Shy Guy's Awakening

He lay upon her bed, his slender face supported by one palm that cupped his chin. His other hand turned pages in a book. He’d come there to escape the downstairs’ din, for only in her room could he find peace. She’d said that he could read there on her bed and then collapsed to take her little nap. Next, all the others left to see their show. (he wondered why he’d not been asked to go, while she’d declined to go when asked at dinner). Now all alone with “Miss Sophisticate” was he, the one that they all called the “Shy Guy.” The silence of the empty house awoke her. Her breathing changed; he sensed her body shift. Her eyes stayed closed, but he could feel her inching much nearer to him; then the slightest nudge, and tingles down his thigh began to run. . . and still he felt compelled to turn each page though print beneath his eyes began to fade. He knew her eyes had opened to a gaze, two emeralds that almost seemed to blaze. He didn’t say a word, and then he heard: “Just what’s so interesting about that book?” He looked, and then she took him by surprise. She whispered, “Shy, why don’t you study me? Don’t tell me that you haven’t felt the vibes. We rarely get to meet, but when we do, I see you watching me. Now we’re alone!” Just how they came to kiss he can’t recall. Perhaps they’d talked a bit. He doesn’t know. He only can remember tender lips that whet his appetite for something more. A burning had begun, by her inspired, and how would he extinguish that sweet fire? For lost, he momentarily forgot. . . . He touched instinctively her budding breasts. She moved his hands away from them and said, “Shy, I think you know this can go nowhere.” He felt the flush of guilt she must have read, for then she added, “Please let’s not feel bad. Although I guess down south we could get married, it’s best we second cousins just be kissin’!”