Starting

On so many occasions she had walked by my shop, and I’d smile, and say, “Hey. Hello.”

She would half-smile and keep walking, sometimes looking back, sneaking a peek.

And now, here she was, sitting on the edge of my desk, looking shy, nervous. What was she doing here? Sitting in her little plaid schoolgirl skirt with charcoal gray knee socks, her tender thighs open slightly, offering a tempting space.

I put my hand on the inside of her left knee and she jumped a little. But as I moved my hand up her inner thigh, she opened even further.

Noticing

"Yes." she said.

I let go of her chin, resumed circling around her, examining; bothering her attention, noticing. I noted the smooth soles of her feet, her high arches.

I grabbed a handful of hair, holding her head back, noticing her face. She stared up, half smiling, three quarters fearful. I let go her hair and her head flopped back down.

I moved around to her side, noticing the curves of her uplifted breasts, perky nipples.

Circling further, I noticed how her thighs were parted, opened, glimpsing the glistening darkness of her pubes, full and fluffy.

Was she really ready?