A Tale of Years — The Fallen
Chapter 2 — Another Year
Gently, I let her hand fall from mine, wonder and confusion filling her face.
“Is... is hot in here... I... it... just seems hot,” she says as she gently undoes the first few buttons of her blouse.
“Yes, it is, Mrs. Jenkins... quite hot,” I say as I recross my legs, giving her a glimpse of what she both wants to see, and desperately does not.
“I... yes... well, Chelsea... I... I came to talk to you about... about,” she stammers, her brunette waves falling softly about her face. She’s done her hair up... so soft and feminine... so beautiful... such a nice change.
“Yes?” I say sweetly as I bite my lower lip suggestively, letting one of my long, red fingernails slide down my blouse, drawing her attention to my breasts.
Her eyes follow my finger, almost entranced by the sight, staring as if trying to see what lies beneath the soft silkiness. Oh, the poor baby... so confused... not understanding at all.
“I... well, I... it’s about... it’s about your job here and ...,” she begins again, almost forcefully ripping her eyes from my chest. Yes, she’s doing well... not the hard ice cold task driver... no more treating people as tools to be used and then cast aside.
I smile at her, my eyes sparkling with hidden secrets... captivating her, ensnaring her ever so slightly. “Yes? I am very pleased with Brenda’s progress. I’m sure when she returns to school, she’ll be a straight A student... quite an improvement,” I say with a smile and a gentle toss of my hair.
“Yes ... I mean ... no ...,” she continues in obvious confusion. The “what” inside her battling with “what will be”. “I mean... the grades... the grades are fine and... but... it’s the... I mean....”
I casually run my tongue over my lips, dangling one shoe from my toe, watching her almost squirm in her seat. “Oh...” I say chewing adorably on the end on my pencil. “Yes... her work with social interaction has gone very well.”
Indeed, it had. The young 18 year old woman had been in grave danger of being as snobbish and cruel as her mother had been; focused on power and control rather than those things that truly mattered... love and friendship, trust and loyalty. That amongst other serious ancillary problems. Yes... Brenda had done wonderfully, learning that being a wonderful person was worth more than all the riches in her family fortune.
“Well... no... I mean...” the mother almost whines in frustration. “I... have to tell you... that....”
“Oh, no need, Mrs. Jenkins. It’s simply part of the job,” I say as my gaze holds her... watching as her nipples press against her oh-so-thin blouse. Oh yes... so sweet and feminine. She would never have dressed that way before.
“But... oh, you’re so confusing me,” she stammers. “We... I... we caught Brenda... she was... she was... kissing... fondling... " she continued as her legs began to rub together slowly.
“Well, Mrs. Jenkins... she is 18, and such things are natural at her age,” I say with an understanding smile.
“NO... NO you... it... it was... she was... with... with the stable girl... and....”
“Oh yes... Samanatha... a charming girl... so very sweet. I’m sure she’ll be very good to your daughter,” I say as I gently cross my legs again and send her my sweetest, most intoxicating, look.
“But... but she’s ... she’s a GIRL!! I... we can’t... and... she said... she said that... you... you told her that...that it was....” she said as her hands began to rub the sides of her hips.
“That it was, ok?” I finish her thought with a helpful smile, watching as she slowly began to grind her ass into her chair.
“YES!” she almost screams in desperation. “Yes... and... and we... we... can’t have... I mean... it’s our daughter... not... not with a... a girl... a stable girl!”
I look at her disapprovingly and watch her nearly wilt. “Mrs. Jenkins... Brenda is now an A student instead of failing nearly every class but PE. She hasn’t touched any drugs in months, the acceptable boys are no longer fucking her like a cheap whore, and she’s so much happier now... so much more the woman that she wants to be and should be. Now she’s found someone hard-working and sweet, someone to share her time with, who will lift her up rather than drive her down... who values her for who she is, not what clothes she wears or how much money Mom and Dad have stashed away. And you’re upset that this person that she cares for is a woman who works in the stable!?“
“Oh... oh, I’m sorry, I... no... no that’s not what I mean... I...,” she says as I watch her confused arousal grow. “I... I mean... we can’t have it... I... I forbid... you have to... to leave... bad... influence... I have to ... have to protect... I ....”
She stops in mid-sentence as I elegantly rise from my chair and approach her.
Gently I invade her personal space, my hand gently caressing her tender, confused face. “She’s not the only one, is she, Emily... not the only one you have to forbid,” I say tenderly, watching the tears begin to form in her eyes.
“I... I don’t know... what... you... Get back... I...” she says, her whole body trembling, her eyes nearly begging. Oh, such a confused baby....
“You don’t want me to go, Emily. No... you want this....”
Gently I lower myself, my velvet lips touching hers, feeling her whimper into my mouth, her protests dying as my tongue sweeps into her... meeting hers....
And then... her hands gently touching me, pulling me closer, her tongue playing with mine, her tears falling salty on my lips....
So soft... so needy... so tender... the woman she could be ... should be, emerging, as if for the first time.
I pull back, softly sucking her lip as I go.
I look deep into her eyes, seeing the need... the fear... the confusion. But she is ready....
“What do you want, Emily?” I ask in a soft, tender whisper.
“Stay,” she whispers back. “Stay forever....”
Gently, I let my lips meet hers again as I lift her up from her chair and guide her to the bedroom, feeling her joy begin to bloom, her need and desire begin to rise....
On this day, she will begin to find her joy, and learn to share that joy with others, just as her daughter will. There will still be much to learn, but we shall be together for six more months. When it is over, she will be the flower of beauty, ion, and love that she was always meant to be.
Soon, Clarisse, her maid, will be ready... and when I am gone, they shall give each other the joy that this loveless marriage has always denied her. The husband will not care... there is little I can do for him. Pity....
Gently, I place her on the bed, hushing her soft protests with eager kisses until they are gone.
“Now you will be loved,” I whisper to her... my hands gently parting her legs... feeling them tremble.
“Love?” she whispers.
“Of course... what else is there?” I whisper back as my fingers find her.
“nothing...” she whimpers.
My heart aches with joy. And so it shall... for the rest of the year.