the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.
His eyes unashamedly fluttered back and forth from her face, to her breasts, to her lips, back to her face, and then lower down her body. Unbeknownst to Marianne, under the glare of a bright sun, her white cotton dress revealed as much as it concealed. The warm pink tone of her flesh clearly visible beneath the surface of the thin white fabric. A compromising silhouette exposed every contour of her slender body. Her decision not to wear a bra that afternoon had left the young man transfixed.
“ Erm... Yes, I believe she is. I'll just go inside and tell her you're here,” he said finally. Then he disappeared down the garden path, leaving Marianne alone with the newly planted tree – a cherry blossom.
It struck Marianne as odd that this apparent stranger should be able to inform Sarah of her presence without actually asking her name, but it was a minor issue and she thought nothing more of it.
As she waited for the man's return, Marianne admired the garden, in particular, the newly planted tree. It only reached up to her shoulders in height, but it all ready had several pretty pink blossoms adorning its supple, waxy branches. She contemplated taking one and placing it in her hair, like she used to do as a child – it always made her feel pretty, like a princess from a fairy tail. She gave it some thought then decided against the idea fearing it might look silly for a grown women to do such a childish thing.
The young man reappeared some five minutes later. “Sorry. Looks like I made a mistake. She's not home. She must have slipped out the back when I wasn't looking and gone on an errand or something,” he said.
Again, he stood in front of Marianne; his eyes darting about her body. “You're welcome to come inside and wait for her if you like?” He motioned his arm towards the house. “I'm sure she won't be too long.”
“ No. It doesn't matter. I probably should have given her a call to let her know I was coming. It's no problem. I will call around some other time,” said Marianne, gesturing in the direction from which she had arrived.
“ Don't be silly,” he replied. “You should come in and wait for her. She'd be disappointed to know that she'd missed you. Come in and wait.”
He smiled – he had a kind smile, and his teeth were white and healthy. This time his aquamarine eyes didn't dart around her body at all. They looked directly into hers, where they lingered in anticipation of her response. His pupils were large, and his eyelashes particularly long, for a boy, she noticed.
Marianne hesitated for a moment then looked at her watch. “Well I suppose... if you're sure she won't be long that is?”
The man nodded, threw his fork back into the ground, then turned and lead Marianne in the direction of the house.
* * *
The door closed behind Marianne, taking with it the sound of birdsong and leaving both of them in eerie silence. Although she had been here many times before, the house seemed darker than usual and much cooler. She followed him down the hall, past the ornate Edwardian chaiselong, and into the living-room where the young man told her to take a seat.
“ Would you like a drink?” he asked. “We have fresh orange.”
“ That would be nice. Thank you,” she replied. Now slightly more baffled than before. “We?” she thought to herself.
He returned no more than a minute later, now wearing a t-shirt, and with a glass in his hand.
Marianne was perched on the edge of the couch stiff and upright, with her knees pressed firmly together and her hands laying flat upon them. Feeling tense and a little apprehensive, she wondered why she'd acted so out of character by agreeing to enter an empty house with a complete stranger. It made no difference that it was the familiar surroundings of Sarah's house, who was he?
He handed her the glass of orange. Meekly, she reached out and took it. As she did their hands touched. Her fingers briefly caressing
His eyes unashamedly fluttered back and forth from her face, to her breasts, to her lips, back to her face, and then lower down her body. Unbeknownst to Marianne, under the glare of a bright sun, her white cotton dress revealed as much as it concealed. The warm pink tone of her flesh clearly visible beneath the surface of the thin white fabric. A compromising silhouette exposed every contour of her slender body. Her decision not to wear a bra that afternoon had left the young man transfixed.
“ Erm... Yes, I believe she is. I'll just go inside and tell her you're here,” he said finally. Then he disappeared down the garden path, leaving Marianne alone with the newly planted tree – a cherry blossom.
It struck Marianne as odd that this apparent stranger should be able to inform Sarah of her presence without actually asking her name, but it was a minor issue and she thought nothing more of it.
As she waited for the man's return, Marianne admired the garden, in particular, the newly planted tree. It only reached up to her shoulders in height, but it all ready had several pretty pink blossoms adorning its supple, waxy branches. She contemplated taking one and placing it in her hair, like she used to do as a child – it always made her feel pretty, like a princess from a fairy tail. She gave it some thought then decided against the idea fearing it might look silly for a grown women to do such a childish thing.
The young man reappeared some five minutes later. “Sorry. Looks like I made a mistake. She's not home. She must have slipped out the back when I wasn't looking and gone on an errand or something,” he said.
Again, he stood in front of Marianne; his eyes darting about her body. “You're welcome to come inside and wait for her if you like?” He motioned his arm towards the house. “I'm sure she won't be too long.”
“ No. It doesn't matter. I probably should have given her a call to let her know I was coming. It's no problem. I will call around some other time,” said Marianne, gesturing in the direction from which she had arrived.
“ Don't be silly,” he replied. “You should come in and wait for her. She'd be disappointed to know that she'd missed you. Come in and wait.”
He smiled – he had a kind smile, and his teeth were white and healthy. This time his aquamarine eyes didn't dart around her body at all. They looked directly into hers, where they lingered in anticipation of her response. His pupils were large, and his eyelashes particularly long, for a boy, she noticed.
Marianne hesitated for a moment then looked at her watch. “Well I suppose... if you're sure she won't be long that is?”
The man nodded, threw his fork back into the ground, then turned and lead Marianne in the direction of the house.
* * *
The door closed behind Marianne, taking with it the sound of birdsong and leaving both of them in eerie silence. Although she had been here many times before, the house seemed darker than usual and much cooler. She followed him down the hall, past the ornate Edwardian chaiselong, and into the living-room where the young man told her to take a seat.
“ Would you like a drink?” he asked. “We have fresh orange.”
“ That would be nice. Thank you,” she replied. Now slightly more baffled than before. “We?” she thought to herself.
He returned no more than a minute later, now wearing a t-shirt, and with a glass in his hand.
Marianne was perched on the edge of the couch stiff and upright, with her knees pressed firmly together and her hands laying flat upon them. Feeling tense and a little apprehensive, she wondered why she'd acted so out of character by agreeing to enter an empty house with a complete stranger. It made no difference that it was the familiar surroundings of Sarah's house, who was he?
He handed her the glass of orange. Meekly, she reached out and took it. As she did their hands touched. Her fingers briefly caressing
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