The Carousel Shoppe

[Miltone]

OCC: This is a closed thread written by the sensuous Captivate and yours truly. Of course you are all cordially invited to read along as we present for your entertainment the story of a charming shop owner and the mysterious gentleman who has come to rent the upstairs office from her. There is no telling what his law practice is truly all about. And please feel free to PM us with any comments regarding our little story. Now, let us begin.

Denton P. Willis is a lawyer. Perhaps late 40s, tall and slender with light blue eyes and a head full of bushy blond hair that always seems to be falling into his eyes. He has a perpetual lazy smile and an ambiance that perhaps could be termed as having a nouveau southern gentleman quality, yet he speaks in the dialect of a Midwesterner. His gestures are direct with little wasted motion so that when he does something, a scratch of his nose, a bow, or extending a compliment, it carries weight and has true meaning.

IC: The mid-morning sunshine glanced sharply off the window as I passed by the antique shop. At least it looked like an antique shop with scads of odds and ends arranged carefully in the large display window. There was a child’s sleigh in excellent condition complete with a large China doll dressed in vintage 1920’s children’s clothes atop it. To the side was a lovely old dresser that perhaps had seen better days, but which had been lovingly restored and was decorated with a painstaking floral design, obviously hand-painted by an artiste. On top were several choice ceramic and glass pieces including an oil lamp, certainly old and perhaps though not greatly valuable, object that could add a special decorative touch to a mantle or a curio cabinet display. There were other choice pieces placed carefully around which gave the impression that the decorator had too much time on their hands. But all of that didn’t concern me as I stood in the swelter of a hot early summer day, for what caught my attention was the plain sign with orange letters that announced and “Office For Rent”.

My light linen jacket pulled back on my shoulders, I looked up and down the quaint little main street in a town too self-consciously Victorian, too caught up in trying to establish an identity that would set it off from the surrounding sprawling suburbs to notice my setting up my practice. To my left was the town center marked off by an olde fashioned clock. To my right was the cinema converted to a live playhouse. Over my shoulder was the city park with a band shell. I pictured barbershop quartets harmonizing on lazy Friday evenings populated by yuppie and DINK couples strolling along with hand carved ice cream cones. I looked up at the hand painted sign overhead announcing “The Carousel Shoppe” in an old-fashioned script complete with a nouveau Victorian flourish. Not only did the proprietor have too much time on their hands, but also too much money to pay for such a simple but lovely sign. Perfect, I thought to myself. Just perfect.

Noting the door that lead to the upstairs office, the gold leaf lettering identifying an accounting firm still in place, I pressed through the door to the shop and entered, nearly laughing at the tinkle of an antique door ringer. The owner hadn’t missed a beat on creating this atmosphere. There was the decided scent of vanilla in the air and the sound of someone humming a show tune in the backroom. As the door closed behind me, the humming stopped and a woman came through the high arched doorway.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked in a low, husky sensual voice.

“Pardon me, but I saw the sign out front about the office to rent,” I remarked slowly, letting the syllables flow out gently. “Are you the one I should talk to in regards?”

She smiled warmly, her round cheeks creased with a pair of cute dimples. “Why, yes that would be me,” she said, her voice becoming animated and excited. Perhaps the office had been for rent for a long time and she would be only too happy to rent it at a more than reasonable rate. I ran my hand back over my forehead, combing my hair back so she could get a good look at me. Her face brightened and she ran her hand over her head self-consciously, as if to make sure every strand of her silky dark hair was in place.

“If possible, I’d like to have a look at it,” I said, again slowly. As my smile increased, I noticed so did hers with just a bit of blush to boot, and her eyes fell down and away coyly. “I’m looking for a place to set up my law practice. And this seems to be a wonderful town in which to do so.”

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

OOC: Amelia Nelsen is a native of the town. Her mother had been born here, her father had spent the majority of his life at the textile factory by the river. She grew up fully expecting wonderful things to happen to her. She loved books and they told her the shape of things to come. She would grow into young womanhood, a gentleman would court her and make her his wife, and her life would really begin. They would own a beautiful home, have precious children, and be content to grow old together.
She waited patiently. She grew to young womanhood, but no one noticed her. She was ripe and ready when her mother became sick. Her father had died the year before, and now her mother seemed anxious to follow him. Amelia nursed her mother and worked at the textile mill to support them. The years passed slowly, with Amelia's mother lingering, as if unsure of her next step.
Finally, she died in her sleep. Amelia was sad, but deeply relieved to start living again. It was almost amazing to her that the world had continued while she was toiling.
It seemed her parents had set aside money for Amelia, a dowry of sorts. Without realizing how hopeless it seemed, she decided to use the money to realize a dream, a shop filled with objects that needed love and care. She wanted to supply people with treasures of the dearest kind.
IC: It is a spring day, melting into summer. I have been working all day in the back room, singing along with my favorite broadway shows and slowly repairing the lovely pie chest I had found while out shopping last week.

My shop, or Shoppe, as I prefer, is full of my finds. I specialize in discovering sadly-treated items and lovingly returning them to useful and charming existence.

When I opened the Carousel Shoppe, many of the townspeople told me I could never make a living in restoration of these lost treasures, but over the past year, my business has picked up and I even have some customers who make special trips monthly to see my newest prizes.

Some days, it seems I will make a successful business, despite the sleepiness of the town. Other days, I ask myself what I am doing, why I think I can possibly make a go of this place.
Today is a good day. The chest is coming along nicely, I was able to recreate the lovely veneer that had been punished from years of wet drinks carelessly placed on the surface. I had just had a visit from the Bolangers, a lovely couple from another state, who purchased many of my favorite antiques. The books nearly balanced today, making it an exceptional day for me.

When the door opened, I smiled at the soft tinkle of my door ringer. "This is perfect," I thought. "One more customer will allow me to pay all the monthly bills before they are late...again!"

I enjoyed preparing for work each day, feeling the proprietor of an establishment such as mine should be well-dressed and elegant. Today, I was very happy that was my policy, as I entered the main room and found a stranger standing there.

I am used to strangers, but usually they come in pairs, wives dragging reluctant husbands, women with their gay designers, mothers and daughters with too much money and time. But today, standing there, was a lovely man, alone, appearing not to be interested in my antiques at all.

He seemed to have walked out of a Faulkner novel, with shaggy blond hair and a linen suit. I fully expected him to bow from the waist, or kiss my hand, or call me "Ma'am" with a slow southern drawl. His voice was low and commanding, making me lean toward him as he spoke. Ah, he had come about the office to rent. That would make my day, my week! It has been several months since James had moved his accounting firm out to the strip mall, leaving me without that crucial income.

I realize that I am staring at him, enjoying his easy good looks. I try to look away, feeling the blush burning my cheeks. I can't help but imagine my days with this charming gentleman working directly overhead.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

When the proprietress looked back up at me, I extended my right hand. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Denton Willis.”

She stepped forward and slipped her hand into mine in a very shy but ladylike manner.

“And you are?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a laugh. “Amelia. Miss Amelia Nelsen.”

I nodded my head and glanced upward.

“Oh, yes,” she remarked. “The office. I’ll get the key.”

She disappeared for a moment and I amused myself with a look around her shop. As many establishments reflect the mindset of their owner, so did this one reveal much about Miss Nelsen in the kind and quality of her antiques and the particular way she had them arranged. Quirky perhaps, creative, certainly. I heard the rustle of her footsteps as she returned with the key.

“Right this way, Mr. Willis,” she said leading the way toward the door.

“Denny, m’am. My friends call me Denny. I prefer that.”

She paused for a moment regarding me closely and then led the way up the creaky wooden stairs. A haze of dust hung in the air as she showed me to the office. The building was old and hadn’t ever been extensively remodeled. There was a cozy waiting room, a modern restroom, and a pair of offices, one of them quite private with it’s own entrance. Not spacious, but certainly adequate for my purposes.

“I hope you’ll excuse the heat and the dust,” she apologized. “But I haven’t had the air conditioning on since the place has been empty.”

I turned around, hands on my hips, and nodded in her direction. When she made a most attractive concession on the rent, we came to an agreement and returned downstairs to sign the papers in her office. I was amused by the way she seemed to dote on me, as if my presence had affected her in some way. She offered me a refreshing drink, made sure I had her best pen to sign with, and saw to it that all of my copies were neatly arranged in a tidy little folder to take with me.

Our hands brushed lightly together as she handed me the folder, and I could have sworn that hers trembled just a bit when we touched. She kept her hand near mine, her fingers rubbing lightly against mine.

“Pardon me, but is the interior decoration shop down the street any good?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she replied effusively. “They are among the best in town.”

“Good. Then I’ll have them come in and redo the place, if you don’t mind. I like to support the local merchants.”

She shook her head and smiled in return, her eyes lingering on me, drifting down lazily before shooting back up to mine.

“What sort of law do you practice, Mr. Willis, um, I mean, Denny?”

“I have a special private practice and cater to a specific and exclusive clientele,” I said, noting the confusion on her face. “So if you have a litigious customer who slipped on your icy sidewalk, I’m not your man.” I tipped my head toward her. “Been a pleasure, m’am,” I said, turning and going on my way.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

Ah, Denny! What a lovely name for a lovely man. It might seem silly to say that I knew he was a gentleman from the first glance.

As we walked up the stairs, I felt self-conscious climbing in front of him, but I sensed that he was not staring or assessing my body, rather, he was looking away discreetly. When I reached the landing and turned, that was indeed the case. I really like that. Working at the factory had been an education for me. The men there leered and made suggestive comments constantly. It seemed there was something about a young female nearly alone in the world that brought out the worst in them.

When Mr. Castle had offered me the Executive Assistant job, I had happily accepted, grateful to be away from the boorish men in the factory. But Mr. Castle had plans too. He was just slyer about his intentions. I was beginning to think that I would have to submit to keep my job when my mother passed away and I was able to leave the mill.

For the most part, I have been happy in my own shop. I work alone, restoring. My customers come in pairs, so I am usually safe from lascivious males. Occasionally, a disgruntled, bored husband would corner me in my workshop, thinking my tiny size made me easy prey, only to be amazed...and hurt, by a well-placed tiny knee.

So, it was with great joy that I showed Mr. Wil....Denny, around the upstairs office. He was very polite and solicitous, carefully holding my arm as we walked through the dusty rooms.

When we returned to my much-cleaner office, I served him a cold drink and some of my favorite cookies, while we drew up the paperwork on my trusty computer and signed all the required documents.

It concerned me, just a nagging thought really, that he was not more open about his practice, but I, too, am a private person and I understood.

As he left, I felt my fingers still tingling from our accidental brush earlier and my heart still softly rushing from his warm smile.

I hope he starts the decorating soon. It would be nice to have such a pleasant neighbor.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

Within the week, the decorators had started their work on my new office. It was a very straightforward process to get started; they showed me samples, I made decisions. They knew what I wanted and were quick to deliver. After the work started, I preferred to be an infrequent visitor, leaving the tradesmen to their own devices, which they rarely shirked for some reason. However, I did decide to drop by unannounced just after noon one day the following week to check on their progress.

Though I was always one to appreciate the character and qualities of certain old things, I preferred my professional surroundings be sleek and modern, and was pleased to see that I would not be disappointed. The transformation was nearly complete, from a rickety outdated space to a comfortable and classy office suite. They had yet some painting to finish and the carpet would be installed the following day, but otherwise they were complete.

Well satisfied and just about to leave, I turned toward the door but was surprised by Miss Nelsen cheerfully peeking through the open door. She must have seen me pass by on my way up and certainly was curious about this project. I’m sure the sound of power tools and heavy bundles of material being carted up the stairs had only intensified her curiosity.

“May I help you, Miss Nelsen?” I asked politely.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, Mr. Wil ..., er, Denny," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "But I was sort of curious to see just how things were going up here.”

Perhaps my question had embarrassed her, but for whatever reason, she blushed and ran her hand over her head, patting her silky dark hair back into place. It was a cute little gesture that made me smile.

“As you can see, I’ve made some changes,” I admitted as she looked around wide-eyed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. It’s quite lovely,” she remarked.

“There is one thing, Miss Nelsen,” I said. “My clientele is very select and confidentiality is very important to them. I trust that my business will not become yours.”

She looked at me closely listening to every word and began to nod her head, her sparkling dark eyes widening. I hoped that we had come to an understanding and that as my clients began arriving in the next week, that our professional interests would remain quite separate.

"Oh, and one other thing?" I said curtly, but with a touch of humor. "I hope that you will arrange to have the lettering on the door downstairs redone, according to our agreeement. 'Denton P. Willis, Attorney At Law' will suffice."

She looked at me as if questions were written all across her face. For some reason, as I slowly moved toward the door, brushing past her, I raised my hand up and let my palm brush her cheek.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

All week the men had moved busily up and down the stairs. I saw the old, musty carpeting in a heap in the alley, I heard the men hammering and sawing and walking heavily over my head. All week, female citizens of our town kept dropping in to "chat", when I knew the real purpose was to find out what was happening. It was a rare thing for someone new to settle in our area, and the amount of money Denny was spending to revamp his office was discussed by everyone. The questions were always carefully phrased, always cleverly worded, but I saw the way they hung on every tidbit. Not that I told them anything! In truth, I knew very little to tell, but they would never have believed that.

Actually, I learned more than I shared. I heard about Denny's search for a residence and about his car and about his clothing. The women were twittering with excitement over his romantic appearance. They spent endless hours speculating about his status, his interests and his intentions. I had never had so much company, not in all the time I had lived in Scottsville.

I prefer to be alone. I find comfort in my own company, working alone and living alone. In the middle of that very busy week, I celebrated my fortieth birthday, and I did that alone too.
After dinner, I placed a candle in a chocolate cupcake and then made a wish, carefully blowing out the flame. Smiling to myself, I removed the candle and enjoyed the cake with a glass of cold milk, thinking that 40 was going to be a wonderful year, at least, that is what I wished for.

It almost seemed I might get my wish when I noticed Mr. Wil... Denny going upstairs a few days later. This was my chance. I quickly followed him up the old wooden stairs and stood in the doorway, amazed that this was the same space. It had a big city look and feel to it, no longer the tired offices of a "good old boy."
Denny turned and looked at me, with none of the warmth and charm I had expected.

I was incredibly surprised and also embarassed. I felt the flush starting in my neck and moving up my face. My eyes became moist and I didn't speak for fear of crying. He continued telling me basically to mind my own business and reminded me about the lettering on the door. I nodded and started to move back downstairs when he brushed past me, as if he had somewhere else he had to be. I moved back to let him pass, when he surprised me again. He paused for just the smallest moment and reached toward me, brushing my hot pink cheek with his soft palm.

Then he was gone.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

The following Monday found me opening my new office for the first time. Everything had come together rather well, and I had been surprised that more questions hadn’t been asked. But then there were no answers I could give to some questions. As I sat behind the sleek mahogany desk in the outer office and flipped open my appointment book, I could see that I had a morning and an afternoon; Mrs. Hatfield in the morning and Miss Whitherspoon in the afternoon, both longstanding clients with whom I had worked previously in another small town just a few miles away.

By ten o’clock everything was organized and ready. The inner office was complete and the special furnishings arranged to perfection. Surely enough, the sound of Mrs. Hatfield’s light footsteps could be heard tiptoeing up the creaky old stairs. The door swung open slowly and she stepped through cautiously.

“Come in, Laura,” I said getting up from behind the desk to welcome her. A summery light blue button-down sundress matched her eyes perfectly. Her long blonde hair was pulled back and turned up in a delightful French twist, and held in place by a sparkling bejeweled comb. “My, but I must say that you look absolutely stunning this morning.”

I went over to shake her gloved hand and raised it to my lips. Helping her into a chair I returned to my desk. I noticed the impish look in her eyes when she glanced over at the door to the inner office. Then she leaned back in the chair, crossing her long shapely legs, enough to let the lace tops of her sheer white hose show.

“Now, I remember that your last appointment with me was exactly a month ago. Has anything happened in the past thirty days to change your situation?”

One at a time, she meticulously removed her gloves, revealing the long slim fingers and the lovely diamond anniversary ring. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, shifting her weight to the other side of the chair which also allowed the hem of her dress to rise a bit higher.

“Oh, there have been developments, Mr. Willis,” she said, her voice deep and languid as a mint julep. “But nothing that changes my ‘situation’ in the least bit.”

“So is there anything that you would like me to do for you at this point?” I asked.

“Why as a matter of fact there is,” she said, leaning forward to rest her elbow on my desk.

As she did so, the neckline of her dress fell away from her body, revealing the full rounded curves of her breasts, bespeckled with a delightful dusting of freckles, and barely contained by a lacy white bra.

“Shall you tell me about it? The more I know, the better I am able to help you.”

“Why, of course, Mr. Willis. That is why I am here,” she began, leaning back in her chair. “Now, just this past Friday night … .”

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

After my visit with Denny in his office, I stayed to myself, trying not to notice the activities over my head. The workmen continued moving up and down, their voices constant as they called to each other while they worked. Then I noticed a gradual slowing of the busyness. Sometimes long minutes would go by without heavy footsteps or murmured profanities. Delivery trucks were no longer constant visitors. Finally, all was quiet. For the rest of that week, I would only hear an occasional tread of one person, probably Denny....Mr. Willis...as he apparently placed the final touches on his new offices.

Not that I sat there waiting and listening. I had a busy week myself. I found several estate sales in neighboring counties and left each day, very early, to look for treasures for my shop. The sign out front was nicely lettered, explaining that the Carousel Shoppe would reopen on Monday with wonderful new items. I would return home in the afternoon, carefully cradling my latest find, opening my shop from the back, so I could work undisturbed.

I often worked on the weekends. I liked to open the back door, allowing the fresh breeze to enter through the screen, listen to my favorite singers and dabble at restoring my beauties. This weekend was no different. I had found several lovely pieces, a cradle, an old sewing rocker, some side tables, all in need of nurturing. I was wearing some old khaki shorts and a t-shirt, covered by a stained red apron with lots of pockets. As usual, I was barefoot, padding happily in my back room, lovingly working on my latest finds.

I saw Denny park in back and leave his car. He was dressed casually too, but still looked very proper and gentlemanly. Soon, I heard his footsteps overhead and once again wondered what the offices looked like. I shivered slightly at the thought of going up those stairs again and being met with his less-than-friendly eyes. Taking a deep breath, I returned to my handiwork.

I guess I was lost in thought, because suddenly, I heard someone clearing his throat. There was Mr. Willis, standing at my screen door, watching me. I startled and blushed, forgetting my manners for a moment, then suddenly remembering, I opened the door for him. He walked in, looked about with disinterest and then totally surprised me by asking me to dinner next Saturday. I glanced down, my heart pounding, trying to compose myself. I noticed the ugly red apron, my bare feet, my dusty toes. Oh, dear! I reached up, checking my hair, sure I must look a mess. Then I looked back at Denny and saw the smile in his eyes, and decided to accept. He actually bowed and said we would talk later, then left my shop.

Monday morning, I was still marveling at this turn of events when I saw him going up the stairs to his office. No good morning, no nod of the head. Hmmmmmm....odd.

A few hours later, I saw a lovely woman enter the stairway. She was a pretty blond with a summery blue dress, looking at the same time quite elegant and yet comfortable with herself. I could hear her light steps going up the stairs and crossing the office space. She was there about an hour, moving quickly down the stairs as she left. That afternoon, there was another lovely woman entering the lower office door. Again, she left in about an hour, looking relaxed and content.

All week, it continued the same. One lady in the morning, one after lunch. Two a day, every day. Lovely, well-dressed, elegant, they all seemed to fit that description. I was glad we were having dinner on Saturday, perhaps Denny planned to explain his practice to me. I hope so.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

“So, do you think my prospects are very good, Mr. Willis?” asked Miss Patricia MacCaulay as she stood by the mirror smoothing her silky black slip-dress down over her slender, petite body. It hung clingingly and yet so gracefully down to her mid-thigh and blended exquisitely with her sheer black stockings. Her thick red hair and pale skin always looked so lovely in black and I smiled to think that I couldn’t remember seeing her wear anything of a different color, despite the season.

“I absolutely believe so, yes, Miss MacCaulay,” I replied, adjusting my tie to the collar of my dress shirt. I scooped up the little black jacket she had draped over the back of her chair and held it out so that she could slip it on her shoulders. “Shall I help you with this?”

“Oh, you have helped me with so many things today,” she remarked, her dark green eyes flashing over her trim shoulder. “But since you are such a gentleman about it, of course you may.”

I helped her ease into the jacket, admiring the fine texture of the silk and lining and the cut and fit of the garment as it was shaped to her figure. I allowed myself the courtesy of arranging her hair about her shoulders. She reached up with her hand and rested it on mine and smiled sweetly. She leaned back against me, arching her back so that I could look down the lovely valley between her firm little breasts had I been so inclined.

“So, shall I call you and schedule an appointment once I have some news?” I asked, backing away toward my desk while letting my fingertips linger near the silken texture of her lovely hair.

“Please do, Mr. Willis,” she replied, her voice soft and alluring. “You know how I always look forward to our appointments.”

“Miss MacCaulay,” I said with a nod.

“Mr. Willis,” she returned, nodding politely.

We exchanged a final smile before she turned and slipped out the door, her sleek curves swaying in the glimmer of the Friday afternoon sun and her high-heeled pumps clicking on the stairs. Turning back to my desk I noticed the appointment I had written myself for tomorrow. Miss Nelsen, Dinner At Eight. After a nice week of work it would be good to relax, even if it was a dinner date with my landlady. It was the least I could do to help put her at ease, and who knew where that could lead?

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

Day after day, I watched the lovely ladies entering and leaving the office overhead. My mind raced as I worked on my new antiques. What kind of law practice caters only to women? And only lovely women? What happened up there that took exactly one hour each time? Why did they enter the stairway looking distracted and worried and leave with smiles and small waves? I am a smalltown woman with a smalltown imagination. Whimsically, I imagined all sorts of activities and agendas. I wanted to know more, but, having been rebuffed once, was a little leery of venturing upstairs again.

I even began making lists of things as I imagined them. Glancing at it on Friday morning, I was grateful that Denny and I would be having dinner tomorrow night. I fully intended to ask him some pointed questions and get some direct answers from him. After all, I am his landlady and responsible for the activities being carried on above my head.

Saturday, I spent most of the day in my back shop, working on the baby cradle I had found. It was hand-carved from the finest oak, but left in an attic with no polish and loving cleaning for too many years. I love refinishing items, restoring them to their former beauty. I gave the cradle one last caressing rub and then locked up my shop and hurried home to prepare for Mr. Will....Denny.

I soaked in a tub of vanilla bath salts, feeling my skin soften and glow. As I relaxed, my mind returned to the mystery of Denny and his practice. Tonight I had to find out what was happening up there. I owed it to all the citizens of Scottsville to make sure everything was on the up-and-up.

After my bath, I wrapped in a thick towel. I brush my dark brown hair until it shines, pulling it back with a tiny, sparkling clip. My makeup is simple, a brush of blush, some shiny gloss, a spray of Vanilla Mist. My father had been very strict and I had not been allowed to date in high school. After graduation, I had only dated Jack a few times when my father died. Jack respected my grief and didn't call. Then my mother became ill and I was unavailable for dates.

As much as I love my town, there is not a lot of opportunities for meeting men. Almost all men are married here. I have had offers for some trysts, but it is not what I want.

All this flies through my mind as I stand staring into my closet. My hands tremble as I pull out my nice black dress. It is elegant, bought on one of my trips out of town. Placing it on the bed, I turn to my lingerie drawer and open it. This is my one vice, beautiful underthings. Every trip to an estate sale is an opportunity to buy lacy bras and panties, and I pamper myself regularly.

Selecting a satin and lace black bra with matching panties, I drop my towel and begin dressing. Sheer black hosiery slide up my short, but shapely legs. I unzip my dress and step into it, pleased at the way it fits my body. It softly hugs my upper body, with a short, full skirt that sways ever so slightly as I walk. Slipping my feet into black, strappy sandals, I am ready for Denny to arrive.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

Just so you know, I am a particular sort of man. I have certain rituals in my life, not of the unrationalized, unconscious sort, but those chosen purposefully and with great deliberation. I have learned through the years what I am capable of, what I enjoy in this life and what leaves me indifferent or altogether cold. Most primary among them is my Saturday morning. After my week of work, I find that Saturday morning is that one time of the week when I can leisurely take stock of what I need to do, what I wish to do, and what I would most certainly do if it were ever within my earthly power.

This particular Saturday morning, as I sat on the bench outside the Tuscan Café, an otherwise non-descript establishment featuring caffeinated beverages of a decidedly non-European nature—where do they come up with these pretentious names?—I enjoyed the passing view of Scottsville, my new town. From the small town look, to which the residents decidedly and determinedly clung, to the small town attitude (they really wish there were pulleys on the curbs by which they could roll up the sidewalks by 7 p.m.), I had found this a most pleasant place in which to lose myself.

Yet as I had come into town and sought to blend in and re-establish my law practice, I always felt that the kindly residents regarded me as unusual. I could hear the overtones at the market while I shopped for tenderloin and fresh strawberries. I certainly noticed the stares as I pulled swiftly out from any given parking lot in my XJ8 roadster. And certainly the realtor from whom I secured a residence gave me a particular side-glance that made me feel assured that she knew I was not from around here.

And then there was the landlady of my office, Miss Nelsen, a charming, lovely little woman, with tastes as particular as my own, even though we may share very little in common. At first I had thought her to be one and the same as the other small town people. Yet as I watched for her each day I came to my office over her cute little antique shoppe, I began to see that she was very unlike the others in this town. The others were married which she decidedly was not. The others maintained this quaint Victorian worship, while inside their gingerbread bedecked homes was wedged every modern convenience known to man, from cable TV, and wireless Internet service, to the latest in home theatre, home security, and stainless steel commercial appliance heaven. Miss Nelsen however lived in the house built by her great-grandparents, quite alone and seemingly quite content so to do, with all of the comfort and none of the disturbing modern distractions of her nearest neighbors.

Each day I walked past her door, catching ear of the timeless classics of the Gershwins, Cole Porter, and Rodgers and Hart. And there was her lovely voice singing along with them joyfully. On the occasion when I would wander down Main Street and inspect her front window, I would see several new pieces appear each week; a pie stand, an end table, an oriental lamp, all painstakingly restored, and all seemingly found new homes within a week or two. Yes, there was something about Miss Nelsen which set her apart from her neighbors, and when I happened upon her last week, I impulsively asked her to dinner for this evening.

And this engagement was first and foremost on my mind as I sat on the bench in front of the Tuscan Café, sipping some sort of yuppie reinvention of the latte. I set out my entire day while I sat there, and once decided, went about it deliberately. I am a particular sort, you understand. And when eight o’clock in the evening came high, there I was on her doorstep, a single yellow rose in my hand, my knuckles rapping lightly.

She must be fond of the scent of vanilla, I thought as she approached the door. Her silky black dress was lovely and reinforced my appraisal that behind this quiet and discreet façade was a desirous woman who had yet to be set free. For you will learn that I can see these things in other people, whether they wish me to or not.

“Miss Nelsen,” I greeted her warmly.

“Won’t you come in?” she asked in return, her eyes dropping bashfully upon receiving my appreciative gaze.

“Thank you.” I replied. I extended the rose to her and watched as she sniffed it so delicately. “This is for you.”

She thanked me and set about placing it in water immediately, selecting a fine crystal vase, which could have been a hundred years old. As she did so and looked for the best place to set it, I took the liberty of looking around her rooms. This was not dump truck Victorian decorating executed by a married woman with a hyphenated last name or a gay man with a phony monosyllabic, foreign sounding name. This was tasteful design done from the heart, and I could see that Miss Nelsen's heart was very big.

“So shall we?” I asked, extending my arm. “We have an eight thirty at MacKinnon’s.”

She gave me a gorgeous shy smile and slipped her little hand inside my arm. It was at that moment that I realized how small and delicate she was. Were she of oriental extraction I would have called her a China doll. But hers was a darker, eastern Mediterranean extraction and most lovely at that.

“My car is at the curb,” I said leading her from the porch.

She let out a laugh; perhaps a bit nervous for I was sure she hadn’t had many Saturday night dinner dates. And I hoped she felt safe in that my company, for I was after all a particular gentleman.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

OOC: Please forgive the interruption, dear reader, but I was on a much-needed vacation. I am back, and rested, and ready to carry on with the charming Denny.

IC: I placed my hand on his arm, appreciating the feel of his dinner jacket. I know quality, and this man was all about quality. His clothes, his car, his residence, even the office. He treated me as a fragile doll, assisting me down my front steps, opening the car door and making sure I was comfortably settled before closing the door. I found myself smiling at his old world air. The men who usually accompanied my clientele were either surly husbands or very happy "girlfriends". It is a pleasure to be in the company of such a pleasant, charming man.

The conversation flowed easily as he drove the car effortlessly across town. He mentioned a few of the pieces in my shoppe window, cannily picking my favorites. He spoke knowledgeably about antiques in general and those pieces in particular. He managed to convey his knowledge without seeming superior or condescending, just as if he had a deep interest in the same things I loved.

We seemed to arrive at the restaurant in only minutes, although the drive had taken nearly a half hour. "The sign of a good companion", I thought. Once again, he walked around the car and opened the door for me, offering me his surprisingly strong hand. The valet moved to parked the car as we walked toward the entrance.

Mackinnon's was probably the only truly elegant restaurant in the area. While all the cafes and eateries tried for this atmosphere, most seemed like cheap imitations. I know that the townspeople of Scottsville were proud of all our establishments, but the difference is so obvious to the discerning observer. Everything about Mackinnon's was quietly upscale. I had never eaten here, but just looking around for the first time, I could see the little differences that make a restaurant memorable. Denny placed his soft hand over mine as we were led to the secluded table in the corner, looking out over the moonlit lake, lit by small clusters of glowing candles. Making sure I was seated comfortably, he took the chair next to me, his jacket sleeve softly brushing my arm.

As I mentioned earlier, I had not dated very much. After my mother died, I had resigned myself to living alone and have learned to enjoy my own company. I am perfectly content to sit alone in a restaurant and enjoy a meal. So, I was unprepared for the simple joy of sharing delicious food and wine with a charming companion. The talk flowed effortlessly, laughter and words spilling forth as if we were life-long friends.

Denny sat smiling at me, looking into my eyes and making me feel quite warm. Even the silence was comfortable. Then he stood, holding out his hand to me, inviting me to dance. We walked together to the dance floor and he skillfully fit my body to his. I can't even remember the songs we danced to, just that I was so content to be with him, to feel his arms around me and hear his heart beating under my ear.

I didn't want this evening to ever end. I felt I was finally home and the feeling was incredible.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

I was pleasantly surprised that Miss Nelsen was such a delightful little woman. I had half-expected her to poke and pry about my law practice—most landladies were quite nosey after all—but she asked nothing about that and seemed content to enjoy the mood and atmosphere, the food and drink, and the music and dancing.

But as she rested her head against my chest while we danced, I felt her melt into me. I felt her body become light on her feet. As I began to hum along to an old Dietz and Schwartz tune, she lifted her face from my chest and looked up at me with a beautiful smile. She looked years younger, her skin blessed with the dewy softness of a twenty-year-old, the slight lines and wrinkles around her eyes had melted away, and her body, while quite shapely to begin with, had become more supple and firm.

As the song came to a close, I let go of her and we applauded politely. “Perhaps you would like to freshen up?” I suggested, leading her back toward our table.

“Amelia! Amelia!” came a lady’s voice from the line of booths along our way back to our table.
“Over here!”

Miss Nelsen looked in the direction of the voice and we stopped at a table where an older woman and gentleman were seated.

“How are you Helen?” Amelia said with a pert smile.

“I’m doing fine,” Helen replied. “I must say that I never would have thought to see you here tonight. But I must say that you look absolutely gorgeous! For a moment I thought you were someone else.”

Introductions all around were completed. Miss Nelsen charmingly introduced me as Denny, her new upstairs tenant. Helen was obviously a customer of hers and her husband tried hard not to look too bored. Miss Nelsen remarked about the lovely restaurant. Helen asked about any new purchases. My only chance for conversation with George, the husband, was dashed perhaps by my decided lack of interest in the local baseball team. We simply grinned politely at each other.

“I must say that whatever you are doing to take care of yourself, it is doing you some good, Amelia. You look terrific.”

“I’m doing nothing in particular,” Miss Nelsen giggled. “Perhaps it’s my present company that’s responsible.”

“Well, you better keep close to him, because if I wasn’t a married lady, then I’d be inclined to pursue your gentleman friend myself,” Helen quipped. “So what sort of business are you in?” she asked me.

“I have a modest law practice,” I replied.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” the older woman remarked with a telling smile. “Just in case.”

We bid them goodnight and returned to our table. Miss Nelsen excused herself to the restroom and I settled up with our waiter. As soon as Miss Nelsen disappeared, I became aware of more than one pair of eyes being tossed in my direction. I avoided eye contact and waited for her. I stood as I saw her approach.

“Shall we?” I asked, gesturing toward the door.

“Where to?” she asked softly, her face glowing.

“It’s such a beautiful evening out,” I remarked as we reached the door. “Perhaps a nice drive in the country would be in order.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she answered.

She looked up again at me as I helped her into my Jaguar roadster. There was a decided youthful glow to her face that I found quite appealing. As we left the streets of the town behind and drove out into the country, she leaned back in the plush leather seat and tilted her head in my direction. The passing breeze swirled her hair about her face delightfully as she looked at me. I could tell there was a question forming inside her, but it never made it far enough to reach her lips.

Weeks before I had discovered a quiet roadside pullout that had a great view of the lake and the surrounding hillside. Surprisingly, it was obvious that few people frequented this idyllic little spot. I pulled the car to a stop and reached back to grab the soft woolen blanket and the small basket. Her eyebrows drew together questioningly for a moment. “The moonlight, a soft blanket, a bottle of wine, and you,” I said softly.

She smiled sweetly and took my hand as I opened the door for her. It was just a few steps down a path to a small knoll where I spread out the blanket and helped her to a seat. I had brought along a bottle of a sweet cherry dessert wine I had bought the year before while touring Washington State.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” I remarked as I took a seat beside her and sipped my wine. “Pretty view. Sweet wine.” I looked over at her expecting her to complete the thought.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

My few high school dates with Jack had not prepared me for this evening. He and I had shared tentative kisses, never really perfecting the practice. Over the years, I never had close women friends to share information. What I knew of men, I had learned from my Dad and the men who accompanied my clients. Tonight, I felt my complete lack of experience. As I walked down the path with Denny, I decided it was up to me to make the rules as I needed them.

It didn't help that I found him utterly charming and magnetically handsome. Everything he did was gentlemanly and polite, yet warm and caring. I had totally forgotten the day in his office when he looked at me with cold eyes and an unsmiling face. All I could see now was his delicious mouth and his warm, affectionate eyes. He spread the blanket a short distance from the lake, carefully lowering me to the grass- cushioned softness. My skirt rode up a little, exposing the lacy tops of my stockinged thighs. Perhaps the dinner drinks had affected me more than I thought, but my first inclination was to leave the skirt where it was. I liked the idea that Denny would see my shapely calves and toned thighs.

Tonight, for some reason, I didn't feel like the middle aged Miss Nelsen. I felt lovely and young and desirable and....I admit, an ache between my legs I never expected to know. Denny sat beside me, sipping the wonderfully sweet wine from a tiny glass, enjoying the night. He seemed totally unaware of the emotions and thoughts coursing through my body and mind, the need he had awakened. I watched his lips on the crystal, wishing they were covering my mouth instead.

He turned to me then. His eyes seemed to see into my mind, read my thoughts. His elegant hand reached out and took my wine glass from me, placing it safely to the side of the blanket. His hand reached out again, this time touching my face, gently caressing my cheek, holding my face lightly as his mouth slowly lowered to mine. I felt my eyes close, felt his breath on my skin, and then, his sweet mouth covering mine. Despite my teen fumblings with Jack, I had never understood the need for all the kissing going on in books and movies. Now, I did. I could have kissed Denny for hours, days. His mouth moved sensuously over mine, his tongue softly washing my lips and entering my mouth, teasing my own tongue into a sweet game of tag. He tasted so warm, so desirable, so delicious. Our bodies were slowly fitting together, his hands still holding my face near his.

I was lost to him.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

There is something particularly special about a balmy summer night, when the crickets are chirring and the long summer moon dances grandly across the night sky. And this sort of feeling is perhaps best enhanced when one has tasted his fair share of Kentucky straight bourbon and is in the company of a lovely woman. I wasn’t sure if it was the night sky with the stars twinkling above, or the familiar warm whirr of the drink in my head, or even the sweet scent of vanilla that made me take Miss Nelsen into my arms and kiss her warmly and tenderly and with such passion that I could feel her tiny body quiver like a leaf in an August thunderstorm.

But kiss her I did again and again. She seemed so willing and pliant beneath me, that I could have her any way I wanted if I so much as desired it to happen. And I did desire it. I ran my hands over her supple body and the way she responded told me that mine were the first hands to reach these certain precious hills and valleys.

When my hands grazed lightly over her lovely round and firm breasts, she thrust them against my touch. And when I shifted my hands lower, she moved her body accordingly as if hungry for my touch. And when they reached the hem of her dress and began inching upwards underneath, I felt her open her body to me, as if presenting herself to me willingly and with such desire and longing, that, even though I am an experienced man of the world, I gave some pause. As I drew my lips away from hers, a surprised look came over her face and she pressed up against me to kiss me again.

“Miss Nelsen, let us not be in a hurry this evening,” I said softly. “There is a lovely moon up above and we do have all night, do we not?”

She smiled, perhaps embarrassed by her own eagerness. It was a divinely charming smile and I returned it to her, feeling my cheeks form into dimples and a warm blush swell across my cheeks. I deftly reached around behind her and unzipped her dress, then taking a hold of the hem, I began to raise it up. In a perfect reaction, she raised her arms up and let me draw it over her head and off.

Now it was my chance to sigh as I caught a glimpse of her petite little body now dressed so lightly in her dark satin and lace underthings. I took a moment to let my eyes wander up and down the length of her body. As I did so, I allowed my hands to do the same, feeling the the silkiness of her short but shapely legs and the rounded curves of her hips and behind, her delicate and narrow waist and her full and firm breasts.

With every touch of my fingertips I could feel her body tremble and shake. And when I leaned over to brush my lips against hers, she pressed back against me with her passion unabated. I pressed forward toward her, but rolled over and onto my back, pulling her down atop me. This evening was not about my own passions and desires, since I had long ago discovered the ways to let them fly upward. This was about this tender little bird now perched on my lap and how I would help it flap its wings and fly upward toward a heavenly branch.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

Is this me? Shy Miss Nelsen? Virginal Miss Nelsen? All I know is that I want this man more than I have ever wanted anything in the world! His mouth on mine is bliss, the sensations of his warm tongue washing my lips, slipping between and into my needy mouth, are nearly unbearable. I want more. I want everything that is allowed, and then more. Tonight, I am flying and I never want to stop.

If I found kissing Denny to be delicious, I am not at all prepared for the sensation of his hand on my skin. Everywhere his elegant fingers caress, burns and aches with desire. This is the desire one reads about in romantic novels, the all-comsuming desire that totally overwhelms the mind and heart. His hand moves slowly over my body, claiming it for his own.

My nipples harden under his skilled fingers. There might not have been layers of clothing, so clearly do I feel his fingertips on my innocent flesh. I am finally alive. Skin that previously has only covered my body now does the most amazing things. My skin is glowing on this starry night, as if it were just a gossamer web that transmits his soft touch directly to my heart.

The night seems to be made for this. Lying under Denny, feeling a man's weight on my body for the first time, I know I have been created just for this purpose and I do not want to stop. It has always seemed that everyone was in pairs, two by two, except me. Tonight is my opportunity to see and feel what that two-ness is about. Denny is kissing me into insensibility. His mouth on mine is overwhelming, his fingers slowly moving over me are tantalizing. I find myself responding to him, arching against him, offering myself to him. I hear him telling me to enjoy the sensations, promising me the entire night of pleasure and passion. An entire night of these incredible desires? Hours of this joy? For some reason, I feel that I can trust Denny, can allow him anything, and I will be the better for it.

At some point, my mind just stops. I was analyzing, worrying, wondering....and then I was just feeling. Feeling like a woman, a desirable woman, a captivating woman! I can hear Denny murmuring his appreciation of my body, feel his touch as he slowly claims me for his own. My heart pounds as his fingers discover all my secret, needy places. I feel myself melting for him, opening for him, offering all of myself to him.

Now the soft night air caresses my bare skin as he slowly removes my dress. My skin is hot in the cool night, glowing with desire and need. Denny slowly whirls me above his body, pulling me close again, until we seem to be one person. His fingers massage my spine, moving slowly up and down the tender flesh, and I want it to continue forever. Nothing could ever feel better than this man's soft fingertips moving on my skin.

Then he covers my nipple with his warm mouth, and the night explodes!

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

Most men are like children with their appetite for love, and if their women do not feed them their fair helping, they turn nasty and fly away and spoil what would be an otherwise meaningful connection. Wasn’t it Lawrence who wrote about that condition? Perhaps so, but on this wonderful summer evening, Miss Nelsen was fortunately in my company, and it would not be necessary for her to yield her body to me while retaining control over her inner self, for I am not like most men.

As my fingers and lips passed over her body, teasing her soft supple flesh, tasting the sweetness of her body flavored so lightly with the scent of vanilla, I became aware of a certain heightened state of arousal on her part. And when my lips suckled her stiff dark nipple, I felt her body shiver and quake and knew that I must be gentle and light and fair in my lovemaking.

I rolled back over, carrying her with me and tucking her safely below me onto the blanket. There was an eagerness to her kisses, an unbridled passion that I hadn’t quite expected. I knelt between her legs sheathed in the smooth sheer silk of her stockings and began to draw down her panties, hearing her gasp and feeling the rush of excitement course through her petite body. When I set them aside and bend forward to pull in her womanly scent I noticed the look in her eyes, now heavy lidded and filled with an openness and acceptance that made me feel supremely empowered.

I rained kiss upon kiss down onto her moist sex, letting my fingers and tongue tell her how beautiful I found her this night. And I could easily tell that she had never taken even this road before. Her arms fell back from their grasp of my shoulders to lay lazily above her head, so lost in the sensations and deeply surrendered to the passion.

I kissed my way up to her breasts and back down again, letting my tongue chart and map this untamed territory. And when I reached her wet sex again, I slipped her legs up and over my shoulders. With my lips and tongue and teeth, I studied her intently. Her sighs and moans grew louder, her breathing became shallower and faster, and her hips started to rock in an involuntary circular motion.

Finally her thrusts became wild and her thighs pressed against my cheeks. I suckled her most sensitive part, drawing it up into my mouth, letting the tip of my tongue tease it gently. Then I felt her tense completely and release in a mad trembling rush, and I pressed my tongue firmly against her.

Kissing my way up from between her legs, I lay beside her and wrapped my arms about her shivering, shaking body. Whether it was by instinct or something she had read in a woman’s magazine I wasn’t sure, but she reached her hand down between my legs. I reached down to take her hand in mine and bring it up to my lips.

“Ah, my dear Miss Nelsen,” I whispered after kissing her tiny hand. “One thing at a time. That is a lesson for another evening. Now why don’t we enjoy this confluence of the night sky?”

I felt her repose upon my chest nestling her cheek near my heart. There was no need to rush with anything on this eternal evening.

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

One minute, I am holding Denny in my arms, kissing his lips and relishing his deliciousness. The next minute, my dress is lying on the grass, the cool evening is draping over my bare skin, making me shiver. Denny is moving over my body, his lips on my skin, touching all that is exposed to him. My chest, my tummy, my bare back and arms, all are available for his soft nips and nibbles. His soft palms run up and down my bare inner thighs, raising goosebumps on my flesh. His mouth follows his hands, touching and tasting all my secret places, places never before touched.

My mind shut down. My body responded to his with lanquid thrusts. I raised my hips so he could remove my pretty black panties. I saw him lower himself between my legs, saw his head dip into that most private place, and, in response, I opened my thighs further. His mouth touched me, nestled into me, burrowed deeper and deeper until I felt his attachment to my pinkness. His tongue slid in and out of my warmth, licking up and down the incredibly sensitive skin, making me lift my hips and push against his invading mouth. I was embarassed by this activity, yet could not have stopped him. The feelings he was creating in me were overwhelming, addictive. While his tongue washed over the pinkness, I clutched his shoulders, not ever wanting him to move. Then, he found a spot, a fantastically tender spot, and began suckling. I wasn't sure how to respond. My entire being seemed centered on his needy lips. I felt myself nearly purring with pleasure, throwing my arms up and over my head, looking at the stars and praying he would never stop. He nursed on that nubbin for a long time, my legs thrown over his shoulders, my feet lightly tapping his back, my toes curled under tightly.

I could feel his face moving between my wet thighs, feel his tongue searching for another place, felt it entering my inner self with long strokes and thrusts. My hips picked up the rhythm, moving against him without any thought. Then his tongue returned to its previous location, flicking and licking that little bump. As he licked up and down and then around, I felt the strangest sensations. Everything in my body seemed to be centered RIGHT THERE, my legs tightened on his shoulders, my thighs pressed his face in place. I had a thought that I might smother him, and then I didn't think at all. I closed my eyes tightly against the starry sky and just FELT.

My body took over and began bucking against the blanket, a cry tearing from my throat. I thought I would die if Denny stopped now, and he didn't. He remained between my legs, now softly licking and nibbling, a soothing sound escaping his lips. As I finally relaxed, he moved slowly up my body, until his entire length was against mine. He kissed me deeply, tasting of vanilla and an unknown, but sweet, flavor.

I felt I should do something to please him, but he stopped me. He promised me other nights, other pleasures. Then he did the sweetest thing. He folded me into his arms, holding me against him, my face against his chest. I listened to his heartbeat and felt safe and so secure.

All my concerns about his practice and his life drifted away as I fell asleep in male arms for the first time in my life.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

The humming chirr of the crickets, the song of the cicadas blended with the soft sleepy breathing of Miss Nelsen, sweet Amelia, this tiny and delicate woman who rested atop my chest. I had begun to annotate the night sky that was ever so slowly swirling overhead, but soon she had fallen asleep and I let the sounds of nature serve as her lullaby. Her dainty under things and dress were strewn over the blanket beside us, and her naked body sweetly sighed in a perfect rhythm with the night.

It was quite late when she stirred and pushed herself up with a start from the sanctuary of my arms. She looked at me strangely and then about us and then back to me again. With my thumb and forefinger I held her chin and reached up to kiss her.

“It’s getting late, Amelia, and time to go,” I remarked. She sighed disappointedly, but then rose up and began to fish for her clothes. I helped her into her dress and she folded up her under things and slipped them into her purse.

Several times during our drive home, she reached over to perch her little hand atop mine as it rested upon the gear shifter knob. The entire evening had been a surprise and, other than the dinner reservation, entirely without a plan. So long as she did not become too curious about my law practice, we would get along famously. Yet, I truly wanted to see her again socially, for she was a delightfully sensual and romantic woman and if I stayed true to my course, it would be a wonderful experience to see her blossom fully into a woman.

“Good night, Amelia,” I said to her at her doorstep, my hands running lightly up and down her back, keeping her reminded of my own romantic interests. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, her eyes wide and loving. “Thank you for a wonderful evening!”

I smiled and returned to my car, looking up at the house to see her disappear inside. It was already Sunday and I was looking forward to this day of rest that would prepare me for the coming week. The throaty whirr of the XJ8 followed me away from the curb and off into the wee hours of the night.

 

[captivate]

A Very Happy Miss Amelia Nelsen

My dreams were colorful swirls of warmth and light. I settled into them and enjoyed the interplay of kaleidoscopic scenes and sounds running through my mind. When I woke, it was with a start and a disbelief that all the beauty had disappeared. Then I saw Denny, lying remarkably close, his face nearly touching mine. Slowly, and with a slight sense of proprietorship, he held my chin and kissed my mouth. As we kissed, I remembered the events of the evening and began growing warm. Even while blushing, my breath became short and I felt myself growing wet with desire. His words slipped into my mind, telling me it was late. While he never said it, I could hear the promise of another day. The sexual haze invading me receded a bit, and some form of sanity returned. I smiled as I reached for my clothes, suddenly conscious of my nakedness. He was so sweet, helping me retrieve my clothing, helping me dress, folding my discarded lingerie and slipping it into my purse.

All the way home, we talked easily. I had to touch his hand frequently just to reassure myself this wasn't a dream. Once home, we lingered for a short time on the veranda, Denny holding me and touching me sweetly and surely. As he left, I felt sure we would spend more time together, and I would finally learn what all the excitement was about.

Inside, I went to my room and removed my dress, now carefully slipping it on the padded hanger and placing it into the closet. Usually, I quickly replaced clothes as I removed them, feeling sure the naked body was better covered. Tonight, rather, this morning, I was savoring the feeling of the cool air on my skin. I walked to the mirror, trying to see what Denny had seen as I stood before him tonight. My skin appeared to glow. It looked like rosy alabaster, smooth and cool, yet soft. My nipples were hard in the coolness of the house, tight brown buttons on still pert breasts. I remembered Denny's mouth on them, and felt them throb and ache. I looked down and saw the patch of curly brown hair that Denny had parted with his tongue. That memory certainly made me blush, yet the tingling I felt was intriguing. My fingers moved down to that softness, my fingers parted the curls and slid slowly up and down the slit I found there. My body's response amazed me.

I was raised to know that sex was for procreation. Sex was something that did not involve a woman until she married, and then only rarely. Women did their duty and did not have to like it, just tolerate it. The most important belief was that self-gratification was simply wrong. Tonight, all those beliefs were shattered. If all the other teachings of my Puritan mother were wrong, perhaps this one was also. My innocent fingers continued slowly caressing my engorged skin. I felt the dampness and heard that sound of skin on slick skin. Maybe it wasn't wrong, maybe it was a natural thing to enjoy one's body. I hoped so, because I couldn't stop now. My fingers continued their journey, touching where his tongue had touched, eliciting somewhat the same feelings. I reached deeper, my fingers searching for that special place Denny had found. When I flicked it, my entire body throbbed. I ran my two little fingers back and forth over the bump, not sure what I was doing, but knowing it was too enjoyable to stop. I felt my body tightening, I felt my legs locking in place and then the spasms started. I closed my eyes, and just enjoyed, remembering Denny creating this feeling in me earlier tonight. As the spasms passed, I cupped my curly mound and looked into the mirror. My face was flushed, even my chest was rosy. My eyes glowed with satisfaction and happiness.

That night, for the first time in my life, I went to my bed naked. The joy of soft sheets against my newly aroused skin was incredible. As I settled under the covers, my hand again caressing my sated sex, the phone rang. Reaching out with my unoccupied hand, I quietly said, "Hello?"

Denny's voice filled my head and heart as he whispered that he was thinking of me and how much he had enjoyed our evening together. I wanted to share my newest experience with him, but didn't know the words, so I just murmured my appreciation of his wonderful company. We said goodnight simultaneously and I smilingly hung up the phone.

The world suddenly looked full of possibilities.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

It wasn’t my intention to call Miss Nelsen, but having enjoyed my evening with her made me want to share the thought at the least. I was not surprised on the following Monday morning to hear the sound of her lovely voice floating out through the back door of her shop as I made my way upstairs. I smiled at the thought that I had helped bring that extra bit of joy into her life.

My first appointment was with Mrs. Lena Barbarrio, a fairly new client. I had barely finished setting up the coffee pot when I heard the door rattle downstairs and the sound of her feet moving quickly up the stairs. I glanced at my watch and noticed that she was several minutes early. She was a tall, slender, elegant brunette woman, with the purest olive colored skin and luminous almond eyes.

“Mr. Willis,” she said, quite out of breath. She fanned herself with her hand, her long fingers spread out, and her large diamond ring sparkling brightly. “I know that I’m early, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get here.”

“But of course,” I replied holding the chair so that she could seat herself.

She took a seat and adjusted the long wraparound skirt that swaddled her curvy hips and let a tantalizing slice of her long tanned bare legs show as she sat. Continuing to fan herself, she sat upright in the chair, her snug top clinging to her ample bosom, which heaved delightfully as she tried to catch her breath.

“Would you like some coffee?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Please,” she answered. “You make the best coffee.” She looked around the office. “I like what you have done here. This is much nicer than your last office.”

“Thank you. So tell me now, has your new situation worked out any better?” I asked as I prepared her cup with just a dash of cream as she preferred. “I remember how you were less than pleased with your last position.”

“Well, Mr. Willis,” she began as I handed her the cup. “Things went well at first, but I’m afraid the end result will be the same. You just don’t know how those looks can hurt.”

“That must be difficult to put up with,” I said, taking my seat. “But that is why I am here.”

“I know,” she said, sipping her coffee and gazing over at me above the rim, her eyes wide open and her tongue flicking out to lick at an errant drop of coffee. “And I always leave our appointments feeling so much better about things.”

She set the cup on the table beside her and stood up, drawing up to her full height. Placing a hand between her breasts, which pulled the cloth of her top tighter against her body, she moved over to the Renoir print that I had acquired over the weekend.

“Mr. Willis. This is lovely!” she exclaimed. Her hips jutted to the side, pulling her skirt tightly against the firm curves of her rear. “But then you always have the nicest taste for a gentleman.” She grinned and looked over her shoulder at me. “Now are you ever going to show me the inside of your private office?”

“Perhaps before you leave,” I said, opening the slender folder with her name printed on the outside. “But first, tell me more about what has happened in the past month. I’m really quite interested to hear about it.”

“Well, there isn’t that much to tell,” she began as she turned to face me and leaned back against the narrow table under the Renoir, letting her hand glide down from between her breasts, over her stomach and then off to the side to grip the edge of the table. “But it all began the first day he saw me …”

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

I fell asleep in the early hours of Sunday with Denny's voice in my ear, making me smile. My dreams were so beautiful and ethereal, I nearly regretted waking. For a few minutes, anyway. Then the memories of my date flooded my mind. My date! I had not said those words in so long, and now it was such a delight to think them, to say them.

I jumped from bed and showered, dressing in carefully chosen clothes, telling myself that one never knew when a visitor might drop by. I didn't let myself think that it was Sunday and I had not had a Sunday visitor since my mother's death. I dressed nicely with a spray of vanilla, just in case.

I started the CD player, the show tunes I loved helping me get started with my Sunday housework. Usually, I love this day. I had the entire day to make my house clean and fragrant and ready for the upcoming week. i enjoyed moving through my house and watching it transform. Usually.

I quickly stripped the sheets from the bed, remaking it and straightening the room, lighting a delicious butter cream candle, just in case.

I began my chores, the dusting, polishing and waxing that waited all week, suddenly anxious to finish, just in case.

Feeling hungry, I prepared a delicious cream cheese coffee cake and brewed a fresh pot of imported coffee, just in case.

And, without admitting it, I waited. I waited the rest of the morning. Then I waited the entire afternoon. I sat on the veranda in a large, white wicker rocking chair and waited all evening. Finally, blessedly, the day was over and I could retreat to my lonely bed. My date!

I blew out the candle, which had scented the entire house. I moved into my closet to change into nightclothes. I pulled on a long cotton gown, buttoning each tiny pearl button, right up to my spinster throat. I could feel my chin quivering as the tears threatened. Damn!

I walked to the mirror and looked at myself. "Stop this now, Amelia. You are forty years old and you have been perfectly happy alone all these years. You will not let some good-looking, charming man cause you pain or unhappiness. Stop this now!"

I lifted my chin and stared at myself, willing myself to regain my senses and to stop mooning over MISTER Willis.

I climbed into my bed, turning off the light and watching the room become so dark, then picking out familiar objects as I became accustomed to the darkness. I remembered then that I had questions for Mr. Willis, questions that I had totally forgotten Saturday night, but now felt perfectly justified in asking. I finally fell asleep, almost anxious for Monday morning to arrive.

I was in the back of my shoppe early Monday. I had several pieces in need of restoration, and thought I would get an early start. I started the CD player and began working, feeling the calmness wash over me as I worked. I began singing along with the familiar words, missing a few. I was almost in that content place when I saw the beautiful brunette enter the stairway. "How does he have only beautiful clients?" I wondered aloud. Another question to ask! I actually sat down to make a list of information I needed from him, while listening to the footsteps overhead, moving back and forth across the room.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

“Well, Mr. Willis, I feel so much better now having, um, met with you this morning,” said Lena Barbarrio, arranging her lovely wraparound skirt as we stepped from my private office. “I’m so sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

“That is quite all right, Mrs. Barbarrio,” I remarked as I escorted her to the door. “It is always a pleasure to meet with you and discuss your case.”

She smiled gracefully and raised her hand up to rest it on my shoulder.

“In the short time I’ve known you, you have become a very good friend among other things,” she said, her low voice soft and seductive. “I’m glad I was referred to you. Every time we meet, I come away feeling so much better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, taking her hand between both of mine and kissing it gallantly. “Our next appointment is in two weeks. I'm expecting some exciting results by then.”

“Yes, and thank you ever so much,” she said before turning to leave.

I closed the door behind her, but not before watching her lightly descend several steps toward the door below. Hers was a special case deserving of some special attention. I smiled to think that I could be of help to her. Then I looked at my watch and realized that it was just after noon. I made some quick notes in Mrs. Barbarrio’s file and placed it back in the drawer of my credenza.

I had slipped down the back stairwell to the parking lot when I heard the lovely sound of Miss Nelsen singing in her back room. I took the liberty of poking my head in through the doorway and called out her name. The singing stopped and as I looked about I saw her rather surprised face looking at me, a strange cool look simmering in her dark eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss Nelsen,” I said with a polite smile. “But seeing that it is almost noon, I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for lunch. I understand that the Uptown Café has a terrific daily special.”

 

[captivate]

Miss Amelia Nelsen

My thoughts are a jumble. I am usually a happy, serene person. I enjoy my own company and don't even envy the women who seem to be in a perpetual couple. What I could see of marriage did not make me wish to enter that state. Women with bored husbands, or women with their gay designers...women with too much money and time, and not enough romance in their lives. Or the women who traveled two by two, coming to my shoppe regularly to see my treasures, depending on their female friends to fill the void in their lives. No, I am perfectly content on my own, sharing my thoughts and my life with no one but myself.

Yet, even now, I sit in my workroom, where I have spent so many happy hours, and I am hurt because some MAN did not call me after a date. At least, I think he should have called. It seemed he should have called. Or maybe dropped by to say hi and have some homemade coffee cake. Or come by to share more of those delicious kisses I had already become addicted to. He should have done something!

Then, this morning, he had the nerve to have a lovely brunette in his office for the longest time, mocking me by walking around his pretty new space together, and then, not walking at all. My mind was filled with visions of De...Mr. Willis, sharing kisses with her, that Amazon!

When she left, I noted she was walking with a ...happy air. She looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her. Actually, all his clients had that satisfied look.

As I sat to add that to my list,
#23: Why are the women always happy afterwards?
I started to giggle. God, how strange this man was making me. I shrugged my shoulders and stood to continue waxing the oak hope chest I had refinished. I began breathing easily and even took up the song playing, singing along with Bernadette Peters. Just as I felt I was once again under control, the back screen door opened and Denny's attractive face appeared.

“Excuse me, Miss Nelsen. But seeing that it is almost noon, I was wondering if you would be interested in joining me for lunch. I understand that the Uptown Café has a terrific daily special.”

A sharp response formed in my mind, then I shook my head and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Willis. I would be delighted to join you. We can have a nice chat and learn more about each other!" I picked up my purse and my list and walked toward the open door.

 

[Miltone]

Denton P. Willis

As surprised as I was over my own impetuous invitation, equally surprised was I at her quick acceptance. But then we had spent a lovely evening the Saturday past and I had hoped she would be favorable to another invitation. I reached out and took her arm and the gesture obviously caught her by surprise for she gave me an odd look.

“I do wonder where they come up with these names,” I remarked as we crossed Scottsville’s Main Street. “Have you ever noticed that the Uptown Café is actually downtown? And that Center Street is actually west of the center of town?”

My puckish comment brought another look of strained curiosity, which made me wonder if there was something that I had missed. I had always prided myself as a worldly and observant gentleman, and having spent a long wonderful evening with Miss Nelsen just a night before might have entitled me to some sort of forgiveness. Whatever her concern, it was not mine and I lead the way into the noisy and airy little café.

Our hostess pointed at a table near the door that was open and immediately recognized the disapproving look on my face.

“Perhaps you would care to sit out on the patio? There’s several nice tables open under the trellis if you’d like.”

“Ah, that sounds delightful, Amy,” I answered, noting her nametag, and then again took Miss Nelsen’s arm as we followed behind.

The table was indeed quite nice, shaded yet bright and the open patio was the perfect setting for an al fresco lunch.

Our orders had scarcely been recorded and submitted to the kitchen when Miss Nelsen pulled out a neat little notebook and opened it.

“Mr. Willis,” she said curtly. “I realized that you are a busy man and all, but as your landlady, and I would hope, your friend, I have some questions for you.”

Perhaps this was some sort of game that Scottsvillians enjoy, I thought (I tried not to chuckle at my own little play on words). Hadn’t played a good game of Twenty Questions in years. Besides, answering questions came hat-in-hand with being a barrister. And there was little that the charming Miss Amelia Nelsen could ask that would make me feel uncomfortable.