Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Tedbiker

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Rose-Marie is a shy girl who has been raised in a very restrictive home and is studying hard in hopes of finding a freer life for herself. She's never even kissed a man before she's introduced to Ted Wilson... who is the sort of man girls like and trust, but don't see as relationship material.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   First   Petting   Slow  

I was far from impressed when I first saw her. I wondered if she were anorexic; she might have been from one of those places where there's a famine except she didn't have a bloated tummy. Of average height, with fair hair (not quite blonde), she looked, bluntly, like a skeleton thinly covered with skin.

Before I get into our story, you need to know something about me. I'm not an athlete, or a hunk. I'm more of the 'nerd' persuasion, though I do work out. No, I'm not the sort of guy the girls queue up to date. I'm a bit older than average, too – approaching my thirties when I started my course. On the other hand, I do have more female friends – note, not girlfriends which implies a romantic relationship – than male. I'm the guy they came to when a date's gone bad, or they've been dumped, or they want advice from a guy point of view. Sometimes I'm the guy they came to because they need a date stroke escort for some occasion ... invariably a one-off and clearly stated as being so. I could never make up my mind if I was bothered; it was quite nice being in the company of attractive young women even if I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere with any of them.

Cheryl cornered me one lunch-time in the cafeteria. I was slightly annoyed as I'd just got a copy of one of Asimov's Foundation series spin-offs that I hadn't read and was looking forward to starting. "I need a favour, Ted."

So ... what else is new?

"What can I do for you, Cheryl? You know I only live to serve." I think I kept the sarcasm out of my voice fairly well.

"It's ... well, a friend of mine, Rosie, needs a date for the Christmas ball. She's really shy, Ted, and totally lacking in confidence."

Oh, lovely. Just what I needed. I'm no dancer anyway and a social occasion with a girl I was going to have to work at entertaining...

"You know I'm no dancer, Cheryl."

"That's not the point, Ted. Rosie needs to go. She can't dance either, but she can go with you, feel safe, have a drink or two and be seen. You don't even have to stay to the end."

Oh, well, what the hell.

"Okay, Cheryl. Introduce us."

Okay. I think certain names conjure up a certain image. Sometimes because of someone we've known with that name and sometimes there may be a literary connection, or ... Anyway. What does the name 'Rose' conjure up? For me, a plump and cheerful, outgoing woman who is probably a good cook.

What a let-down.

I should have known, I suppose, that a shy girl that lacks confidence was not going to be cheerful and outgoing, but I might have expected she'd have some meat on her bones if only from comfort-eating. Instead I faced this ... walking skeleton. One thing about me, though, I'm good at hiding the emotions I don't want others to pick up. If the girls who were my friends knew what I thought about them, I wouldn't have them as friends. At least, I don't think so.

So, there I was, looking at a girl who wasn't exactly straight up and down, because her joints formed lumps here and there. She had hips, too, and I supposed the slight protrusions at the front were breasts ... of a sort, anyway. But after all, she was a person, with feelings. I didn't (as you might expect) get excited about her, but I did feel sorry for her. I found a warm smile from somewhere and held out my hand.

"Ted, meet Rose-Marie," Cheryl said. "Rosie, Ted's a good friend. He'll look after you."

The girl looked at Cheryl, "Really?"

"Really, really."

She timidly took my hand. Hers was thin and trembled as I took it. It reminded me of nothing so much as holding a tiny bird for ringing.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Rose-Marie," I said, holding her hand gently a little longer than strictly necessary. She let it rest there, not pulling away. Was that a hopeful sign?

"Most people call me Rosie," she said, "what is Ted short for?"

"In my case," I said, "Edward. Sometimes, Edwin or Edmund. If you're American, Theodore. Do you like being called Rosie? Rose-Marie is a lovely name."

"Thank you! I like it, but it's a bit of a mouthful."

"Tell you what, Rose-Marie, why don't we go to the cafeteria for a coffee or something, and get to know each other?"

She looked shocked. Cheryl patted my arm, said, "See you later, Ted," and walked away. That's right, abandon me here ... Too late to make excuses, though. I still hadn't had a response and suspected I wasn't going to get one, so I tucked her hand into the crook of my left arm and set off towards the cafeteria. I changed my mind, though, when we got near the main entrance, and steered her out of the building, crossed the road and took her into Café Azure in the Millennium Gallery.

I'm a fan of an American comedian called Shelley Berman, who does monologues. Whenever I ask someone what they want to drink, I think of his 'Airline Stewardess' monologue and say in a sing-song voice and a fake American accent, "Coffee, tea or milk?"

Somewhat to my surprise, she giggled. "Coffee, please. Latte." Perhaps this wasn't going to be too bad after all.

I fetched her latte and my Americano, adding shortbread and a brownie.

"Take your pick," I said, pushing the plate toward her. She looked at me ... with a slight frown, maybe?

"Thank you. I don't usually eat much."

"You need to," I said.

Her head was down as if she was staring at the plate, but she sort of stiffened, took the brownie, looked up and thanked me again. I set to draw her out and found that we had quite a bit in common; we both liked wild-life, reading and walking. It was apparent very quickly that she didn't get out much. The University course was a major adventure for her. I found that both her parents were off converting the heathen or something in Africa. Okay, I'm being cynical ... actually her mother was working with locals in health education – she was a midwife, and her father was a carpenter/joiner and was working with locals in his speciality. I wasn't impressed, though, that they'd left their daughter to live alone for several years while they worked abroad. They apparently thought their church was sufficient support network; I was not convinced.

Mind you, I was alone too. Dad was killed somewhere doing something he never talked about. Mum ... well she got some problem with her blood. The doctors said there was no connection, but I'm convinced that when I got to eighteen she thought she'd done her duty and went to join her husband...

When Rose-Marie and I parted I told Rose-Marie I was looking forward to her company at the dance. It was not entirely an untruth, though perhaps an exaggeration. I found Cheryl and suggested as diplomatically as I could that Rose-Marie might benefit from some advice about clothes.

"All in hand," she said airily, "she won't disgrace you."

"I didn't think she would," I said rather stiffly, "I just thought she'd enjoy the evening more if she was comfortable. The idea is she enjoy the evening ... isn't it?"

She looked at me sharply and I shrugged.

I thought I might as well do the job properly. My one suit was not really worth wearing any more, so I looked around and found one in Burton's that fit pretty well – I didn't have the time or money to spend on a bespoke outfit, especially since I'd probably only wear it once in a blue moon – and I booked a car to take us to City Hall.

For the benefit of strangers to Sheffield, the administrative centre is the Town Hall, presumably because when it was built Sheffield was a town, not a city. City Hall is an entertainment centre, with a concert hall above a ballroom.

I collected my date ... When she opened the door to me, I was seriously impressed. Her long dress – should that be 'gown' – mostly concealed her deficiencies in the 'curves' department and transformed her into an elegant young lady. I looked at her face really for the first time undistracted by her physique; she was pretty and had gorgeous large blue eyes; her fair hair in a ... I'm not sure what to call it; a crop? It was quite short, and carefully arranged in a sort of deliberate disorder.

I was, momentarily, speechless. When I actually made my vocal chords work, it wasn't much better... "Wow!" Then, having got my brain into gear, "You look terrific!"

She blushed most becomingly. "Thank you, Edward," she said, placing her hand on my arm.

"I, erm ... shall we go, then?" It was not precisely what I'd been expecting.

We had a ... very enjoyable evening. We held each other and swayed in the slow dances and for the most part sat out the others. We had a few glasses of wine, not many ... neither of us much liked what was on offer, but I made sure we were seen together. At some point we were sitting together ... I had my arm round her ... and we looked at each other and I slowly moved my face towards her. Our lips touched; she didn't flinch, but neither did she respond. I shrugged, mentally, and carried on holding her but didn't kiss her again.

It was really too noisy for conversation and it took several attempts for her to communicate she was tired. I was, too; the whole scene was not really my cup of tea, so I called the hire-car company and took her home.

I walked her to the door; she was leaning on me rather and fumbled with her key. Having got the door open, she turned to me. "Would ... would you like to come in?"

I thought for a moment, unsure if the invitation was genuine or if she felt somehow obligated. In the end I agreed. "Yes, I would. Let me send the car off."

The car being paid for and dealt with, she showed me into the lounge.

"I ... can't offer you alcohol," she said, "my parents won't have it in the house. But I've got various teas, coffee, juices and so on..."

"A cup of tea would go down nicely, Rose-Marie."

She left me there while she pottered around in the kitchen, returning with a tray, teapot, milk, sugar and bone china tea cups. I couldn't help smiling.

She looked worried; "What?"

I chuckled, "This is lovely; I haven't drunk out of china cups for years. Mum used to get the Wedgwood out Sunday tea-times."

She poured tea, but I stopped her putting milk in my cup. I don't take milk," I said, "or sugar."

We sat, a little awkwardly, sipping tea.

"I've really enjoyed this evening," she said abruptly, "thank you for taking me, Edward."

"It really was my pleasure," I said ... and it was true.

"When you kissed me..." she hesitated, "I didn't know what to do."

I bit off the first word that came to my lips and when I was sure my brain was connected, I gently asked, "Have you never been kissed before?"

She shook her head, looking at her lap. She couldn't see me shaking my head in disbelief.

"That sort of thing is discouraged in my church," she said, looking up at me. I couldn't help shaking my head again.

"Weird," I said. Then, "Would you ... like to try again?"

Her face lit up with an enormous smile. She really was pretty. Then she turned serious again. "You'll have to tell me what to do..."

To be honest, I wasn't that much more experienced myself, but at least I wasn't a virgin thanks to my status as a 'safe' reserve date and occasional beneficiary of a rebound.

"Relax and do what comes naturally," I smiled. "If anyone, including me, tries to go further than you're comfortable with, say so." I didn't say that some guys might well not take 'no' for an answer.

Anyway, I kissed her softly and this time her lips parted; they were soft and she tasted of wine and fruit juice. It was nice and when we parted I sighed.

"Was ... that okay?" She sounded really uncertain.

"I enjoyed that a lot," I said, "didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, but when you sighed, I wondered, I mean, aren't you bored?"

"Not bored," I smiled, "I'll carry on doing that as long as you like."

So we did. I didn't leave until ... well, it was early in the morning rather than late at night, even though we'd done nothing but kiss. I was ... rather wound up by then. Okay, she was a bag of bones, but she was a girl and pretty, she was warm and she was a pretty good kisser once she'd had a little practice.

I fell into bed as soon as I got home, but had to relieve the pressure before I got to sleep. The relief was explosive ... and I didn't wake until after mid-day.

Being winter, it was hardly worth going out to do anything. I don't own a car, but I do have motorbikes; a BMW R90 with a side-car, a Ducati, and an old Norton ES2. I spent an hour cleaning chrome, checking tyre pressures and so on, before going into the house and doing some work on my dissertation. That basically accounted for Saturday. Sunday, I went to church. I don't go every week; there's too many things going on at weekends that I'd rather be doing, but particularly in the winter, yes. It's a connection with my parents, partly, but I am a believer ... just not always entirely in agreement with some of the stuff you get in church. But, let's not go there, okay? This is a story about a lovely young woman, not my hang-ups about organised religion. Mind you, the religion is relevant, as you'll see.

I agreed to take Rose-Marie to the dance as a sort of favour, I suppose. I wouldn't have walked up to her and asked her for a date from choice but rather because she needed that encouragement and that had been pointed out to me. So I was a little surprised that every time I wasn't distracted by study or 'activities of daily living', a book, or motorbikes, I thought about Rose-Marie.

On ... I think it was Tuesday ... at lunch-time, I was in the cafeteria looking for a table to place my tray on when I saw her out of the corner of my eye; she was looking at me. When I looked her way, though, her head was down and she was reading. I crossed the room to her.

"May I sit with you?"

She looked up and blushed. "Um ... er, yes, if you like."

She had a plate of salad in front of her, cottage cheese and some sort of pasta. Not much pasta. I was tempted to comment on her diet, but didn't.

"It's nice to see you again," I said as an opening gambit.

Her eyes were down, but she looked up from her rabbit food. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

I frowned at that. "Why ever not? I had a nice time at the dance – even though dances aren't really my thing – didn't you?"

There was a long pause, then she said, "I thought you were just doing a favour for Cheryl."

"I was, in the first place. But I enjoyed your company and ... I enjoyed kissing you."

"Really?" There was a world of disbelief in that one word.

"Rose-Marie ... look at me." I waited until I had eye contact again. "I say what I mean. If I hadn't enjoyed the evening, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you."

"But ... I ... you ... I mean..." She coloured and her eyes fell. Eventually, she mumbled at her plate... "I thought ... you'd want ... you know, to... " her blush intensified; I suppressed a smile.

"You thought I'd want to have sex with you."

"Well ... yes."

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"Well, you didn't ... I mean..." there was a longish pause before, "you did want to?"

"Of course! But we were having fun, kissing, and I, well," I shrugged, "I sort of like the girl to indicate she wants to go further, and I thought, well, you weren't ready."


I wouldn't have thought her blush could have intensified, but it did.

Then in a very small voice, she said, "Thank you." She got up from the table, incidentally leaving a significant amount of her lunch. "I need to go to a seminar. Could ... would you mind ... meeting later? Say, half four?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Sure. Here, or Cutting Edge?"

"Here will be quieter," she said. When I agreed, she left.

I finished my baked potato and chilli and followed, heading for one of the computer labs, feeling oddly excited.

I didn't do much good in the lab. It was too difficult to concentrate. In the end I ... well, I'd better not say, as there are rules about what the computers can be used for in the University...

I bought coffee ... The university catering department encourages students to buy reusable, insulated mugs and give a discount on beverages purchased using one, so I bought one for Rose-Marie – I already had mine – and filled it with latte. The main cafeteria closes about four, so I got the coffee in Cutting Edge (which was, indeed, rather noisy) and carried it upstairs.

Rose-Marie appeared – I was going to say 'on the dot' – actually she was a little early.

"Oh, wow!" You'd think I'd given her a precious gift when I handed her the mug of coffee. In a way, perhaps I had.

"Edward ... I like you."

"Well, good, 'cos I like you too."

"I mean, I really like you."

I smiled. "Great, 'cos I really like you too."

She swallowed hard. "D'you think, maybe, we could be, you know, friends?"

My smile broadened. "I rather thought we were 'friends'."

She took a deep breath. "Are you doing anything over Christmas?"

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