Chapter 7: Caroline Herschfeldt

"Would you like a drink Justin?"

The shock made me jump. The voice was female, soft and sensuous. As she breathed the words out with a husky voice I wanted to turn quickly and see the speaker, but nerves got the better of me, as of course they would. Eventually though I just had to, and after several agonising seconds I turned slowly to my left, looked in the direction of the voice and saw her in the open doorway. She was an ash-blonde; the robe she wore clung tightly to an exquisite figure that radiated sexuality with every step as she walked towards the front gate.

All I had to do was say yes, one word, after all the invitation had come from her. But it may as well have been fifty. It didn't even make any difference that she seemed to recognise me because I certainly didn't remember her.

"You were miles away Justin. Did you hear what I said about a drink?"

I still couldn't answer. This should have been a dream come true for someone like me, a true aficionado of the female form. Instead I was totally tongue-tied which, of course, is a usual condition for me. Yes I was a stuttering, stammering, nervous wreck just looking at the way the short robe - belted tightly around her mid-riff like it was - highlighted the firm roundness of her breasts and showed off her fabulous legs. Well really mum was one thing, but a sophisticated woman of the world like this extraordinary woman was something else entirely.

"I'm not going to bite. You remember me don't you? Caroline Herschfeldt, you used to deliver my papers."

I thought for several seconds as I finally managed, with extreme willpower, to look her in the eye for the first time. Realizing I did know her after all, I smiled and finally managed a nod of the head.

"Well, we're not going to get a drink from here are we?" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up the angled pathway towards the open front door of her house. "And I'm sure you could do justice to a glass of orange juice."

Now I really was beginning to wonder what was going on with my life. First there was yesterday morning, and then last night, both with my mother, and both which probably didn't count where a young man's sex life was concerned. Now there was this poised, cultured and classy woman who could have been right at home on a catwalk modelling designer clothes from the great fashion designers of the world and who called herself Caroline Herschfeldt. Just what would someone of this lady's obvious class and breeding want with an unremarkable, decidedly ordinary and extremely shy young man like me?

"I'll wait on the porch, no sense me wearing these dirty runners on your nice carpet," I finally stammered over a period of several seconds.

"Oh you can talk then." She stared, the beginnings of a smile showing on her face. "And you won't wait there, you can always take them off you know."

She watched me smile at that last remark. Then she moved to one side as she waited for me to take them off before motioning me inside.

"I'll get you something to wipe yourself down with." She disappeared momentarily and came back with a yellow towel. Then she watched with fascination as I rubbed myself down. "The kitchens through there." She pointed to an archway at the end of the hall.

We sat down at the table with Caroline on my left. I kind of expected her to behave suggestively because of her previous mischievous expression and she didn't let me down. Instead of facing towards the table, she faced towards me as if she wanted to give me a good view of her legs. Then when she crossed them one over the other two or three times I knew I was right. Just like I knew that she was teasing me, gauging my reaction.

"Your a fine looking boy Justin." She looked at me and smiled. "Though I should say young man, not boy. You're so handsome with your dark hair and blue eyes, and you look so much fitter and healthier, and so very strong."

The breathless way she spoke was clearly meant to be an indication of the way I affected her, of the way she felt, and had I been more confident, more sure of myself I may have taken advantage.

Then suddenly she reached across and beckoned me to bend my arm at the elbow, before asking me to clench my fist and tense the muscles of my arm before feeling my biceps between her thumb and index finger. I felt a cold shiver go right through me, and even though I tried to tell myself that it was just my arm it was still kind of exciting. Well it was to me, and I guess it was at that point that I could've tried something, but that would've been totally out of character.

Caroline sat forward, rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her outstretched thumbs as she clasped her fingers in front of her chin. "Look I'm not going to say that I don't remember the way you looked when you delivered my papers because I do. But that's exactly what makes the changes in you so very exciting. Just what did you do to get your... er... body in the shape it is now?"

"Running and... er... working out mostly with a diet recommended by my doctor. M-m-my parents l-let me keep some gym stuff in the garage."

"What sort of stuff?" She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, this time her dressing gown separated high on her thigh. The split had almost reached the point of no return.

"Mum and dad let me keep some stuff in the garage. It's the usual thing, I have a treadmill for running and one of those machines where I lay on my back, do weights and a combination of other power and lifting exercises."

I could only watch as she looked down at her legs and then into my eyes, holding me in her unblinking half-smiling stare. Then a thought occurred to me as she caught me helplessly in her mesmerizing gaze, it was a thought I knew was wrong but something I just couldn't help myself. Not that I had any illusions that I was the only guy who would entertain such a thought. It's just that I inevitably felt guiltier than most other guys would. You see I began wondering whether she was wearing any panties, any underwear at all underneath her robe. It was a not unexpected thought, and one that had been on my mind ever since those episodes with my mother. Oh I know I keep mentioning them but they are after all the highlight of my limited sexual experience. Anyway, I tried to reason with myself about why it was perfectly normal to think about the way sexy women dress and whether or not they wore underwear. No, it's bra and panties I told myself, thinking that underwear sounded so clinical and nonsexual.