bad if you're late and lose the
order."
At first he was angry and disappointed with the separate
sleeping arrangements, but as he sat thinking about his next chess move, he
came to realise that relaxing alone in that cosy single bed was going to be a
lot better than staring at April's back in bed. By the time the game finished,
an hour or so later, he was quite looking forward to stretching out alone, so
he said, "I think I'll get an early night too, Cyril. Perhaps we can play the
return match another evening."
"Goodnight, I will be up myself shortly," said Cyril,
packing away the chess pieces with great care. "This old set was my
grandfather's and I've been playing chess on this same board since I was only
four or five years old."
"I'm surprised you don't join a chess club. There must be
one in Stockport."
"I used to go to a chess club, but I found it more of a
social meeting place, because of all the chit-chat over the board, and gave it
up after a few weeks," said Cyril, standing up and putting the game away in the
rosewood sideboard.
Grant waved goodnight as he left the sitting room and went
up the stairs. He paused half-way up the stairs as memories of the first time
he climbed them flooded through his mind. He went into his bedroom and after
locking the door to ensure he had no surprise visitor, he lay on the bed and
thought of that hot summer some 12-years earlier.
-o-
His mother had been unwell for a few days and Joyce came
around to visit for an hour. As she was leaving, she said, "I'll come back
later with those magazines for you…"
"Oh, you don't have to walk all that way again in this heat,
tomorrow will do."
"No," said Joyce, "It will be a long afternoon and evening
for you with nothing to read, so I'll bring them today."
"I've a better idea," she said, turning to Grant. "Go home
with Joyce and bring back those magazines, will you son."
Grant looked up from his book and standing up he said, "Okay
Mom."
Joyce beamed at both Grant and his mother and said, "Thank
you, that's a great idea, because it is a hot afternoon. The hottest August I
can remember. Goodbye, then, I'll pop in again tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Joyce, and thanks in advance for the magazines."
Grant was wearing his school track suit and pumps, and set
off beside Joyce. She was in a green cotton dress with a wide collar and wore
dark green high heel shoes. They chatted about the hot weather, the long
holidays, his school and his good exam results, and before they knew it, they
were walking up the path to her house.
"Leave your shoes here," she said, pointing to the mat
against the wall just inside the hall, "We've just had the carpets cleaned, and
a new carpet in the bedroom. Cyril goes mad if he sees any dirt on it, and
moans about how much it cost. Come on, follow me; the magazines are in the
bedroom." She turned and slowly climbed the stairs.
Grant stood watching her for a few seconds, appreciating her
svelte figure in the tight-fitting summer dress, and admiring her long legs and
slim ankles. As he followed her up the stairs, he watched the undulating
movement of her hips and buttocks with each step, and then his eyes caught
glimpses of her buttocks, as the cotton dress clung to her body. He slowed his
pace in order to get a better look…
At 17-years he had a strong, athletic body, and enjoyed the
company of many casual girl friends, but remained a virgin. Not from choice,
but lack of opportunity, and his friends at school often ribbed him about it.
As he watched Joyce's body, he imagined running his hands up her smooth legs
and onto her thighs, and wondered what her reaction would be if he did just
that.
She went to the right at the top of the stairs, and turned
to say, "Come on, slow-coach, I thought you'd make short work of climbing these
stairs." He didn't notice the twinkle in her eyes as she spoke, but he did
watch the way she sashayed along the landing and into the
order."
At first he was angry and disappointed with the separate
sleeping arrangements, but as he sat thinking about his next chess move, he
came to realise that relaxing alone in that cosy single bed was going to be a
lot better than staring at April's back in bed. By the time the game finished,
an hour or so later, he was quite looking forward to stretching out alone, so
he said, "I think I'll get an early night too, Cyril. Perhaps we can play the
return match another evening."
"Goodnight, I will be up myself shortly," said Cyril,
packing away the chess pieces with great care. "This old set was my
grandfather's and I've been playing chess on this same board since I was only
four or five years old."
"I'm surprised you don't join a chess club. There must be
one in Stockport."
"I used to go to a chess club, but I found it more of a
social meeting place, because of all the chit-chat over the board, and gave it
up after a few weeks," said Cyril, standing up and putting the game away in the
rosewood sideboard.
Grant waved goodnight as he left the sitting room and went
up the stairs. He paused half-way up the stairs as memories of the first time
he climbed them flooded through his mind. He went into his bedroom and after
locking the door to ensure he had no surprise visitor, he lay on the bed and
thought of that hot summer some 12-years earlier.
-o-
His mother had been unwell for a few days and Joyce came
around to visit for an hour. As she was leaving, she said, "I'll come back
later with those magazines for you…"
"Oh, you don't have to walk all that way again in this heat,
tomorrow will do."
"No," said Joyce, "It will be a long afternoon and evening
for you with nothing to read, so I'll bring them today."
"I've a better idea," she said, turning to Grant. "Go home
with Joyce and bring back those magazines, will you son."
Grant looked up from his book and standing up he said, "Okay
Mom."
Joyce beamed at both Grant and his mother and said, "Thank
you, that's a great idea, because it is a hot afternoon. The hottest August I
can remember. Goodbye, then, I'll pop in again tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Joyce, and thanks in advance for the magazines."
Grant was wearing his school track suit and pumps, and set
off beside Joyce. She was in a green cotton dress with a wide collar and wore
dark green high heel shoes. They chatted about the hot weather, the long
holidays, his school and his good exam results, and before they knew it, they
were walking up the path to her house.
"Leave your shoes here," she said, pointing to the mat
against the wall just inside the hall, "We've just had the carpets cleaned, and
a new carpet in the bedroom. Cyril goes mad if he sees any dirt on it, and
moans about how much it cost. Come on, follow me; the magazines are in the
bedroom." She turned and slowly climbed the stairs.
Grant stood watching her for a few seconds, appreciating her
svelte figure in the tight-fitting summer dress, and admiring her long legs and
slim ankles. As he followed her up the stairs, he watched the undulating
movement of her hips and buttocks with each step, and then his eyes caught
glimpses of her buttocks, as the cotton dress clung to her body. He slowed his
pace in order to get a better look…
At 17-years he had a strong, athletic body, and enjoyed the
company of many casual girl friends, but remained a virgin. Not from choice,
but lack of opportunity, and his friends at school often ribbed him about it.
As he watched Joyce's body, he imagined running his hands up her smooth legs
and onto her thighs, and wondered what her reaction would be if he did just
that.
She went to the right at the top of the stairs, and turned
to say, "Come on, slow-coach, I thought you'd make short work of climbing these
stairs." He didn't notice the twinkle in her eyes as she spoke, but he did
watch the way she sashayed along the landing and into the
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