It surprisedeven me, who to then had never contemplated dressing or acting as a girlor acting as anything or any body else in the school play for thatmatter, to say nothing of the surprise to my family and friends or tothe rest of the school - pupils and staff. Even more surprising to allof us was my modest but undoubted success in the role, particularly inthe scene where, as David's mother, I had to submit to his being beaten[off stage] by his step father; then, as Dora, on my deathbed where Ihad to bid goodbye to my husband, and assign David's future happiness toAgnes Wickfield.Both Clara and Dora, of course, dressed in pretty Victorian femininity,complete with 'poke' bonnets and - at the drama mistresses insistence'to ensure authenticity' and to ensure that I and the rest of the boysshe'd dragooned into taking the other female characters could 'reallyenter into the roles' - fancy lace trimmed linen underwear. Outdated andold fashioned though the clothes were, my assumption of them. ...." No Lance, we can't...I can't," she said stepping back, her hands coming up to cross over her breasts, as though only then realizing she was standing there with them exposed in front of me. "It's wrong...it wouldn't be right, no matter how much I might..." Want to?" I pressed once again stepping forward, though I merely put my hands around her waist without touching her intimately, though even that contact was intimate enough. I leaned forward, my eyes on hers as I did, until our lips touched, her eyes as well as mine only then closing. Our kiss was unlike any before. Her mouth opened, accepting my tongue as I soon after felt hers entering mine where they proceeded to dance against one another. I felt her hands drop away from her breasts, now pressing against me, the twin hard points of each nipple searing my skin, my chest.We continued to kiss, our mouths now hard pressed, our tongues fencing deliriously, and then came the touch of her hand. I felt it worm its way down into my.
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