Caithleen McManus was an only child. Her father was an English teacher who enjoyed teaching literature, and her mum was quite happy taking care of their child, the little dog, the household and the garden. She was a good cook and Caithleen loved her. She had a sheltered youth and grew up to be a happy young woman.
She had lovely eyes, so much so that even one of her teachers, an older man with a quiet sense of humour that most of her classmates didn't get, called her Miss Bright Eyes sometimes. One of her friends at the time, Ellen, the daughter of a Dutch immigrant, hinted he'd probably got designs on her, but nobody else remotely thought so; he was too vague, and never even noticed the blatant attempts the sexy gym mistress made to get him interested.
Apart from those eyes Caithleen had a nose that was a little too long, full lips with a pronounced cupid's bow and a stocky figure. She was about 5'4", her breasts were just a little too big for her, but not big enough to cause her discomfort, and her lack of formal beauty was compensated for by a quick wit and a more than average intelligence. Some of the brighter young men in the final years of school and at university saw her for what she was; and she wasn't too interested in the others.
She went her own way in most respects. She had no time for the bland hit parade songs her peers listened to; she liked folk rock and Zappa and the Velvet Underground, and she spent some time dabbling in playing the bass guitar. But she wasn't too talented, and it took her too much time to be any good at it.
She had one real friend, Roseanne Jones, whom she had met in primary school, and who was quite different from her in lots of respects. But opposites attract, and they'd struck up a very close friendship. Roseanne liked to talk about girls' things and in doing so she filled Caithleen in on all kinds of things that would have eluded her otherwise; she told her about her boyfriends, and what fun it was to have some boy really interested in you, and how she sometimes stimulated such interest by dressing up for them. Caithleen usually wore jeans and some top or other, and she came to really noticing the other sex rather late; she did have a few male friends, but their sex was no consideration; Roseanne was a real beauty, and although she didn't exactly flaunt her figure she was well aware of its effects on the male half of the population.
When she was twenty-five, Caithleen suddenly fell head over heels for Joey Ayers, a good-looking post-graduate with a brilliant mind, a wicked grin and dark, curly hair. She had met him a couple of times at parties and when she went out for a drink, and the things he said and the way he moved struck her in a way she'd not held possible before. He bought her a drink once or twice, and she noticed he never did so for anyone else. When she discussed him with Roseanne, she told her that Joey would not usually come to parties at all, and that she thought it was probably because of her that he did.
It was; Joey had immediately recognised a kindred spirit in the young woman who was so unlike the other girls around, and there was something in her smile and in her eyes that held an immense appeal for him. He was a little shy sometimes, but he felt fairly comfortable with Caithleen.
Caithleen didn't know how to flirt, and she wasn't going to try. Once she'd made up her mind she simply went to Joey and invited him over for a drink at her place. He was a little early, and she had just had a shower; she had wrapped a towel around her breasts and hips and went to open the door.
"I am sorry," he said. "Shall I wait outside?"
"No, come in. I'm glad you're here." She motioned with her hand for him to enter, and the towel came loose around her breasts.
Blushing fiercely, and not knowing where to look, Joey stepped inside.
"Drat that towel," Caithleen said. She gathered it up in one hand and preceded Joey into the living area completely naked.
"Just a sec," she said, "I'll put something on."
She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Joey with an imprint of her naked back and buttocks and an uncomfortable erection. To divert his thoughts he wandered around looking at the contents of the room. It was just like her, he thought, a curious mixture of sweetly feminine things and various artefacts that in his opinion were more likely to appeal to a masculine taste.
Caithleen came back into the room. She was barefoot and she wore a t-shirt with the Andy Warhol picture of a mouth and a Coca Cola bottle.
"Velvet Underground," he said.
"Yes - it's a beautiful sleeve." She rummaged in her records and took out the double album. "Like to hear some of it?"
She put on side A. "I'm Waiting for the Man" blasted from the speakers, and she went to the kitchen. She came back with a thermos of coffee and two cups.
They sat and listened for a moment, and then Caithleen said, "Look, I er - I'd like you for my boyfriend. I think you're nice, and I think I understand what you're about. I - Roseanne told me something about the way she gets in to and out of relationships, but I don't think I could do that. I got the idea that you might want to give it a try."
Joey blushed again. "Damn," he said. "I don't usually blush. I'd love to, yes. I-I-I-"
To his chagrin he started to stammer, but Caithleen didn't seem to notice. At his admittance she broke into big smile that went straight to his heart and crotch, and she fixed those eyes on him, and he melted for her like butterscotch. She got up from her chair, sat down on his lap and kissed him.
Joey felt hot and cold, and after the initial paralysis he put his arms around her and kissed her back. It was clear to him that she wasn't experienced at all; when he touched her lips with his tongue she didn't respond. But she cuddled close to him, and heaved a deep sigh of contentment.
Then she broke their kiss. "You'll have to show me what to do," she said. "I have never done this before, and er, Roseanne told me some things but I never bothered to ask any details. Shall we go to the bedroom?"
"But er - are you sure? I don't want to be awkward, but er -"
"Do you want me for your girlfriend or don't you? I'm not joking or something; and I don't want you for just the one time. You said you did just now..." Her eyes slowly filled with tears.
Joey felt very embarrassed. He stroked her hair and mumbled, "I do - but maybe you'd want to think about it first, and we have not been together so often, and I haven't brought any condoms..."
"Oh Joey - as if that mattered. I've taken care I can't get pregnant now; I'm not that naïve. Do teach me how - please?"
She got up off his lap and held out her hand. Rather bewildered Joey took it and let himself be led to the bedroom.
"Now what? You do know, don't you?" Caithleen asked.
Joey finally got out of his stupor. He nodded and opened his arms for Caithleen to step in and kissed her again. Then he stopped, and said, "What I'd like when kissing is touching your tongue with mine, and tasting the inside of your mouth. It's sexier than kissing with just your lips, and I'd love to taste your saliva."
"Ok," Caithleen said. She kissed him again and now she opened her lips when he stuck out his tongue. Joey felt her soft tongue touch his own; then she circled around it and sucked him inside. She didn't need any more instructions, and she held his head between her hands and stroked his hair and his cheeks.
So that's why people like this, she thought. Hmm. She tried to put her tongue into Joey's mouth, and he happily received her.
