"How about Fiona?"
Doug looked over at the cute girl in the corner in time to see her eyes widen in apprehension. Her nervousness caused her to shrink into herself, hunching down in her chair as a frown crossed her cute face. Even hiding behind her silken hair, Doug could see the clear blue of her eyes; she really was quite beautiful, though he had only a handful of times to see her sitting in Theater class. He didn't seem to have her in any other subjects.
"Go ahead and read from the top, you two."
Doug stepped up to Fiona's chair, a bit nervous himself in front of someone so pretty. The girl just responded by looking down and hunching further into her chair. Her white dress covered her completely from shoulders down to her knees. Her long feet were wrapped into old sandals and Doug stared at them for a moment, thinking something may be a bit out of the ordinary when his teacher prodded him again to begin. He licked his lips and read from his playbook.
"If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this," he looked up, proud of his delivery and just saw Fiona glancing down away from her book. He continued. "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."
There was silence, a few laughs from the other kids in class, a cough and then nothing.
"Fiona?" Ms. Miller's voice was firm and insistent. "Read your part, please."
Fiona looked up nervously at Doug and then back at her book. She hunched forward, her hair covering her face a bit more as shadows covered the page she was about to read from. Doug glanced back down at her feet, the smooth calves and knees before they disappeared beneath her dress and he grimaced a bit as it struck him once more that something was amiss.
"Louder, please."
Doug hadn't even realized she had started and looked up to her face to see that startled look as she ran a long finger through her bangs and started again.
"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much..."
Her voice was soft, soothing, but still very quiet and her shirking posture did nothing to aid her diction. Doug smiled at her and she saw it in time to see her blush. She was so thin and slight, her body lost in the willowy folds of her dress. Losing himself for a moment, he glanced down toward her belt, curious if there was a bulge in her crotch or if it was just a natural rise in the fabric of her clothing.
"Stand up, Fiona."
The slender girl's eyes went wide, a new wave of fear crossing her face. She looked up at Doug, nervous and pale as the blush quickly faded from her cheeks. Ms. Miller prodded again and Fiona licked her lips before closing her book around her finger to hold her place and gripping the arms of her chair. Doug suddenly saw the muscles of her arms tense as she began to stand up.
And up ... and up ... and up!
Doug took a step back, not realizing that Fiona was so tall! He hadn't noticed before, always seeing her sitting down in the back of theater. The girl was easily head and shoulders taller than him, probably as tall as his friend Ashley; maybe even a little taller.
Fiona looked pained, hurt at his reaction, and Doug quickly closed his mouth and did his best not to stare. Her flat chest was at eye level, her dress flowing about her as it seemed a bit too wide for her slender frame. Her sandals slapped against her large feet as she shifted her stance and reopened her book at Ms. Miller's request. Clearing her throat, looking back down at the shorter Doug, she tried to compose herself and continue.
"Which mannerly devotion shows in this." She swallowed, her face etched with even more fear as she struggled to hunch down and not betray her towering hight. Doug leaned forward a bit to catch her eye and smiled assuringly when he did. Her teeth were straight and clean, white and shining as she smiled back. He found himself nervous as well, seeing the beauty begin to come through, and she stood up a bit straighter with the confidence to continue. "For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."
Doug stood there, quiet, as he studied the lines of her cheek. They were high on her face, complimenting the shine of her eyes, and he couldn't help giggle to himself as she nibbled her lower lip cutely. When Ms. Miller cleared her throat, he realized it was his turn to speak.
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"
"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."
She took a step closer, calmer now as her sandal slapped against the smooth sole of her foot. Doug tried to stand his ground as the taller girl loomed over him, glancing down, he found it too difficult to see how much of a bulge existed there passed her clothing. All there was was the lengths of her feet, tightly bound in those old sandals. Her toes were long, the nails smoothly painted, and they wiggled lightly as she shifted her balance. He took a deep breath and went back to his book to finish.
"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."
"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."
"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."
Doug swallowed, not sure what the lines meant, but suddenly nervous again at the mention of the word, 'lips.' Fiona had taken another step closer and he was acutely aware of her size. She may be thin and slight, but she still towered over him, and there was an excitement to her demeanor, the color of her face burning and rising as she smiled broadly and continued.
"Then have my lips the sin that they have took."
And then Fiona was on top of him. Doug dropped his book in shock, her long arms encircling his neck as she brought her face down to his. He had to tilt his head back, crane his neck, to meet her lips that she quickly pressed against his own. They were warm, and moist, open and tasted of strawberry chap-stick. The strength of her arms almost lifted him off his feet and he found himself fully pressed against her young, lithe body. The slight of her breasts, the flatness of her tummy, and the obvious bulge of her crotch that was now rubbing up against the middle of his thigh.
There were hoots and hollers, the catcalls of his classmates as they watched and laughed amongst themselves. Tiffany nodded in admiration, openly rubbing the bulging zipper of her shorts as the denim fabric creaked with its load. Ms. Miller frowned and waved her hand over the class to quiet them down.
"Alright now, we're mature enough for this, people." Nodding in admiration at Fiona and Doug, she smiled. "Very good, you two. And glad you could join the rest of us, Fiona."
The bell rang and students were already picking up their bags to leave. Ms. Miller gave a few more instructions that fell on deaf ears. Fiona stood sheepishly next to Doug, a nervous grin still on her beautiful face as she looked down at him. He swallowed, cursing himself for being so short, but tried to find solace in the fact that she didn't seem to mind so much. People were walking out of class around them, but they just gazed at each other. Doug swallowed nervously, looked up to her with a light smile and said...
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