Chrissie and Tom
Copyright© 2011 by Tedbiker
Chapter 9
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Chrissie and Tom, the teenage couple from 'Amy, Terry, Tom... and others' have been separated for eight years but are brought together by the death of Chrissie's adoptive father, Dave Yeomans. Can they overcome their feelings of unworthiness to recapture their love?
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Tear Jerker Slow
Perhaps it was sleeping in Tom's bed, in his boat, with his things and his scent around her, or perhaps it was just that it was late and she was tired, physically, mentally and emotionally, but she slept quite well and breakfasted on tea, toast and fruit juice (remembering to turn the gas off when she'd finished, something Tom had drummed into her in the past).
Leaving Maldon mid-morning she arrived at Trudy's at mid-day. She was welcomed into the house and surprised by a warm hug.
"Good to see you, Chrissie! Come in and come to the kitchen. Salad okay?"
"Oh ... fine, thanks..."
"We've been following your career, you know," Trudy waved at a chair in the kitchen and Chrissie sat. "In fact I heard you play a year or so ago. Travelled to Cambridge for it ... well worth the effort." Trudy sat, too. "Fruit juice okay? I'll make tea or coffee if you like?"
"Juice is fine..."
"Help yourself to ... whatever you like..."
There was near silence for a while as they ate.
"But if I may say so," Trudy paused, "there was a lot of emotion in your music, but not much happiness."
"No ... you're right. Which is why I'm here and not in ... Winchester I think was next on the list."
"Ice cream?"
"Yes, please."
"It's just vanilla, I'm afraid."
"That's fine, thanks."
When they'd finished their ice-cream and were sipping coffee, Trudy asked; "Would you play for me, Chrissie?"
"Why, yes, of course. Piano, guitar, flute or voice?"
"Dealer's choice."
Chrissie went out to the car and fetched her precious guitar, suddenly remembering going with Jenni to buy it when she first lived with Jessica and Dave Yeomans. The thought brought her up short and she had to brush away a tear. She resolved there and then to go to visit Jenni at the next opportunity; possibly that evening.
In Trudy's lounge, she tuned her guitar, and without conscious thought began to sing, accompanying herself with a minimalist series of chords;
"I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls,
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches too great to count, could boast
Of a high ancestral name;
But I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
That you lov'd me still the same...
That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same,
That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand;
That knights upon bended knee,
And with vows no maiden heart could withstand,
They pledg'd their faith to me;
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt, which charmed me most,
That you lov'd me still the same...
That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same,
That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same."
Her voice and the last guitar chord died away and there was a long silence.
"Are you going to tell me about it, Chrissie?" Trudy asked quietly.
"What's to say?"
"Chrissie, what have you been playing most over the last ... what ... four years?"
"Oh, classical piano, without a doubt. Some flute."
"But what's the instrument you never go anywhere without?"
"This guitar, of course."
"So ... how often have you played it ... professionally, with or without voice?"
There was a very long pause after which Chrissie reluctantly said, "Twice. Concerto De Aranjuez, Rodrigo, and Concerto for Guitar, Strings and Continuo in A major, Vivaldi."
"Yet today, when I asked you to play for me you immediately went for your guitar and accompanied yourself, singing."
There was a very long silence, during which Trudy watched Chrissie steadily. Chrissie, though looking in Trudy's direction, was looking through her rather than at her, at something a very long way away.
"Shit." Chrissie broke the long silence. "I've been running away, haven't I?"
"You said it, but what from?"
"I ... it's ... hard to believe Tom ... really loves me. No. That's not it. I'm sure he does. I can't believe I deserve him. I can't believe he can accept what I've done..."
"Does he know? How much does he know?"
"Oh, I told him everything when we first ... you know. Then, this time, I told him I'd slept with one of the other musicians."
"So ... is there any reason why you feel he might think poorly of you?"
"Yes ... and no. He says he loves me just as I am. He's always treated me as ... special ... even when we first met and my panties were soaked with his father's ... stuff. I must have been gross."
"So ... does he do anything to suggest anything negative?"
"Well, no. In fact ... I can't understand how..." she blushed hotly and stalled in her words.
Trudy smiled. "Let me guess ... oral? Cunnilingus?"
"How... ?"
"Well, I can't imagine you'd be embarrassed by anything else. If you think of yourself as 'dirty' though, that would explain your embarrassment at having Tom eat you out."
"I ... just don't understand how he can do that..."
"He probably hasn't thought it through, he's doing it because he wants to and he loves you; but he's – unconsciously perhaps – making a statement about you, about the way he sees you. He probably wouldn't do it if it were in any way unpleasant for him ... though he might, I suppose, to show how much he loves you..."
"He ... seemed to enjoy it..."
"There you go, then. Oh ... and how did you come to choose 'I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls'?"
"I ... don't know ... it just seemed to come to me."
"Think about it, Chrissie." She stood. "That's probably enough for today. You need to keep thinking things through. Let's have a cup of tea now and you can tell me about your plans for the rest of the weekend."
Over tea, they just chatted about simple things (though Chrissie suspected Trudy learned even more about her in the process). At the end, Chrissie told her, "I'm going to Felixstowe. I'm hoping Jessica won't mind my leaving some of my dressy clothes hung at hers, and I want to talk to Jenni about how she got to where she is now."
"Good idea! But, Chrissie ... don't be a stranger."
Chrissie drove up to Felixstowe, where she was warmly welcomed by Jessica, who had no problem at all with Chrissie leaving clothes in her old wardrobe.
"We've always thought of it as your room, dear. You're welcome back at any time. In fact," she disappeared for a few moments before reappearing and handing her a key, "you'd better have this."
Chrissie sat in the kitchen with Jessica as she prepared a meal. They chatted about various things until Chrissie asked, "How are you managing now, without Dave?"
Jessica stopped what she was doing, looking down as if wondering just what she was doing. When she looked up, Chrissie saw her eyes glistening with tears. "Not ... very well, dear. I see an unusual boat on the river, or a bird or plant ... something I want to share; I turn, and he isn't there. I lay his place for breakfast and make coffee for him. I talk to him; reach out for him in bed."
Chrissie reached out to cover Jessica's hand with her own. "Is ... was ... it worth it?"
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