THIS IS A FANTASY. Always practice safe, sane, consensual and healthy sexual acts. Protection against unwanted pregnancy and STIs is important and life saving.
This story is a continuation of Italian Lessons ch.01. It would be of benefit to read that first to understand the scenario.
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Eleanor still couldn't comprehend that her masturbation fantasy had been realised. It was like he could sense her desires. She still didn't know his name.
She couldn't tell anyone about this. They either wouldn't believe her, or they would want her to go to the police to report him for sexual assault. They wouldn't understand the maelstrom of emotions it was causing her. She was still terrified, because even if he seemed non-threatening and hadn't asked her to do anything to him, things could turn in an instant and she would have no control. The size of the risk was equal to the size of the thrill, and she couldn't stop now.
She went through her life in a mechanical daze, functioning outwardly normally, but her attention was elsewhere. She had to ensure nobody noticed any change in her behaviour, but she couldn't stop wondering about him. Was he thinking about her? What was his plan with all this? Did he even have a plan? Was he nervous? Was he getting the same rush of adrenaline as her?
This week she wore a simple black and white striped dress made from jersey material, so it clung to her every curve. She decided not to wear underwear to see how he would react - if anything happened at all. She had no guarantee this would continue. Would he even be at the class? The uncertainty was paralysing.
She walked into class, her nipples hard from arousal, visible through the thin fabric of her dress. She scanned the room and he wasn't there. Her heart skipped a beat and she was overcome with disappointment. She made her way to sit in their same seats at the back of the class, desolate. She couldn't concentrate at all. What if he never came to another class? What if she never saw him again? She was addicted to the thrill and the suspense now. How could she ever replicate this feeling?
At the end of the class, she packed her things away, her heart leaden with disappointment. She slowly made her way to the door, intending to go home and curl up in a blanket and hide from the emptiness she was consumed with. However, when she reached the door, she saw him standing across the corridor. He was leaning against the wall, smiling, looking expectantly at her. He held out his hand and said, "come with me". She took his hand and like a puppet on strings, followed him.