Memories - Slow Part 2

I don't want to give the impression everything was about sex (or the lack of sex), it was quite the opposite. We spent time together, talking and laughing, enjoying and exploring. I wanted to sleep with her in the worst way but in another way, being chaste made me fall even more for her.

We'd have coffee in the mornings (I'd make it at home and bring it to her), lunch together. Talk on the phone later.

One day at lunch, I was in her office and I thought she sat on something. "Careful with your skirt," I said, "I think there's something..."

She turned, looked at the back of her skirt. "I don't see anything," she said. "Are you just trying to get a look at my ass?" she said.

"No, I..."

"What then?" It was her playful tone, not her angry tone.

"I just..."

"You were staring at my ass," she said.

"No, your legs, actually. You...you always wear hose, few women do and they suit you."

"Suit me?"

"They make such a clean line between your heels and your skirt and really make you look put together, plus that tone works well with your skin."

"Well that's...oddly specific and very sweet. Thank you."

I beamed at her compliment. "Your welcome."

"Most women my age find them old-fashioned, but I guess I'm kind of old-fashioned myself and think the right hose finish off an outfit. Of course you did say you had a thing for legs, feet, and nylons, didn't you?"

"I suppose," I admitted.

"Keep up with the compliments, you just might find yourself giving me a foot massage later," she said, a teasing voice.

"Don't tease me," I retorted.

"It's not a tease," she said, "a foot massage can certainly be part of going slow."

"I like foot massages," I said, "I mean, giving foot massages."

She laughed. "I figured that out when we had coffee," she joked.

**********

I got my chance and more on Saturday at her place. We'd seen a play and had dinner, and went to her place after for a drink, which I brought to her bedroom, where she was sitting on the bed.

"Remember, slow," she said, "we're going slow."

"I know, Emily," I said, "this...this isn't about bedding you as soon as I can." She smiled. "What?"

"Those are words, just words. Your actions speak louder."

"I...I hope so."

Every time we kiss, and you don't try to sleep with me, you prove the point."

"I hope so; I hope that's good."

"It's very good," she said.

"Remember that foot massage you promised?"

"I promised?"

She smiled, shrugged. "Maybe not, but you wouldn't say no, would you?"

I smiled back. "No, of course not."

"That's what I thought," she said, sliding back on the bed, slipping her boots off.

"Guess I'm an open book," I said.

"Not quite," she said, "if anything, you confuse me."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're so different."

"I hope different's good."

"You're here in my bedroom, aren't you? You can undress," she said.

"Undress?"

"You know, get naked...not that we're doing anything but a foot massage."

"You want me to get naked," I said, standing there awkwardly.

"My god, are you sure you're not gay? A hot woman's asking you to get naked and you pause?"

"I just...I'm not used to...I don't know."

"You want to, don't you?"

"Yea," I said.

"Well go on..."

"I..." I bit my lip, knew I had to say what I was working up to say the first time we messed around. "I have to tell you something first."

"Oh my god, you are gay," she said, "I knew it."

"Emily! I like girls, isn't that obvious?"

"Okay, okay, what is it?"

"So...I don't know how to say it..."

"Just say it..."

"I can't just say it...how about this, when I was younger, I took dance...ballet..."

"And he wonders why I think he's gay," she said.

"Emily..."

"Seriously, if you like guys, you might as well just tell me, it's fine."

"Why are you like this?" I asked her.

"'Cause you're so fun to tease," she said. She held her nylon-covered foot towards me. "For a boy who keeps insisting he's not gay, you're doing a bunch of stalling when a woman offers you her foot. Do you want it, or is pretending too much? There is no shortage of men who want me...so if you don't..."

"Emily...so I used to take ballet and we wore these dance belts under our tights..."

"Thong or brief?"

"Huh?"

"I danced, too."

"Depended on my mood," I said. "Anyway, I'm not very hairy, as you saw, and with the ballet belt, I mean, you know how they are, they're like..."

"Underwear...almost panties..."

"And tights and all that, it always irritated the hair I had so I..."

"Shaved? Yea, lots of guys do."

"I...used a cream...and just got used to using it everywhere."

"So?"

"So...I got used to using it everywhere and kind of never stopped."

"Like never, never?"

"Like never, never," I said.

"So like now?"

"Like now..."

She smiled. "Just to get things correct, my totally not gay boyfriend who totally hasn't actually tried to sleep with me and who totally compliments me like a gay guy would, shaves all his body hair."

"Yea," I said, ignoring her playful taunts.

"You're not gay?"

"I like girls," I said.

"Total non-answer," she said, "which I'm totally marking down as maybe I'm a little gay."

"You're impossible."

"Listen, I want you to get naked and give me a foot massage. Think your little guy will stand for that?"

"It's standing proud now."

"So get undressed and show me."

I undressed, bashful, stood at the foot of the bed, hairless, rock hard, while she looked at me. "Not quite the look most guys I've seen naked," she said.

I took that as criticism. "I...I can get dressed," I said.

"Don't you dare," she said, "you owe me a foot massage. Remember, legs and feet only, slow, this is off limits still. And by the way, I think it's cute."

"You do?"

"It wouldn't look right on most guys, but for you...it works."

"I like girls," I said, sitting on the bed next to her, reaching for one of her feet.

She pushed the other towards my bobbing erection, touched it lightly. "That's kind of obvious, but still no denial of liking guys," she said.  "Just remember, slow."

"I know, I know."

I massaged her feet, slowly, carefully, reverently, hard the whole time. Eventually, she took her dress off, her bra, but kept me massaging just her feet and legs, encouraging me with light brushes of her foot against me, light touches, but no more.

"That was wonderful," she said, almost an hour later.

"Emily, I...can we..."

"I told you, slow, I told you I need to make sure."

"I...I know."

"Is your little guy sore?" she asked. "Sorry, I keep calling him that." She looked down. "I like it all smooth, it's cute."

She yawned. "You're tired."

She nodded. "You?"

"Yea," I said.

She slipped her hose off but left her panties on. "Slow," she said.

"Slow," I agreed.

"You good?"

"Yea," I said, "just..."

"Sore?" I nodded. "You're really showing me you care."

"I do."

"So do I."