| Rewarding Good Behaviour, Part 1 ONE Melisa Larsson was having trouble finding something just the right height and size. Chairs were too wide, tables much too high, but after some time she found the ideal thing in a cupboard in the laundry. An old potty chair, probably left behind by a previous tenant, dusty and with no pot, but she knew at once it would do. Taking it into her bedroom and closing the door, she carefully put the shaving mirror on the potty seat so that it reflected upwards, then put a leg each side of the small chair and looked down. There wasn't enough light, and she couldn't see very well, so she got the torch from the hall cupboard. Bending forward so she could now see the reflection easily, she looked at the area described in one of her mother's books. The photo that was there was not much like what she saw now, but she could identify some things. The Labia. The outer lips, and when she gently parted them, the inner lips and clitoris, whatever that was. Well , she thought she could see it. The sight fascinated her. Enlarged by the mirror, it showed things no drawing or photo could. How it was so pink, moist, and shiny. So interesting. Further opening showed what she thought had to be her vagina. A tiny round opening. She knew she didn't pee through that, so she tried inserting a finger into it. I went in easily enough for a little way, and it didn't feel awful or wrong, so she took it out and smelt it. Funny smell, she thought, and grinned. She'd had to find out what she was like down there, had been curious about it ever since her teacher had talked about growing up, how various changes in the body progressed, and hygiene. Lots about that. Now she knew. She'd also met her new teacher, a nice, warm older woman who'd told them stories. The other one had broken her leg. She'd had to wait until her mother was out before she could get the book her mother had. It was called, 'The Growing Child', and began with new born babies. She'd got a peep at it sometimes as her mother was looking at it, and knew there were pictures of children right up to twelve. And on one of those pages she seen had pictures of what was between her legs. A place she couldn't see. A place of mystery. But now her mother had gone down to the village, and she had her opportunity. Smiling At her audacity, she replaced the things she'd used and was watching TV when her mother returned, full of news and adventures. * She's met new new teacher the day before. She spoke slowly, and her stories were so good." I'm going to tell you a story about some grapes, a wily old fox, and a very clever young girl." The teacher smiled at her class, nine boys and six girls somewhere between five and eight years old. The room was warm, an enclosed wood-burning stove glowing at the back of the room; the sun glistened off the snow that covered the trees and grounds, and Miss Mary McNicol was in her element. She'd taught at this village school for twenty years, but had retired two years ago to concentrate on her writing. That was something she'd had to do, a compulsion only partly rewarded by publication, and she'd missed the children, the other staff, the fun and the sense of achievement. But here she was again, halfway through term one, smiling at the expectant faces, the wholesome innocence she found so endearing, and felt a sense of happiness that had been absent too long. Thank god for broken legs. Her story revolved around Aesop's fable, but she'd changed it to fit in with local things, and to assess how bright her students were. The grapes, she told them, hung a little way down a high stone front wall of a village house, ripe and luscious. A hungry fox came down from the forest looking for food, saw the grapes, and determined to have them. They were out of reach, no matter how high he jumped. He pushed a stone over with his nose and stood on that, but still could not get them. A little girl, five years old, had been watching this from her upstairs bedroom window. She went outside, onto the grass where the grapes were planted high above the footpath, reached over the edge and pulled a bunch of those grapes up to where she could cut them off. Then she looked over the edge at the fox and said to it, "Want some?" The fox whines with desire. The little girl pops one in her mouth and says - " "Well, what do you think she said?" There was silence, then a boy said, "Come and get them." There was lots of laughter, then a couple of others followed, but a new girl, one Mary did not know, put up her hand and said, "I think she said, 'Sorry, Mr. Fox, they're mine.'" "Good," said Mary, "spoken like a true Scot. What's your name, dear?" "Melisa, miss McNicol. But I'm Swedish." She nodded, smiling at her mistake and hearing the slight accent, then it was work time. There were only two teachers at this school, for it was in a remote area of the north east and populated by timber workers, cattle and sheep holdings, and for the last ten years oil rig workers. These folk tended to come and go a bit, and Mary guessed Melisa's dad might be one of these. She studied her as she quietly read her book, noting the neat straw coloured hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes. Warmly and neatly dressed, slight and skinny, this was indeed no local child - who were all inured to the cold and had layers of fat to prove it. Melisa was beautiful, no doubt of that, and Mary's memory flashed back to another child like this one, and well, things. Gone, past, no tears. Not now, not any more. Mary was not far wrong from her guess about Melisa's dad. He was on one of the platforms, a hydraulics engineer and home for a week or so once a month. She could not have guessed about Astrid, the girl's mother, who'd come reluctantly to this wilderness and only to please her husband. Astrid still did not understand why he would not fly home each month, and insisted on them being within driving distance. After some truly rancorous arguments she'd agreed, but was unhappy, bored and homesick. Melisa, by contrast, was loving the quiet, the school, and the people. She was losing her shyness, putting on weight, and getting a Scottish burr to her speech. "Mama, we have a new teacher," were her opening words as she flung herself inside the door, boots off, overcoat hung up, and into the all-purpose room of the house they had leased. "She used to be the teacher, but she retired, and now she's back because miss Jenkins broke her leg skiing. She's so nice. She's a writer, and she told us two really good stories today. Her name's miss McNicol." She hugged her mother and got a kiss. They talked, watched television, ate their dinner and bathed. Melisa was in bed by eight thirty, and as usual her mother sat on the bed and told her a bedtime story. As the girl was closing her eyes, Astrid asked her casually, "Does miss McNicol live in the village?" "I think so," was the yawned reply. She missed her mother's little smile. * The following day, Saturday, Astrid had planned to drive to Aberdeen with her daughter, do some shopping, go to the pictures, have a nice meal somewhere, spend the night and return on Sunday. She sure as hell was not going to spend another boring weekend in the village, where the height of excitement was a night at the pub. But now, well, that might change. They had a leisurely breakfast, chatting, talking and reading, then Astrid said, "Listen darling, I need to slip into the village for a few minutes. You'll be all right here on your own for a while?" "Sure, Mama, I've got to get my dollies dressed." She did, but there was something else she wanted to do as well. Something she'd never been told she couldn't, but still not the kind of thing she would come right out and say. She wanted to look at one of Mama's books. And do an experiment. Villages are by nature distrustful of outsiders, but this one had changed its attitudes due to the continuous stream of them that had arrived over the past ten years. Foreigners were welcome. They brought money and employment, more than they'd ever seen. Astrid was no exception. Nordic blonde, gorgeous clothes - even if she was a little plain and aloof, she spent freely - and her daughter was bright and beautiful - so it was not hard for her to obtain the information she needed. Village postmistresses know all and tell it. The house was not hard to find, the occupant home, and Astrid and the goal of her journey were soon sitting in the warmth of a cosy kitchen drinking tea. Miss Mary McNicol was exactly as Astrid had pictured her. About fifty, trim of figure, a little grey in the hair, well built and homely. Also wise and capable, two very important traits that were needed. She liked her immediately, and felt comfortable in broaching the subject she'd come to essay. "Melisa was so happy when she got home yesterday," Astrid began, "so I thought it would be good to come and meet you. I really don't know anyone here, and it's important that she has a teacher she is responsive to. One that I'm happy with, too." "She's a bright child." The burr was soft and kind. "She'll be wonderful to teach, because she thinks about what she is going to say before she says it. Unlike most others round here. Are you going to be here long?" Astrid smiled wanly. "The contract Niklas has runs for three years, so I guess there's two and a bit to go." Mary looked at her visitor, considering. What on earth was she doing in this village? She was a city girl, no doubt about it, a social being that would be finding this life depressing at least. "So, how can I be of assistance?" Shrewdness, born of experience and built in Scotishness Astrid breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to be easier than she'd dare hope. "Well," she slowly began, "apart from being bored out of my mind I need to get back to Stockholm for a day or two. There's some family business that has come up, and while I would normally take Melisa with me, the middle of a school year is probably not the best for that. So, I wondered if you could recommend anyone with whom she could stay for a short time. Someone like yourself, for instance." Nothing like being direct. Beating about the bush only made you tired. Mary felt her heart miss a beat. Unbidden, memories rushed past. Memories that had taken her years to cope with. Memories of a little golden girl. Memories that could she? Could she really do it again? Twenty years was a long time. Twenty years of not desiring men, of hiding her dark, black secret from the world. An age of yearning for the forbidden. For the love of a girl. A little girl. A little blonde girl who she dared not think about it. But she found her mind had other plans, for she heard herself say, "I'd not mind having her here, not at all. Although, truth to tell, she might be bored, put out by having an old woman as her um minder." She'd nearly said, 'lover'. "Truly? Oh, how wonderful. I know she'll be happy here. She hates the city. She has taken to this oddball place - oops, sorry so well. And, of course I'll pay you. This would not be for nothing. And you'd have to agree to that as well." She flashed her a smile, knowing the idea of payment was not always welcomed by the careful, charitable Scots. "Thank you." They could also be courteous. "Would it be all right if I brought her over tomorrow? In the afternoon? I could drive to Aberdeen and get a flight there. I know my mother will be relieved if I can do that." Not half as much as she already was. Mary nodded. "For how long, do you know? I mean, there's lots of things we can do, I run the playgroup in Drum Craig after school twice a week, and there's some very nice families we can visit, but she's going to miss you fairly soon." Astrid nodded. "I know. A couple of days. Three at the most. How would that be?" "Oh, I think we could manage that." Her smile was genuine, her desire was engulfing, and she could feel a slow welling of warmth between her legs. "You'll bring her things when you come?" With suitable assurances, the angel of unexpected delights took her leave. * "Rock Paper Scissors" they both shouted in unison as their fists descended with each word. "Rock" was the wily old teacher's third gesture, only to be covered up by her young pupil's open handed "Paper!" "I win." Melisa was jubilant. "Again. That's eight to me and five to you, miss um Mary. You blink just before you say rock, so I know." "Ah me, fooled again. You're just too good, young five year old Melisa. So time for bed? School tomorrow, you know. I always get there a bit early." Melisa yawned. It had been a big day. She'd had her supper, she'd had an interesting bath, she'd had a very delicious tea, she'd watched the news on television with her new friend, and she'd said goodbye to her mother who had dropped her off at miss McNicol's house at two that afternoon. Of all the things she might have expected her mother to tell her the previous morning when she returned from the village, the idea of staying with miss McNicol for a few days was unbelievable. She had no idea what it would be like, but, true to the spirit of adventure and discovery that was part of her nature, she said the first thing that came into her mind. "Can I take my dolls? And watch television?" That assured, she spent time imagining what it would be like. She knew there'd be more wonderful stories, but beyond that it was rather hazy. But now? Well, now was better than any hazy imaginings. Now was comfortable. Beyond now was going to be enjoyable. She loved her new bedroom, her new bed with its lovely white sheets and thick, yellow blankets and soft pillow. The decorations, fairies and elves, the way even the light seemed to be warm, but best of all she liked her new friend. She was so comfortable. So safe. Not for a moment did she wonder why an old spinster would have a child's bedroom ready. Such things are for adult wonderings. Mary the hostess did indeed look so different to Mary the schoolteacher. Younger not that Melisa could tell the age of one old person from another pretty, nice makeup, a lovely blue floaty kind of dress, and her hair, why, it was long, down to her shoulders, and it wasn't grey, it was goldish red, and swished about her as she moved. And her eyes were bright and sparkly, and she was a tease, and she didn't mind anything being said. And she'd wheedled two stories out of her. As she drifted off she wished Mama could be a bit like miss- oh, Mary. She held out her arms for her goodnight kiss, and when Mary put her arms around her in a cuddle, she could feel them trembling. She opened her eyes and saw tears in her friend's eyes. "What's wrong? Are you sad?" A shake of the head. "No, dear, I'm so happy. I'm so - " tears were running down her face now. " So very happy." She stood and ran from the room. Adults were funny sometimes, thought Melisa. Cry if you were happy? She didn't. Closing her eyes, she could feel Mary's arms around her again. For that brief moment they had felt loving, caring, and strong, not like her mother's usual perfunctory goodnight and peck on her forehead. Nice warm beds are one thing, but country nights can be strange - and scary. The house she lived in was in the village, but the this one was near the forest, and some time later she woke, shaking with fright. A horrible, howling noise had been right outside her window. A big bad wolf coming to get her, she just knew. She did what she'd always done when a scare woke her, she made for her mother's bed. Banging her head on the wall where the door was supposed to be brought her awake a little more, which is when she noticed the doorway, dimly lit by a light from somewhere. The memory of where she was popped into her mind, and carrying her favourite doll, she made her way towards it. The big bedroom had its bedside light on, but Mary appeared to be asleep. That didn't matter, she needed protection, so she pulled the blankets back and climbed in beside her. She was safe. But Mary wasn't asleep, because she whispered, "Hello, I wonder who this could be?" as she drew Melisa to her. "Couldn't sleep?" "A big wolf woke me up and I was scared. Can I stay here?" "Oh, yes you may. Oh, yes, you can stay as long as you like. You are my dream come true." A kiss was planted on the child's forehead, followed by ones to the eyelids, the nose, cheeks And finally the mouth. "You don't mind if I kiss you?" "I like kisses. Papa kisses me, but Mama hardly ever does." Pause. "Does kissing someone mean you love them?" "Not always, but this time it does." "Good, because I love you." She raised her mouth and kissed Mary on the neck, then lay back in her arms. Mary could feel her heart pounding. This had never been going to happen again. She had no idea why she fell in love with little girls - well one, and now two she'd never found an explanation, and it no longer mattered. But love affairs they were, with all the joys, traumas, exhilaration and devotion that went with them. She looked at this child lying contentedly in her arms and smiled with adoration. Heigh ho, life was worthwhile. "Mary, can I tell you something?" "My love, you can tell me anything you like. Anything at all.' "Well, yesterday, when Mama was out, I looked at myself in the mirror. I'd seen some pictures in Mama's book, and I wanted to see if I was the same. Well, I was, I think, but I couldn't see my clitoris. What's a clitoris?" She broke the word into three distinct syllables. When there was no answer, she said, "Mary? What's - "
When it came, her reply was gargled. "It's - arrhg something, eeh, a part of you that, ahh, oh god, let me show you." "Have you got one?" "Oh yes. It's something you feel with. Feel magical things. Specially when you're grown up, but you could feel them as well. Can I help you feel what yours does?" "That sounds like fun. Thanks, Mary. I knew you'd be able to tell me. You are so clever." "Well, the first thing to do is pull up your nightie and slide up as high as you can on my pillow." That done, she said, "now, I'm going to slide down in the bed and you are going to open your legs as wide as you can." A bit of threshing about, and that was done. When her head was between those lovely young legs, she added, "and now my tongue is going to help your clitoris feel." The light cast a dim glow on the scene before her, the pristine vulva, the hairless lips and baby skin, and her heart was in her mouth. This was almost too much pleasure. Everything combining to bring the full flush of erotic joy into her mind. She sighed, a truly enchanted breath. Slowly, she began to lick those sensuous lips. Slowly her tongue worked its way inside them, licking up and down, penetrating inwards, probing and tasting. "That's nice," her child said. The world was full of wonder. Then that tiny, not yet fully formed set of nerve ends that make life worth living was probed for. The tongue is so sensitive, so intimate that the pimple still beneath the flesh could be felt. She licked, then gently sucked on the spot. A short "Ah!" with indrawn breath was the response. Another, and another followed. Mary gently slid the tip of her index finger in to that miraculous entrance below and moved it around. The breaths became ragged. The sighs became stronger until there was a long, descending moan of ecstasy. The finger and mouth were withdrawn and her teacher slid up beside her pupil and embraced her. "That's you clitoris." Two eyes regarded her in awe. "Oh, oh, that was so, so wonderful. It was like hot and sparkly. I'm all sweaty. Oh, thank you, thank you." She kissed her teacher on the lips. "I love you." They lay there in the glowing silence for a while before Mary whispered, "Would you like to do that to me?" "Oh. Can I?" "Yes you can. I'd love you to do that." She pulled up her nightie and pointed. "Slide down and lick me between my legs, just like I did to you. It's not hard." "Ooh, goodie." She did. Mary opened her legs, raised her knees, and fingered her labia apart. "You're all hairy. And I can't see." True, the light was too far away. Mary picked the bedside lamp up with her other hand and held it closer to the area of operations. "That's better." A moment to work out how to breathe and lick at the same time, but soon it was the ultimate in eroticism. A beautiful girl doing beautiful things. A blond head bobbing between her thighs. An angel of delight at the throne of love. She lifted her lover's head higher. She urged it closer. The spot was found. The joys began. "Suck it, love, suck it hard. Like a lollipop. Suck, oh, suck." The fire was stoking hot, the lightning bolts coming from Thor, the wind was in her ears and she was sailing the roiling sea of pure delight. A final crescendo and, as she felt herself spurt into the waiting mouth she cried. "Yes. Ah! Yes. Ahhhh ...." The bobbing head stopped its ministrations and the cherub climbed up to lie in her arms once more. The lamp lay on the bed, unheeded. "You taste nice, Mary. You're all wet, too. Did I do it good?" Teacher rolled the new star on top of her and looked lovingly into her eyes. "You are the best. You are just so wonderful. I'm so glad we're together. I'm so glad we can be together for a few more days.' "Me too. I'm still tingling." She kissed her best new friend for a long time. "You smell nice." Within the minute they were asleep. TWO "You're staying with Miss McNicol?" The girl she sat next to in class was called Jess, and the news that the new girl was in the care of their teacher was astonishing. Melisa nodded her head gloomily. "Mama had to go home, so she put me with her for a couple of days." "How is it?" "Trakia." Seeing the look of bewilderment, she added in English, "boring. Wash your hands, eat your dinner, go to bed. It's a nice house, though." She had been coached over breakfast in the way she was to handle 'normal' things. Mary had told her that she would tell the other teacher, and that he would let the news slip so that it would become known to the children. It was impossible to keep that kind of thing from being known, so it was better to make it seem nothing more than a little kindness. She could see the logic of this, but could not get out of her mind waking up next to this wonderful person. Warm, snuggly, everything about her was special. They'd showered together, and she'd not been able to stop herself getting on her knees and putting her five fingers up inside Mary's labia. She was told to poke then in and out quickly, which Mary said would make her feel so good, and it must have done, because she shook and after a while yelled then nearly collapsed on top of her. Really, she'd never imagined anything could be so exciting and thrilling. Then Mary had held her upside down while she did the same to her, but with her tongue. It was so good, that feeling she got, but it was spoilt by her getting water up her nose which made her cough. They'd really had a lot of fun. They were late for school. Mary had on her schoolmarm dress and almost looked like one, but she had lipstick on, her hair was bright and so was the sparkle in her eyes. She felt so very good. The whole world was new again, and several times she had to bring herself back to order, her mind trolling the possibilities as she gazed lovingly at her new companion. The companion did manage to do a bit of school work, but her mind kept wandering. Trying to play softball at lunch time helped dispel the tingling memories, and later she was able to assume a bored air as she trudged out to Mary's car for the drive home. When dinner was over Mary handed Melisa a small red leather box. Her mouth fell open when she saw what was inside. "Oh, my, it's beautiful." She gently took it out and held up a tiny pink pearl, set in a gold cup which hung from a fine gold link chain. She swung it back and forth for a moment, then looked at Mary with questions in her eyes. "That was my grandmothers. It's very old, but I want you to have it. I want you to wear it on special occasions. I want you to think of me when you do. Would you do that for me?" Shaking her head in wonder, Melisa replied, "Oh, my, it is so beautiful. Thank you, Mary. Thank you, and I will always remember you. All the time. And I'll never forget this or you. You are lovely." She replaced it in the box and looked with shining eyes at her new love. "And this," Mary went on, producing another leather box, this time in grey, is something I would like you to give to me." Seeing her puzzled look, she explained. "When you give something to someone, it's always special. A gift has to mean something important. It doesn't really matter where the gift comes from, it's the giving that's the thing. You understand what I am saying?" "I think so," she said hesitantly. "So if I give this to you, it's like I found it and wanted you to have it?" "That's right. Here." She proffered the box with a cheeky smile. Melisa took it, all seriousness, and after a moment said, "Mary, I would like you to have this gift. From me." "Why, thank you, Melisa. That's very kind of you." She took it and gently opened the lid. "Why, this is so nice, my dear. Thank you. It's just like one my mother had when she got engaged. I'll treasure it always." "It was your mama's?" "Yes it was, it's her engagement ring. Because you gave it to me, I will remember you every time I look at it." She slipped it on her finger. "And now this means we're engaged as well. And one day we'll be married. Is that all right with you?" This was such a new idea that Melisa could only stare. Finally, in a very small voice, she said, "Forever?" Mary had forgotten how literal children this age were. She'd done nothing more than voice her most secret desire, an unreal fantasy indeed, but now? "As long as we like." Well, she thought, it was the truth. A smile and a nod. Acceptance, at least. "Can we play games now, please?" They did, but by eight Melisa was so tired she had to go to bed. "Can I sleep in your bed, please?" "Of course you can. Every night, if you want. With a story first." She'd never though it would be otherwise. Melisa was fast asleep by the time Mary hopped into bed two hours later, heart beating wildly at the thought of lying next to this child, her love, her secret sexual desire. Although it was cold, she went to bed without donning her usual night attire, a flannelette nightie; the thought of having that body pressed to her flesh was going to keep her warm all night. She lay next to her, put her arms around her, kissed her hair and neck, not wanting to wake her. She was so beautiful. Sleep descended in a shower of golden warmth. Mary was first awake, becoming aware that the air was freezing. She knew the heating was on, ticking over to keep things nice, but something told her it had gone off. It did not feel good. When she parted the curtains to peep outside she saw the reason. There must have been two feet of snow everywhere. As far as she could see there was an unbroken expanse of white, with only the bushes and trees poking through. There must have been a storm, so there'd be no electricity. She had bottled gas, but the good old kitchen stove would have to be lit for warmth. Later. There'd be no school today. How lucky she was. Sliding back into bed, she put one arm around Melisa and drew her close. The other hand went between her legs, that lovely, familiar place she had used so frequently as she'd pictured unforgettable memories. Now, with a new girl to cuddle, she could finger away to her hearts content. She sighed in joy and satisfaction, leant over and kissed the blond hair. She could take a lot of this. A sleepy voice said, "What time is it?" "Hello, my love, it's nearly eight." She kissed her tenderly, gazing with love at the angel in her life. "And there's no school today." She ruffled her hair. "Go and have a look out the window." "Oh. Snow. Everywhere." She was not over excited. Snow was normal. After a moment, she added, climbing back into bed in a hurry, "It's freezing cold." "The heating's gone off. Take off your nightie and cuddle up, sweetie, it's nicer that way." She did, and after getting a squeeze, said, "I love you, Iove it here, it's all friendly and kind." "Don't you miss your mum?' A puzzled frown passed across her face. "I've got you. Can't you be my mama?" That gave her pause for thought. Finally she said, "Well, for now, anyway." Her hand wandered down Melisa's body, pausing to gently squeeze the proto-nipples, rub the tummy, and arrive at the top of the legs. She leant over and whispered, "Open them, my love, there's a girl," and when they did she slid her forefinger down the crease and gently into the opening beneath. "Is that my vagina? I couldn't understand the book." "That, my love, is the entrance to it. It's one of us girl's most prized possessions. I want to kiss it again. OK?" "And suck it, like last time? I love what you did." Without waiting, Melisa turned end for end, climbed on top of her lover and stuck her fanny into the face of this wonderful adult. This meant her head was under the duvet, but also that this covering had been raised up a bit, so she could just about see and breathe. She reached out an arm and put her fingers into the place she knew Mary like to have them. It was so wet down there, so warm and sticky. She began rubbing, up and down, round and round. This was good fun. The smell was exhilarating, and it made her feel good too. What made her feel even better was Mary's fingers playing over her labia, then pulsing inside her. When she mouth went to her clitoris and began to suck on it, the same exciting feelings as before started, and built up until she could contain them no longer. Her "Ahhh..... was muffled, but the feeling wasn't, and it was so strong she had to stop her handiwork and make for the surface. "Thank you, thank you, that was so lovely. I love you." She kissed her, then began to suck on one of Mary's nipples. "I'm a baby, I'm a little baby," she said between sucks. No one had ever done this to her before, and the sensation was incredible. Sure, she pulled and rubbed her nipples as she came, but to feel a small mouth doing it was unbelievable. She began to finger herself, rubbing, plunging and tweaking frenetically until the two feelings melded. She knew she was cumming quicker than she had done for years. And harder. Her body began to spasm, her breath became ragged, and result was so great she began to scream. And scream again through the veil of unending time. Even when she quietened her lover didn't stop, but began using her teeth on those sensitive mounds so the excitation would go on. It became a kind on unstoppable agony, of wonderful hurt, exquisite torture, and the roils of ecstasy welled up once more. Cries and whimpers surged up, her fingers found her swollen clitoris, and her orgasm was uncontrollable. Never before had it happened like this. Never before. Never but oh, how great it was. Her hand, cum covered, ran down the back of her sexy little lover. "I love you so much, little one." Soft, small lips were pressed to hers. "Can you be my mama? Please?" It brought a smile to her face. "Forever," she whispered. As they lay there, quiet and glowing, there was a click and air began to flow from the ducted floor heating. "Oh, goodie" Mary said, pausing to listen. "I need to go to the toilet." "Me, too. I'm bursting." They raced to the toilet, but as there was only one, in the end Melisa sat on the edge of the bath next to the wall and peed into it. 'Even that,' thought Mary as she watched the warm amber stream flow out, 'is as sexy as hell.'
They were just finishing breakfast when there was a bang on the front door. Fortunately they were both dressed the heater might be on, but it would take hours to warm the house so Mary could go to answer the knock straight away. A moment later she was back. "That was the man next door," she said with a smile. "He's just cleared the path. Thought I'd be off to school soon." They both giggled. "You could give me my lessons at home." "Hmm. We could subtract clothes, add tongues, multiply fingers, and learn how to spell thrills. Then we'd have to practice until we got it right!" Melisa laughed. She knew that this was just the best place to be. She suddenly hoped her mama would never return. Mary turned the radio on to get the news, but just as it started, the telephone rang. "That'll be the school," she said as she headed to the hall. A few minutes later she was back, sitting next to Melisa before she took her hand in her own. "That was not the school, it was your mama." "Oh. I have to go home." Tears sprang into her eyes. "I don't want to go home. I want to stay here." "Well, my little love, that's exactly what you are going to do. Your mama has been delayed. She does not know for how long, but for at least another week! How do you feel about that?" "A week? Oh, wow!" She jumped up, threw her arms in the air, and began to dance. "I can stay, I can stay, hooray, hooray." She put her arms around Mary's neck and gave her a hug, getting a cuddle in return. "Now, how about helping me make some cakes? We can get the stove lit, invite Jess, the girl you sit next to, and have a party here later." Mary was full of good ideas. Two hours late a fruit cake, twenty fairy cakes and a pile of shortbreads were on cooling racks. The kitchen smelt heavenly. They had begun to put the utensils away when the front doorbell rang. "Well, who could this be, I wonder" said Mary with a grin as she got up and headed for the door. "It could be the McBride's." Seeing her blank look, she explained, "You know, he's the other teacher. Two boys, seven and ten. The live close by." When a few minutes had passed and Mary had not returned, Melisa went looking for her, and found her talking to a young red haired woman in the hallway. She had a very troubled frown on her face, and was listening to some softly spoken words.. Melisa drew back around the corner of the hall which came from the kitchen and peeped round it. She did not like the look on her teacher's face. A moment went by and then Melisa saw something that made her jaw drop. There, peeping at her from behind the woman's skirt was a girl about her own age. Curly blond hair, brown eyes, and heavy warm clothes, Melisa felt for an instant that she'd met her very own sister. Who was this? As she watched in amazement, she saw the girl tug at her mother's dress until that lady looked down at her. The girl's finger was pointing at Melisa. The woman looked up and smiled. "You must be Melisa," she said. Mary then looked to where the lady was facing and saw her angel. She cocked her head and said, "Come and meet a um a friend." The last word was not said graciously. Then as Melisa made her way shyly toward them, Mary added, "Look, let's go and sit in the kitchen. It's too cold and uncomfortable here." When they were settled Mary said, a tremor in her voice, "Melisa, this is someone I knew a long time ago. Her name is Annabelle, and with her is her daughter Sarah. They have come to me for help. But it's not so easy, and it's not simple, it's - " and before she could stop she began to cry. Melisa threw her arms around the neck of her keeper/lover/teacher and said, "Don't cry, It'll be alright." Words her mother had said to her. "Sorry." Mary made a desperate effort to regain her composure. "Let me tell Melisa - " began their visitor, but was cut off by Mary. " No. I'll tell her." Her tone was as sharp as lemon. "Melisa, twenty years ago Annabelle was five, just like you are now. And just like you - " her voice trailed off into a whisper, " she lived with me, just like you do now. We loved each other so -" this time the tears were torrents which she spoke through, " so very very much. And then and then she moved away. And later she got married and had Sarah. And now - " she looked at her former lover and whispered, " "she wants to come back and live here because her marriage has broken up. And I still love her. God help me, I still love her. And I love you too, my very own sweetheart." The sobbing became heartrending as she put her hand on Melisa's arm. "What am I to do? Help me. I don't know what to do." Melisa was five, but there was a streak of innate wisdom and tenacity within her heart. She looked up at the lady opposite, at her daughter, and said firmly, "No, you cannot stay. Mary is mine now. I'm never going to leave her like you did." She stood and kissed the top of the older woman's head. "I love you forever," she said softly. Melisa was five, but there was a streak of innate wisdom and tenacity within her heart. She looked up at the lady opposite, at her daughter, and said firmly, "No, you cannot stay. Mary is mine now. I'm never going to leave her like you did." She stood and kissed the top of the older woman's head. "I love you forever," she said softly. |