Chapter 14

After we broke off again, it suddenly hit me that I was developing feelings for Mel. And yet it would be grossly irresponsible of me to see her again because of the increasing danger of getting caught. I knew there was a chance we might come across each other in town, but with my skill set, I should be able to spot her first and take avoiding action.

“What’s up?” asked Mel. She had noticed my misgivings. “Didn’t I do it right?”

“No, you were exceptional.”

Mel’s brilliant smile was a fitting reward for the compliment.

“Could I have something to drink?” she asked.

I should have anticipated she’d want something to take the taste away. “What would you like?”

“Coke, please.”

“I’m not sure I have any. Come with me to the kitchen and see what I’ve got.”

The two of us padded naked to the kitchen. I switched on the kettle then opened the fridge door. “Help yourself,” I instructed.

While Mel was rummaging through the contents of the fridge, I put a teabag into a mug and added nearly-boiling water. Mel managed to find a soft drink to her taste, plonked herself on a kitchen chair, opened the can’s ringpull and took a large swig. “That’s better,” she said, before emitting a loud burp and breaking into a fit of giggles.

I fished my teabag out by its tag and dumped it in the trash, then took a sip.

“What’s that you’re drinking?” asked Mel.

“Green tea.”

“You drank that yesterday in the cafe. What’s it like?”

I pushed my mug across the kitchen table, handle towards Mel. “It’s hot, so sip it gently.”

Mel took a sip, then immediately wrinkled her nose. “How can you drink that stuff! There’s no sugar in it.” The mug was propelled back in my direction.

“It’s an acquired taste,” I admitted.

We resumed drinking our preferred beverages.

A thought occurred to me. “What time do you have to be home by?” I asked Mel.

“An hour earlier than yesterday because Mum will finish work and make dinner earlier,” explained Mel, looking at her cartoon-character watch.

“When we’ve finished our drinks, we’d better clean up so you can go,” I said, feeling pangs at the thought of Mel leaving.

That thought put a damper on things, so we finished our drinks in silence. Mel dumped her can in the trash and I put my mug in the dishwasher.

“Shower,” I pronounced, feeling a tight patch on my stomach where Mel’s fluids had dried.

At first Mel didn’t look keen, then her face affected a pleading look. “Can you do that thing with the shower-head again? Please?”

“Okay,” I conceded. “If we’re quick.”

“There’s no need to wash my hair again.”

Mel had a point there. That morning, washing and drying Mel’s hair had taken at least as long as washing and drying the rest of her, and it wouldn’t do to have Mel turn up at home with damp hair.

We made our way back to the bathroom, where I adjusted the shower-head, water-flow and temperature to that of the morning, rinsing my face, stomach and Mozquito at the same time. Then Mel got in position and I sprayed everywhere I’d kissed, from her breasts down, until I reached her pussy.

The effect wasn’t as dramatic as that morning because, knowing what to expect, Mel’s face didn’t switch through the same kaleidoscope of expressions. But as the large water droplets pounded away, her pussy lips engorged then blossomed open, and her angry clit thrust itself out from under its hood. I turned up the water-flow and Mel thrust her slender hips forward as before. Even Mozquito got hard again, although I was pretty certain he was just posturing vainly.