'Lullabies.'

His meal sat heavily inside his stomach and that soporific postprandial languor overtook him too. The last thing he recalled was Rod Stewart 'passing high clouds, to be near you'. He never noticed when his hand slipped off her hip onto the skin below, his fingertips resting on the thin fabric of her knickers.