Melissa picked a fresh, ice-cold bottle of beer from the beer chest, which rested on a little table placed to her side. She opened it.
"Yes," he replied. As he watched Melissa, he was growing more conscious of his reaction to her luscious body, to the often mischievous look in her bright eyes. She spoke in a refined accent, a mixture of British and American. Hers was the conversational tone one associates with sophistication rather than snobbery.
Sometimes her eyes seemed to be burning. Other times her lids would flutter coolly and coquettishly like a young girl's. Sometimes — like now — her shadowed face was stunningly beautiful.
When dinner was finished, she said, "We'll leave the dishes for Nellie." She paused for a moment, wondering if she dared ask him. Then she decided to take the plunge.
"What do you say to having a little chat, perhaps a nightcap up in my sitting room? You've not seen it yet, Steve. It's very cozy. It overlooks the sea, a most pleasant view."
"Okay, but I am getting sleepy."
Melissa could not tell if he was really tired, but she didn't want to argue either.
"Fine, Steve," she smiled. "When you feel you want to leave, just say the word."
Following her through the chateau, he grew increasingly conscious of her seductive walk. The delightful sway of her buttocks outlined under the clinging robe. Her high heels click-clacked on the highly polished wooden floors, which led to the staircase and on to the upstairs regions of the great house.
He had a wonderful view of her jiggling breasts as she turned to climb the stairs. He knew they were naked beneath the robe. This excited him; he felt his prick leap inside his pajamas.
As he climbed the wide, plushly carpeted staircase behind her, he admired her trim ankles and naked heels. God, he said to himself, what marvelously small feet she has and what excellent care she takes of them.
When they'd climbed two and one-half flights, she turned. "It's just a little further, Steve."
"That's okay," he replied. They were both a bit out of breath. "You should have an elevator," he teased.
"I know," she laughed, "but we've never been able to get one. We've had all kinds of mechanics and designers, and even an engineer, in to look over the idea. None of them came up with anything sensible."
At last they reached the floor that held her sitting quarters. Steve was truly out of breath now. They'd climbed four very steep flights of stairs.
"In another minute we'd be in heaven, huh?" he joked.
She laughed. "It seems like that, doesn't it, darling?"
She caught herself. This was her second use of the tender word and it was as spontaneous as her first use of it had been.
The room was as pleasant as she'd said. The view of the Mediterranean was exquisite. Boats with their lights bobbed far out from shore. He could see what looked like an island far off. He could also see the grounds of the chateau, where a light illuminated the woods here and there. The sprawling lawns and twisting pathways, flowerbeds and the houses to the rear of the chateau were impressive, even in the dark.
He sat on a sofa next to the huge picture window. This place was very comfortable indeed.
"How about some special wine for our little nightcap, Steve?"
"Sounds okay to me."
"It's very special. A gift of a very dear friend. It's ages old, too."
Steve watched Melissa as she opened the bottle of old wine with the skill of a Parisian cafe waiter. She poured two goblets full.
"Well, here's to your happiness, Steve," she smiled, raising her glass in a toast.
"Thank you," he replied politely, raising his own. He sipped from it and smiled at the pleasant taste.
"It is good, isn't it?"
"Yes," he agreed, sitting back, and crossing his legs.
Melissa also sat back, and when she crossed her legs, her robe parted. The soft light from the large picture window gave Steve another wonderful view of her beauty.
From the ankles up, both of her legs were bare to mid-thigh. In the light, they looked startlingly white and sexy.
Melissa smiled, "Well, when you have something nice, you're proud of it, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Steve, "and Melissa," he added, taking his time because he felt his heart beginning to pound, his breath growing short at the sight of her white, silky skin, "your legs are very beautiful. Very sexy."
She caught her breath. "Would you like to see more of them, Steve?" She felt a shudder pass through her body. She shivered, waiting for his reply.
"Yes."
Putting down her glass, she shifted her position to lift up her robe. Now she was naked to the waist. Steve could easily see her hairy crotch, and the insides of her thighs, where her flesh looked unimaginably soft and tender. Melissa spread her legs slightly, slowly. Steve gasped. He could see her pussy-lips!
"So beautiful," he sighed.
"You can touch them, you know. Don't be shy," she smiled. She took his hand, guiding it to her leg. "I love to be touched, Steve."
"I can tell."
"You can touch me anywhere you want to, my little darling," she said, her voice low and soft.
"Anywhere.?" His heart was thundering, his hand shaking.
"Yes, oh, yes, Steve, anywhere." She could feel her cunt heating up. She knew it was growing wetter and wetter. Her breasts were stinging, her nipples burning against the fabric of her robe. His hand glided tentatively between her thighs, cupping her hairy cunt. She almost cried out in wild ecstasy.
As his fingers combed her soft, fine pubic hair, she leaned forward. She took his face in her hands, and caressed his cheeks, then put one hand behind his head. "You can kiss my legs, if you want, Steve. I'd just love that, darling. I would."
Steve followed the lead of her hands, offering little resistance. The aroma of her hot cunt was intoxicating.
"Why don't you get down on your knees, Steve?"
"Oh God," he murmured.
"Go on. Get down and kiss my legs. Begin with my toes, if you want."
"Oh, I want to," he cried, slipping to his knees, bending to brush his moist lips over her toes, which wiggled in the tiny leather straps of her tall spike-heeled sandals.
"Kiss my toes, darling. Yes, kiss them… oh, my darling Steve, lick them just like… oh, yes, just like that."
This was his first time with a woman. He licked her toes, each one, then sucked them. He moved his mouth to her instep and kissed it gently before licking her delicate ankle. Her flesh tasted sweet. He worked his mouth up her leg slowly, and as he reached her thigh, he felt her toes playing in his lap, moving across his hard cock. He went weak, almost dropping her leg, but he held on. The sensations brought on by her foot on his cock were maddening. He lowered his head again.
He kissed her inner thighs, where her flesh was not covered by the stockings. He licked under the uppermost edge of the stockings, feeling the scratching fabric against his tongue, and then the soothing softness of her flesh. He licked further upwards, lightly darting his tongue over the closed outer folds of her cunt, which seemed to open to his touch.
Then he fervently kissed this wet surface, all around the edges, the center, the very top of it, and down, where it ran into her behind. She arched her back on the sofa, moaning her utter approval. He began to lick her then, to dart his tongue quickly inside of her. He took her folds between his lips and pressed them here. He did not know that at the apex of her folds lay her clitoris. It was between his lips and, as he pressed there, she squirmed and moaned louder still.
"Yes, yes, Steve, that's it, that's it," she said. He rubbed his lips, which held her folds and the center of her sex, together. He took them wholly into his mouth and sucked on them lightly. He chewed them with his lips and licked them with his tongue. Then, for some reason, he lost confidence and withdrew his mouth altogether from her cunt. She looked at him, startled.