Dear DOMAI
Way back in the old old days (1966 if you must know), life was more primitive. We didn't tweet, we didn't have cellphones with 8 megapixel cameras embedded, computers were a far~off (but rapidly approaching!) dream, and there was something we now laughingly refer to as "privacy." What happened in Vegas really did stay in Vegas.
The school year had ended and all the students and most of the staff of my very small school had all dispersed for the summer. The campus, if you will, was an estate that had been donated by a very rich associate of the school, on Long Island, 45 miles from New York City, but even for that proximity, it was in the woods, fairly dense woods, with some open fields and at the head of the field, at the top of a looping driveway, stood the Mansion. Although we mockingly referred to it as such, it housed the administrative offices of the school, as well as a few classrooms and storage facilities. In truth, it was a mansion, twenty~plus rooms, several large rooms that were used for conferences, assemblies, festivities such as graduation and The Ball, a huge party for the graduates and their celebrants.
I lived nearby, 20 miles away, and I needed a transcript to send on to a prospective employer for my summer job. Although it was late in the day, I had decided that I needed to get the transcript ASAP so I arrived at the campus around 4:45, hoping that at least one secretary would be able to fulfill my request. I drove up the long driveway and saw that there were two cars in the parking area below The Mansion. I parked and ascended the stone stairway leading to the large porch with its four grand pillars. There was no need to knock, so I walked in and headed for the admin offices. The place seemed deserted~it certainly was silent.
No one in the offices, I soon found out, nor in the kitchen, the storage rooms, the ballroom, no one whatsoever. I went outside and looked around. It all seemed deserted. I went back inside and who should I meet but Shelley, a classmate. She had a vaguely defined reason for being back, I never quite did get why she was there, but I wasn't concerned. Shelley was one of the more interesting students in our small class, someone with an odd and always interesting way of looking at events, at the world. Good for a laugh, good for an adventure, good for unusual ideas. And certainly a vacation for my eyes. She said that Jay, a Puerto Rican part~time student who worked for the school as part payment for his tuition, was around somewhere but that other than Jay, there was no one around. So my trip was wasted, or so I thought.
The day was warm, the light was filtered through the trees creating lovely shade~and~sun patterns on the lawns and paths. Early summer meant that there would be light late, and the sky was cloudless. As I was thinking of leaving, Shelley suggested a walk in the lovely evening. My plans for the evening didn't exist, and I couldn't resist her invitation. She was lovely, fun to talk to and the day was sweet. I had nothing but time. She led the way down the path towards the garden, several hundred yards away.
The garden was fenced, deer~proof. There were grapevines on the wire fence, their leaves and clusters creating the effect of an outdoor room in which there were all sorts of ripe~and~ripening fruits and vegetables. Strawberries, peas, beans, tomatoes, blackberries, raspberries, and of course grapes. And then there were flowers of many kinds, beautiful and lush. I followed Shelley along the path and when we got about 30 feet from the garden entrance, she stopped, turned towards me and looked me squarely in the eye. She began unbuttoning her dress, a light summery thing with a V~neck, a top button over her breastbone and a short~ish skirt, one piece. As she unbuttoned, she continued looking at me. Her dress, small as it was, made a little pile at her feet and she stepped away from it, clad only in a skimpy brassiere and panties. I could was aware through the sheerness of the panties a dark bush covering her Mons. She pulled down the panties, her eyes locked on mine, preventing me from looking down at what she was exposing. She was wearing nothing but a bra and a sweet, mischievous smile. Then she reached around behind and unhooked. Her arms slid out through the straps and she was naked before me, and she posed gracefully, still smiling, but inviting me to look. She turned and walked through the garden gate, her clothes remaining on the ground, her ass and legs slightly jiggling as she walked to the gate, opened it, stepped through and held the door for me.
I was unsure of what was being offered here, but I was certainly up for it, at whatever level.
"Hungry?" she asked. And she began picking strawberries, a few grapes, some pea pods. I watched with wonder and curiosity as she moved, I watched her bend and reach, saw her body change shape as she moved, her breasts moving as she reached or offered me what she picked. All the while, she was naked, and yet she was also hiding, in an odd way, behind an impish twinkling smile that seemed to say, "just appreciate this gift you're getting~don't get greedy." So I followed that feeling, and we simply ate berries, shared the good ones, spat out the bad bits or the stem bits, and enjoyed our moments. She could see my eyes move from hers down her body, to the curves of her breasts, the nip of her waist, to her pubic triangle (in those days, women had HAIR!), and she simply smiled at me, enjoying herself the enjoyment she knew she was giving me. It was an exercise for me to look freely and not furtively~Shelley wanted me to look at her, she was enjoying exhibiting herself as much as I enjoyed the exhibition, what a perfect balance!
After a bit, she came close to me, said, "Time to go," gave me a full body hug with a big smack of her lips on my cheek and walked determinedly out the gate and back to the open space. She bent away from me to pick up her clothes (giving me a wonderful view of her intimate parts and her curvaceous form in the process) which she did not put on, but reached out her hand to me. I was speechless, had no idea what to say as we walked, so I simply enjoyed myself. As we reached the last set of bushes before the bottom of the loop of the driveway, she stopped and put on her 3 items of clothing.
Shelley, thank you for a wonderful memory. It's lasted for many years, such a small but meaningful gift. If you're reading this, remember FWC and that light blue rayon dress.
