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The Girl in the Cartwheel Hat by Mikala Ash

The Girl in the Cartwheel Hat

by Mikala Ash

Changeling Press

eBook ISBN:

In a pub, a hunky college guy gets the eye from a beautiful girl. Beneath the ethereally glowing ivory skin and behind the captivating eyes there was a dark and deadly secret. He buys her a drink and one thing leads to another. She takes him home. It’s a common enough occurrence. But who is the girl in the cartwheel hat, really? What’s her story? For Garth, this one-night stand could be his last.

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Chapter One

“Tell me about your first time.”
I opened my eyes and gazed at tonight’s Adonis. Garth, a literature major from the local college, peered up at me from between my thighs, his gorgeous lips glistening.
“What did you say?” I asked icily. I was a tad peeved that his agile tongue was uttering inane demands when it should have been licking my aching clit. I was particularly aggrieved because Garth’s tongue was very, very good at its self-appointed duty.
Pale, blue-gray eyes contrasted with the sun-kissed ruddiness of his tanned face. I suspected he was a surfer; he had the lively vitality I’ve always associated with Californians. I’m a sucker for a good tan and blond hair, and Garth was blessed with both.
I’d picked him up at a downtown pub. He was playing pool with some other college lads. I’d watched him for a few minutes. He was well built and carried himself with an easy grace. It was a simple thing to catch his eye with a coquettish smile. He hurriedly lost his game, which, up until that moment, he’d been winning easily. Obviously he was a young man who knew his priorities. After he’d said goodbye to his friends, he’d boldly approached and asked if I was in need of a drink.
Little did he know how thirsty I truly was. He’d bought me an iced tea, and how he’d raised his sandy eyebrow at that surprising request. The traditional icebreakers ensued. He was casual, articulate, and oh so young without being boorish which many of this generation could be. Things had swiftly developed from then. After a move to a shadowy corner, a deep kiss and a subtle fumble, I’d made the easy decision to bring him home.
He’d been impressed with my little red sports car and up-market apartment, though he hadn’t been so crass as to draw attention to them as so many men his age would have done. That impressed me. He’d been itching to get into my pants but he’d played it cool. No immediate gratification for this one.
“Tell me about your first fuck.”
His question brought me back to the present moment with a jolt. “Why should I do that?”
“It turns me on.”
Kinky!
“Humor me,” he continued. “You might get a kick out of it too.”
Perhaps he was worth humoring. I hadn’t yet touched his magnificent cock because he’d surprised me by being a gentleman and, without any prompting, spread my legs and engaged in some preliminary cunnilingus.
“Well…” I hesitated, not because I was shy or because the “first time” was too unpleasant to discuss. On the contrary, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to share that with someone I’d only met ninety minutes ago, because there was a very real chance he’d freak out, and I’d have to kill him.
He poked out his surprisingly long tongue and let it hover over my clit. “Go on,” he prompted. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, all right,” I surrendered. “Just get back to what you were doing.”
He lowered his head and slid the flat of his tongue all the way from the bottom of my pussy up to my clit. I shivered and, with a deep sigh, sank my head back onto my pillow.
One more stroke of the tongue. Then nothing… “You’re not speaking,” he said.
“You’re not licking,” I replied.
“You go first, and while you talk, you can enjoy my specialty at the same time.”
He thought he had me over a barrel, but what the hell? He had a pleasing nature, with no silly pretensions or boring arrogance. His ego seemed pleasantly grounded. It cost me nothing to indulge him, and besides, the memories were more than pleasant.
“Okay, then. It was the day before my twenty-first birthday.”
I felt him lift his head. I opened my eyes a little to gaze at him through my lashes. He was clearly puzzled.
“Wait. Your first time was only a few months ago?”
I knew the direction his thoughts were taking and adopted an ingenious expression. “What do you mean?”
“Well, babe, let’s face it. You barely even look twenty.”
He was right. I did only look twenty. “I was a late starter,” I explained. “Now, I won’t continue until you start licking.”
He resumed his specialty with a precise probing of the entrance of my pussy. I responded with a luxurious moan I just couldn’t contain. After a few seconds of pure enjoyment I was back in the past, feeling the sun on my face, a gentle breeze caressing my cheek.
“I was sitting outside Giuliano’s…”
“Where’s that?” He mumbled the question into my wet pussy.
“A jeweler’s shop in Piccadilly. London.”
“Mmmm, I like a well-traveled girl.”
“It was a sunny day, and I was wearing my new cartwheel hat…”
“What’s a cartwheel hat?”
“It’s a big, round, tightly-woven straw hat. Mine was really outstanding. It was black with silk flowers. Lilac they were, with –”
“I can’t really picture you in a straw hat.”
“You had to be there. It was really quite stylish.”
He gave my pussy another delightful pass with the flat of his tongue. “Pray continue.”
“I was outside Giuliano’s, waiting for my pendant. Daddy had it made especially for me to wear to the party.”
I felt his head move away from my body. I opened my eyes. He was gazing at me with a slightly incredulous expression on his face, his glazed lips wide open. He was, I must admit, in many ways, simply adorable.
“What?” I asked.
“For a moment I had this incredible picture of you as a prim and proper little debutante. That’s completely not you, babe.”
“I’ve matured since then.” That was an understatement of the highest order.
He pretended a mocking frown. “That’s a lot of maturing in a mere twelve months.”
He had me there. “Get back to work.”
“By your command.” He chuckled and did as ordered.
I settled back and closed my eyes again, sinking into my memory and surrendering to the caresses of his expert tongue. Bringing words to my lips was a definite challenge. “I was sitting in Daddy’s victoria. Before you ask, that’s a kind of carriage. I’d been waiting for just a few minutes, and I became aware that someone was watching me.”
My voice stilled on my lips as I relived that moment. Time seemed to stop. It was a hot autumn day; the sun warmed my bare flesh at my wrist. I was thankful for my hat. The street was busy, with omnibuses and hansoms moving noisily along. There was a press of people, singles and couples, strolling by, taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Yet all that noise and bustle was lost to me in that moment.
The feeling I was being watched caused the hair at the base of my neck to stir. I turned my head and there he was; a tall man, slim and elegantly dressed, with a beaked nose, black moustache and a black, pointed beard. It was a very sensual face, an experienced face, and he was gazing at me with such intensity I imagined his eyes glowed red. I blushed and looked away.
Even though the Adonis between my thighs was doing a thorough job of arousing my carnal desires, the memory of his face sent a warm flush washing through my entire body. It was just like that first time all over again. I remembered the surprise and shame to feel my sex warm and pulse in a most unladylike fashion.
“See, I told you it would turn you on.”
“What?” His voice had startled me. For all intents and purposes I’d been back in Piccadilly.
“Your pussy suddenly got hot and really, really wet.”
“You know what you have to do then.”
“Aye, aye.” He licked me even harder and deeper. His lips pressed determinedly against my labia, his nose brushed my clit, and his tongue delved even further into my wetness.
I gave a tiny shudder and continued. “He was well dressed — royally dressed I would say. When my gaze met his eyes I blushed in embarrassment and turned my head away. I felt he was still watching me. I risked another look, bowing my head and turning to look at him from under the brim of my hat. I was right. He was still staring at me, and with such a determined look. His lips were a rich red; they were open, and his teeth shone in the glare of the sun. I had the thought that he was the most masculine man I had ever seen.”
“How old was he?”
“Thirty, I guess, maybe even forty. It was hard to tell. His eyes looked as though they’d seen a thousand years.”
“And you not yet twenty-one? Tsk tsk. What a dirty old man — though I can’t fault his taste in women, straw hat or not.”
“At that time I knew very little about the tastes of men. I looked away again, and at that moment the young man from Giuliano’s came out and gave me the package with my pendant in it. I mumbled my thanks. My throat was suddenly very dry, and Jenkins drove us away.”
“Jenkins?”
“Our driver.” Jenkins’ craggy face and untidy hair loomed in my imagination. I hadn’t thought of him in an age. He’d had a gentle and helpful manner, and I suddenly missed him.
“Jenkins… the driver of this carriage… belonging to your Daddy.” His voice was incredulous.
“I’m not making this up. Do you want me to continue?”
“Of course. Forgive me,” he said and inserted a finger into my pussy, letting it inch its way inside me, slowly, exquisitely, while his tongue circled my clit. “Continue,” he mumbled a moment later.
I settled back again. “My heart was beating very hard, and I thought it might actually escape my chest. I was very hot. My skin was prickly and damp, particularly between my thighs. All the way home, about forty minutes, I was convinced that somehow he was still watching me. When we arrived, my legs were shaking, and I thought I might fall as I stepped down off the carriage. Had it not been for Jenkins, I would have. I paused at the door and looked out the gate. There he was, across the street, getting out of a hansom.”
“That’s an English taxi, isn’t it?”
“Close enough.”
“And this creepy old guy followed you to your door? Weren’t you freaked out?”
Good question. The naïve girl I was then should have been scandalized. “Not in the slightest. For some reason I felt that I could trust him with my very life. I was tempted to cross the street and talk to him. The desire to go to him was the strongest thing I’d ever felt in my life.”
Garth looked up at me. “I know what that feels like. Tonight, when I saw you sitting at the far end of the bar, I couldn’t help but go up and buy you a drink. I’m usually shy at meeting women…”
“Sure, now who’s telling a story?”
“No, seriously. I really had to be near you. I don’t usually hit on a woman within seconds of seeing her for the first time. I like to, you know, see how she acts with other people, and make sure she’s not a wacko.”
If he only knew. I gave him a gentle smile.
“I hear you,” he mumbled. “Get back to work.”
He reinserted his finger, and added a second, and out of the blue, he used his little finger to stroke around my asshole. I just love that. I gave him an appreciative gasp and moved my pelvis hard against his face. He rewarded me by taking my clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.
He mumbled something that I took to mean, “Carry on.”
“Just then Mother called me from the hall, and I went in at once, leaving the elegant stranger alone on the street. I couldn’t understand what my body was doing to me. I knew my face was flushed, but that could be explained by the sun. What I couldn’t explain was how my belly felt alive with butterflies, and my sex was unbearably hot and wet. My knickers rubbed against my center and sent jabs of electric current shooting through me as I walked.”
“You horny girl, you.”
“That word was not known to me then. I could hardly speak to Mother. She was fussing as usual and took the package with the pendant off me. It was to be presented to me at the party. I was very distracted at dinner. Mother noticed, and I couldn’t explain when she asked me what the matter was. Daddy said it was just my excitement about the party the next night. I excused myself early and went up to bed. I was so distracted by my body’s strange reaction I hardly noticed that Mary had half undressed me and…”
“What? Who? Who is Mary and why is she undressing you?”
“She was my maid.”
“Your maid?”
“I’ll explain later. Can I get on?”
“Certainly. Please do.”
“I was afraid of what she might see, with my pussy all swollen and pulsing like it was. I sent her away and finished undressing myself. I put on my nightdress and slipped into bed. I drifted off to sleep and found myself in a dream, but it was the strangest I’d ever had.”

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Changeling Press

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