Chapter 3: Janet

“Well, a guy was good to me,” Janet told Greg. “We still have time, I’ll tell you about my first time.”

And this is the story she told:

Jan was excited to be back at the antique store. Not only would she need the money for college expenses in the fall, but she had a great boss. Cindy, who worked at the supermarket for crabby Mrs. Jonas, claimed that Jan didn’t deserve to be paid, “with a boss who looks like that, you should work for nothing.” And Mr. Fisher had a personality as pleasant as his looks.

“Well, Janet, we’ve got to get ready for the summer.” Dan Fisher was relieved that Janet had come back for a second year. Some high-school graduates took their last summer of freedom, and he’d been worried that she would join that group. His antique shop made enough profit to pay rent on the building for nine months of the year. The summer people tripled his business, earning him a good living. He didn’t want to train someone new in June, and Janet had been much better than the two assistants he’d had in his first years running the business. But he really valued Janet’s presence even more than her work justified.

Locals bought different things than the tourists did, and they spent the next three hours carrying local goods upstairs to the storage room he’d made out of an unused bedroom in the owner’s apartment. They carried summer goods back down on the return trips.

Dan enjoyed walking upstairs behind Janet. He watched her hips clench as she climbed. He hoped that she didn’t notice. He should have done the carrying himself, but she neither complained nor looked tired.

“Break!” he said after they’d stored an especially heavy chair which had taken the two of them. “We can leave the other furniture down there. Summer people don’t object to seeing it; they just won’t buy it.”

“You want to start on arranging the display space?”

“The energy of youth! I want to have a glass of lemonade and sit in the kitchen for ten minutes. Join me?”

“Please.” Jan had never been in Mr. Fisher’s actual apartment. The storage room didn’t count. He opened the door into a living room and led her across it to the kitchen. He took a pitcher out of the refrigerator and poured them each a glass. “Delicious,” she said. This glass gave her much more pleasure than she had ever had from a glass of lemonade before. She was more excited than she’d ever been by a beer or a glass of spiked punch. Her only regret was that she was wearing jeans and an old blouse -- fit for the dirty work, but not for being entertained in the home of the most sophisticated man in town.

“Out of a can. One person living alone tends to let lemons spoil if he buys them. So, tell me. How was your year?”

“I did all right.”

“Which means all ‘A’s when you say it.”

“I got some ‘B’s.” Trig had been a bitch. Still, “State accepted me.”

“And your social life? Have you chosen a young man yet?”

“It’s a choice among octopuses.” She could never admit to him that part of the problem was comparing callow boys to his sophistication.

“You can do better in college. Not that there aren’t octopi in college.” Jan noted the subtle correction. Her English teacher would have made a big deal about it. Her social-studies teacher wouldn’t have known. Mr. Fisher was not only smart, he was kind.

“As a male,” he went on, “I can’t really blame those boys. You are a lovely girl.”

“But you don’t grab.” Not that she would have been in any hurry to push him away. There had been days when she was tempted to do the grabbing.

“I may not grab, but that doesn’t mean I’m not tempted.” He might not grab, but he knew he was entering risky territory here. But Janet was more than lovely, she exuded youthful femininity. The nine months of her absence had only made his silent infatuation worse.

“A handsome, adult, man like you must have real women falling at your feet. Don’t tell me that you notice a girl like me.” She hoped she didn’t sound jealous, though she knew she was a bit jealous. Maybe more than a bit. She’d seen some of the summer women flirting with him. And he’d flirted right back.

“Okay. I’ll try to keep it a secret. I think I was successful last year. But don’t say that you aren’t a real woman. Young, yes. But when did ‘old’ become desirable? One reason that it is silly of me to talk like this, one reason of scores,” -- he thought he was probably talking to himself more than to her -- “is that you probably put me in the same age bracket as your principal.” Who looked to Dan to be in the same age bracket as Dan’s father.

“You’re not old.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Well, I’m old enough to be able to tell that this conversation is getting me in hot water. Let’s go down and arrange the showroom. We’ll see tourists coming in next week.” He led her out into the living room and toward the stairs.

Jan resisted making an offer to wash the glasses. Considering that he was paying for her time, it wouldn’t be all that generous an offer. It would be, in fact, a selfish offer. She thought she’d been a little bit into his life for the break. She’d like to be further into his life. The conversation had been both intimate and complimentary. And, now, they’d go back to discussing what people saw as they wandered around the shop. Mr. Fisher arranged the items so that every turn revealed some new surprise. Well, her last turn to the lemonade had revealed a real surprise. She wanted to see more. He was on the first step down, down to the work-a-day world.

“Mr. Fisher?”

“Yes?” He turned to face her.

She kissed him. He might refuse her; he might fire her; he might even laugh at her. But she wasn’t going to go another winter wishing she’d acted in the summer. She had given up wishing that he would act.

Dan was so surprised by the kiss, he almost fell backward. He held onto her to keep his balance. Then he couldn’t bring himself either to let go or to end the kiss. He only moved back to catch his breath. “Janet,” he said. He was still holding her waist.

“Yes.” and it was indeed ‘yes.’ The kiss had been surprisingly sweet. She could feel her nipples burning in her bra. They were pressed against his chest; maybe he could feel the heat. His hands were on her waist, warming her there.

“You don’t like octopi. I’m about to turn into one.” Her sweet butt, a butt he’d watched climb the stairs ahead of him for much of the morning, was inches from his hands. She took his right hand in both of hers. Well, he’d learned to take a refusal; he should have known that this desirable girl knew how to give a refusal. And he should have known that she -- whatever compliments she paid her boss -- had no interest in a fossil like him.

Jan took his hand and placed it where she wanted it, and where -- however little he’d meant the compliment -- he’d said he wanted to put it. Her breast burned from the contact. Her face burned from her shame.

“Oh, Janet.” The breast was as soft, even through the bra, as he’d imagined it. He kissed her again, his kiss -- not hers. Her lips were sweet and warm. She opened her mouth when he licked them. When her tongue met his, it was as if a spark flew. His left hand dropped to her butt and cupped it. It was firm and sweet. His thumb found her nipple through the blouse and bra. It responded to him.

Jan was discovering that being caressed felt different from -- the opposite of -- being grappled. She hugged Mr. Fisher’s shoulders to keep those feelings coming.

Dan abandoned Janet’s mouth to kiss her jaw line in a path to her ear. He tasted salt every time he kissed a new spot. He dropped one foot down another step as he kissed down her throat. He tore his hand from the glory of holding her breast to start unbuttoning her blouse.

Jan grabbed Mr. Fisher’s head as he moved away from her. Then, as kissed down her neck, she only held it to the place he was kissing. The path of kisses ran down her neck, across her chest, and into the cleavage where the bra didn’t cover her. Finally, she felt the thrill of his kissing her nipple through the bra. Her only worry was that it was an old, ratty, bra. She had much sexier ones she would rather him see. She felt him pull the blouse out of her jeans and his hands stroke up her back. Then the bra was unsnapped. She pressed her lips against his hair. She breathed in his masculine odor.

Dan caressed her sides on the way to her bare breasts. Then his mouth sucked her nipple while his hands went back to her adorable derriere. He tore his mouth away from the glory of her breast to speak.

“Oh, Janet.”

“Mr. Fisher.” She was clutching his hair with both hands. What could she do to give him the soaring pleasure he was giving her?

“Dan.” He had talked enough. There was an entire breast he hadn’t kissed at all. He started in the cleavage and kissed a path towards the nipple. Under the fresh sweat, he smelled the sweetness of a young woman. His hands, almost without aid of his brain, found first her belt buckle and then the side clasp and zipper of her jeans.

“Dan. Oh, yes, Dan!” If he would only keep kissing her, she would call him anything he asked.

Dan tasted the nipple as he unzipped Janet’s jeans. He sucked it while stroking the jeans down, and then stroking his hands up her naked thighs. They were so smooth, so warm. When his fingers reached her panties, the crotch was moist. She was really responding to him.

Jan could only hold his head against her as the feelings shot through her. She wished that she could pull the delightful hands closer, too; but that much effort was beyond her.

Dan cupped one cool, panties-clad, butt cheek with his left hand, while a finger of his right hand stroked inside her panties. He reached her moist warmth. So soft! He stroked the moisture up one lip until it slid over the bump of her clit.

“Oh,” Jan breathed. His touch was much softer than hers had ever been in that place, and a thousand times as exciting. She grasped his head tighter and let the sensations spiral through her.