melanieplayful play (part 5) 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
In bygone days Carolyn would have been known as a ‘buxom wench’. She was lovely in every sense of the word, with a well developed sense of humour and figure to match. She was simply great fun to be with and I enjoyed being with her immensely. I was living in a large mission building in east London, engaged in social work in the neighbourhood. Carolyn worked in the mission building, assisting with the young unmarried mothers who lived there and with their children, in a part of the building called Bethany. It was a place of great social deprivation, with enormous burdens placed on the staff who tried to comfort and get alongside these desperate young women to help make their lives at least a little more tolerable. Carolyn came upstairs to eat with us and to get a break from being in Bethany all day. 
 
“Hi!” she said, on the first occasion I met her, “is it okay if I sit here?” She nodded towards the chair on the opposite side of the table to where I was sitting. She had a tray in her hands, on which were two plates and a drink in a tall glass. 
“Yes,” I replied, “be my guest.” I got up and pulled the chair out for her to sit down with the tray on the table in front of her. She sat down heavily, spilling some of the drink into her tray as she did so, but it didn’t seem to perturb her in the least.  
“How long have you been here?” she asked, mopping up the spillage with a tissue she had taken from her handbag. 
“About five minutes,” I replied. 
“No,” she laughed, “how long have you been staying here?” 
“I’ve only just arrived. I came yesterday, last night in fact. How long have you been staying here?” 
“A couple of weeks.” She started to eat and then embarked on a long explanation of her work in Bethany. Eventually she asked me what I was doing in the mission. I hesitatingly tried to outline my social work role, explaining as best as I could why I was not very suitable for this kind of work.  
“I’m very nervous about it all,” I told her, “it’s not really my cup of tea at all. I’d much rather read books and study, you know.” 
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” she said, “but surely you like to meet people don’t you?” 
“Yes and no. No, in the sense that I’m painfully shy. Yes, in the sense that I like meeting you,” I said, trying to summon up a smile. She grinned at me; her knowing look suggesting that despite my hesitancy in speaking she wanted to give me some encouragement. We sat in silence for a few moments while she looked around the room. 
“Everybody seems to have gone, leaving dirty plates and glasses all over the place. How about helping me to wash up?” 
“Yes, okay,” I said. 
“Do you want to wash or dry?” 
“I prefer to wash, if you don’t mind.” 
“I’ll collect up all the crockery while you fill the sink with hot water,” she suggested, rising from her seat and seizing hold of a trolley that stood nearby. She began filling it with a pile of dirty plates. I went to the sink and ran the hot water. When it started to run hot I put the plug in, found some washing up liquid and started on the dishes as Carolyn handed them to me. I must admit I was rather slow in executing my simple task and even then I didn’t manage it very well. 
“That’s not clean!” she said, slipping an item into the sink once more for me to try again. 
“How’s that?” I asked, after I had scrubbed it clean, or what I thought was clean once more. 
“It’ll do,” she breezily, “but you’re not very domesticated are you?” 
“No, I’m not at all domesticated,” I replied. 
“I suppose you have everything done for you at home?” she queried. 
“Yes, your supposition is quite correct. I wasn’t brought up to do domestic chores.” 
“Well, it’s a good time to learn,” she said, putting another dish back into the sink, “and I think it’s time we changed the water, don’t you?” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Pull the plug out; let the dirty water drain away and then start again with fresh, clean, hot water.” I did as I was bidden and we recommenced the washing up. 
“What are you going to be doing this afternoon?” I asked, for want of anything else to say. 
“Oh, I have the afternoon off. I’m going up west to buy a new dress. What are you going to be doing?” she asked in imitation of my question. 
“I have some reading to get done and an essay to write,” I replied, rather lamely. I would have liked to have gone to the west end with her but I knew I would be useless in her company while she tried on different dresses. 
“Perhaps we’ll meet later,” she said, “I’m here for an evening meal at about six o’clock.” 
“Yes… good. I’m here too,” I said, relieved to know that this was not the parting of the ways. There was a good chance of my seeing her again. 
 
Later in the day, at about six o’clock, I caught sight of her at the evening meal. She was at a table with other people; I realised I wasn’t going to get the chance to sit next to her or anywhere near her. She did look up and smile at me, which encouraged me to try my hardest to overcome my shyness and speak to her. I sat down at a table and became involved in a conversation with another young man like me. I tried to sound reasonably intelligent and articulate, whilst at the same time struggling to think how I could be with Carolyn. After much agonising I decided on a plan of action. I rose from my seat, walked over to where Carolyn was sitting and then hesitated. Fear gripped me. I felt the familiar butterflies in my stomach and nearly walked on past her. But I didn’t. I stopped and leaned over towards her.  
“Hello again,” I said to her in a whisper, hoping no-one else could overhear, “did you get the dress you wanted?” 
“Yes, it’s really lovely… I’m so pleased with it.” 
The butterflies stopped fluttering and the fear began to drain away. I took a deep breath and then said quickly, “Would you like to come to my room for coffee after eating?” 
 
Carolyn looked at me with an engaging smile. Would she say yes or no? I waited for her answer. “I could come in my new dress,” she suggested. “It’s an A-line, v-neck woven satin cocktail dress,” she went on, “but I don’t suppose you know anything about dresses.” 
“No, nothing, but I’d like to see you in it.” 
“Okay.” 
I gave her my room number and an indication of how to reach it in that complicated building and told her I was looking forward to seeing her. 
 
About half an hour later, there was a gentle tapping on my bedroom door and on opening it, the sight of Carolyn in her new dress. 
“You look gorgeous!” I said as she came into the room.  
 
She stood before me as I sat on the bed and pirouetted gracefully in front of me. The low cut, little black cocktail dress showed off her magnificent figure, with her full rounded breasts, flat stomach and shapely legs, plunging into high-heeled shoes.  
“You like it then?”  
“You bet,” I said, enthusiastically, trying to sound casual at the same time, “please come and sit down here.” I patted a space on the bed next to me. She took off her shoes and sat down as I got up to make us some coffee. 
“How do you like it?” 
“Black with no sugar,” she replied, pushing her straight, dark hair over her shoulders.  
 
I organised the coffee mugs on a ramshackle table in front of us and sat down beside her. We sipped coffee in silence for several moments. She put her mug down on the little table and I followed suit. She held my hand, looked into my eyes, puckered her lips and then kissed me lightly on the lips. I returned the kiss and put my arm round her back. She turned more fully towards me and our mouths met in an intense lover’s kiss. She pushed her tongue into my mouth and I reciprocated. I was simply following her lead, copying everything she did. We clung to each other, enjoying the taste of coffee kissing for the next few minutes. I looked down at her cleavage and moved to put my hand on her heaving bosom, but I hesitated and the moment was lost. 
 
 
“Wait a minute,” she said very softly, in a rather husky voice, “I need the bathroom.” 
“It’s down the corridor to the right.” Carolyn got up, put her shoes on, picked up her handbag and made for the door. I heard her footsteps as she walked down the passage and out of earshot. Had I done something to upset her? She had not left anything of her own behind. Would she come back? Would I see her again? I did not know the answer to any of these questions. Lying on the bed I turned them over rapidly in my mind. I could not come up with anything sensible. If she had wanted to leave surely she would have said so earlier, wouldn’t she? Or would she? I didn’t know. If she had felt unwell, she would have said so, wouldn’t she? Or would she? Again, I didn’t know. Why had she put her shoes on again if she were going to return? And why had she taken her handbag with her? For tissues, hairspray or something? The more I thought about it the more uneasy I became. I lay there motionless, wondering. 
 
Eventually I heard the door open and Carolyn’s voice from across the bedroom. “I took my shoes off coming back. They make such a clatter in that passageway, on the hard wooden floor.” She put her bag on a nearby chair and came towards me as I lay on the bed, trying to conceal my intense sense of relief that she had returned to me. I supported my chin with my hand, as my arm rested on my elbow: I looked at her with a rising sense of passionate desire. (to be continued) 
 
Carolyn quickly and skilfully, unfastened the dress, slipped her arms out of the sleeves, allowing it to fall gracefully to the floor. She stooped to pick it up, carefully folded it and laid it on the chair, with her handbag. She sat down on the bed, looking away from me. She slowly turned towards me and smiled. I took her by the hand, lifting it up to my mouth where I kissed her fingers.  
 
I watched her sitting naked, except for her black bra, her breasts rising and falling.  
“I can remove this?” I asked, as I reached behind her to unfasten her bra strap. 
“Yes, please do.” 
The garment fell away from her. I threw it towards the chair but it missed and lay strewn across the floor. She instantly picked it up and placed it on the chair with the other things. A tidy-minded girl, I thought. 
 
As she moved towards the bed once more she started to fondle her breasts, supporting them in both hands. She rested her knees against the mattress and leaned over to offer them to me. I touched one gently with my free hand. I carefully stroked her breasts and began to play with her nipples; then I stroked her flank, her belly and felt the curves of her body.  
 
I lay back as she began to climb on top of me on the bed, straddling me across my stomach, arching over my face, lowering her left breast down to my mouth.  
“Kiss them both hard, please, one at a time,” she asked. I gingerly did as she asked, repeating the process with the other organ of pleasure. She then sat upright as if to command my attention. I needed no command. I was ready to obey whatever order she gave in this intoxicating encounter. 
“What would you like me to do now?” I asked.  
“I want you to tongue each nipple. Make a circular motion with your tongue. Get it on the areola, please.”  
“What’s that, the areola, I mean?” 
“The dark area of skin around my nipples…that’s it… now keep going. It should be quite hard by now. Now suck hard, so they become quite firm and erect. Take as much into your mouth as you can.” 
(to be continued) 
 
 
 
 
 
 Publication Date: May 6th 2012 https://www.bookrix.com/-melanieplayful.pen