Polly (24 page)

‘Cute,' he said, bending low to nuzzle her broderie anglaise bra.

‘My neck,' she remonstrated, wanting Chip to fix it immediately so she could enjoy what was currently physiologically painful but psychologically tantalizing.

‘Lie back,' she was told. Chip rested her head in his hands and moved his fingers in a gentle rhythm at the base of her skull.

‘You might hear a snap,' he warned while a sickening, hollow crack rang out before Polly had a chance to panic.

‘Wow,' she said, sitting bolt upright, her adrenalin pumping. She rolled her head very carefully and bestowed upon Chip a smile of immense gratitude and prodigious proportions. ‘Let me see your hands,' she implored, sitting sideways on the table, her legs over the edge. Chip held out his palms for her to inspect. She scrutinized them closely and then kissed each in turn, accompanied by a titillating dab of her tongue tip. ‘Healing hands,' she proclaimed, looking up at Chip, ‘golden touch.' She held his wrists and brought his hands to her breasts, holding them against herself though she could feel that Chip needed no assistance.

‘Polly,' he said throatily, ‘man, I could lay you down and make love to you right now.'

‘I can see that,' said Polly extremely sweetly, eyeing desirously the poking protuberance in his tracksuit bottoms. She gave an inviting heave of her breasts and licked her lips enticingly.

‘But,' said Chip, with much clearing of his throat, ‘there's the question of your inner thigh.' He peeled down her salopettes and ran his index finger along the waistband of her matching broderie anglaise knickers, pressing his little finger into her bellybutton. He whistled very low and very slowly. ‘Man, I'm gonna have to send you to Nurse. I don't know if I can deal with this! I'm kinda, like, totally distracted.'

‘Don't send me to Nurse,' Polly implored, pouting beseechingly.

I'm so wet it would be embarrassing!

Chip exhaled a few ‘phew's, went to the sink and doused himself with cold water.

‘OK, Miss Fenton,' he said, avoiding eye contact, ‘your inner thigh please.'

M
iss Fenton would definitely benefit from hydrotherapy. Mr Jonson was not sure how many sessions, but he estimated half a dozen. The damage to her adductor was not critical but he feared that any tightening, stiffening or reduction in mobility could well have consequences for the hip, possibly referred pain elsewhere.

‘You OK with that?' Powers Mateland asked him. ‘You want to send her to County?'

‘She'll be fine,' said Chip, ‘I have a treatment schedule mapped out.'

‘She'll be in good hands,' praised Powers. ‘The best – we're going to miss you, Chip. Know what? I'm sure gonna make your last three weeks full – anyone has even the slightest twinge, they're coming to you direct!'

‘I'm flattered,' Chip acquiesced, ‘and I'm going to miss Hubbardtons – majorly.'

‘You got to go forward,' Powers conceded.

‘Sure,' said Chip, ‘it was a big decision but I feel good.'

‘How about Jen? We gonna lose her too? She gonna follow in your footsteps?'

‘We broke up,' said Chip.

‘I'm sorry to hear that,' Powers said, privately unsurprised.

‘It's recent,' said Chip, ‘and, you know, like, quiet?'

Powers pulled an imaginary zip across his lips, slapped Chip between the shoulders and sent him on his way to fix Miss Fenton.

‘I hope Belsize School for Girls is reaping as much from Jen as we at Hubbardtons are from Polly Fenton,' Powers mused. ‘Isn't she just great?'

‘She sure is,' Chip agreed openly, ‘I'd better get going so she can make the revue rehearsal.'

Chip entered the hydrotherapy pool first and told Polly to sit herself carefully on the edge.

‘Ooh, isn't it warm!' she marvelled, dangling her feet into the water. ‘Do you like my cossie?'

‘Your what?' asked Chip.

‘This,' Polly explained, running her hands suggestively over her torso.

‘It's real nice,' said Chip, who had hardly been able to keep his eyes off her figure. Clad in a flatteringly cut swimming costume, black piped in white, the contours of her figure were more sinuous than he had envisaged. She had looked thoroughly gorgeous in her cotton underwear, but in her swimsuit, she looked positively sexy.

Polly eased herself into the pool, Chip's hands gently on her waist.

‘This is lovely,' she cooed, immersing herself to her jaw. She had pulled her hair into a pony tail perched high on her crown. Her bob was barely long enough and splayed out spikily from the band with escaped tendrils now wet and clinging to her neck in little silken trails. ‘It's really just a glorified jacuzzi, isn't it?'

‘It's a hydrotherapy pool,' Chip remonstrated, propelling himself behind her, the hardness in his shorts brushing her back as he did so. He looped his arms under Polly's and clasped his hands together just above her breast bone.

‘Just relax,' he told her. She had no voice with which to answer. Her heart raced but her limbs were loose, her mind was clear and her conscience calm. Chip eased her around the water and congratulated her on the fine recovery of her neck, placing a round of kisses in the appropriate region. She turned herself to face him and they kissed, their wet limbs gliding around each other.

‘Let's work on that thigh,' Chip said huskily, pushing her away, holding her from behind as before. He then turned the water jets off and sat Polly on the submerged ledge that ran round half the pool. The sensation of the bubbles evanescing into a tickle of fizz against the skin was gorgeous; the silence once the motors had stopped, and the serenity of the stilled water, were hypnotic.

I'll do whatever he says.

I bet you will.

‘Let your legs just relax and slide them apart a little. Great. A little more. Great.'

Polly did as she was told. Chip took hold of each of her ankles. ‘Hold on to the bars beside you. Good.'

God, see how it makes her tits jut? I gotta think adductor – I can't disrupt the programme but Jeez, I'm desperate to suck those nipples.

He gave just perceptible tugs to each leg in turn, rotating them subtly this way and that, praising Polly all the while; concentrating hard, aware that her eyes were scorching his face yet knowing he could not afford to catch her gaze.

Not yet. I got my job to do, man. Gotta stick to the programme. Gotta fix her adductor.

He slid his hands up until they rested behind her knees, gave further little pulls and rotated some more. Almost involuntarily, Polly let go of the bars and took her hands to his. They clasped each other tightly and Chip thrust his face to her right breast, biting at the nipple through the wet fabric.

‘Stop,' he said hoarsely, launching himself to the opposite side of the pool, ‘you gotta hold on to the bars, Polly. You gotta get fixed.'

They remained at either side of the pool, staring hard at each other, panting, like two boxers in a watery ring.

‘C'mon, Polly, let me at your thigh.'

Anytime, Chip, come on over.

Once more, he took his hands to the backs of her knees and manipulated her legs for a few more minutes. Then he ran his hands up the fronts of her thighs, quite firmly, informing her he was searching out any tightness, tenderness or knots in the muscle. He took her right thigh and rolled it between his hands as if he were shaping dough. He did the same to her left leg but she caught her breath sharply.

‘Easy there,' he soothed, ‘did that hurt, huh? Can you take more?'

‘Yes and yes,' said Polly bravely, while Chip began a sensitive massage of her left thigh. He rolled it again. ‘Better?' he asked.

‘Much,' Polly smiled.

‘OK, now spread them wide for me,' he said in as normal a voice as such a request permitted. Polly obliged and Chip ran his hands up the entire length of her inner thighs firmly and very fast, sweeping round to the front of the leg when his thumbs were just about to touch the gusset of her swimsuit.

‘Wider?' he implored. Polly opened her mind and her legs a couple more inches. ‘Good girl.'

No I'm not.

This time, Chip's progress up her inner thighs was much slower, the pressure from his hands alternately light and then firm. His eyes were closed.

‘Your eyes are closed,' Polly whispered, wishing she was allowed to let go of the bars.

‘I can feel so much more intensely,' he explained, his eyes shut.

‘Oh,' said Polly. Chip's hands whispered their way up and down her thighs, up and down, again and again, lightly, firmly, up and down. ‘Oh,' Polly murmured. ‘Oh,' she gasped.

‘Whose eyes are closed now?' said Chip, kissing the tip of her nose and then letting his lips fall to hers fleetingly. ‘Nearly finished.'

‘Really?' protested a disappointed Polly. ‘You sure?'

‘Let me just work on this area,' Chip said, massaging the tops of her thighs. Occasionally, he let a knuckle brush against her crotch but she could not anticipate when exactly and, by the time she moved her groin against the friction, his hand had gone again.

Still he rubbed at her thighs, trailing his hands back towards her knees and working there awhile. He tiptoed his fingers up her legs in a drunken walk of sorts, lessening the pressure the higher he reached. Neither of them had their eyes shut as Chip walked his fingers straight along the centre of the gusset of her swimsuit; they were gorging themselves on the sight of each other. He pushed the palm of his hand against her sex and kissed her deeply. He took gentle bites at the length of her arm, licked her armpit and then sucked her chin.

‘You can let your hands go,' he said. Polly released them from the bars at once and encircled Chip just as soon as she had. She drew him against her, in between her legs; his erection, compressed within his trunks, grazed enticingly against her sex. He swept his hands up and down her torso; first slipping them under the arm-straps of her costume to fondle her breasts, then taking them down and burrowing behind the gusset to tangle with her pubic hair and search out the secret pocket of wet warmth. He inserted a finger deep within her and kept it very still, turned on by the way she bore down on his hand, the sound of her moan as she increased the pleasure by herself. Suddenly, he made his finger dance; as it moved, so the seam of her costume caught against her clitoris and, with a gasp and a thrust, she climaxed and laughed.

Chip submerged himself underwater, his hands soon appearing above the surface like Excalibur. He pulled at her swimsuit and she wriggled free, mesmerized by his disappearing hands and her own sudden nudity. He came up for breath, sucked each nipple in turn and then disappeared again under the water. Soon he was tugging at her swimsuit, suddenly it was propelled from the water to land just behind her head. Polly grabbed on the bars when Chip started licking at her sex, and closed her legs around his neck in her bid to weld her crotch to his face. As soon as Chip surfaced for breath, he penetrated her in one long, luxurious, effortless plunge, dipping his head alternately to each nipple in rhythm with his thrusts.

Polly's mind was empty and her conscience was clear, I'm afraid. Unbelievably, she was thinking of nothing, just languishing in the untold physical pleasure of the event, of the here and now. The then and the soon were irrelevant, at least to Polly they were. She was totally preoccupied by Chip's knowledge of the human anatomy, what he was expecting her body to do, the limits to which it could be bent and twisted. He was fine tuning her awareness of her own body, his consummate exploration intensifying the sensations she was experiencing. Chip's cock was rock hard, his fitness and athleticism was obviously transferable to this ragingly hard extra limb of his, and he was able to bestow on it supreme gymnastic talent. Polly grabbed on to his biceps, her wet fingers digging deep, the pinks of her nails turning quite white.

The strength of his back allowed him to withdraw his cock just until the tip threatened to spring right out from Polly. Then, with expert control, he plunged it back inside her, fast and deep. She soon learned just how much of an angle to thrust her pelvis forward so that she could meet the dive of his cock and feel him welded within her. Bliss. She could hardly keep her mouth closed or her eyes open. Her second orgasm, just as exquisite as her first, was synchronized perfectly with Chip's climax.

‘Oh yeah, oh baby.'

That's me he's gasping about!

Amazingly, just a few seconds later, his right hand disappeared down into the water and then surfaced brandishing a condom with a knot in the neck.

‘My goodness,' Polly marvelled, ‘whenever – I mean – however? I mean, wow.'

Hadn't thought of that. Thank God he had.

‘I'm pretty cool at holding my breath,' Chip informed her proudly, tossing the condom out of the pool to land on Polly's crumpled swimsuit.

Polly had two more hydrotherapy sessions. One a week, with no contact, let alone physiotherapy, in between. The last session was on the penultimate day of term, just a few hours before the final performance of the school revue. When she took her bow at the end of the show, Polly spied Chip in the second row of the enthralled audience. He was alternately clapping high above his head and then taking his fingers to his mouth and whistling through them. He was smiling directly at her, broadly. She grinned back, triumphant and happy.

The next morning, there was no time for a private farewell. They were both busy, Polly especially so, as she was taking an early flight home to England. They spared each other a few moments, diplomatically meeting midway across the hockey pitch. Bye bye. So long. It's been lovely knowing you. It was great having you. Look after yourself. You take care, you hear. Keep in touch. You too.

Yes, yes.

As if.