Chapter 4
Sugar found Yale waiting for her in his MG about halfway down the block from the apartment house, where he said he'd be. She couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement when she saw him get out of the car and come forward to meet her with a corsage of red roses.
He took hold of her shoulders, appraised her a moment with a slight frown, then gave her a polite kiss. It was the first time that Sugar could ever remember that she wouldn't have minded if he had put his arms around her and given her a real kiss. Instead, he took her arm and helped her into the car. Then he slid in beside her and got the car rolling, heading eastward along Wilshire Boulevard.
They talked in generalities as they drove through the canyon of high-rise apartments that flanked the busy thoroughfare. Mainly they discussed how he liked the eastern college he had been attending, to which he would be returning in the fall. This would be his last year playing football with the varsity, he told Sugar, and hoped that he'd be picked up by the pros, even though his father was looking forward to him coming back to L. A. and joining him in the business after graduation.
It wasn't until they had passed the Los Angeles Country Club that sprawled away on both sides of the boulevard that Sugar glanced out through the side window. She saw that instead of turning south in the direction of the frat house, where the dance was being held, across from the high school, Yale made a left into Santa Monica Boulevard with its mile or more of colorful, tree-lined gardens.
"Where are we going?" Sugar asked, more with curiosity than alarm.
"I'd like to stop off at the boutique for a few minutes. Mind?" he asked.
"Of course not," she replied agreeably. She figured he probably had some business to attend to for his father at the shop. Besides, it didn't really matter to her one way or the other how soon they got to the dance. The important thing was, she was with him. Which might not hold true once they got to the dance. Not with all the pretty girls who would be there.
Girls from his own set, from affluent families. Girls who probably not only spent most of the afternoon in beauty shops, preparing for tonight, but who wouldn't be wearing budget dresses that came off the rack from a discount house. They'd have on gowns that came from some of Beverly Hills' and Westwood's better shops, maybe even from the De Moiselle Boutique. Gowns they wouldn't have to wear again for tomorrow night's graduation dance.
Another reason why Sugar was in no big rush to get to the dance was because Julie Ordway would be there. Julie was Yale's sister, the same age as Sugar. They were both in the same class at high school and both would graduate tomorrow night. But that was the sum total of what the two girls had in common.
Besides being a pom-pom girl and a member of one of the most exclusive sororities on campus, Julie had her own clique, made up of girls from families in the same social sphere as her own. Anyone like Sugar, who wasn't in this select group, was looked down upon, ignored as if they didn't even exist. In fact, if it hadn't been for Sugar's father being mixed up in local politics when she started going to high school, she wouldn't even be attending there now.
Sugar was well aware that when Yale walked into the frat house with her on his arm, his sister would be sure to blow her pretty blonde top. Sugar was not exactly looking forward to the kind of a scene she was sure Julie would make, even though being with Yale might be worth it.
Yale made a right turn at Beverly Drive, a few blocks further on, made a couple more sharp turns and finally brought the car to a halt in the narrow alley that ran behind his father's boutique. Except for a dim nightlight over the big metal rear door, the alley was dark. Yale killed the ignition and the lights, then turned to Sugar on the front seat and asked, "You ever been inside the boutique?"
She looked at him archly in the semidarkness. "You've got to be kidding. The closest I ever got to it was standing on the sidewalk and peeking inside when the door was opened for some preferred customer."
He smiled. "Like a personally conducted tour?"
She could feel her heart begin to beat excitedly. "But the shop is closed."
"One advantage of being the owner's son, I have a key that'll open it up," he told her.
Sugar waited, expecting him to get out of the car and show her to the back door. Instead, she was surprised when his right arm snaked around the back of the seat behind her and he pulled her close to him.
She began to feel a flutter of excitement as she saw his face drawing closer to her own. The next moment he was kissing her, holding her tight in his arms as he coaxed apart her lips so that his tongue might explore her mouth.
Other boys had tried to kiss her that way, make her accept their tongue. But she had always fought against it, discouraged it, refusing to allow herself to become aroused. But now she welcomed the hot moisture of Yale's mouth and tongue, daring to touch it with her own tongue as she felt her loins grow warm with a slow and suffusing pleasure.
His hand touched her quivering breasts, and she made a token gesture to push it away. But it was obvious he was not going to be so easily discouraged. He cupped and massaged her tits, fingering the hardened points so clearly outlined through the flimsy material of her dress and bra, until her whole body began to tingle. Under his accomplished artistry, she could feel her pussy growing wet, soiling those nice new panties she would have to wear again tomorrow night at graduation.
He looked down at her. "Anybody ever tell you, you're very lovely and have a beautiful body?" he murmured. Then before she could answer he kissed her again.
Her arms went up and around him instinctively, fingers stroking the curly blond hair that he wore long in back, as he continued to jiggle her breasts, testing and arousing them until she thought they were going to burst. The force of his kiss increased, drawing her deeper and deeper under its spell. She did not feel his hand at her thighs until it was too late to clench them together protectively. She closed her eyes and moaned, her tongue brazenly slithering into his mouth as his fingertips made the first delicate caress on her gossamer panties.
It was the first time anyone had ever touched her down there, and she could feel the finesse of his contact rapidly draining her of her strength. She writhed and struggled and finally managed to find the strength to push his hand from between her legs and move away from him across the front seat.
She was afraid. It was the very first time in her life she had ever allowed herself to completely lose control of her emotions. The first time she had even come close to doing the one thing she had fought against for seventeen years.
Could this be the reason he had asked her to go to the dance with him, then brought her here instead? Had he listened to all those sordid tales about her mother and figured she'd be a pushover, too? If so, he was mistaken. As pleasant as going all the way with him might be, she was not about to give into him all that easily. For seventeen years she had promised herself that she would save herself for the right man. Even though she might have nursed along a crush for him for three long years, she was determined not to let it happen like this. He was going to have to promise a great deal more than a mere tour of his father's boutique for her to surrender to him.
One thing Sugar had never done was lie to herself. Even though, so far in her lifetime, she had never allowed herself to test the full extent of her passion, she knew it was there, seething just below the surface, knew how frighteningly intense it might be. As long as she could control it, she would be safe. But once she let herself go all the way, there would be no turning back. It was in her blood, inborn to be that way. Only her will power and her promise not to fall into the kind of life her mother had lived, but to work and study and make something of herself, had given her the strength to hold out this long.
"Shall. . . shall we go?" Sugar managed to get out with great effort.
He didn't press the issue. He just smiled faintly, moved away from her and opened the car door. They got out and walked through the dimly lighted alley to the rear door of the boutique. He opened it with his key, and they stepped into the darkness of the dress shop.
Yale waited until he had locked the door and made sure the blinds were closed, then he turned on the lights and led her through the shop. For her, as she walked beside him, it was like being in another world. Everything she had ever imagined about the place, was true-only much more wonderful!
It was a veritable fashion wonderland, where everything that any woman could possibly want was on display-from lingerie to footwear to accessories-every article of the very best quality. But it was the designer gowns and dresses and coats that took away Sugar's breath. On mannequins throughout the store were originals from every fashion center around the world.
Sugar would halt here and there before a model to stare in open-mouthed amazement at the fabulous gowns and ensembles they wore. Costly silks and satins and lames. It was beyond her comprehension how any woman possibly could have money enough to buy them, how any woman could fail to look anything but beautiful wearing them.
By his expression, Yale was more than pleased with her reaction. Obviously, her enthusiasm fit in very nicely with his plans for the remainder of the evening.
"There's a gown over here that I'd like you to try on," he said finally.
Sugar looked at him incredulously. "For real?"
"For real," he assured. Then he took her hand and led her to the bridal section. Here he showed her a white silk organza over silk taffeta with a lacy, see-through bodice and lantern sleeves. Sugar believed that it was the most beautiful creation she had ever seen.
"I'd like you to model it," Yale said. "It should be just your size."
"But it's a wedding gown," Sugar declared.
"That's right. I'd like to see how you look in it, wouldn't you?"
Sugar couldn't imagine why he would want to see her in a wedding gown. But she didn't offer any arguments. She was far too excited with the chance just to wear such a magnificent gown, even if only for a few seconds.
After draping the gown carefully over her arm, Yale hurried to get the accessories she'd need to go with it-white lace panties, a luxurious white satin garter belt with six garters, super-sheer opera-length hose and a pair of white spiked heels nearly five inches high. She asked him about a bra, but he told her that wearing a bra with a gown like this would be almost sacrilegious. Then he showed her into one of the dressing rooms.
Sugar had tried on dresses before in department stores and shops where all the dressing rooms had been either cramped cubicles or communal places that looked like barren barns. Not so the dressing rooms at De Moiselle Boutique.
Lavish wasn't the word for them. They were spacious rooms, each one decorously designed and handsomely furnished with dressing table, bench, mirrored walls, full-length, luxurious divan, soft, indirect lighting and everything that milady might need in the way of costly cosmetics and perfumes, of which the boutique carried a full line.
Yale helped her put the gown on a hanger; slippers, hosiery and lingerie she was going to put on a chair. But he made no attempt to leave.
"Well?" he asked after a few moments as he sat on the edge of the divan, looking at her exquisitely shaped legs and bountiful breasts accentuated by the snug bodice of her white pique dress.
She frowned. "You mean-change in front of you?"
He laughed affectedly. "Look, I was born and brought up in this business. I've watched women dress and undress since I was a kid. Old women, young women, fat ones, skinny ones. You name 'em, I've seen 'em. So you've got nothing to be afraid of."
It was strange, but for some unexplainable reason Sugar actually wasn't afraid of him. Shy, embarrassed maybe, but definitely not afraid.
She couldn't help but wonder if it was because she wanted so much to try on the gown, to have him as well as herself see how she looked in such a beautiful creation, that it chased all thought of fear from her mind. Or could it be that he had so many of the qualities that she had looked for in a man and that she had wanted to be alone with him, like this, for such a long time?
Suddenly, to her utter amazement, she found herself almost hoping that he would be the first to possess her, that he would be the one she would remember for the rest of her life-even though she knew full well that nothing could ever come of it, knew that his parents would never allow him to have any serious thoughts about a girl like her. Especially his mother, who walked around as if she had the prow of the Mayflower stuck up her bony ass.
"Well, how about it?" Yale wanted to know with gathering impatience as he continued to sit on the edge of the divan. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to put everything back without you even trying them on?"
She looked at him beseechingly. "Please don't. It's just that... well... I've never undressed in front of a man before. Maybe the next time-if there is a next time-I'll feel differently. But for right now-please let me change in here, alone."
He held her gaze for a long moment. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. But finally he got up from the divan and started toward the door. "Call me when you're ready," he said to her over his shoulder.
"Yale," she called after him; then, as he halted and turned to face her, she hurried to him. Her tummy bubbling with appreciation, she threw her arms around his neck and, reaching up on tiptoes, put her parted lips to his. "Thanks," she whispered against his open mouth as with her belly pressed to his, she felt his cock rise and stiffen out.
Strangely, she made no attempt to back away from him, or show in any way that she was shocked or offended by this blatant display of his emotions. In fact, she was surprised that for the first time in her life, she rather liked the feel of his throbbing hard-on through the material of his trousers and her thin dress. She could feel her pussy tingling and growing moist again. She didn't dare let herself get any more excited. She pulled back from him and let him go.
The moment she was alone, Sugar slid down the zipper at the back of her dress, worked it down over her hips and let it slide to the floor. She glanced at herself in the mirrors-at her jutting breasts all but overflowing her too-small, flesh-colored bra, at the shadow of her abundance of silky brown pubic hair through the sheen of her panties.
Reaching up behind, Sugar unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms to the bench in front of the dressing table. She eyed her titties. Certainly they were big enough. Round and full and creamy white except for some faint red marks from the too-tight bra. Next she peeled off her panties, embarrassed to find how drenched they were with her juices. She placed the bra and panties with the rest of her things atop the bench, then she took another moment to pose nakedly before the battery of mirrored walls that surrounded her. She could see herself from every angle-blossoming young womanhood at its loveliest. But this was no time for an evaluation of her anatomy. Yale was waiting, and she certainly wouldn't want him to come in and see her like this.
First, she put on the white satin garter belt that Yale had selected for her. Then she fitted the sheer-sheer, full-fashioned hose to her long, superbly rounded legs and fastened the six garters to them. Next, she toed into the spike-heeled slippers, then paused for still another glimpse at herself in the bank of mirrors. The whiteness of her garter belt and the paleness of her naked flesh made her luxurious brown muff stand out in contrast. She had to admit that with her long, brown hair falling in a soft swirl over her left shoulder, almost hiding her left tit, she had never seen herself look more bewitchingly sexy.