Fountain Street Heat

Jonella stood naked in front of the long steamy mirror, her misted reflection mesmerizing her into reaching up to swipe away a patch of the damp veil from the reflecting glass, allowing a better view. Every day for over seventeen years, all of her life, she'd bathed in that chipped, porcelain tub behind her. And everyday since she could stand alone she'd glanced at herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door as she'd stepped out of the bathwater. She never dared do this before, pause and truly see herself. She felt almost certain it was a sin. Aunt Eula would definitely think it was a sin.

But Jonella finally managed to exile the Bible-thumping aunt from her mind just long enough to look - really look - at herself. What she saw made her breath catch in the back of her throat. Was it possible that she truly was that pretty? Suddenly aware that it was wicked to acknowledge her own beauty, she feared she would go to hell. For the first time in her life, however, she didn't care. She was tired of contemplating heaven and hell, and she was certainly tired of Aunt Eula's crusade of condemnation.

Yes, her body was beautiful. If she was going to burn in hellfire for honesty she may as well do it up good.

Beams of sunlight shone through the round, glazed window above the tub, illuminating her with rays of muted mist. It gave the moment a sexy sensation.

She reached back and loosed her black hair from its ponytail, dropping her head back to let the long curls graze her back. Allowing her hands to linger in her mane, she gently massaged her scalp, awakening for the first time to the erotic sensation of her own tender touch. She watched transfixed in the hazy mirror as her fingers slowly moved down over her temples, tickled her high cheekbones, tracked her dimples and floated down to hover over her neck.

Languidly, she left her eyelids half closed to hood her dark amber eyes in the come-hither look Leslie Caron had used in the movie Gigi. Jonella and her friend, Mary Sampson, had snuck away to that forbidden show one Saturday afternoon a year before and had thrilled at the story of a girl becoming a full-grown woman.

Her shoulders twitched with pleasure as her delicate hands explored her own bath-damp, womanly skin. Then her hands paused. Should they continue? Her body answered before her mind had time to intrude, her fingers immediately roaming down to her budding breasts.

That's what Aunt Sandra, the younger of her two aunts, called them. Aunt Sandra said she herself had budding breasts that had never reached full bloom and it looked like Jonella's were going to end up being the same. Aunt Sandra said those kinds of things and she and Jonella laughed together when Aunt Eula wasn't around. When Aunt Eula was around it was different. Body parts weren't mentioned then. Nobody laughed then.

Jonella's fingertips circled her nipples, tickling them. The little berries responded with delighted shock and instantly stood erect, ripe. A low moan escaped from deep within her body, the unknown body that was hers. After careful examination, she had to admit those breasts were pretty, gently sloping out from the torso in small mounds. Those were the breasts that would someday nurse a baby, breasts that a man would someday fondle and kiss. She and her friend Mary had heard about that from Wanda Wilkins at school, that boys kiss and suck a girl's nippies. Simultaneously stunned and enticed when she'd first heard those words, an embarrassing stab of excitement had clutched at her groin. She wanted a man to kiss and suck her everywhere. The thought, allowed to reach full awareness unchecked for the first time, made her blush, the color rising over her light-dark skin.