"-Do you trust me?" Moira asked.
The sun was setting over the southern Ireland countryside, sending long, soft shadows from to tree to hedgerow and slowly turning the sky red. They sat on Moira's couch in her quiet cottage. She had her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. Sinead's school books lay scattered on the coffee table.
It was a long moment before Sinead answered with a barely discernible nod.
"I want you to turn around," Moira told her softly, and guided Sinead when she began to move. "-That's right, lean against me. Try to relax."
She turned a little to the side so that Sinead could lean against her and sensed the younger woman's cautious anxiety.
"-There's nothing to worry about," she told her gently. "I'm just going to show you what I mean, okay?"
The setting sun through the open window bathed the two of them in it's soft, warm light as Moira reached around Sinead and began to unbutton the younger woman's blouse.
"You're too tense," she told her. "There's nothing to worry about, you won't be struck down, or turned to stone..."
Moira held her breath as she carefully unfastened the last button and slowly opened the front of Sinead's school blouse. She knew it was the first time for Sinead who was eighteen and had been raised to believe this sort of thing was wrong. The first time another person had opened her blouse or admired the firm swellings of her young breasts snugly supported in her pretty, white lace bra.
Soft, evening shadows stole from the corners of the room as if to add privacy to what they were doing.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Moira whispered. She rubbed her cheek gently against Sinead's head. A blackbird began to sing, sweetly and far away in her garden.
"-Give me your hands," she told her. "Now close your eyes, don't think about anything."
She took Sinead's hands in her own and squeezed them gently when she felt how they trembled.
"It's okay, I promise. Let your arms relax. I'll move them for you. There's nothing to be afraid of, you'll see."
Moira saw their reflections in her dark TV. Sinead, still in her school uniform leaning back against her, the younger woman's bra pale in the fading light. She looked at her own reflection. Did she know what she was doing? She thought she did. It felt right, she was helping, that's all.
She couldn't see the expression on Sinead's face but she could hear her breathing, feel her warmth and the light, comfortable pressure of her back against her breasts.
"They told me it was wrong as well," she whispered. "But it helps, it really does. It's the best stress-buster in the world."
Now she moved Sinead's hands, placing them gently on the plaits of her short skirt where it covered her legs. She began to move them slowly up and down. Sinead's fingers were splayed, the younger woman's hands were slightly smaller than her own.
Moira had smiled when she'd explained her own tried and trusted method for taking some of the bumps out of the road. It was a delicate subject but Sinead had been stressed about her approaching exams so Moira had cautiously told her that sex took the nervous edge off her own emotions better than anything a doctor might prescribe. She'd smiled at Sinead's puzzled expression, her innocent observation that Moira was single, then the way she'd blushed furiously when Moira had gently informed her that a woman didn't necessarily need a man to satisfy her needs.
"-Put one leg on the couch," she told her, continuing to guide Sinead's hands. She moved her cheek against the younger woman's head, watching over her shoulder as she hesitantly raised one leg.
"Remember there's no rush. It's better if you take your time," she instructed, still moving Sinead's hands, watching now as her skirt began to rise with the gentle up and down movements of their hands.
The shadows had continued to move stealthily closer as the light slowly left the sky and now Moira felt the darkness settle softly around them. She took her time, wanting Sinead's first experience to be the best ever. She was watching when the younger woman's skirt finally rose far enough to show the pale white glow of her panties in the deeper private shadows between her legs.
It hadn't taken much to persuade Sinead to let Moira show her what to do. Moira had been moved that in this day and age there were still young women who believed it was somehow wrong to touch and explore their own bodies. Now she continued to use their hands together, slowly lifting Sinead's skirt still higher, occasionally guiding her hands towards her inner thighs. She wished she was experiencing it again herself for the first time, those first, exciting tentative touches, but then she realised that somehow every time felt like the first time.
"-I don't know how this works exactly," she told Sinead as she looked down and watched what their hands were doing, "-but it does. It releases something wonderful... it's spiritual, almost magical..."
She began to move the younger woman's hands towards her breasts, taking her time, aware that Sinead might still be uncomfortable, might still doubt some of the things she'd told her.
"The sense of relief afterwards... release and relief.... It helps in all kinds of nice ways. That's it, both hands," she whispered, encouraging her, sensing her misgivings, and then cupping both their hands over Sinead's breasts when the younger woman allowed her to do so.
"Close your eyes," she soothed her. "Do you see how nice that feels?"
