Hywel felt a flutter of nervous anticipation as he rang Eleri's doorbell. He told himself this was ridiculous, for the only purpose of his visit was the return of the car footpump his mother had borrowed from Eleri the day before. But he was an unusually shy lad, diffident and tongue-tied with women, and the strong sexual attraction he'd always felt towards his mother's best friend heightened rather than decreased his self-consciousness.
Suddenly there was movement behind the door's frosted glass panes, and it swung open to reveal the lady herself, attired more casually than Hywel had ever seen her. Her raven locks, usually tied back in a pony tail, hung in waves to her shoulders, and her feet were bare below her sloppy jeans. But what made Hywel's heart beat faster was the outline of her largish breasts under the white man's shirt; the poking nipples and gently swinging curves betrayed her braless state.
'Oh, it's you, Hywel.' She gave him a ravishing smile.
'Hi', murmured Hywel, overawed.
'I thought it would be you, actually. Your Mum rang earlier to say you'd be over shortly'.
Hywel unslung the leather holdall which contained the pump from his shoulder, and proffered it to Eleri. He half-hoped that Eleri would take it and bid him good-day. Yet, at the same time, he was excited by her physical nearness (close proximity to a sexy lady, for him, was a most unusual experience). And dared he imagine that she had left her bra off deliberately for him?
As if reading his thoughts, Eleri, stooping down for the holdall so that her breasts wobbled enticingly, informed him: 'I'm afraid you caught me at rather an awkward moment. I've only just climbed out of the shower.' So that was the reason – she simply hadn't had time to dress properly. Hywel felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.
'You can stay for a cup of tea, though, can't you?' added Eleri, once more throwing Hywel's mind into turmoil.
'Well, I-I don't know...' he stammered, nonplussed.
'Of course you can. Come in and make yourself comfy on the sofa.' Eleri turned and marched down the front hallway, the play of the muscles in her firm buttocks well defined under the tight jeans. Hywel followed apprehensively.
'In there', Eleri told him, indicating a door on the left with a careless wave of her hand. Hywel passed into an untidy lounge and perched gingerly on the edge of a cream leather settee. Eleri, meanwhile, had disappeared, presumably to attire herself more respectably. But moments later she strolled through the doorway, still braless but now with two buttons undone, and bearing a bottle of malt whisky. Flinging herself on the settee, she snuggled up to him and thrust the bottle into his face.
'Have a quick dose of that. It'll relax you.'
Hywel obeyed, gulping back a large measure of the fiery spirit, and almost gagged in the process. He was almost at his wit's end – nothing like this had happened before in his sheltered life.
Eleri took the bottle from him, and sipped from it as her right hand caressed the back of his neck and then slid, exploring, under his shirt.
'What time is it, big boy? You mustn't be late for Mummy, after all', inquired Eleri, sensing his anxiety to be away.
'Er...it's five past two', returned Hywel, glancing at his watch.
'Very tense, aren't you?', she murmured, withdrawing her hand and placing it in comradely fashion round his neck. She waited awhile, then murmured in his ear: 'Would I be right, by any chance, in thinking you've never even so much as pecked a girl on the cheek? And that's partly because you're so shy, I know. But there's more to it than that, isn't there? If I'm not much mistaken, your mother's told you not to get involved with women in any away. Hasn't she just?'
Hywel glanced up, blushing, and met Eleri's earnest (or was it secretly mocking?) gaze.
'Well, yes...it's true..I suppose...'
'She told me herself she doesn't want her kids fooling around with anyone, not anyone, till they're properly married', Eleri swept on airily, ignoring Hywel's discomfiture. 'Not that you're a kid any more. Next week, you're off to college, I gather. But I still think your mother's right. Young men can get into all sorts of trouble if they're not careful.'