Chapter 4

After handing me her tiny bikini while she stood in front of me as I sat on her bed, Lindie told me again, “I think you should see what you are getting yourself into.”

I had figured she would slip into her bathroom and change but that didn’t happen. I didn’t guess how literal she was being when she said, “See.” I quickly found out that she meant all of her would be on display.

Turning her back to me, Lindie took hold of her sun dress at hip height and began to crumple it upwards with her fingers, balling it up into her hands as she went. When she had gathered everything hanging below her hands, she twisted her head to look at me over her right shoulder. With her back to me, I could see most of the way up her legs up to where the backs of her thighs began to nestle together.

When she turned toward me I could see the thinness of her legs and savored the small gap between her thighs as she stood there. Her dress was not pulled taught across the front of her hips but draped down in front to cover her sex, affording her a minimal amount of modesty.

Yes, I was looking at the place where her legs and hips formed a juncture. I definitely was imagining what I could not see too. I guess I was lost in the voyeuristic moment because Lindie soon said, “Do you like what you see so far?”

“It’s interesting to see your curtain rising slowly and anticipating what is next,” I told her. Then before the frown I expected from my comment could form, rethinking my answer, I said, “Yes. You are perfect and I like what I can see ... You!

“That’s what’s important to me, not what I can view with my eyes or not see with them. What I see is you, not just parts of you but all of you, and that’s what counts.”

Lindie had a smile on her face and it spread as I told her what I thought about her. I knew what I told her was direct from my heart and I was positive she already knew what I felt, but I know she had to ask.

“Curtain going up,” she joked as she turned away from me and looking again over her right shoulder at me, slid her dress up and off of her. She held her sun dress at the apex of her up stretched arms and then let it fall in a cascade to the floor in front of her. I will admit I gasped. I’d never seen her naked, from any angle, ever.

Her form and gentle curves sent ripples of pleasure throughout me. My eyes lowered from her up stretched hands, down to her thin neck. Following further down, I marveled at the accents her spine displayed on her back. Soon my eyes landed on a patch of redness gracing the triangle of flesh just above the place where her cheeks joined. It was a red rose tattoo.

“I love your tattoo,” I told her. Then I realized that the leaves on either side of the rosebud petals were actually small hearts. The one on the left had centered in it a single fancy Old English script ‘L’ and the one on the right had an ‘M’.

Reaching out I brushed my fingertips gently over the rose and changed what I had said to, “It’s fantastic!”

“You see, I’ve remembered you all these years too,” she said as she lowered her hands to her hips and then slid them forward as I soaked in the sight before me.

I’m sorry to say that I have to admit again that I’m a guy because I let my gaze fall from that great tattoo of hers on the small of her back, down between her cheeks and drank in the sight of her rose petals of flesh below.

I haven’t had a lot of girlfriends but I have been with a few. A female’s rear view has always made my heart sing and my mouth water. The Internet has also given me some voyeuristic satisfaction of that view too.

I guess men through the ages have enjoyed such a pleasurable sight insuring the forward part of woman’s hips naturally dip down just enough so that view from behind is possible. I chalk that up as a win for evolution. If you don’t happen to believe in evolution that’s OK. Just chalk it up, that view, as a great benefit to the male of the human species. Also, I will admit, none ... ever ... could hold a candle to the view in front of me.

I let out a soft surprise of a laugh looking where I was and Lindie knew just what I was thinking. “I know. I’m leaking a little,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“I don’t think your mother caught it when I wiped myself off during breakfast. I did discretely dispose of the napkin in the trash so she wouldn’t be aware we’d had sex.

“And,” she added giggling, “I didn’t want to leave a spot on the chair!”

I laughed at her comment. Then I told her, “Lindie. She knew. She definitely knew.

“That smile of hers all through breakfast and the things she said told me she figured out everything. I know my mom is happy we had finally found each other. I know it.”

“Yeah, I guess I know that too,” she admitted softly. “You can’t put anything over on moms!”

We both laughed at that.

Then after putting everything together I added, “And, I’m starting to believe she set us up! She told me I HAD to be here this weekend.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Lindie said.

“Me too,” I said right back to her.

Keeping her eyes on me, Lindie turned a quarter turn and I gazed on her from the side. First I looked across her hips and the wonderful flat expanse there. Knowing what was just below and also inside of her there, I held back from the urge to reach out to her and stroke her intimately.

I let my eyes wander up and her breasts came into view. Like the rest of her, I had not seen her except in the dimness of the Tree House. I’d seen her with my hands so I knew the shape and texture of her breasts but seeing is more than believing.

They were rounded, not pointed, with only a hint of a crease below as they flowed gently over her chest. I would have liked to have leaped up, caressed that orb of her flesh and suckled her. I knew the taste, her flavor, aroma and I also knew that this was not the time to act on my impulses.

I just let the pangs of desire flow though me. Savoring those sensations coursing through me, I beamed at her, no glowed at her, as she smiled back at me.

Knowing that it’s impolite to stare at a woman’s breasts for an elongated time, I rapidly moved my gaze up to hers. “You’re so beautiful, it hurts,” I told her.

Lindie turned to face me laughing and said, with a little curtsy, “Well, thank you Mister Trainor. Compliments are always appreciated.” Then she wiggled her hips at me and I couldn’t resist looking down from her face to her most private of parts.

Her hands were splayed forward from her hips and between her fingers, just above her feminine cleft, was a heart. I laughed and smiled. “I love the heart shape you have there,” as I commented on the shape of her trimmed short, light brunette, pubic hair.

“I have one more heart to show you Mikey,” Lindie said. “But I need my bikini first.”

I held out my not so fabric filled hands and passed over her bikini pieces toward her. She picked up the bottom piece with her right hand, leaving her left hand covering most of what appeared to be another tattoo. Lindie turned away from me, slipped on the bikini bottom and then turned back to me.

My jaw dropped and I just said, “Wow!”

There, nestled just at the top of her bikini, on the front of her left hip, was a thin red line in the shape of a heart. Inside was a blue line sketch of two hands joined at the wrist with splayed fingers spreading out from the center of the heart, filling its lobes. The palm of the left hand had an “M” on it and the right had an “L.” Centered inside the conjoined wrists of the hands was the number 14 with two concentric circles drawn around it.

Us ... We two ... We were there ... Carried on her hip. Our drawing, the one on the Tree House wall, was there. Right on her hip.

I couldn’t help myself. Leaning forward, I fell to my knees in front of her and kissed her hip, right on the tattoo. I looked up at her with moisture in my eyes and simply said, “I love you!” and snuggled my head onto her stomach.

Lindie, reached to my head and stroked my hair softly telling me, “I love you too. Always have. Always will.”

Moving her hands under my chin, she lifted my face. Our eyes met and then she said, “Come here,” coaxing me to stand so our mouths could find each other again.