The Best Lesson Four - Guilt

by LesLuv

"Sally? Is that you? Sally Munro?" The young woman had come into my shop, looking at the displays of flowers, then looked at me briefly before doing a double take and staring, then asked her disbelieving question.

I didn't recognise her, but I get many passers-by and thought nothing of it. My name is on the window, after all - 'Sally's Flower Salon' - but using my maiden name gave me pause for thought. She had her mouth open, waiting, hoping as well, I guess. "Yes, my name's Sally. And it was Munro. Do I know you?" She was about twenty five, tall, well built, athletic looking, pretty in an ordinary kind of way, delightful green eyes, light brown hair and bright crimson lipstick. So far as I knew, I'd never seen her before.

"I guess I've changed, but I'd have known you anywhere. Remember Janice Swann?"

Swann chimed a bell, but it didn't help.

"Little Jan?"

I shook my head slowly. Something there, but -

"Where did you live when you were fifteen?"

Fifteen? I began to shake my head, but the question was actually such a bombshell that the mists began to roll away, and a startling flash of emotion filled my mind. "Oh my God. Oh, my." My eyed filled with tears, my heart began to pound in my chest, and I suddenly  remembered little Jan. Five year old Janice, the little girl I'd baby sat for six months until - well, until I couldn't. Wouldn't.

I wiped my eyes and squinted at this young woman standing, looking at me with a little questioning smile. I had never imagined ever seeing her again, but twenty five years ago I'd spent days, nights and weeks waiting for her parents to come and tell my parents what I had done to their only child, innocent and beautiful, now damaged beyond repair, then dragging me down to the police station where I'd be thrown into jail forever.

"You're Jan?" I could hardly believe it. She looked  normal, undamaged, strong, healthy and wholesome.

"Yes, I sure am. Jan Jones, married, one child, just moved around the corner from here. Gee, what a surprise! I had no idea, but as soon as I saw you I knew. You haven't changed much, still got that twinkle in your eye. It's good to see you."

It could not be. The guilt I'd finally buried after years of turmoil had come rushing back, full colour, hot, terrifying and crushing. "But what I did, what - "

" - What you did was to not come back. I was so angry, so upset that you just left. Mum never knew why, just that you didn't want to."

"But, I, you know, I interfered with you, I made you play with me, I did terrible things."

"Eh? I don't remember anything like that. Just that you used to make me feel really happy, really good, so wonderful. And you never came back. It took me ages to get over that."

I stared at her, open mouthed, then shook my head in disbelief. "You mean - yes, you do, don't you? Remember none of it? Oh my good God." I felt myself go weak at the knees, and stumbled to a chair. All that time, worry, and apprehension by the bucket load,  and none of it needed. I looked up at her, seeing the bright-eyed five-year-old, vivacious, clever, beautiful girl, eager to learn, and so, so innocent. And now an adult, the same personality, the same innocence, and I knew I could never tell her what I'd done. Or what I'd made her do.

"Look," she said, coming a step closer, "I don't know what's upsetting you, but I really would like to talk to you, get to know you now that I'm older, because I do want to know what happened. I must have done something terrible for you to stop coming, and I felt so guilty for ages. But I could never work out what. And I liked you so much. Please, can we go out for lunch or something? Can you come to my place and meet my husband? And my little girl? How about tonight? Please, Sally?"

This was too much. She felt guilty? I'd never stopped to think, never had the slightest inkling of how she would feel. Too full of my own anxieties. Too much the teen. I looked at her in a new light, a weight lifting from the shoulders of my conscience. She held out her hand, pleadingly.

"I'd love to come and have lunch with you," I said, smiling for the first time, the fear shrivelling as her words sank in.

Of course I finished up telling her. Telling her how she'd discovered me at ten o'clock one night with my pants around my knees, my legs wide, the smooth end of a hairbrush pistoning in my pussy while the fingers of my other hand crazy-flicked my clit. How orgasms can't wait when you're fifteen, how I'd watched my secret video clip of two nude girls kissing and playing before I'd come, and that her appearance had so shocked me that I'd nearly died.

"I was so close, I remember that, right on the edge, and the last thing I'd expected was to see you, yawning and scratching your head, asking what I was doing. I swear I nearly had a heart attack. Did you know my parents?"

She shook her head. "Well, they were very, very straight, belonged to this conservative church, and thought sex was just for having children. So if they had ever found out about what I was doing they'd have killed me, told your parents, and I'd have been out on my ear. So I pretended it was some exercise or something, that teens had to do it, and you nodded, understanding, then asked if you could do the exercise too.

And I was so hot, so full of hormones that I pulled your nightie up, lay you on the couch and ate your pussy. I didn't care, you'd asked, and I suddenly didn't care about being branded a sinner, so I licked you and played with you until you came. A little orgasm, but you panted, moaned and kissed me hard. And I kissed you back, told you I loved you, and that I wanted to do it again.

But when I got back home my mother asked me what the stuff was on my mouth, and I nearly died again. I told her it was icecream, but really I'd forgotten to have a wash before I left your place, and it was you on my mouth. And I felt so guilty, and knew I could never do it again, it was wrong, a terrible evil, that I'd go to hell, and you'd grow up all twisted, a prostitute, poor and awful. So I never came back. I cried a lot, and I stopped masturbating. Until I was much older, at uni, and fell in love with a girl there. So, Jan, that's what happened. Some story, eh?"

"Oh my." She put her hand on mine and added, "I don't remember any of it. Just that you made me feel good, that you were the best person in the world, and that I loved you." She paused and looked into the distance. "But I got over it, as we do, went to college, uni, did graphic design, got married eight years ago, and have a five year old called Rena.

"So when I saw you in your shop -  gorgeous place, isn't it?  - I knew it was you. You were in my memory bank. And -" she looked into my eyes and smiled, a beautiful, wistful, endearing smile - "I still love you." Tears  came into in her eyes. "Hope you don't mind."

Two of her gentle tears rolled down her cheeks.

I gripped her hand in mine. "Oh, God. Oh, my dear, sweet, lovely Janice. I have loved you all this time. Deep in the back of my mind there's been a yearning that has coloured all my relationships. It was you. Look - I got married, but didn't want children. My husband didn't want that, so we parted, years ago. I'm a prim and proper spinster at heart, I like looking after my two nephews, running this place, which is my life, really, but no intimacy. Sure, I have my friends, but it's pretty lukewarm.

"But now? Oh, shit, I loved you so much, and I have done all these years but would not let myself peer into those hidden places. So much guilt, so much anguish." I looked at her pleadingly, my eyes filling with tears, my chin shaking, unable to control my emotions.  "For god's sake, cuddle me?"

I was bawling my eyes out by now, much to the consternation of the other diners in the small café.

Janice got up, came around the small table, knelt by my side,  and put her arms around me. We rocked back and forth for a while, the comforting strength she was imparting slowly bringing me down to something near normal.

"Come with me, Sally, come and we'll pick Rena up from school, go back to my place and talk, get to know each other all over again." She leant up and kissed me, gently and tenderly. "Can we do that?"

I nodded. I felt wonderful, disoriented, disembodied and delicious. I stood, Jan put money on the table, collected my bag and hers, and put her arm around me as we went slowly to the door.

"Look at that, dear." An elderly woman was talking to her husband, nodding in our direction. "Looks like mother and daughter reunited. Isn't it lovely?"

Jan turned her head and grinning from ear to ear said, in a voice loud enough for all to hear, but directed at the lady, "No, dear, not mother and daughter, just reunited lovers."

Rena was a charmer, happy to see me and full of chat about school - her mother's daughter without doubt - unafraid, and asking questions that showed great perception.

I headed for the toilet after we arrived at their house, gave myself a rueful but happy grin in the mirror, and went to the kitchen where some strong tea was brewing. I needed it.

Sally said, "I'll be back in a moment. Pour some tea, and Rena, tell Sally about your birthday."

She did. "I was five last month, and I had a great birthday. All my friends. Would you like to see what Mummy gave me?"

"Of course."

She dived out of the room and came back a moment later with a white plastic box about twenty centimetres long. "It's just so lovely. Mummy is so good to me."

Expecting a watch, or maybe a pen set, I nearly fainted when she opened the lid. Nestled in the pink silk lining was a slim, erotic, gold vibrator with a soft foamy end.

"You have one?"

I could only nod.

"Can I show you how good I am at using it? Took me a while, but Mummy says I've got it right now, and I just love the orgasms it gives me." She didn't wait for my approval, just pulled her panties down, sat on a chair, pushed up her skirt, opened her legs and placed this beautifully wicked object between them. She looked at me and grinned. "Here goes," and the vibrator gave it's hum of arousal as she turned it on.

So did I - my hum of arousal, that is. I could not take my eyes off the scene before me, but Jan's return made me look up, mouth open, eyes bulging.

She came over and sat on my lap. "Welcome to our home," she said into my ear, then kissed me, lingering, licking my face, rubbing her hand over my hair, nuzzling and blowing gently into my ear.

I cuddled her tightly, sucked her neck, bit it, felt the juice run down the inside of my thighs,  and knew it was not hell that I had gone to, but heaven.

A delighted cry of arrival made us break off our loving to look at this angelic, wanton child. She looked up, waved the instrument in the air, and said, "I love it. It's just the best buzz, isn't it, Mummy?"

We grinned at her, nodding our heads.

After a moment she look at me and said, "Sally, would you like to try it? Mummy does."

For some reason the fact that I had about $300 worth of orders to prepare and dispatch popped into my mind . . . for all of two seconds. 

"Why, thank you, Rena, I think the three of us could take turns, don't you? And do you and Mummy lick each other too?"

"Oh, yes, every night. Mummy has shown me what to do, and I'm the best. I could show you too, if you like."

I liked. Bedroom, undressed, legs over edge of bed, little head, little hands, then little tongue all coordinated to my pleasure. Like no other pleasure I had ever experienced before. Somewhere over the rainbow, beyond the pearly gates, past the abode of the gods, and I came, and came, and came, and fell in love, and swooned, and was kissed, stroked, and cuddled to glory.

We plan to see each other often.

They taught me the best lesson, those two. Don't let guilt fool you into withdrawal. I had, but look at me now!

The End