December (Part 2)
I was putting the finishing touches to the classroom when I heard the front door open. I'd hauled up a huge basket of pine logs and the fire was crackling happily in the grate. An electric Christmas tree twinkled, illuminating the small pile of presents under it. Assorted Christmas frivolities were draped over lintels and light fittings and a candelabra with five scarlet candles flickered on the table. I'd manhandled the two armchairs out of my bedroom and placed them in front of the fireplace. The effect was a room for two people to spend Christmas in. I slumped into one of the chairs and waited.
I heard footsteps, then Uli put her head round the classroom door. She stepped into the room and turned round slowly, looking at everything, then spotted me.
'Luke, what have you done?' I blew her a kiss.
'Happy Christmas to us. There's champagne behind the candelabra and we're going to drink a toast to ourselves any minute. How was your day?' She came and knelt beside me, putting her chin on the arm of the chair, looking thoughtful.
'Different and interesting.' I poured some champagne and she began to tell me. The spa was wonderful and the woman who'd been looking after had been so helpful and kind. She put the lights on to show me. Her hair had been subtly trimmed from its usual severe pageboy, and the effect was to minimise the girl and accentuate the woman. Her skin glowed, and her finger and toenails had been manicured and coloured. She looked gorgeous, and I felt my cock twitch longingly.
'One thing was odd though,' she said. She was too caught up in the flow of her story to be embarrassed. 'After the massage she did my legs and armpits, really delicately, with scented wax, and then she asked me if I wanted the rest done. So I asked what she meant, and she looked at me... down there, and said she'd never seen such a mess. She got a big book out and showed me pictures. I never knew people did their hair down there. I thought it just grew and that was it, but she told me that hair was fine but beards were for men and whiskers were for cats, not pussies. So I found one I liked and said OK, I'll have that one. It stung a little bit, the wax down there, I mean, and having scissors so close to my ...I was a bit nervous at first, but she was very careful. It feels really different,' I smiled to myself.
'I bet it does. What else?' It had all been wonderful and the woman had given her a tray of things for lunch and a glass of wine and had talked to her as if she was grown up. I listened to her and was glad I'd tipped in advance.
'What about the shopping?' She bit her lip.
'I didn't buy anything. There was so much stuff and I don't really know what's what, so I bought a huge pile of magazines, and I'm going to look at them tonight and then I thought I could go shopping tomorrow.' I cheered silently.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The next day she arrived back at five, looking exhausted. I came up from the kitchen to say hello and couldn't help smiling. She was sitting on the bottom stair, her purchases piled round her, rubbing her feet and wincing. She heard my footsteps and looked up.
'Shopping is really hard work.'
'That's why men don't like it. Never trust a man who says he'll be happy to go shopping with you. He's a liar. Did you get what you wanted?' She smiled tiredly.
'I think so. I'm one huge ache. I spent the cab fare and had to get the bus back. I'm going to have a quick shower before class.' I put my hand up.
'No. you're going to have a long bath, and then we'll have supper, and then you can show me your clothes. You've grown up enough not to grumble about making the class up later. Go on up. I'll bring your parcels in a minute. I need a shower too.'
By seven thirty we were sitting in the classroom staring at the fire and digesting. She'd eaten hungrily and we'd split a bottle of wine. She'd dressed properly after her bath but I'd just thrown on an old set of sweats.
'I thought I was going to die when I came in. It was good of you to put the lesson off. I promise I'll make it up when you say.'
'If you behave like an adult I'll treat you like an adult. Jesus, woman, you're nineteen. You can vote, leave home, go to prison, get married, anything you like. When am I going to get the fashion show?'
'Everything's on my bed, still in the bags. Come and see.' I shook my head.
'I want the full catwalk stuff. I'll go and fetch everything and you can change in my room and come through and model it for me.' She looked delighted.
'Really?'
'Of course really. Don't go away.' I came back loaded, and with her robe as well, dumped everything on my bed, and went back to my armchair.
The parade was worth it just to see her look of concentration as she explained each item. It seemed as if everything went with at least three other things, but the subtleties of the matter escaped me. I watched and applauded and she beamed and beamed. She was totally alive, fussing over the garments, comparing them for me. I interrupted her.
'You're loving this. Why don't you send off to some design schools? More fun than a Catholic university, I should think.' She stood stock still for a moment and then went on with her explanations. She didn't answer but I knew the seed had been planted.
Finally she ran down. She came out of the bedroom tying her robe round her and flopped into her chair. I got up and gave her a glass.
