Cecil glanced up from his desk and Shirley was smiling across at him. He smiled back: an intimate, personal smile… He had moved in with Shirley the night before. He had left Benny's, saying good – by to the tearful and suddenly old man, telling him he had to go because… because the apartment was close to his work… because he couldn't stay in the too small living quarters in the store forever, because… Cecil stared at Shirley as she bent over her work. The sunlight glistened off the burnished gloss of her soft, auburn hair… Because he murmured to himself… Shirley's skirt had slid up and he could see the sweet, red briefs that he'd watched her put on that morning… because…
He had stared around the apartment curiously. It was the first time he'd been in. He'd promised to move in with Shirley without even seeing the apartment! It hadn't seemed important to see it first because he'd already made up.his mind. It was small: just one bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. It was big enough, Shirley had said. Big enough for the two of them… big enough for two girls! He tried to still the small flicker of fear that started to throb…
They had unpacked their clothes. They each had a closet: twin closets… twin beds, too. He had drawn a small sigh of relief when he saw that then he had remembered that these types of bed could be put together to make one… One big bed! One big bed he had murmured to himself… and he had wondered until Beverly's words came back to haunt him… Incomplete!
"You're lucky," said Shirley enviously, "All your clothes are new! What'd you do, Cecile, throw your old clothes away?" And she'd laughed.
He'd laughed, too. He hadn't told her that he didn't have any old clothes to throw away that these were the first clothes the first girl's clothes that he'd ever owned. He couldn't tell Shirley that Cecile was a newborn babe! He couldn't tell her that, because…
They had been tired after unpacking especially Cecil. The emotion, the effort, and turmoil had drained the last dregs of strength from his body. He had flopped on one of the beds, still fully dressed, and sighed deeply, "I'm tired, Shirley." And she'd sat down beside him, talked to him, soothed him with sweet words about small, unimportant things.
It had been so good! Too good to last. Shirley had looked down his body, seen the whiteness of his thigh where the miniskirt had dragged up, then her hand had touched his flesh lightly and she had murmured: "You've a nice figure, Cecile. I think you're lovely!" Her gentle lips had been parted, and her eyes were bright when he felt her hand move slightly, accidentally… but so dangerously.
He'd slid off the bed in a blur. "Don't touch me there," he'd mouthed. "Don't ever do that!"
And Shirley's face had turned white, then the tears started in her eyes. "You hate me!" she dragged the words out with pain. "I I wasn't doing anything… just touching you just stroking your skin because I like you." The sobs racked her body, then she panted the words out: "I I'm not a a lesbo like you, Cecile just like you." Then she threw herself facedown on her bed and the sobs rocked and shook the gentle, sensitive flesh.
Cecil had stumbled to the bathroom, let the door slam behind him then stared at his face in the mirror. His skin looked gray his lips trembled. What had he done? He sank onto the toilet seat, buried his face in his hands. Oh, Shirley! he'd moaned to himself, I didn't mean to hurt you! Oh, my sweet what have I done?
When he went back into the bedroom, she was asleep. Her tear – streaked face rested on her arm, a lock of tousled, auburn hair fell across her eyes. He had an irresistible urge to lift it, brush it away but he curbed it.
She was still wearing her clothes: the cute, little skirt was rumpled under the soft, warm thighs. She had drawn one knee up, and the sweet briefs that he had admired were stretched painfully across her crotch. Her blouse had twisted when she raised her arm and an errant button hung slackly on a single strand of thread.
Cecil felt a circle of pain around his heart and a dull ball of ice began to swell within his belly. All this! Shirley's soft innocence seemed to reproach him with every gentle rise and fall of her breasts. All this he had destroyed! He stumbled, as if he was drunk, when he moved away from the bedroom. He sat in the unused kitchen and stared in front of him. Not drinking coffee or liquor or even smoking… Just staring and thinking. It could have been so good!
When he went back, Shirley was in the same position. He hesitated, then moved to her bedside, sank down gently. She slept like an angel an untouched, lovable angel! His hand trembled when he unfastened the remaining buttons on her blouse then he slipped it gently off her shoulders, savoring the exquisite pleasure of the mere contact of her flesh against his arm as he raised her slightly. The rumpled skirt slid gently down skimming the gleaming thighs, caressing soft flesh and gliding over the silken legs as he raised each foot in turn, carefully, tenderly removing the tiny piece of cloth.
He turned her onto her side and she gave a small moan, but remained asleep and unfastened her brassiere, slipped it off then placed her on her back, feasted his eyes on the perfect breasts with their pink, virginal nipples… A trickle of saliva slid from the comer of his mouth. Oh, my God! he moaned. How he longed to kiss them! But he didn't!
He dragged the tiny briefs down lightly, baring the delicious patch of auburn hairs then, unable to withstand the temptation, he muzzled the warm triangle with his mouth and lips so very, very lightly. The smooth silk rolled down her legs and he drew back the sheets, eased the small body between them, then covered it with gentle hands, loving hands. He'd never known he could be so tender! He felt lightheaded. Just the nearness of her intoxicated him.
Cecil leaned over Shirley, kissed her lightly on the forehead, then he went to his own bed. He undressed, save for the brassiere and the special briefs, which he retained like an armored shield. Before he turned off the lights, he took a last glance at Shirley's face… She seemed to be smiling as she slept.
"Good morning, Cecile." The lisped words reached his ears, waking him, then reminding him. He jerked his body, clutched the sheets to his neck. Why did she speak to him? She hated him she must hate him after after what she thought. His hand moved over his body stealthily. The brassiere was in place the panties, his precious defense, were intact.
Shirley smiled down at him. "You must be tired," she said sweetly, "I've brought you coffee." She placed the cup on the bedside table, then sank down beside him. Her eyes smiled warmly into his. He didn't understand… until she spoke again: "I was awake last night," she leaned close to his face and whispered the words, "when you undressed me!" Her cheeks flushed brightly… they were almost as bright as the eyes that caressed him when he asked: "Why didn't you stop me? I thought you were asleep!"
She shook her head, wetness glistened in her eyes. "I I thought you'd be be uncomfortable. I I thought " she placed her finger on his lips and when he stopped his stammered explanation, she murmured: "I thought you hated me but " her eyes lit up again, "when you undressed me so so sweetly then kissed me here " and she pointed to her forehead with a tiny finger, "I knew you didn't hate me."
"Of course I didn't hate you," he said, hoarsely.
She laughed, softly happily. "You you kissed me… here, too." Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, then she unfastened the terry robe that she wore, drew it back. She was naked beneath. "Here," she repeated, touching the light thatch of delicate hair. "You stroked me with your cheek here " and her hand touched her small, rounded belly, stroked it gently.
"Yes," he hissed.
"You you don't hate me?" she asked with a tremor in her voice.
"No," he gasped, "Oh, Shirley, I don't hate you!" He pulled her face down to his. "Can I I kiss you?" His eyes smiled into hers, then he added: "I'm not a lesbo I just like you " and she blushed again, remembering her words of the night before.
She leaned down, touched his lips with hers then her body tensed when his tongue thrust out, reached into her mouth. She drew back with a small gasp then she panted: "I didn't know girls could kiss like that unless… unless… "
He smiled at her. "Unless they're lesbos?" he asked.
"Yes," she panted, her eyes serious.
"Didn't you like it?" he asked, suddenly terribly afraid.
She dropped her eyes, then the whispered word came out. "Oh, yes, Cecile I liked it so much Cecile don't get mad, please don*t get mad, Cecile. I I love you!" Then the tears streamed from her eyes until Cecil drew her face to his again and kissed her until she had no breath for tears or doubts or fears.
"I love you, too, Shirley," he murmured, feeling a tingling sensation deep within his body as he said the words for the first time.
Her eyes lighted up then the small, auburn – haired girl smothered Cecil's face with kisses.
His hand slid out, touched the warm thighs slipped up, felt soft wetness. "I’ll kiss you here," he promised her, "tonight!"
Her body tensed, then trembled. "Oh, Cecile oh, Cecile " she moaned, "Don't ever leave me do anything you want but please, don't ever leave me!"
"I won't leave you," he murmured, nuzzling his face in her hair, "I'll love you."
"And kiss me?" she asked.
"Kiss you," he promised.
"Here?" She took his hand, pressed it against her, between the soft thighs and higher. The tiny lips were moist, warm, and ready.
"Here," he promised, touching the tip of a rising, reaching clitoris.
"Tonight," she mouthed, rubbing her face against his, "Oh, hurry tonight!" And the shivers ran uncontrollably through her flesh.
The papers on his desk blurred before Cecil's eyes as he remembered. He had a feeling that he was being watched. He jerked his head, stared across the room… Shirley's blue eyes were beaming a message to him… He saw her lips move, forming a soundless word. He watched her mouth closely. "Tonight," she was saying… He smiled, nodded his head – and Shirley's lips began to quiver and her thighs squeezed together with an intolerable tightness.