Lionel and Elise lose their virginities
Author's notes:
1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.
2. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.
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There are some women who men find intimidating. Elise was one of those; tall, lissom, her low-cut, almost but not quite transparent bodice almost but not quite revealing her upper body charms devoid of any visible means of support, her waist-length mane of blond hair blowing in the wind in much the same way her full, long skirt was, the many slits to her waist revealing a pair of beautifully tanned legs that seemed to reach almost to her navel. She could, and did, intimidate most men at fifty paces, leaving them staring, gibbering wrecks as their over-vivid imaginations conjured up the delights that might have been, could have been, should have been but were not - yet. More than one husband felt the sharp elbow of his wife dig him in the ribs as he turned to stare at this goddess.
"Damned whore," some wives would mutter, "Such women have no morals or sense of decency." It is certain that their respective husbands certainly weren't staring at Elise to detect either of those dubious assets.
Elise herself was totally unconcerned about the furore she caused among married couples. She enjoyed being her, enjoyed the freedom she felt wearing the free-flowing and partially revealing clothes she chose, enjoyed the freedom to be beholden to nobody, being able to make her own choices, to do as she wished and to be accountable only to herself. However, she had a secret, actually, more than one.
Her first secret was that she had inherited a fortune from a wealthy grandparent and this was managed by a firm of accountants appointed for that purpose by said grandparent, meaning that she received a very generous income without having the need to work. This, she realized, greatly enhanced her freedom to do as she pleased, allowing her to take several overseas trips each year as well as live the life she chose.
Her second secret was that she was desperately lonely. She felt she epitomized the poor little rich girl stereotype. She was fully aware that her freedom and careless demeanor tended to drive men away, but she was unwilling to change this, to become more dependent, to appear more helpless, just to attract a male. If men wished, they could take her as they found her, warts and all, but she had not found a male who was sufficiently assertive or confident in himself to enable him to approach and overcome the hidden defences of the ice maiden.
Her third secret was the closest guarded and, to her mind, the most devastating secret she had or could have had; she was a virgin! Deep inside, she was ashamed, horrified and completely embarrassed by the fact that at 25 she had never known the feeling of sexual intercourse. Sure, she pleasured herself occasionally, usually when she was bored and lying alone in her large comfortable bed feeling sorry for herself, but she believed that the momentary pleasure she felt on those rare occasions was a very pale imitation of the pleasure that was waiting in store for her with a real, live, willing, sexy boyfriend who had the persistence and ability to penetrate her defences and her body.
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Lionel sat under the beach umbrella and watched the lissom picture of female sexiness pick her way through the soft sand above the high tide mark. The gentle breeze blew her skirts every which way, offering tempting, sensual, tantalizing glimpses of her beautifully tanned ankles, calves and, occasionally, her thighs, hips and other sights which most ladies preferred to keep covered in public. It was obvious from these glimpses that she was naked beneath her skirt, and the equally tantalizing outlines of her breasts through her semi-transparent tops simply served to confirm this conclusion.
Already Lionel had delayed his departure as he tried to find out more about this secretive, alluring goddess. He had surreptitiously followed her to her hotel and even entered the foyer to watch the numbers increase as her private elevator transported her to her penthouse suite. At night he dreamed of loving her, of the transports of delight they would share as they romped together in sexual ecstasy in her gigantic bed, of the fun they would have together swimming naked in the luxurious tepid pool of her suite, as portrayed on the hotel website.
He had watched her closely, but from afar, and had seen no male presence in her life, so if there was one he apparently did not leave the hotel. He briefly let his imagination run wild as he imagined him being chained up in her suite, his only duty being to service her rampant sexual desires, before he returned to reality and realized that scenario was highly unlikely. All he needed was the courage, the sheer audacity to simply sit next to her on the beach and start a conversation.
Twice he had vowed that today was the day; that he would stride purposefully up to her beach towel as she lay on the sand, her skirts split to expose her legs to the sun and sit beside her, introduce himself to her, begin a conversation. In his imagination he was kissing her within minutes, was invited back to her room and they spent the remainder of the day making mad passionate love together. Twice he had walked past her without stopping, then spent the remainder of each of those days mentally berating himself for being such a coward. What did he have to lose, he asked himself. Only his pride, his ego, his manliness. What did he have to gain? Heaven on earth!
Lionel awoke to a beautifully fine day, alone as usual. He pulled back the drapes, looked out the windows and made his silent vow. Today, he told himself, was the day when he was going to sit down beside this epitome of female perfection, would introduce himself, would talk easily and knowledgeably about whatever topic she wanted, would listen attentively and empathetically to whatever she said, and at the end, as they left the beach, the outcome would be unknown. That was the adventure.
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What a beautiful day, thought Elise as she pulled her curtains away from the glass doors that opened onto her secluded outdoor tepid pool. She opened the doors and walked through, gently lowering herself into the pool, feeling the warm water embracing her naked body and found herself wishing it was someone a little more substantial doing the embracing. She kicked away from the wall and swam the few strokes to the other side where the early morning sun shone on her directly. What to do today, she wondered. Where should she go to attract her lothario to her, what should she wear, what should she do to be most attractive to the male gender. She gave up. She had no siblings, had attended an all-girls school and really had no idea about how guys ticked. The only thing she had been warned about was that they would always take advantage of a girl, always wanted sex and that sex caused babies, and so she must be very careful to avoid boys at all costs. These beliefs, instilled by her mother when she was a young teen, reigned supreme and had influenced her behavior for all her teenage and adult life. She finally admitted she had absolutely no idea how to attract a male or what to do with him even if she did attract him. All she knew how to do well was to create an air of frigidity, which experience had told her worked repelled even the most persistent man.
She climbed out of the pool, stretching her lithe body as she allowed the sun to dry the water, then went into her room and rang the bell, knowing it would take exactly four minutes for her breakfast to arrive, plenty of time to don one of her many semi-transparent tops and pull on her favorite flowing split skirt. She ate breakfast when it arrived and then, taking her beach towel and a small bag of necessities, left her suite, riding the elevator to the ground floor before stepping out onto the sidewalk. She decided on the spur of the moment to walk the short distance to the local shopping center, which she did, browsing in shop windows distractedly before heading to the beach. She spread the towel and sat on it, gazing out to sea, imagining her true love arriving in a Viking longboat, picking her up and carrying her away with him. Unfortunately, the only marine craft approaching the shore were surfboards, with children and young adults riding them and paying no attention to the poor lonely girl on the beach.
"Hello, do you mind if I sit here?" asked a voice beside her.
Elise turned quickly, wondering who had broken through her aura of independence and resistance, then saw a handsome young man standing beside her towel. She looked up at him and detected an air of distinct nervousness. With a word she could send him on his way, a flea in his ear that would prevent him from approaching women on the beach any time soon. But she stopped and cut short the incisive words she was about to say. Could this be her Viking, she wondered.
"No, it's a free beach. Sit where you like."
It was hardly a welcome mat but Lionel was grateful not to have been sent packing, so he nervously sat on the sand beside her.
"I'm Lionel," he said, smiling what he hoped was a friendly and welcoming smile.
