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Ardent

By: REGade



My kid brother called to give me a heads-up.

"Where are you?" He was stalling. He usually started the conversation with, "which time zone are you in?"

"San Francisco. I'll be in Denver all next month," I answered, giving him time to warm up to what was really on his mind. 

"Your girlfriend has hit it big. Her book is coming out tomorrow." 

He didn't need to elaborate. I knew our sister had put him up to making the call. Karen had warned me from the beginning that I was headed for a crash.

"She's really going places," Karen had said soon after she coerced me into admitting to my involvement with Ardy. I didn't heed her warning that I was in over my head and it would never work. There were other signs but I didn't want to admit that I recognized them. Karen didn't press it at the time; she knew I was in love and it was making me too fragile to think straight. 

Having Steve deliver the news about Ardy's book was Karen's way of saying, "I tried to tell you she was smarter and you have nothing in common and you have to let her go." It was also her way of saying, "Damn it Jimmy, I never wanted you to get hurt. Why wouldn't you listen?"

The book wouldn't sell many copies unless it caught on as an extra-credit assignment in Sociology 101 classes, but it symbolized success. It elevated her to an accomplishment beyond anything I would ever achieve. I didn't need to see the press clippings to visualize the dust cover with a photo of her on the back; serious with a mischievous grin, proud. Or to know the title, Ellen; A Black Woman's Struggle, by Ardent Savoy, Ph.D. Hell, I had helped proofread parts of it four years before when we lived in the small house next to the flower shop. I had watched her sketch ideas for it on my chest, her long slender finger parting the hairs after we made love.

I pushed the room service cart into the hall and put the 'Do Not Disturb,' sign on the door, wanting to be alone. I leaned back in the only chair, hoping to purge my memory of that night. 

~*~

It had rained off and on all day; late fall rain, cold, pelting at times, near snow. I considered going after Ardy, but I was not sure I could find Ellen's apartment again. What if she called, wanting me to pick her up at the bus stop? I would miss the call and she would be out there someplace, alone and cold. 

The night was still young, but it had been dark for two hours when she came through the back door, wet, exuberant and bubbly. 

"I've had the most amazing day. I can't wait to tell you everything!"

"You're soaked. Let me dry your hair. Have you had anything to eat?" I went to get a towel without waiting for her answer. 

The coat we had found in the thrift shop, made heavy by the rain, dropped to the floor as she stepped forward dutifully, her eyes wide, mouth open, anticipating. She raised her arms for me to pull the new sweater over her head and then turned for me to dry her hair. Water was dripping onto her bare shoulders. 

"You're drenched to the bone. Take your shoes and jeans off. I'll run a bath," I said when I was satisfied the towel had collected most of the moisture from her hair. 

I had lit a candle and was watching the tub fill when she entered the bathroom wearing only her bra and panties, surprising me with her lack of modesty. The only light in the room came from the candle, flickering to make the skin on her thighs glow orange, then brown and orange again.

"You'll have to leave if you want me to strip and get into that water." Her voice hit a raspy edge at "strip and get." 

"I'll make you a sandwich."

"Jimmy?"

"Yes," I said, turning at the door. She was bending over the tub testing the temperature of the water, her butt filling out the panties nicely. She looked my way and our eyes locked for a full minute. She swallowed, making a vein ripple in her slender neck.

"Thank you." 

A few minutes later I knocked on the door and heard her say, "Come in."

"Here, drink this," I said. She was submerged, her breasts visible. She made no attempt to cover them and I pretended I hadn't noticed her dark nipples floating near the water's surface. 

"What is it?"

"Brandy in hot water."

She took a sip of the drink and wrinkled her upper lip.

"Drink it." She tipped the glass back and drained it. 

"Good girl," I said and noticed her breasts break the water's surface as she handed the glass to me, showing the middle gap in her upper teeth, grinning like she often did.

I sat on the toilet seat while she munched on the sandwich and when she finished I took the plate. "What can I get for you to wear?" I asked, turning at the door.

"Could I have one of your T-shirts? And socks? Could I have a pair of those sweat socks you wear sometimes?"

"Are you sure this will be warm enough?" I asked when I came back with the clothes. 

"You'll keep me warm. We'll sleep in my bed tonight. Will that be all right?"

I smiled and nodded as I sat on the toilet seat and watched her bathe. She held the soap in her hand, her face covered with white suds. 

"Ellen was very critical about me being involved with a white boy." 

"Why? Has she had some experience with white boys?" I said, not wanting her to see me reeling by what she had said about us "being involved." How had the subject of me being white surfaced? 

"I suspect not. It's probably just an opinion she formed from hearsay. She says you're all very possessive by nature and want to own us. She says you have small cocks and don't know the first thing about pleasing a woman, especially a black woman." 

These two sentences had been delivered causally, in Ardy's quiet way. She watched me, waiting for a reply. The candle flickered, moving my shadow on the water's surface, seeming to ripple.

"Well, that sounds accurate. We are possessive and some of us have small cocks. I don't know if I could please a black woman but I'm willing to try." 

"I like your adventurous spirit." Her eyes searched mine, her mouth open, breaking into an infectious grin. I smiled back.

She splashed water onto her face to remove the soapsuds but her eyes never wavered from mine. I watched her swallow again and I swallowed too.

"Jimmy?" 

"Yes?"

"I'm ready to get out now." She pulled the stopper and the water began to flow down the drain. Her eyes traveled to mine, timidly, but she did not cover her breasts, although they now showed above the water line.

I understood her meaning. She wanted me to leave the room so she could dry herself and get dressed. But I ignored her silent request and she didn't protest. 

I spread the towel we had used to dry her hair. "Step out of the tub onto this," I said. I went to the towel rack, selected the largest one and unfolded it. When I turned she was out of the tub, naked and dripping with her back to me. Her head turned my way, waiting for me to drape the towel over her back. 

She dried her front while I rubbed the fabric against her back and ass to make the towel absorb the water. I hoped she didn't notice my hands shaking. 

"Do my hair some more," she said. I used the top section of the towel to rub the back of her head. When I dropped to my knees to pat down her legs, she let the towel drop and slipped the T-shirt over her head. I lifted her right foot and pulled a sock up her leg, and then did the same with her left one. The socks came almost to her knees and fit so loosely they were sure to fall.

"Did we get everything?" I asked, looking up to watch her turn. 

She placed a finger under my chin, urging me to my feet. "Do you want to do it all again?" 

She was smiling, patiently watching me as I ran my hands over her shoulder blades and down the small of her back, down to the end of the shirt where it covered the cheeks of her ass. We kissed and I could taste the brandy on her lips and tongue. I drew her close, running my hands over the cotton shirt, feeling her small breasts against my chest, and memorizing the feel of her narrow waist and how her butt fit my cupped palms. 

I attempted to break the kiss but she clung to me, kissing passionately. When she released my lips I leaned down and blew out the candle, making the room dark. She giggled, sending a quiver down her back. I picked her up and carried her to bed, the one in her room, as she had suggested.

~*~

We were from the same hometown and had gone to the same schools, but I did not remember speaking to her until the day my parents drove us to school. Her Aunt Bertha rode along to make sure Ardent's dormitory room was safe and clean. 

Bertha worked for my family on Tuesdays, changing the beds, doing the laundry and sprucing up the house to make it livable for another week. When mom heard that Ardent was fearful of riding the bus, she invited them to ride along with us. Ardent was to begin her second year at the school I was going to attend. Dad and I shared the driving. Mom sat in the back with Bertha and Ardent. We made the 500 mile trip in eight hours, including the time it took to stop for gas and to have lunch. 

My attempts to seek information about the school were met with short but polite answers from Ardent. I wondered why Bertha was so protective of her and how she had gotten the strange name. But this was not the time to be inquisitive. I couldn't decide if she was shy or, being a sophomore, didn't want to lower herself to talk to a freshman. 

My parents dropped us off at our dormitories and immediately headed back home because Bertha didn't want to stay in a motel overnight.

That was the last I saw or her until Thanksgiving. At Bertha's urging, mom made me take the same bus as Ardent. Those bus rides home for holidays or semester breaks were the only times we talked during my first year. We had little in common. She had a scholarship; my parents paid my tuition. She made the Dean's list, I didn't. She was black and I was not.

The next year, I had a car. And though Bertha did not approve of Ardent riding with me, she relented because it was better than letting her ride the bus alone. On our second trip together, she told me to call her Ardy. While the gesture didn't overwhelm me, I took this as a sign of trust between us. It still didn't occur to me to ask the reason someone had named her Ardent. Afterwards, when we saw each other on campus, she went out of her way to say hi. Otherwise, there was no contact between us. 

My third year, when she was a senior, we both found living arrangements off-campus. I lived in a small house next to Russell's Flower Shop, while Ardy moved into an apartment with three other girls. 

Martin Russell had vacated the house when he married Betty Peters. He and his son Matthew age ten, moved in with his new bride and her two sons, Carl Peters, age twelve and his brother Benny, age eight. In exchange for free rent I was to act as night watchman, check the temperature in the greenhouses and make sure thieves didn't break in. 

Except for Betty's monthly inspections of my little abode I enjoyed the quiet accommodations. I was able to make some of my meals and study. Marty let me work a few hours in the shop, paying me minimum wage. I was soon to learn that Ardy's living arrangements were not as serene as mine. The three girls she had chosen as roommates had not come to college in pursuit of an education. 

~*~

A surprise flurry of snow was in the air the day I heard her calling. "Jimmy!" I turned to see her running towards me. 

"Hi," I said, wondering how she could traipse through the snow without boots. She looked cold in the lightweight jacket she often wore. I couldn't help but reach out and brush the few flakes that had collected in her hair. She looked up at me, stunned, as if she had forgotten what she was going to say. 

"Would you mind if I tell Aunt Bertha to send a letter to your address?" Her eyes were wide with anticipation as if she expected me to refuse her request. Melted snow rolled between her eyes and dripped from her nose to her open mouth. 

She explained that Bertha's last letter had been opened and her spending money was missing. "There may be extra for my birthday and I'd hate for it to disappear," she said, looking somber like she half expected for me to make a wisecrack. She refused my offer of a few bucks to get by, saying she would be okay until the next letter arrived. I wrote my address on a sheet of notebook paper and included my telephone number.

"Open it," she said on Monday night when she called to confirm the letter had arrived. She sounded insistent so I ripped the envelope open and two bills dropped out. 

"There's a twenty and another twenty, two twenties," I said, hoping it was the amount she was expecting.

"Oh good." There was relief in her voice. "What does the letter say?"

"I'm not going to read your letter, Ardy."

"Please." This was the first time I heard the little girl voice, nothing like her quiet but firm, self-assured tone that I found sexy. I refused to read the letter, making her wait until we met the next day. 

The Monday evening phone calls became a ritual, always coming a few minutes past nine. We talked about things we had heard from home or something about our classes, never anything more serious. I loved to hear her laugh at my jokes. We would arrange to meet the following day for me to deliver her mail. I began to look forward to the calls.

One Monday night I found her in a corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of books. I went over to tell her the letter from Bertha had arrived. "So you won't get to talk to me on the phone tonight," I said, wanting to add that I would miss hearing her sexy phone voice but thinking better of it. 

"That's a shame," she smiled, showing me an even set of upper teeth, except for a gap at the center. I offered her a ride home and she accepted.

The following Monday I found her in the same spot. "I brought your letter," I said.

"You mean I don't get to talk to you on the phone? That's a pity," she said, taking the letter. We both smiled at our little joke. 

I was working at a nearby table when one of her friends approached her. I had seen him with her in a group of black students that hung out together. They spoke quietly for a few minutes and I saw him glance my way. Soon after that, he left. At nine o'clock we packed up our things and walked out of the library together. That's when I realized why she had always called me a few minutes after nine. She spent every night at the library.

"Who was that?" I asked as we walked to my car. 

It took her a few seconds to understand whom I was referring to. "Oh, you mean Jason. He was having trouble with a math course. I tutored him one semester last year. Now he sort of looks out for me."

I wondered if there was more to it than that, looking out for her, but I dropped the subject. It was none of my business.

"Looks like there's another party in progress," she said when we saw the lights on in her apartment. She sounded dejected.

"That's why you go to the library, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's quiet there."

"You could use my place. I don't make much noise." I said it without thinking and was relieved when she thanked me for the offer, while gently but firmly rejecting it.

We drove home for Thanksgiving. On the way back to school she wanted to know if I had a computer. I said yes, and we made arrangements for her to use it the following week. "It will save you having to deliver my letter," she said.

"But you still won't get to talk to me on the phone," I said and watched her upper teeth appear and heard her quiet laughter, flowing like a shallow brook after a spring thaw. 

"Thanks Jimmy," she said as she got out of the car. 

Did she just run her hand down my cheek?

~*~ 

We spent Monday nights working at my dining table and afterward I would take her home. Whenever I offered her something to eat she volunteered to clean up the kitchen, saying it was the least she could do to return my kindness. 

Our evenings together got longer because she soon insisted on cleaning the kitchen and then the bathroom, until we were leaving at midnight to take her back to her apartment. 

"My God, how do you get any sleep in there?" I said one night when it was evident by the lights that her roommates were having another party. 

The next Monday night she fell asleep on my couch at 11 P.M. I covered her up and watched her sleep. She looked physically exhausted.

Shit hit the fan the next morning. Ardy had been embarrassed when she woke up and discovered she was in a strange place. But that was nothing compared to what I felt when the Russells saw Ardy come out of the house with me.

"WHAT IS THAT WOMAN DOING HERE?" Betty screamed. To complicate matters everyone was there. Marty and two employees were working on floral arrangements and Betty had felt compelled to stop by the shop with the boys in case there was something that needed her attention.

I explained, as best I could, that Ardy was from my hometown and that we were just friends. I told them that I had invited her over to use my computer and study because she was not able to study with constant parties taking place in her apartment. "She fell asleep on the couch and I covered her up. That's all there was to it."

"Don't let it happen again," Betty spoke up the minute I finished. "I won't stand for it."

Ardy was mortified. She said maybe it would be better if we dispensed with our Monday night study and I didn't protest. Selfishly, I didn't want to be kicked out of the house because of her. Betty seemed spiteful enough to do it.

But something I had said made Marty have second thoughts. He didn't see any reason to ban Ardy from studying there. Betty had made one of her surprise inspections and found the house spotless. When confronted with the fact, Betty had second thoughts about Ardy's abilities. She agreed with her husband, saying she liked the way Ardy had cleaned up my messes.

The good news had no affect on Ardy. She refused to hear my invitation to resume our Monday night study sessions. When she called the next Monday night to verify that Bertha's letter had arrived there was noticeable grief in her voice. 

"What's wrong? You're getting to talk to me again," I said and heard her force a laugh. She sounded tired.

"Stay there; I'm coming to take you home. I'll bring the letter," I said.

"No Jimmy. I can walk. I'll be fine," she said, her voice weak and distant. I insisted on picking her up. When we saw all her apartment lights on, she shrunk in the car seat in despair. I kept on driving.

The next morning I went to see Marty. I described how Ardy was being deprived of sleep; how important it was that she got enough rest to be able to study and maintain her grade point average; and how I had insisted she sleep in the second bedroom the night before, failing to mention that I had given her one of my T-shirts to sleep in. 

To his credit Marty stepped up, saying it was all right for her to use the second bedroom until the end of the school year. I asked him if Betty would object and he told me not to worry about his wife. "Maybe she won't notice," he laughed. We both knew better.

Ardy totally rejected the offer to let her live in the house until she graduated, and I thought I knew why. But, on the other hand I could see that having a quiet place to study appealed to her. 

"Your Aunt Bertha doesn't need to know," I said and was relieved to see her positive reaction. We went to the apartment and picked up her belongings at lunchtime. 

Betty put up a stink about Ardy occupying the second bedroom but Marty said it was only until the semester ended. While Betty was pleased that I would no longer be living like a slob, she was not in favor of letting Ardy live rent-free. It was young Matt's idea for his father to let Ardy work in the shop in exchange for rent. Betty reluctantly agreed. 


Ardent



Living with an unrelated person of the opposite sex was new to each of us. After the first morning when she saw me eying her bare legs below the T-shirt she almost never came out of her room without being fully dressed. And unlike the bathroom that I had shared with my sister and brother, there were no stockings or panties left hanging to dry. We respected one another's privacy.

The work-for-rent agreement was fair. Ardy took her turn in the shop and learned quickly. All of us, even Betty, enjoyed having her there. Young Matt stopped by the shop every day after school instead of going home with his stepbrothers. It was obvious he was smitten.

We drove to and from school together because it was too far to walk. Ardy cut down on her evenings at the library to spare me the trip to pick her up. The letters from Bertha arrived each Monday, and Ardy contributed to the food budget. In fact, she took over the shopping and the cooking. 

"We were in the same kindergarten class," she confided one Friday night. Her voice was soft and dreamy. She was lying on the couch and I was sitting on the floor, near her feet. 

"How could that be?" I vaguely remembered her being in my kindergarten class. "You were always a year ahead of me."

"Not always. I skipped the third grade."

"You had pigtails with red ribbons," I recalled, ignoring her remark about skipping a grade. I caught one of her feet and removed the shoe, making her try to pull back.

"I almost never wore my hair in pigtails because boys like you always pulled them," she said, still trying to free her foot. I rubbed the arch with my thumb.

"That's what I remember, you in pigtails." She relaxed her foot and let me rub the underside.

As we talked, I learned that she had spent the first and second grades in a class for "gifted" children. And, after skipping the third grade she had continued to receive "special" treatment. 

"You're a child prodigy," I exclaimed. My twenty-first birthday was coming up in April and she had turned twenty in November. I had removed her other shoe and was rubbing both feet. She tried to change the subject but I could tell she was enjoying the foot massage.

It occurred to me that she knew everything about me while I knew practically nothing about her. She had cleverly extracted bits of information about my childhood until she even knew how I had gotten the V shaped scar on my right knee. I decided to use the foot massage to my advantage. 

"You have unusually long toes," I observed. 

She closed her eyes and then opened them, peering down at me, "don't tickle, just rub them."

"And you're ticklish. That's all I know about you. You have long toes and you're ticklish."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who did you date in high school?"

Ardy jerked her foot out of hand. "Ask something else," she said, demurely.

"You know all that stuff about me. I told you about my first kiss. I told you more than I should about some girls you probably know. Fair is fair."

"I told you to ask something else." Her voice was soft but firm, almost irate.

"Okay, tell me about your name. Who stuck you with that?"

Her frown was less than cordial. "Do you know what it means?"

"Yes," I said boldly, hoping she wasn't going to test me.

"Will, then you can imagine the dream my dad had for me. He wanted me to be passionate and enthusiastic about learning. He wanted me to be zealous about life. He named me Ardent." 

She had spoken about her father in past tense. Did I dare pursue this? I reached for her foot and rubbed her toes again.

"Did your mother object to the name or did she share your father's dream?" 

"According to aunt Bertha my father was the dominant one. He was her younger brother and I don't think she approved of my mother."

I nodded, thinking that I understood. Something had evidently happened to her parents and aunt Bertha had raised her niece. I never got a chance to ask because Ardy had reversed the position of her body, interrupting my thoughts. She forced my head back onto the couch cushion and placed her lips on mine, softly, briefly and with minimal lip movement. Then it was over and she was sitting up on her knees. Any attempt on my part to extend the kiss would have been futile.

"That's the first time I've kissed a boy. Does that answer your question about who I dated in high school?"

She looked embarrassed so I mumbled something about her kissing with zeal. We laughed together. Deciding she was a private person, I didn't try to rub her feet or ask more questions. 

During one of those late night talks Ardy divulged that she had applied for entrance into the Master's program, but felt the prospect of her being accepted was not strong because she would need another scholarship. 

One Saturday Ardy appeared at the breakfast table, wearing her hair in pigtails. She smiled sheepishly, knowing what she was in for. We worked in the flower shop that day and after lunch she came back to work with the pigtails gone and her hair combed out. "You're a bad influence on that little boy," she said to me. Matt had used the pigtail pulling excessively to draw her attention to him.

~*~

Bertha arrived on graduation day. I went to the bus terminal to pick her up while Ardy packed her bags and got ready for the ceremony. They were going to take the bus home that same evening. I was staying at school for the summer.

We had not told Bertha about our living arrangement before her arrival, but she took it quite well. I think it was because our explanation was forthright and truthful. Ardy had taken the room in order to have a quiet place to study and in order to get some much-needed rest. Although we didn't go out of our way to explain that nothing had happened between us it must have been evident. 

Bertha sat proudly watching her niece cross the stage to receive her diploma and I was proud too. Afterwards, I wanted to take them to dinner but Bertha wouldn't hear of it so we went directly to the bus terminal. Ardy took my hands to say goodbye but at the last moment she flew into my arms and I felt her lips touch my cheek.

During the summer she wrote twice. The first letter told me she had been accepted as a candidate for a Master's degree. I wrote back to congratulate her. I also told her that young Matt Russell was glad to hear the news although he didn't know what a Master's degree was. He often came to the shop with his dad and was in the habit of asking me if I had news from Ardy. 

The second letter arrived in the middle of August.

Dear Jimmy,

I've been trying to find a place to stay this school year but everything seems to be taken. Do you think the Russells would mind if I stay in the house until I can make other arrangements? I'll gladly work in the shop and keep the housework done. Would you mind? 

Your friend,

Ardy

There were a number of reasons why I didn't want to even mention Ardy's request to Marty. I had gotten used to living alone again and was not anxious to share my space. Also, I was dating a girl from one of my summer classes who had caught my attention. There was a possibility that she would eventually want to see where I lived. Ardy's presence in the second bedroom would need to be explained. 

But down deep it was jealousy; Ardy, from my kindergarten class, was younger than me and she had already graduated. Now she was continuing her education and I was taking summer courses to catch up.

I had been putting off asking Marty for a few days when I happened to mention the request to his young son. Matt's eyes lit up when he heard that Ardy was coming back to school and might stay in the house if we could convince his father and Betty to permit it. 

Matt took over the campaign. His father conceded it was the right thing to do, to help a young student achieve her goal. He had seen her commitment to everything she undertook, including captivating the attention of his young son. 

Betty was not so easy to persuade but when I reminded her how Ardy kept the house clean she relented. Ardy could stay, temporarily. I drove home to bring her back.

Bertha was less agreeable with the living arrangement. And, unfortunately, I had neglected to tell my parents about the experiment of our sharing the house the previous year or of our intentions to start the upcoming year under the same roof. They gave me more grief about it than Bertha had, stating the obvious, we were of opposite sexes and they feared that we were asking for trouble. They politely avoided the subject that really bothered them. 

But when Ardy was able to convince Bertha that our living arrangements were simply a matter of convenience, she was able to sway my parents into understanding that it made sense. By this time I was looking forward to having her occupy the second bedroom, even if only temporarily.

~*~

"I told Aunt Bertha we hardly ever see each other," Ardy said as soon as we were on the road. It was a warm day in August and I couldn't help but notice her brown legs, bare below the tan shorts she was wearing. She was in good spirits. I wondered if it was because we were headed back to school or if it had something to do with us being together.

"That's true. We go days without even speaking," I said smiling.

When we stopped for gas and a restroom break she went into the restaurant with me, something she had never done before, always preferring to eat a sandwich in the car. We took a seat in a booth and when our knees bumped she smiled at me. It was nice to see her relaxed. She talked about her summer job, working in social services. She wanted to know what had happened while she was gone. I told her that Matt had influenced his father to let her move back into the house. 

"I'll have to thank him," she commented, beaming.

"He has a crush on you."

She dropped her eyes and wouldn't look at me for several seconds. "That's so sweet. What else has been happening?" 

"I've been dating a girl I met in one of the summer classes."

Ardy's head popped up, looking stunned and then she calmed and smiled. "That's great Jimmy! Tell me about her."

There was really nothing to tell. Sandy was also a business student and was beginning her senior year. She lived off campus in a house with other women she dubbed "old maids," because their landlady banned men from the premises. 

"What do you do? Does she come to the house?" 

"No," I laughed, wondering just what she was asking. Come to the house as in "visiting" or come to the house as in "spending the night?" In either case the answer was no. Not that I hadn't considered the possibility. I had even contemplated how I could sneak her out in the morning without Betty catching us.

Ardy wanted a complete description, what Sandy looked like, what we did together on dates and, in a devious way, how far I had gotten with her? Her curiosity offended me. Her return to the house could lessen my chances of ever needing to deceive Betty.

"Invite her over for supper. I'd like to meet her," Ardy said, making the invitation sound like, "I'll need to judge for myself if she's worthy."

~*~

We settled into a routine, driving to and from classes together, working a few hours in the flower shop and studying. Ardy resumed her duties of shopping, cleaning and preparing the meals. She also assumed the responsibility of looking after me. At first I was annoyed at her constant fawning over my clothes, wanting to hear about my dates when I came home and counseling me on my study habits. But as the weeks passed I began to rely upon her and her upon me. She also became dependent, relying upon me for advice on the minutest of details. 

I was right about her intentions concerning Sandy. Finally one day we had Sandy over for dinner. It was more like dining in a fine French restaurant. Ardy served salad followed by a quiche and later chocolate mousse with coffee, all prepared on the spur of the moment as if she had planned the menu while shopping. 

"Honey, will you open the wine please? Everything's almost ready," I heard her call from the kitchen, interrupting my conversation with Sandy. I excused myself and dutifully went to the kitchen, wondering what Ardy's reason was for calling me Honey. This behavior was uncharacteristic. 

"That girl has a thing for you," Ardy said when I returned from taking Sandy home. The meal had been delicious, flavored with a steady stream of questions. Ardy, the perfect hostess, conducted the interview between courses. By the time the mousse was served, more personal information had been gleaned than I would have been able to discover in a year of dating - even if our relationship had become intimate, which was unlikely to happen now.

Sandy had given me the same third degree. "Does she always cook like that? No wonder you like living with her."

"It's not like we live together," I said defensively. 

"I think you like her too," Sandy gave me the knockout punch as I walked her to the door.

I was furious with Ardy. She had gone out of her way to give my date ideas that there was something going on between us. Just wait until she brings a date to the house, I thought. Rather than confront her I vowed to get even. 

~*~ 

As her project, that would later become the basis for her thesis, Ardy had been introduced to Ellen, a single mother with three children. The "Study," as Ardy referred to it was to "observe" Ellen's interactions with her children and others in her circle of friends and acquaintances. The events of Ellen's life became one of our main topics of conversation. 

"I shouldn't be telling you this," she would say before plunging into an unsavory chapter of her subject's life. 

I became concerned about her spending so much time in the company of Ellen and her friends. From the events she described it sounded to me that she was taking undue risks. I offered to go along or at least drive her there but she insisted upon going alone, on the bus. Sometimes when she was late coming home, I found myself walking the floor, listening for the back door to open and for her to rush in.

Ardy's twenty-first birthday was approaching and I was thinking of a present for her. 

"Wouldn't a tape recorder make more sense than taking notes?" I asked one night when she came in late. It was the end of October, only one week before her birthday. 

"Ellen is opposed to being recorded. She won't let me take pictures either. So I have to write down what I observe and describe what I see." She was wearing the dark coat we had found in a thrift shop, long and heavy but much warmer than the lightweight jacket she had worn the winter before. 

She was removing the coat when a flash of lightning rocked the house. Ardy dropped the coat and jumped into my arms, shaking from fright. Her knees landed belt high on me and her tits against my head. I held her legs and noticed she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. That's when I decided to get the sweater for her birthday. I lowered her to the floor, still holding her close.

"I hate that. It scares me so," she said, her cheek next to mine. I could feel her small body tremble and her warm breath on my neck. 

"It's okay," I said rubbing her back.

"Jimmy, would you mind if, can I, don't get the wrong idea, would it be all right if I sleep in your bed?" She whispered, so serious that I didn't dare laugh. 

"I guess so if you promise to be good," I said. She must have sensed my reaction. 

"Forget it. I told you not to get the wrong idea," she said angrily and went off to her room in a huff. 

I went to bed and didn't hear any more from her until sometime early in the morning when I felt her bare feet touch mine. "I only asked to sleep in your bed, not to SLEEP with you," she said as I felt her snuggle against my back. 

I couldn't get back to sleep. I was aware that she was awake too. A crack of thunder caused her to jump and her arm went around me, her body fused to mine.

"Ardy, would it be better if I turn over and hold you?"

"Hmmm, okay," she whispered so quietly that I wondered if I had heard correctly. I turned over and took her into my arms. This presented a new problem. My cock touched her inner thigh before I pushed it between my legs and strained to hold it there. 

I busied myself by stroking her back, keeping my hands above her waist and trying to avoid the thought of my cock's urge to spring to attention. Somehow I dozed off. I don't know if Ardy slept. When I awoke she was not there.

After trying twice, I gave up asking Sandy for dates. She either had other plans or was conveniently out when I called. I pursued dates with other women but not with enough vigor to achieve desirable results. I found myself at home most Friday and Saturday nights with Ardy. My offers to take her to a movie or out for a pizza were always rejected.

She did, however, make it a habit of visiting my bed, sometimes when it was storming, sometimes for no reason other than to be held. She pretended not to notice my cock when my efforts to control it failed. She never stayed long; at least she was never there the next morning. 

One night I made the mistake of bringing a classmate home to work on a joint paper we were working on. Ardy knew about the paper. She also knew there were four of us in the group and the other two were males. She was working at the computer when we arrived. 

I introduced my study date, explaining that Ardy and I were from the same hometown. The two females said hi and we sat down at the dining table to work. A few minutes later Ardy excused herself and disappeared to her room. 

We were proofreading our work when Ardy came out of her bedroom, wearing one of my T-shirts and if I was not mistaken, nothing more. She apologized for the interruption before leaning against my back and whispering in my ear, "Honey, would you mind if I go to your bedroom and get something I left there last night?"

I'll swear I had not paid a great amount of attention to her tits until that night when I felt them rub against my shoulders. 

I was mystified and came close to asking if she had lost her mind. I felt her finger turn my head and her lips meet mine. The kiss was brief but her lips were soft and open. I decided there was no question; she was indeed, certifiably crazy. 

"Why did you do that?" I asked when we were alone, after my study date had fled and Ardy had changed back into the jeans and a sweatshirt. I was somewhere between a furious rage and mystified astonishment, remembering how her little tits had bounced on my shoulders and her lips had felt against mine.

"She's not right for you," Ardy said, shifting her head to one side as if to see if a cock-eyed view would improve my image. Apparently it didn't. "Goodnight," she said, leaving me even more bewildered, thinking of how her lips had felt, so soft, barely touching mine.

I wanted to take her someplace to celebrate her birthday but she rejected the idea, saying she would make us something special.

"What about a cake? Should I pick one up?"

"It's not necessary. If you really want one I'll make it," she answered in her big sister tone she often used when she thought I was being childish.

"Will there be candles?" 

She misunderstood or feigned misunderstanding. Instead of candles on the cake there were two candles on the table. We turned off the lights in the dining area and ate by candlelight. Until that night when she came from the kitchen with a tray of food, I had never looked upon her as attractive. She had always been the small girl from my kindergarten class with full lips and big eyes and a wide toothy smile. 

"I told you to open the wine five minutes ago," she said, authoritatively. "What's funny?" She had stopped, looking at me in astonishment, the same way I was looking at her.

"I'm not laughing. I'm just smiling. Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?" She was wearing the black dress Bertha had sent for her birthday, cut square across the bodice to reveal a hint of cleavage. Her black hair was combed back on the sides with a well-defined center part. Her slender neck was elegantly bare. 




Ardent



"Go on, get the wine," she said gruffly. I could tell she was flustered.

We had clicked our glasses and started to eat when I had the idea to give her one of the presents. "They'll show up well with your hair combed back," I said as I opened the box for her to see the small gold earrings. She ran around the table to hug me, one of several interruptions during the meal. She went to her bedroom to look in the mirror and returned wearing jeans, a T-shirt and the earrings. 

"I wanted you to see the dress, but I don't want to spill food on it," she explained.

The T-shirt she was wearing reminded me of the second present, a sweater. She hugged me again and ran to try it on and then came back to show me before removing it.

As we resumed eating I looked across the table and noticed she was still wearing the earrings. Her hair had fallen while she was removing the sweater. "Here, let me," I said, reaching across to use my fingers as a comb. She held her head still; her eyes wide and her mouth open while I rearranged her hair to my liking. 

Later, I heard her singing as she did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. 

"I didn't thank you properly," she said that night when she came into my bed. I felt her arms around me and her lips pressed to mine. She didn't resist when I rolled her over and inserted my tongue in her mouth. And I didn't resist when she rolled me onto my back and plunged her tongue into my mouth. 

This position was better because my cock, although standing at attention, was not in the way as long as her lower body was on the bed. I felt her breasts on my chest as we kissed passionately. But then she moved her leg as if to straddle me and she ran into my cock. I thought it was going to blow. 

She became still for a few seconds, halting the kissing. "Thank you," she said with one final open-mouthed smooch and then she was gone. 

My reaction to this was a mixture of torment and relief. I was mad at myself for letting her make me aroused and I was mad at her for leaving me in that condition. But I was also relieved that nothing had happened. She was too naïve to know what her teasing was doing to me. Or so I thought. 

Two nights passed before she returned to my bed. Nothing had been said about the incident of her discovering my erection. After a few tentative kisses she eased her body off mine. "I only wanted to sleep with you, not SLEEP with you. I didn't mean to make it hard for you." We laughed together. I kissed her lightly and rolled over as if to sleep. After several minutes passed I said, "You do make it hard, you know." 

"I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"No don't go. Please stay," I said, so confused that I didn't know my own mind.

"Okay, I'll stay a little while," she said and I felt her hand rub my back.

~*~

It was raining on Saturday morning. I insisted on driving her to her appointment with Ellen because she didn't have a raincoat or umbrella. She said there was no need to leave before nine. Ellen was not an early riser. I told her to come to the shop when it was time to leave.

Her hair was wet and moisture was dripping from her face onto the heavy coat when she came into the shop. She blinked her eyes and more water dripped to the floor. She looked around and must have noticed that the other employees were not there. Marty and I were working on floral arrangements.

"I'll help for an hour and then I'll take the bus since you're going to be busy," she offered.

"Go on and take her," Marty said to me. "There won't be much walk-in business today and these deliveries can wait until the weather breaks."

"I'll take one of those yellow roses," Ardy said, pointing to the storage cooler.

"Only one? Here you go," Marty said as he handed it to her.

"How much?"

"No charge. Don't get it wet. Let me wrap it for you," Marty said as he slipped a plastic bag over the long-stemmed rose to protect it from the rain.

"I have to pay," Ardy said. There was a determination in her voice. She repeated, "I have to pay for it."

"What was that all about?" I asked Ardy about having insisted on paying for the rose when we were in the car. 

"It's the principle. First, I'm not supposed to bring her gifts or give her advice but I do those things. I'm breaking the rules and I admit that. But at least I paid for the rose. If I had let Marty give it to me it would mean I was begging for her and that would be worse." 

I looked at her and shrugged. Nothing of what she had said made sense to me. Ellen would never need to know if Ardy had paid for the rose, received it as a gift or stolen it.

She made a face. "You don't understand, do you?" 

"I can safely say that I do not understand the logic in what you said."

She turned in the seat, making moisture drip from her hair and eyes and nose. "It's the same with us. Aunt Bertha doesn't know I go to your bed because I haven't told her. That's the same as lying. And if she ever found out I'm sleeping with you she would simply."

"We're not sleeping together, not in the way Miss Bertha would find objectionable."

"It's the same. We kiss and I let you put your hands ___ places." 

I wondered if I had heard her correctly. The last sentence had been delivered very quietly. She was staring straight ahead at the windshield wipers, busy at work. I extended my right hand and she took it in hers but she didn't look my way.

"Does it bother you Ardy? Is what we do straining that little guilt bone you carry around?"

"It bothers me when I try to tell Ellen how to conduct her life and she rejects my suggestions. I don't know why I do it, the same as not knowing why I want to be near you at night and kiss and let you put your hand places. It bothers me that I can't tell Aunt Bertha how I feel about you."

For a moment I was stunned at her admission, overwhelmed really. 

"Then you'll have to stop doing those things. Don't take the rose to Ellen and stop coming into my room. It's more important that you have a clear conscience than to have the good feeling that doing things for others gives you."

I felt her squeeze my hand. There was a look of anxiety on her face. "It's not that simple Jimmy. I need you. You're my somniferous pillow."

"Huh?" She smiled and told me to look it up.

The rain slacked off and I was able to slow the windshield wipers as we entered the south part of town where Ellen's apartment was located. Ardy directed me to turn onto a narrow street. 

She closed the distance between us to give me a fast kiss, thanking me for the ride as she got out of the car. Driving away I passed a little boy playing in a rain puddle and looking in the rearview mirror I saw Ardy speaking with him. She was holding the yellow rose and laughing at something he said.

That night was the night she came home wet and cold. I drew her hot bath, made her a sandwich and ordered her to drink brandy in hot water. Afterwards, I dried her, kissed her and carried her to bed, the one in her room as she had suggested.

~*~

The night flooded my brain when I awoke after drifting to sleep in her arms, and looked around the room __Her room. My God! What have I done? Had I wanted it to happen? Had she? Obviously, she had.

She came in, wearing the T-shirt and socks from the night before and carrying a glass of orange juice. She handed the juice to me, stripped off the shirt and climbed into bed, casually watching as I drank the juice. 

"I'm so embarrassed," I said when she came into my arms.

"Why are you embarrassed?" She sounded surprised as she kissed me.

"The way I acted, I was such a brute. I'm sorry," I said, feeling her tits move on my chest as she rearranged her body.

"You were NOT a brute. You were gentle."

"I was. I heard you cry but I plunged ahead. It's not supposed to be like that."

"You stopped. It was me that told you to push." She was snuggling, moving gently against me.

I responded to her kisses, running my hands over her back, down to the cheeks of her ass and between her thighs. 

"I hurt you."

"Stop fretting, it had to be done." She lifted herself and peered down at me. Her eyes were glistening and she was smiling. 

"Are you really okay? I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I'm not a little girl any more. You made me a woman." 

We kissed passionately and when I rolled her onto her back she pulled my shorts down, freeing my cock.

"Are you involved with me?" I asked as I ran my hand along her inner thigh and felt wetness at the junction.

"Very," she said, pushing her pelvis towards my hand. 

I was determined to make up for my selfish actions the night before. I took a nipple between my lips and made it harden with my tongue. She arched her back and stroked my hair, moaning quietly. I massaged her clit with my thumb and sucked her other nipple. She shrieked when I made her come, rewarding me for my efforts with wild stabs into the air and hysterical threat. "You're KILLING me. Keep DOING that." I had never heard her so vocal before. 

"Are we involved?"

"YES!"

"Are we involved?"

"YES!"

"Am I possessive?"

"YES! YES!"

"Do you want me to be possessive?"

"YES! I want you to possess me. I want you to own me."

"Are you my woman?"

"YES!"

~*~

Later, she saw through me. "You're sad because you got caught up in it and made me say those things, aren't you?"

"I'm mad at myself for putting you through it. We should have talked about it."

"You're being a prude. I'm 21, its time I lost it."

I stopped blaming myself for what I had done. She was a woman and happy for it. 

~*~

"Ardy?" I said at the breakfast table the following morning. I never tired of seeing her eyes open expectantly when I said her name. "Did I say something last night that….?"

She was looking down at her plate, her body still. It took me a minute to see that she was trying to hold back tears. But when she lifted her head they were there, one from each eye, running down her cheeks. She nodded.

"I meant it. I want you to know that it wasn't something said in a moment of passion. I really do."

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

~*~

We drove home, arriving late on Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone," she said when I walked her to Bertha's door. 

My sister caught on as soon as she answered the phone the next morning and had to wake me to take the call from Ardy. 

"You're doing it, aren't you?" Karen said as she followed me back to my room and watched me dress. She was engaged to be married in the summer, something she talked about constantly until she made the discovery about Ardy and me.

"I don't ask you personal questions," I said, wanting her to drop it.

"What was the phone call about then?" Ardy had called to whisper that she missed me and wanted to know if we could leave to go back to school the next day.

"She wanted to remind me of something. That's all."

"You've got it bad, little brother."

"Can we drop this?" I had forgotten what a persistent pest she could be.

"Tell me. Tell me everything or I'll stand up just when grandmother complains that the stuffing is too spicy and I'll say, 'Jimmy has some spice he wants to tell us about.'"

I tackled her. "God, you're getting heavy," I said as I carried her to the bed.

"Tell me," she giggled.

"Will you keep your trap shut at dinner?"

"I will if you give me the spicy version." My devious sister had me cornered. I wondered how she had gotten Brad to propose. I told her about my obsession with Ardy, my obsession to protect her, to make her safe and to love her. 

My sister was watching me as I talked with a knowing smile on her lips. 

I told my sister about a conversation with Ardy that took place shortly after we revealed our love. I asked her why she had chosen me and she said it had been building for a while, but it was the rainy day I took her to see Ellen that she knew for sure. As I drove away I had seen her talking to a little boy. 

"Is that your man?" Stephan had asked. He was Ellen's oldest son. Ardy said she paused to ponder his question. 

"Yes, he's my man," she answered. 

"And that was the night she came home wet and cold and hungry. That was the night I warmed her up and took her to bed," I ended the story.

Much to the chagrin of Bertha and my parents, Ardy and I left for school early the next morning, saying we had school projects that needed our attention. In reality, we had slept alone two nights in a row and hated being apart.

"My sister knows about us," I said as soon as we were under way.

"NO! You didn't tell her, did you?"

"She figured it out. Your phone calls gave her the clue," I said, teasingly. Ardy had called again after our mid-day dinner and again that night. 

"You called me too," she reminded me. It was true. I had called her twice between her phone calls and we had talked for 20 minutes, about nothing in particular. 

"I think Aunt Bertha suspects something but she didn't say anything. What did you're sister say?"

I related my conversation with Karen, ending with her comment, "That's a lovely story."

~*~

We resumed our study with renewed energy, brought about by Ardy's drive and her insistence that I apply myself. She motivated me to work hard and I tried to slow her down. But our desire to please one another did little to break our old habits. She excelled at everything while I did enough to get by.

My past sexual experience was limited to two encounters which were exciting but turned out less than spectacular. Ardy attacked the subject like it was one of her courses in school, reading everything she could find, making notes and conducting laboratory experiments which I enjoyed very much. She applied her zest for knowledge to the study of the science of sex. We practiced and became very proficient in all phases of the course. 

"Lie here in front of the couch," she said one Friday night after dinner and she had cleaned up the kitchen. 

"What are the towels for?"

"To protect the carpet," she said, coyly. 

"From what?"

"Body fluids." 

"Oh," I said, now willing to allow myself to be positioned on my back with Ardy looking down, her body prone from the other direction. If we were hands on a clock her feet would be pointing to the twelve and mine to the six. 

Her lips came down to meet mine and I moved my head, obliquely to mesh with her lips. She pulled her head up and looked down at me. "Anyone can do it that way. Keep your head straight," she scolded.

"What's this game called?" 

"It doesn't have a name yet but it comes under the heading of 'teamwork.' Now hold your head straight and let me kiss you."

We practiced upside-down kissing for the next 15 minutes, her reprimanding me every time I cocked my head to get more leverage on the kiss. She would back off and tell me teamwork was important in lovemaking. 

"If you can't get this right how do you expect to undress me?"

"A little teamwork would help," I speculated.

"I'll help but you have to keep your head straight."

We 'practiced' the 180 degree kissing until she was satisfied that I could refrain from turning my head. 

"Are you ready to try the next step?"

"Sure, what is it?" 

"Unbutton my shirt."

She almost never wore a shirt with buttons. I reached above my head, trying to find a button.

"Keep your head straight. Keep your head straight," she repeated before pressing her lips back down to mine. I fumbled, trying to find one of her buttons and felt her body lift from the prone position to give me space. I felt her fingers on one of my shirt buttons. 

Her lips came off mine. "Hey! Not Yet!" 

"Sorry. It was an accident." I had poked one of her tits. She resumed the kiss and I struggled to hold my head straight. The slightest lip movement was driving me wild.

When I got the second button undone she broke the kiss and moved her chin below mine, pushing my nose into her neck. I stuck out my tongue and licked it. She responded and I felt dampness on my neck. "Keep you head straight," she cautioned with tenderness in her voice.

With each button she moved her body until her tummy was pressing against my nose. She finished the unbuttoning well ahead of me. When she blew on my stomach I did the same to her, making her giggle.

"Can you reach behind me and undo my bra?"

"I don't know. We're upside down."

"Try. I'll direct you. That's where teamwork comes in."

I recognized the bra. It was a heavy one that she wore when her breasts were tender, one that I had no practice unfastening, certainly not from bottom up. The clips kept slipping out of my fingers.

"I'll push down to give you more room," she offered.

"No, you're cutting the air off as it is."

"Take a deep breath, then I'll push down on three. One, two three, Damn it, you're moving your head." I had one of the clips unfastened. 

I felt her hands on mine. "What are you doing?"

"There, that's your penalty for moving your head, you have to start over." She had refastened the clip.

"That's not fair. I was half way there," I complained. I blew on her stomach for affect.

She raised her upper body and peered at me from an angle, her stomach directly above my head. "Are you uncomfortable Jimmy? Do you want to have comfortable sex in bed or do you want to keep your head straight and practice teamwork? Which is it, comfortable or teamwork?" 

"Teamwork," I said without hesitation. My cock had been hard since we had first kissed and I would have said anything to move things along. I watched her stomach drop, suffocating me. In a state of panic, I reached behind her and jerked the straps of her bra apart, and then I used my hands to lift her stomach off my face.

"I think you moved your head but we'll let it go this time," she said, blowing on my tummy again. I reciprocated, making her giggle. 

Ardy raised her body, discarded her shirt and bra and brought her lips down to resume the kissing. She moved forward again to bring her breasts even with my face. She was unbuckling my belt so I did the same to hers. 

"Keep your head straight. Do you want comfortable or teamwork?" I had moved my head to take one of her nipples in my mouth.

"Teamwork," I said, releasing the nipple.

"This is teamwork," she said, moving the same nipple back to my mouth. "All you have to do is ask."

I heard the sound of my zipper being lowered and felt the pressure on my cock decrease. I struggled with her zipper. She moved her breast upward, pulling her nipple away from my mouth. I concentrated on the zipper and was rewarded with the other nipple but only briefly. 

She tugged on my pants. "All you have to do is ask," I mocked her.

"Lift your butt please." I did and she pulled my pants down to my ankles. I reached behind me and lowered her jeans as far as I could. She kicked her shoes off and then her jeans. I did the same. 

She moved back to start the kissing again. I kept my head as straight as possible, thinking, "teamwork."

My cock was standing straight up in my jockey shorts. We both had our socks and she still had her panties although I hadn't seen them or felt them.

"What do you want me to do?" 

"I want you to turn around so I can kiss you properly."

"That's impossible. Hold your head straight and I'll let you suck on my nipples some more."

"Okay," I was agreeable to anything.

She moved up and swung her breasts above my mouth, tempting me to move my head but I didn't budge. 

Ardy dunked one nipple in my mouth, pulled it up and dunked again, teasingly. I held my head rigid, waiting patiently for her nipples to come within reach of my tongue.

Her nipples felt like little pebbles bouncing against my lips but soon they were gone. 

She moved her body forward, bringing her butt into my reach. Her panties felt like silk. I patted her butt, squeezed the cheeks and heard her catch her breath. She was tugging at my shorts.




Ardent



I was about to say, "All you have to do is ask," when she said, "Lift your butt please."

My cock got stuck in the elastic band, making me groan. "Sorry," she said, looking back at me, apologetically. 

"That's okay. It didn't hurt much," I laughed as I kicked my shorts off. 

"Keep your head straight," she said as she kissed the head of my cock and then licked from the base all the way up. I hissed and made sounds that were new to me as she engulfed me. She had certainly done her homework. Any defects in her technique, a dull scrape of teeth, were overshadowed by her enthusiasm. I held onto her panty covered ass, patting her cheeks occasionally, trying to concentrate on holding my head straight but mainly, I moaned.

In the haze she was guiding me through I was able to discern that Ardy was not using her hands. They were on the floor to support the up and down motion of her head, her whole upper body actually. I could feel the movement in her ass, pushing my hands back as the crotch of her panties touched my nose, emitting a sweet fruity smell with each long upward stroke, sucking the very bottom from my well. I tried to warn her when I felt my balls tighten but I couldn't talk. I slapped her ass instead. 

The first spurt must have caught her by surprise. The movement of her ass stopped. I slapped her ass again, trying to get her attention, just as the second spurt hit the back of her mouth. I felt her thumb and forefinger hole the base of my cock and the other three fingers on my balls. All I could do was slap her ass. She released my cock and let her upper body fall. Neither of us spoke.

Minutes passed. I felt the throb from her temple against my open thigh. "How was it?"

"Excellent, I give you an A."

"Did you move your head?"

"I don't think so."

"I give you an A too."

"You were better than an A. I give you an A plus."

"I'll get a condom," she offered but didn't move.

"Wait," I said, placing my palms on the cheeks of her ass. I had been aware of her arousal. The crotch of her panties was so wet that it drooped down from the juncture between her legs, resting on my nose. I pushed upward with my tongue, smelling and tasting the sweet fruity moisture, until I was met with resistance. 

Ardy raised her upper body and ground her crouch into my face. My tongue pressed against the fabric until I felt her labia part. This was a new experience for me; for us. I reached for the elastic band at the top of her panties, wanting to move them over her hips. But the concept of teamwork had escaped from Ardy's line of thinking. Excitedly, she moved her pelvis and I hung on, making my tongue as rigid as possible, pushing the fabric up and in. 

She fucked my face at a frantic pace, the wet silk sliding the length of her pussy, back and forth and sideways. I kept my hands on her butt to anticipate her movement, having given up my attempt to remove her panties. She was gasping for air, rotating her hips, grinding.

I loved it. I was pleasuring her and she me. My cock was standing at attention again, being nudged by one of her tits on each rotation of her hips. 

My tongue ached from the strain but I could tell from the way she was grunting that she was close. Her motion slowed and there was a little hitch in her grunt just before she slumped forward, bending my cock as she fell. 

We both gasp for air. I had never felt so satisfied, knowing that the little girl from my kindergarten class had just exposed her most private side to me. 

Ardy stirred first. She got to her feet and pushed the panties down and off. She stood above me, straddling my body, letting me gaze up at her open slit. 

"What is that," I asked, pointing to a red substance between her lips.

"It was a strawberry. I wanted to smell good for you," she said, reaching down and withdrawing her finger covered with pulverized goop. 

"You put a strawberry up there?"

"I put it in before dinner. Did you like it?"

"The smell drove me crazy," I admitted.

"I'll meet you in the bedroom after I pee and wash these," she said, still holding the panties. 

I jumped to my feet and picked up the towels.

"Jimmy?"

"Yes," I said.

"Would you kiss me? I swallowed your stuff and you tasted me. It just seems right that we taste each other."

"Sure," I said as I took her into my arms. I felt the wet panties on my back as our lips meshed.

~*~

Unlike the previous year, Ardy wanted to be seen with me. We wore jeans and sneakers to the movies and I told her she was cute. 

She wore the black dress and gold earrings to attend a school play.

"You're beautiful," I said.

"Would you prefer that we stay home and fuck? I'll wear just the earrings," she offered.

"You've expanded your vocabulary. You must be associating with the wrong people," I teased. 

~*~

At the Christmas break we made excuses, saying that we needed to stay at school to study, stay and work, stay and fuck. But Bertha and my parents wouldn't hear of us skipping the holidays at home. 

"You told them," I accused Karen when I got her alone in the upstairs hall. "They know."

"I didn't have to tell them. I think they know because you're flaunting it. In the twenty-four hours you've been here, you've talked to her six times and you've been to see her twice."

"That's an exaggeration. She called me twice and I called her twice. I've only been over there once." I had stopped by her Aunt Bertha's house on the pretense of delivering Ardy's present. Bertha had given me a cold shoulder but her brother, Uncle Charlie had talked amiably. "We just happened to run into each other at the convenience store. That doesn't count." 

"Jimmy! Who just happens to meet at the convenience store on Christmas morning?"

We burst out laughing at the same time. We embraced and she told me how happy she was for me. 

The next day Ardy and I left early. Having slept alone two nights in a row we were desperate to be together in our bed. 

"Aunt Bertha forced me to tell her everything. She said you're a nasty boy for seducing me, but I told her that I'm 21 now and it was my idea. I told her you're sweet and not nasty at all."

"My parents know too but they didn't confront me about it. Do you think Bertha will tell my mom?"

"She's talking about looking for another customer for Tuesdays."

"NO! If Bertha leaves and gets another 'Tuesday' my mom will blame me. She'll kill me. You'll have to tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"That you seduced me," I said, sending Ardy into convulsive laughter. 

"You're funny. That's what I love about you," she said when her breathing returned to normal. 

"She can't quit. We've been her Tuesday since I started high school. You're going to have to talk to her and make her understand."

"Oh, she understands. She was young once. She said she didn't want any little Jimmies crawling around."

This pissed me off. I took Bertha's remark personally. She obviously didn't think I was good enough for her niece. After the first time we had taken precautions and we weren't going to take undue risks. I didn't say anything. 

After New Years we settled back into our routine. Ardy intensified her project and I buckled down in an attempt to finish the school year strong to please her. 

~*~

"Giant breakthrough!" Ardy announced one night. Ellen had agreed to talk on tape. "How did you manage that?" I asked. I knew Ellen had refused to have a tape recorder present before. It took two days of badgering to get Ardy to tell me why Ellen had relented. 

Eventually, Ardy told me it was her lost virginity that made Ellen extend a new level of trust. She was now willing to reveal more of herself.

"Shit, think how many tapes you would have if we had been doing it all along," I ventured. Then I had to cover my head to protect against her onslaught of punches.

"Ellen wanted to know if you have a mustache. When I said no she said you should grow one."

"Whatever for?" I thought I knew the answer but I loved to tease her. I could see by the way she was blushing that I was going to have to pull it out of her. 

"She says it tickles when."

"When a guy with a mustache kisses you?"

"Not exactly," she said tentatively. 

"What then? When a guy with a mustache __ goes down on you?"

The next day I didn't shave my upper lip and we went shopping for a tape recorder. 

~*~

That winter we were inseparable, blithely carrying on the most intense love affair imaginable. We flaunted our relationship without regard for who found out or what they thought. Betty discovered that we were sleeping together on one of her inspections. Betty claimed she had smelled sex on our bed sheets and demanded that Marty take action. 

I was bullshit and voiced my objections to Marty. What business did his wife have sniffing our bedding for cum? Who was she to judge the morality of others? 

Ardy was more conciliatory. "She's not a happy person. She sees how contented I am and it makes her jealous. Tell Marty to stick it in all the way next time."

"You really are getting a foul mouth," I accused. 

She would come to me in the school cafeteria, even if I were with other people. Once, when there was no chair for her, she sat on my lap, impishly clowning for all to see that she was mine. 

She introduced me to her friends. "He's looking out for me now," she said to Jason, the guy she had tutored two years before. "Good man," he said as he shook my hand.

We were invited to dinner at the home of Elizabeth, Ardy's faculty advisor. "We lived together two years before he decided to propose marriage to me," Elizabeth said, looking fondly at her husband. They looked to be fifty, both graying and very much in love with one another. I wondered how much Ardy had revealed about our relationship. 

And I was privileged to meet Ellen and her family. "I hear you're treating our girl good," Ellen said to me. It was apparent that there was affection and trust between the two women. 

On both occasions I saw how accomplished Ardy was becoming, professional and self assured, nothing like the young woman I was sharing a bed with at home. I could make her giggle when my moustache tickled her clit but I could not converse on her level. A feeling of inadequacy came over me. I wondered if she saw it. 

We prepared résumés. I didn't know what I wanted to do, just that once I graduated I was finished with school. I concentrated on companies large enough to offer management training programs where I could get a feel for what direction I wanted to take. Ardy's objective was to locate a small school where she could teach a year or two and save enough money to continue her education. 

I got an offer after my second interview and was ready to accept the job with a large accounting firm as a traveling auditor.

We were stretched out on the couch, leisurely taking turns kissing one another like we often did. 

"There must be a dozen schools in Chicago that would be suitable. You can probably take your pick," I said. "We'll get a place and I'll pay the rent so you can save."

"I haven't even thought of Chicago, Jimmy. It's getting late and I haven't investigated any schools there. You're going to be traveling so much I would almost never see you anyway."

"Then I'll tell them no. I'll wait until you decide where you're going and I'll look for a job there, wherever it is."

"You should take the job honey. It sounds just right for you."

"Is it that I haven't said anything about marriage?" I felt tenseness come to her back but I continued. "I've been waiting until we get settled but you know how I feel about…"

"It's not that, Jimmy." She drew me close and kissed me with such intensity that it made me dizzy for a time. I had a sinking feeling in my chest and dropped the subject. She suggested that we go to bed where we played her favorite game. She loved for me to ask if I owned her and she would scream, "YES! YES!" over and over.

A week later she received an offer from a school in Atlanta, which she accepted without consulting me, "because it sounds perfect." She would be assisting two professors, teach occasionally and be able to start working on her doctorate immediately. She was so excited about it that I didn't try to dissuade her from going to Georgia. Nor did I apply for a job there; I accepted the Chicago job.

We made love that night and confessed our love for each other. She said we would get together often. "You'll come to Atlanta. I'll give you a key to my apartment and you can stay with me. Won't that be grand?"

"Will I have to call ahead?" I said, and immediately regretted it because I was already sounding insecure.

"No, silly, you'll be welcome any time."

And I was welcome there. 

We had talked on the phone a few times but she seldom wrote letters so I had stopped writing too. It was spring and everything was in bloom. Her apartment was small but she kept her promise to supply me with my own key. I could tell by the cluttered desk that she was deeply involved in research. After a delicious supper she tilted her head towards the bedroom and smiled meekly.

We stripped our clothes hastily, but when we got into bed she halted our embrace long enough to ask me to be gentle. "It's been a long time and I may have closed up."

Her fears were unfounded, but I was careful not to rush things and soon it was as if we had not been apart. We were both late for work the next day and when we met the following night we headed for the bedroom without stopping to eat or drink.

"You can't imagine how much I've missed you," she said.

"You could call once in a while."

"I will, I will, now take me, I belong to you." 

But she seldom called and it was over a year before we met again. She claimed it was because we were both so busy. 

~*~

I was visiting my family for a few days. When Bertha didn't show up on Tuesday I inquired about her. I was thinking the worst, which would have been that she had quit because of my affair with her niece. 

"Oh, we're her Friday now. It works out better," my mother said. Then, she added, "She may not come this Friday, though. Ardent is visiting. She's spending a few days with Bertha."

My heart jumped almost out of my chest. Why hadn't Ardy told me she was going to be there? 

We spent the night in a motel, and my parents acted as though I had slept in my own bed. Ardy said Bertha was only mildly irritated because we hadn't told her we would be out late. We spent the week together, fucking and talking endlessly about how much we missed one another. 

"I love the feel of your mustache," she said, making me pay more attention to her nipples than I had intended. I was fascinated at how her flat tummy undulated when I grazed it with my upper lip. 

"This is what I miss the most," she uttered through clenched teeth when I entered her, making me think I was hurting her. I stopped when I saw her eyes glisten.

"Pull my hair and fuck me in that order," she ordered. "I'm crying because if feels so good."

"Hang on honey," I said, glad to please her.

"It's like we are back in the little house behind the flower shop," she said when I rolled off, satisfied and exhausted. 

But it wasn't the same. I kidded her about the giant horn-rimmed glasses she now wore, telling her she looked more like a professor every time we met. She had grown, become sophisticated and scholarly. It would be six months before we would be together again.

~*~

"Jimmy?" Her voice had that same soft resilience that always sucked the air out of my chest only now it had a refined quality. 

"Ardy? How are you? It's so good to hear you, is anything wrong?" She laughed. 

"Ellen's getting married. Can you come?"

"Sure." I committed without knowing when or where I was supposed to go.

She secured a hotel room and I rented a car. Ardy was one of the bridesmaids so we had to show up at the rehearsal. I gowned when we had to leave the hotel room the second time to attend the wedding. We left the reception early. 

We stopped by the college and then went by the flower shop to see Marty. We learned that he and Matt had moved back into the small house that we had occupied. We lamented the fact that the marriage with Betty had failed but neither of us was surprised. "Matt's going to be bummed when he finds out you were here," he said. 

"Those were the best three days of my life," Ardy said when I took her to the airport. I had stopped saying things like; "it could be this way forever." 

That summer she came to Chicago to attend a conference and stayed at my place. Unfortunately, I was on the road most of the time but we did spend two long weekends together in bed. 

"I'm sorry," she said, when it was apparent that I did not understand the research project she was describing. "I'll give you my full attention, down here. Own me, please." 

"That's something I understand," I said in a kidding tone. 

But it was evident that sex and adoration were the only things we had in common. She would soon be getting her Doctorate in Sociology. Her book, Ellen, would be published soon, and she had been offered an assistant professorship. 

"What do you do when you're alone in a strange city?"

"I think of you and how it used to be," I answered truthfully.

"I worry about you Jimmy. You really should make an attempt to meet someone." 

It disturbed me that she would so blithely speak of my being with someone other than her. I passed it off, quoting company policy that stated employees of our clients were off limits. I worked long hours and seldom had occasion to meet young eligible women outside the companies I visited. 

But I did begin to pay more attention to females I met on the road and less attention to company policy as it pertained to fraternization with customer's employees. 

While in Phoenix I called a friend of a friend. We got acquainted at dinner and things were going smoothly until the conversation turned to past relationships. It was two days later, after I had boarded my flight to the next city that it came to me. I had monopolized the conversation, describing my infatuation with Ardy while my date sat through the meal, nodding politely. I must have appeared disinterested, self-centered. What was her name? 

The guys I traveled with bragged constantly about their sexual encounters on the road. They knew about my dinner date and probed me to tell them about the girl but I wouldn't. They sat together and regaled one another with their most recent sexual excursions. 

I could tell them things that would curl their toes, I thought, leaning back in my seat. The Friday night after Ardy's 'teamwork' lesson it was my turn to select our amusement for the evening.

"What's this?" She asked when she saw the two towels spread out in front of the couch.

"Take off your clothes," I answered as I began to strip myself. She grinned as she tossed her clothes on the couch and removed her shoes.

"Now get down on all fours," I ordered. 

"Are we going to play doggie? What kind of dog am I?"

"You're a pointer. Point your nose upwind and stick you leg out behind you."

"I want to be a poodle." We were on our hands and knees. She was trying to do as I wanted. Her nose was sniffing the air and her leg out straight behind her.

"You can be a poodle pointer."

"What's my name?"

"Millie. You're a young dog, a puppy really. You haven't learned to point very well yet. You're Millie the poodle pointer." She wrinkled her nose.

"What kind of dog are you?"

"I'm a mutt?"

"What's your name?"

"Oscar. I'm an old dog. I'm Oscar the old mutt."

"Oscar, would you like to kiss a puppy?" She fluttered her eyelashes and wiggled her butt. I slipped her some tongue and then licked her face. She shook her head and giggled. 

"Keep your leg in the air. You're a pointer, not a house dog." I crawled around her, sniffing, inspecting.




Ardent



"Am I a bitch in heat?" I took an exaggerated whiff of her pussy. There was a strawberry aroma but I didn't say anything.

"I don't know. Do you feel like a bitch in heat?" I swiped my tongue up her slit and then back down.

"Oh yes Oscar. I'm definitely in heat." 

She dropped her leg. I pushed her knee to the side. I licked her again and heard her yelp. "That's right, yelp like a puppy does when an old dog licks her."

She had her head down, watching me through her legs, her tits dangling. I rolled over on my back and slide between her legs so I could lick her slit and massage her tits at the same time. Each time my tongue came in contact with her clit she yelped. 

I was no longer the pursuer. Her whole body shuddered with pleasure and the yelps became high pitched. I couldn't hold her still. Her pussy smothered my face, discharging juices and cutting off air. I managed to lift her hips enough to grab a few breaths before she ground herself into me again. She was no longer a puppy. Guttural growls replaced the yelps. 

"You were a wild woman," I said when I could talk again.

"Wild pointer, don't you mean?" She moved on top of me and licked my face clean. 

"You were wild, pointing that pussy in my face."

"Don't you like the way I point, Oscar?" 

"I like the way you point just fine."

"Does Oscar have a bone for Millie?" She spoke seductively with a lustful edge.

"What to do it doggie style?"

"Stay here, I'll get the condom," she offered.

~*~

I sent Ardy a graduation gift, small earrings with diamonds dangling below, but I didn't go. I was proud of her accomplishments and I was happy for her but I didn't want to see her wearing the fancy cap and gown because it signified her education, the very thing that put her in the stratosphere above me, worlds apart.

"Next time we're together I'll wear them," she said when she called to thank me for the earrings. 

"I'm glad you like them," I said, downhearted. I wasn't jealous of her accomplishments. I was envious of our time together. 

"Jimmy, did you hear me? I said I would wear them, only the earrings."

That was the last time we spoke until the hotel room phone rang. I let it ring four times before I rose from the chair, certain it would be Karen, my catty sister. 

"Jimmy, I have something to tell you," Ardy said, with that same raspy edge in her voice that I had heard the night she said she was ready to get out of the tub, four years before.

"I know my brother called to tell me Ellen is coming out. Congratulations. I'm sure it will do well."

"Thank you but it's not that. I need to ask a favor."

"Sure anything, name it."

"Will you give me away? I'm getting married and it has to be you. Will you Jimmy?" 

She went on, but I wasn't listening. I didn't hear her say how they met or how many degrees the guy had or why she hadn't told me sooner. At some point I must have agreed to go to the wedding and give her away.

Why isn't it raining? I thought as I stepped onto the street in front of the hotel. I needed to walk and see if I could clear my head. It's supposed to rain at times like this, especially in San Francisco. Her last words were still ringing in my ears, "it has to be you because," she paused and then whispered, "You own me! You have to give me away."

~*~

The wedding was to be held in our hometown, in July of course so the bride and groom would have time for a cruise before the fall semester commenced. The rehearsal was almost over when I got to the church, aunt Bertha's church. 

We practiced the walk down the aisle once, Ardy grumbling in my ear. "You're late! I didn't think you were coming. I almost asked Uncle Charlie to give me away." I had never seen her so wrought up before.

"You know I wouldn't let you down. I'm here to look out for you."

She smiled at me and I felt her hand clamp down on my arm. "I knew you would come." She seemed smaller than I remembered and thin. I wanted to comfort her. 

You're just nervous. You'll do fine," I whispered back, trying to console her.

"Jimmy, I want you to meet my husband to be, "Ardy said as she took her place beside the groom. He had been watching us as we marched down the aisle. He was tall, distinguished-looking and probably in his late thirties. I nearly broke up when I saw his mustache. "Harold, this is Jimmy, my college roommate."

Well, that's Ardy's way. I'm glad there are no secrets, I thought as I drove to the restaurant where the wedding party was gathering for a quiet dinner. 

Harold took charge of introducing me to the other guests who were mostly older, academic types. I had seen the Georgia license plates on the cars in the restaurant parking lot. Then, he steered me towards the bar for a drink, "where we could get better acquainted," he said. 

"You've known my fiancée for a long time," he began the interrogation. "If I say Ardent, what comes to mind?"

Is this a trap? How much does this guy really know? I took a sip of my drink, stalling. He was smiling, confidently waiting for me to share some morsel from the past. Should I tell him how excited Ardy became when I bit her butt, leaving tooth marks that lasted so long it began to make me fearful that it would leave a scar? Should I tell him which ticklish spots made her the craziest or would that be old news? Should I tell him that when I heard her name, Ardent, a nagging ache entered my scrotum and traveled up my spine until it felt like it would explode in my chest? 

"Back in kindergarten I pulled her pigtails," I offered.

His cheeks ballooned like he had a mouthful of nuts. "Hell man, I knew that," he said, patting me on the shoulder as he stepped away to mingle with his friends. 

Aunt Bertha and Uncle Charlie were the only ones I knew at the party and they were not enthusiastic about renewing our acquaintance. After mixing with the intellectuals until my head began to hurt, I left early. 

I didn't see Ardy again until the next day when we met at the back of the church to make the long trek down the aisle. She was radiant, her eyes gleaming under the veil. I stared at her until the music began to play. She smiled as she took my arm. 

"You're a beautiful bride. Does what's-his-name know how lucky he is?" I whispered, trying not to move my lips.

"It's Harold and he knows. I'm lucky too."

"Are you wearing something old?"

"Don't make me laugh."

"Where is it?"

I felt her jerk my arm. "Behave; we're not in kindergarten any more."

"He told you?"

"Yes, is that all you could think of to tell him about me? That you pulled my pigtails?" 

"There's plenty I could tell him but he wouldn't believe me." She jerked my arm again and I thought I saw her smile.

"I'm wearing the earrings." Her whisper was barely audible.

"Which ones?"

"The gold ones you gave me the night I fell in love with you."

I stopped and turned to her. We were ten feet from the podium where the groom was waiting. There was a pause in the music as the organist watched us and I felt the eyes of everyone in attendance upon us. Ardy was looking up at me, her eyes moist. I watched as she swallowed the lump in her throat. 

"Now give me away. You can't own me forever." I felt a tug on my arm and the music began to play again.

After the wedding, I stayed at the reception just long enough to be seen by anyone who may be wondering about our halted procession in the church aisle. 

Harold caught me as I was going out the door. "Hey man, thanks for coming. I know it meant a lot to Ardent. She holds you in high esteem."

"I'm glad I came. Ardy's a dear friend," I answered.

"A little advice if I may be so bold?" he asked. 

"Sure man, what is it?" His arrogant manner was pissing me off.

"You're not in kindergarten any longer. Stop pulling pigtails and get yourself a woman."

"Thanks for the advice Harold," I said as I shook his hand. He was right. I was twenty-five years old. It was time for me to ask for a transfer to the home office, shave the mustache off, settle down and stop living in the past. 

I was feeling good about myself, confident of two things. Harold was just the messenger; it had been Ardy's advice that he delivered. And, I knew things about her, little secrets, hidden in places he would never discover. 

I would follow Ardy's advice. But I would never stop pulling pigtails because that's where the secrets are hidden. 

End 

{My thanks to everyone who lent support and advise.}