*A longer chapter which develops the narrative and characters before the most detailed sex scene yet. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment.
Chapter Four
The sun was slowly sinking beyond the hilled countryside that surrounded the village as Lucy made her way through the streets towards her teacher's house. It had taken a painstakingly prepared meal and a neck massage the night before to persuade her grandmother to let her stay out.
"Young ladies shouldn't be away from home during the night," she had repeatedly told her until her protestations that 'Amber's house was as safe as anywhere' and 'wasn't it about time that I was allowed such privileges' wore her down and she finally acquiesced.
Of course, Amber's house was in the opposite direction to where Lucy now walked.
The wind was getting stronger, colder, and her black summer dress with red rose pattern gusted about her thighs as autumn took hold of that provincial village. As she felt the first spots of rain, Lucy reflected on her relationship.
One thing was certain; she loved him. At first it was infatuation but that feeling of completion when she held him and he held her caused such an emotion that it caused a physical sensation in her chest. Not for the first time since the day before, however, she considered the fact that they hardly knew each other. She didn't think it mattered too much in her own case; she'd lived her whole life in this tiny place with its red phone boxes and elastic bands on driveways from the postman's round; what was interesting about her life?
As for him though... Where did he come from? What had those green/blue eyes of his seen over those hilly borders where life wasn't black and white and people begged for cigarettes and copper?
The rain was falling steadily now and Lucy realised it was seriously time to buy an umbrella. She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain effort to keep warm and turned onto his street. The houses were few and far between here, and thick oaks spread their branches over the road, their leaves collecting on the pavement beneath as they cycled through their annual phases. She had straightened her hair and regretted not tying it up as the wind blew it about her face, ruining her stylistic efforts.
At last, she approached his house and stepped through the knee-high wooden gate, rain droplets gathering on her skin and running down into her cleavage. She stepped onto the path that led to his front door and considered his house.
It was large and classical with three storeys but the windows were dark and closed, as they always had been those summer days when she had rung the bell in the vain hope of seeing him.
Except one.
Beneath what she assumed was the living room there was a tiny, frosted window that looked out onto the grass of his front lawn. It glowed red.
He must be home, he had to be, but she felt trepidation and her hand hung in the air before the iron chain which would sound his doorbell. All those times before with no answer made her fear being ignored once again. She quickly mastered her fear, however, and gave the chain a tug.
Somewhere deep in the house a bell jangled but for a minute or two there was no sign of movement. She stepped back from the door just in time to see the red light beneath the living room wink out and a moment later a yellow glow appeared beyond the thick mottled glass of the porch. Then she regarded a shadowy shape through that glass.
The lock clicked, the brass handle turned, the heavy wooden door swung inwards, and there he was: her desire, her teacher, her saviour from that prison of monotony. He wore a black shirt and slacks and, she was amused to note, a dark tweed sports' jacket (even indoors he overdressed!).
For a moment they merely regarded each other with a smile, uncertain what to say but enjoying what fate had led them to nonetheless. Then, suddenly, he snapped out of it and ushered her inside.
"Come in, come in; out of the rain," he gestured at the warmth of his house.
She stepped over the threshold and beyond him and the heat inside made her cold, damp skin tingle. There was a welcoming feel about his place, a scent in the air of pine and maple, and she felt immediately at home.
He closed the door behind her and she turned to face him. She stepped up and, pushing herself up onto her toes, leant forward to meet his lips. He placed his hands around her waist and reciprocated. The warmth of his mouth was like a warming shot of liquor that coursed throughout her body. Their kiss ended and their lips echoed off the tiles at their feet.
"Hello," he said, with a smile.
"Hi," she replied and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you."
He leant forward and kissed her cheek and she blinked as her eyes watered slightly.
He took her hand and led her into the foyer. She gazed wide-eyed and the ornately carved staircase before her, the classic portraits which hung from the walls.
"Um... a teacher?" she laughed.
"Not always," he replied with a rueful smile. "Or rather: privileged background. Are you hungry?"
The prospect of food made her stomach growl.
"I could eat."
"Good, because I'm rather a dab hand in the kitchen, if I do say so myself. But," he regarded her in the dim yellow light of the wall sconces, "You're all wet; can't have you getting a cold, can we?"
He tugged at her hand and led her up the giant staircase to the first floor. On either side of the landing were long corridors, shadowed and mysterious. He pressed a switch and the one of the left was suddenly illuminated.
"We'll have to find something more appropriate for you," he said as he led her down the corridor past several closed door. "I'm afraid I don't have a wardrobe you may be used to but I'm sure you'll find something you like in here."
They stopped outside a door at the far end of the corridor and she watched him withdraw a set of keys from his pocket. Sliding one into the lock, he opened the door and it creaked on its aged hinges.
"Haven't been in here since I first moved in," he winked at her.
She was immediately struck by a strange scent that wafted forth. She frowned as she struggled to place it; for some reason it reminded her of doing the washing up.
"Choose whatever you like, whatever you think is suitable; they're all in your size I believe. When you're done, you'll find me downstairs. Just follow the smell of steak. Oh," he leant inside the doorway, retrieved a small bottle and handed it to her, "You'll need this."
