The Carousel Shoppe

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

My lips still tingled from his kiss, my mind whirled with thoughts of tonight. The rest of the afternoon was spent in my back room. I did not have the energy to meet and be pleasant with browsers of any sort. Over and over, in my mind, I relived lunch. The pretty hostess touching Denny, the way he seemed to enjoy it, and my own, perhaps, stupid move to mark him as mine.

Tonight. Tonight! Being with Denny gave me such joy, made me so incredibly happy that even the spector of tonight couldn't totally banish it. Actually, tonight sounded promising. A robe and a smile. Hmmmm. That sounded very sensual and not as if I were about to be banished from his life.

All afternoon, my mind wandered. Tonight. It did not help that Denny came to my workshop mid-afternoon to kiss me senseless and touch me until I virtually hummed. My nipples ached and my center was wet, a fact he lost no time in discovering. Denny's smile is a beautiful thing. When he withdrew his shiny fingers from my damp panties, his smile was glowing. One more kiss and he was gone, leaving me throbbing and needy.

Finally, I closed my shoppe, and hurried home. No shopping tonight, no slow sashay through the neighborhood, enjoying the manicured lawns. I wanted to get home, prepare for Denny, meet him as instructed.

Habits die hard. I still had to hang up my clothes, placed the used ones in the hamper, neatly place my shoes in the rack. I ran a bath of vanilla salts, enjoying the fragrance as it filled the house. Finally, all was neat and tidy and I could settle into the tub, and try to relax.

Lying there, a small inflatable pillow beneath my neck, I closed my eyes and thought of Denny. How remarkable! My nipples hardened and ruched, just thinking of him. My hands wandered up and down my body, appreciating the softness, the smoothness of me. I lingered in my curlies, combing them, thinking of Denny's long, elegant fingers there. Because of him, I was aware as my pinkness became wet, I felt the slickness that meant I was preparing for him. How had I lived all those years so ignorant of my body? How could I thank Denny for all he had shown me, all the wonderful things he had taught me?

It was nearing seven o'clock. I climbed from the tub and dried my body, noting the delicate flush to my skin. Spraying on vanilla scent, I looked into the mirror and wished I didn't have to cover myself in a robe! But I had my instructions.

I went to the closet. Looking carefully through the beautiful lingerie I had purchased, I found the perfect item. It was the most delicate peach color, a silk dressing gown that was nearly sheer in appearance. I wrapped it around my naked body, enjoying the feel against my fevered skin. Tying the sash, I covered my swollen breasts and wet center. These were for Denny to find! The robe was long, flowing to the floor, the sleeves hanging over my hands, nearly obscuring them. I felt very pretty, very delicate, dressed in it.

I had just finished brushing my hair when the clock chimed seven and the doorbell rang. It was Denny, my Denny!

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

“Why, Miss Nelsen. Good evening,” I said upon seeing Amelia at her door. She looked lovely in her peach colored robe. It was quite sheer and hid very little from the passing eye. I was tempted to linger at the doorway for a few moments to give the gentleman strolling his retriever a brief little show. But they—especially the pooch—were making their way far too slowly down her street. And seeing that the fine citizens of Scottsville might not understand such scandal, I accepted her invitation inside.

There was the familiar scent of vanilla in the air and on Amelia. Although pleasing enough, it reminded me of an ice cream parlor and an unfortunate romance from my youth; I wrestled with the notion of leaving her as I found her or bathing her again and adding a scent of my own preference. Yet she looked so fresh and adorable I had to pause in my tracks.

“What?” she asked.

“What, what?” I replied.

“You were looking at me strangely, Denny. What were you thinking?”

“Simply this,” I replied and took her face into my hands, kissing her tenderly and gently. Almost by instinct, her arms reached out to wrap around my shoulders, but I intercepted them. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah! There will be time for that later, my dear.”

I took her hand and lead her into her bedroom. I could see the quick blush of excitement fill her cheeks. Perhaps Miss Nelsen was thinking a few steps further down the road than I. I stood her beside her bed and slowly unknotted the tie of her robe.

“Denny … I …” she began to say.

I lifted my finger to her lips.

“Miss Nelsen. Tonight is special. Tonight I hope to take you from where you are, where you have been all these years, to a new place.”

I pulled the knot loose and let her robe fall open. Lifting my hands to her lapels, I gently tugged the sheer peach fabric to the sides, slowly unveiling her body, almost like a slow curtain opening on a Broadway show. As the robe fell off her shoulders, I took a few moments to admire her body. Though shorter than average, she was in perfect proportion. For a lady well into her forties, she looked ten—no fifteen years younger. Her proud fully rounded breasts stood firm, nipples pointing upward. There was a sleek narrowing at her waist and a most seductive flair to her hips. Every inch covered by the softest, clearest tan-colored skin I could recall. I smiled at the sight of her beloved curlies, something we would soon be addressing.

She bit her trembling lip as I pulled the robe away from her shoulders. Filching some hairpins from the top of her dresser, I began to pin up her hair.

“But, Denny? I … I’ve already …” she began to protest, most uncertain of what I had in mind.

I waggled my finger before her and smiled silently. Once her hair was securely pinned up, I led her into the bath. Starting the water in the shower, I asked her to wait for a moment while I returned to the kitchen and fetched a couple of wineglasses. Pouring a tart but rewarding Pinot Noir, I offered her a sip before helping her into the shower.

I slipped from my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. Pulling the neutral soap from my bag, I began to work up some suds. It was easy to see the many questions on her mind simply by looking at her face. But I smiled and tried to let the gentle touch of my hands upon her naked body reassure her.

Once showered, I toweled her off and invited her to sit. Reluctantly she did so, resembling more a patient visiting a new doctor than a lover. When I pulled out a small kit, she was curious. When she saw the razor and shaving lotion she had to speak up.

“Denny? What do you have in mind?” she said, running her hand over her face.

“Let’s just think of this as part of a transformation,” I said slowly.

“But what if … I don’t want to be transformed?” she asked as I began to shake up the shaving lotion. “What if I’m content with the way I am?”

I paused at the thought and asked myself a big question: was my attempt at liberating her intended for her benefit or mine? I looked down at this lovely woman, seated in her bathroom naked, her body flush with excitement, yet a look of concern wrinkled her brow. No, this wasn’t about me and my pleasure and preferences. This was about her, Amelia Nelsen, opening her up to a broader view of the world around her.

“That’s a very good question, Amelia,” I replied. “Perhaps one that I should have considered before coming over tonight. Are you? Are you content with the way you are, with the way your life is playing out? Or would you like to try new things, look at yourself in a different light, and maybe see the world in a different way?” I looked at her closely, watching as she thought over my words.

“Well, I suppose a little change wouldn’t hurt,” she ventured.

“Good!” I answered, reaching over to stroke her cheek. “Now, shall I continue?”

“Oh … okay,” she said hesitantly.

I took the scissors from the kit and squatted before her. Amelia spread her legs and I began to trim her pubic hair. It was soft and dark and curly and fell onto the towel that she was seated upon. I could feel her squirm as I touched her pussy, pulling the skin taut to trim away. When it was short enough, I took the lotion and poured some out onto my hand. She definitely flinched when I began to spread it over the outer folds of her sex. She responded to the warmth the lotion created in her flesh as it settled on her and soaked in. Better than foamy products, it would help make her skin soft and smooth and itch-free.

Smiling devilishly, I took up the razor and swished it in the sink of hot water that I had already drawn. Starting from the bottom and working up, I slowly and deliberately began to shave her pussy. She thrust her hips forward and opened her legs as far as possible as she reclined back on the toilet. I dangled the pink-handled razor in the steaming water to heat it up and slowly brought it down toward her. She bit her lip as I slowly drew the hot razor through the lotion, shaving away her short hairs and leaving behind the sweet smooth skin of her outer folds. There was no waste to my motion, particularly given the hesitant disposition of the lady. There was no repeating any movement for each long slow stroke left her skin perfectly clean and shaven.

I tugged her skin taut with my thumb as I worked, rinsing after each stroke to clean the razor and keep the blade hot. When the pad of my thumb accidentally brushed against her clit, she flinched and quivered, broadening my smile. I could see the result of what I was doing in the glistening lips of her sweet pussy. With a final flourish, I drew the last stroke of the razor and tossed it into the sink. With a hot wet washrag, I rinsed her smooth pussy clean and ran my bare fingertips lightly over her, feeling for any errant hair, but not a thing was left. She couldn't resist, and reached down to run her own hand over her pussy.

“Oh, Denny, that feels so strange … I don’t know …”

I leaned forward and kissed her mound just above the slit, savoring the sleek sensation of her smooth pussy. “There will time later to find out just how strange it really feels, my dear,” I said, before standing and leading her back out to her bedroom. I asked her to stand near her dresser where she could see herself in the mirror as I dressed her. Each time I went to my bag and pulled something out, she smiled excitedly, starting with sheer black lace top thigh high stockings, then a silky sheer black thong, a short clingy black satin slip dress, and a soft black velvet jacket.

She let me dress her, my hands never failing to touch her body a bit more than was probably necessary, arranging each piece of clothing so that it fit perfectlyI let her hair tumble free from the pins. It needed only the least amount of brushing. A spritz of Heavenly on each side of her neck and she was ready.

“So I take it we are going out?” she asked expectantly, while I straightened my tie and slipping into my dinner jacket.

“Yes, to a little club I discovered on the east side that I’m sure you may never have heard of, Epitome?” She looked blankly back at me. “It features live jazz and a very unusual dance revue.”

“What about my makeup?” she asked.

“My dear, you don’t need it,” I said cavalierly. “I want your natural blush to show,” I said, holding out my arm to her. “Shall we?”

“All right,” Amelia replied, her voice skittish as a schoolgirl.

I walked her out to my car and helped her in. Little did she know of what was to come this night at the club and what was waiting for her in my shopping bag when we returned.