Her tiny man (she was already, insentiently, thinking of Lucas as hers) was right by her feet. In her happiness to see he was not gone, she forgot about covering herself and dropped to her knees to get closer to him. This time he did not even flinch when she hung her face as close as she could to him without being awkward. Her fingers were practically itching with the urge to pick him up to speak (and look at him) better, but she decided against it.

“Were you following me?” she said, knowing full well that he could not understand her. He did not bother to respond. Instead, he simply pointed his tiny thumb at his chest and said:

“Lucas”.

So that was his name! She had never heard anyone with that name before. Responding in kind, she pointed her index finger at her nose and said, simply.

“Melina”.

Lucas smiled up at her with the most heart-melting smile she had ever seen and repeated her name with his soft voice. He added some words in his lilting language she could not make sense of, but she loved hearing anyway.

Now calmer, she considered why Lucas was following her. Much as she wanted to believe he was acting out of beguilement for her, the practical part of her mind that rarely deserted her for long reasserted itself. She surmised the reason Lucas had not taken off as soon as he was away of her piercing eyes and eager hands was because, for some reason she could not fathom, he needed her. He needed her help. Well, Lucas, I guess I owe you. I will help you as best as I can. She wondered if he had somehow been banished from the community of tinies he must have grown at, or if he had somehow gotten lost, or if he was the lone survivor of some kind of natural disaster that scattered his people. Surely, he did not just sprout from the ground as a mushroom or fall out of the sky like a freak hailstone.

But first, she had been heading to the water, and not directly to the inn because she wanted to rinse her grubby hands clean. Melina guessed Lucas would be just as eager to clean himself off, which would give her the chance of seeing or (and hopefully and) touching him without those pesky clothes on. However, this time she would make absolutely sure that any advances she made on him (and she was very eager to advance) were fully consensual. She had a few ideas on how to get him going… for starters, she stood up, now unconcerned that she was giving him a (willing, inf unaware) show.

Now comfortable with Lucas, she completely forgot she had her panties in her pocket when she stood up. A second later, as the sea breeze hit her crotch, unimpeded, she realized two things: she was bottomless under her very short skirt, and she was getting uncannily wet down there, judging by the way the wind felt so cool between her legs. She realized, thrilled, that she wanted him to look (not stare, but look), and she wanted him to want more, warming him up for later steps in further intimacy.

Her lips curved up as Lucas politely avoided staring. She found, shockingly, and more than a little guiltily, that she actually enjoyed teasing him by subtly displaying her charms to Lucas, with the right mix of coyness and brazenness, knowing that she was in control at all times: at his diminutive size, besides his wandering eyes, there was no way Lucas would be more forward with her than she was ready for. 

“I’m going back to my inn”, Melina indicated, extending an arm to the place where she had come from. “I have to get there soon, or I’ll miss breakfast”. She finished, pantomiming taking food to her mouth, and she was relieved to see him nod.  She was determined to expose him to her language as much as she could, even if at the beginning he would not understand it; she guessed it would be easier if he spoke his language than the other way around. She really looked forward to having actual conversations with her mini-guy. She gave a few steps in the direction she pointed out and waited to see if he would follow her.

After a slight hesitation, he jogged to catch up with her. Heading for the spot where she had put down her hat and sandals, she started walking again, unaware that she started swaying her hips coquettishly, but, on the other hand, quite aware that it was unfair to expect him to keep up with his short legs all the way to the inn. Melina however, chastised by her earlier missteps, wanted Lucas to take the initiative and realize this and ask her to carry him.

It didn’t take long, and when she looked over her shoulder again she could see his bemused face looking up at her as he clearly appreciated he was going to have to swallow his manly pride and ask for a ride. In the meantime, she was also a little concerned she would do more harm than good if she took him out of his natural habitat, if that was what this region was. That was another reason Lucas would have to make the first move, she pondered.

She stopped to let him catch up with her, and then, half-turning to face him and kneeling, Melina said, tapping with her right hand at an imaginary watch on her wrist. Pointing at him with her left hand and then pointing at her right hand, she pantomimed the action of picking him up, trying not to loom over him. “If we keep going like this it’s going to take us forever… don’t you think? Shall I pick you up?”

Lukas, breathing a little heavily form the exertion of keeping up with her strides, looked right at her more than a little uncertain, if not scared. After a slight hesitation, and a little shrug of his tiny shoulders, he raised his arms towards her, not unlike a toddler.

Melina, getting increasingly nervous, did not pick him up right away. She tried to put herself in the little guy’s shoes, trying not to make any sudden or threatening moves. Pretty sure having a giant hand, fingers splayed and descending upon one’s head would be terrifying, Melina thought. Lowering her hand to the ground to make him step into her palm seemed somehow patronizing, and then she would be afraid of dropping him. Closing her fingers over him after having him sitting there in her hand would seem like falling into a trap, she mused.

She then, smiling at him (but not too much, that’d be creepy) to reassure the little guy, closed her fist, extending only her index, thumb and middle finger and raised her hand, raising her eyebrows slightly and cocking her head in what she expected would be understood as asking for his permission to pick him up like that. Lucas nodded.

Instead of lowering her hand over Lucas, she lowered her arm until her right hand was almost at ground level, and then got it slowly closer to the little man from the front with the aforementioned three fingers extended, lowering her torso and getting her head closer to Lucas unconsciously, leaning her body in and supporting herself on the ground with her left hand.

Melina saw the little man stiffen slightly, clearly struggling to keep himself from backing away, as his eyes alternated between warily watching her approaching clutches and her unnervingly steady gaze, focused entirely on him, lips thinned to a line and brows furrowed in concentration. Her fingers arrived at the little man’s body, surrounding him but not just closing in yet. Her sensitive finger pads could feel his body heat emanating from his tiny frame.

She decided against holding him by his ribcage, as she imagined his ribs, thinner than toothpicks split in half lengthwise would be, were too fragile and she did not trust herself to squeeze him with enough force not to drop him but delicately enough not to crush or smother him. I thought this would be easier, she thought, feeling her brow creasing in worry and getting moist with uncertainty. Her trembling hand retreated slowly, she extended all her fingers and got it closer to him again.

“Stay still, dear Lucas, I need to get a good hold of you”. She cooed over him with as non-threating tone as she could manage as she had once seen a woodsman talk to a captured fowl’s clutch of fledglings to calm them.

When her fingers were surrounding Lucas delicate body again, she did not close her fist but just held her hand there. Lucas then lowered her arms and lay them up in atop the side of her index and thumb. Curling her fingers slightly the little man was now sitting on her fingers as if on a lift chair. Without squeezing, she closed in her thumb until it pressed lightly against his abdomen. Melina then lifted him very carefully towards her face, feeling the little man’s surprisingly strong arms holding for dear life as he looked around while he ascended, his legs shifting against her fingers. I can hardly feel his weight! Her hands were shaking with an uncanny mix of excitement and even fear.

Still on her knees, and as she looked straight into Lucas now unreadable but calm, little manly face, Melina’s head swam, and she even felt herself sway as if she was going to faint, steading herself with an effort of will. Having a sentient, grown man small enough to grasp in her fingers looking right back at her with an undeniably intelligent, oddly tranquil gaze was so weird she felt numb with an eerie feeling of unreality. Never in a million years would have I thought this would happen to me... am I dreaming?

No dream could be this vivid, this detailed! Holding him as close as her eyes could focus, she could make out stubble on Lucas’ wide jaw and cheeks, his tiny nose, full lips, his little hands grasping her comparatively enormous fingers, which looked rough and coarse compared with his tiny, incredibly limber ones. His limbs felt enticingly fit under her fingers. But looking into his eyes, now she could not believe he had once mistaken him for a doll. She could see clearly the whites of his eyes and his tiny pupils moving around, scanning her face just as closely as she scanned his.  Seeing Lucas’s fascinating eyes, she realized that he was not a boy but a man (and a very attractive one), who had seen much more of life than her.

He is not afraid of me, or else he is resigned to his fate. Melina realized. She, on the other hand, was getting increasingly nervous, and embarrassed to feel her nipples… and other parts, tingling with annoying, but unyielding, mounting arousal, which had been escalating since even before she kneeled to grab him.

How can a creature like him possibly exist? Is he really another human being, but small, or is he a pixie or some kind of supernatural being? And how perverted must I be to be attracted to him, with the disparity in our sizes? How could we ever… well… really do it? To him I must seem terribly coarse, sloppy, monstrous even… My kisses must seem to him slobbery and gross…  I could not bear to see him recoil in fear or revulsion (or worse, pain) if I try to caress him. How will he react if I bare my body to him, or if I made him… touch me… and yet I saw him… felt him get hard… could it happen again? I WANT him… as a woman wants a man… I really do… Where the hell did he come from?!?!?

Lucas fidgeted in her hand, and she realized that she had zoned out and had been staring at him for too long. She changed her grip slightly, her thumb wandering lower than his midsection. She thought she felt something stir down there, poking at her finger pad. Flushing furiously, she moved her thumb away Is he… hard? No, I must NOT let myself imagine things. I must really be sure… his stained clothes made him come back to reality… he must be wishing to clean himself…

Then, she realized that, in her eagerness to touch him, and as an idiot, she had not planned how to carry him all the way to the inn. Surely, I cannot get through the lobby and around town and the inn with a tiny man perched like a little bird there in my hand. It would not do for other people to see him, she was sure. It would create a huge stir and he would surely be taken from her.

Lucas was not small enough to fit wholly inside one fist, hidden from view, and he would likely get motion sickness from being swung back and forth if he carried him casually around as she strolled. Covering Lucas with two hands would be awkward and suspicious-looking… And, as most women’s pockets usually are, her two blouse’s only pockets were too small to keep him secure in there and were already full.

One was stuffed with her panties (of course NOT there, even if I put them panties back on,  and I cannot do it one handed while holding him, there is nowhere to put him around where he does not stare at my crotch from below while I put them on, and who knows what that pocket must smell like to him by now). The other pocket had an expensive lip balm stick she did not want to part with and the tissues she used earlier to wipe herself. She had not brought a purse.

For an instant, she considered carrying him in her top, but with the rising heat of the day and the incontestable sexual stimulation she had and was still undergoing, her boobs felt sweaty and to him they would be wet, slippery and probably funky. Then she decided to put him up to his waist in the elastic waistband of her skirt (it being fairly new, was still tight enough, she hoped) and she could keep him covered with her untucked chemise.

Without further ado, she lowered him to her waist level, and after a slight deliberation, she avoided sticking him in front and instead she lifted the hem of her shirt with her left hand and held the elastic of her skirt waistband slightly away from her hip at her left side and lowered tiny Lucas in there, nimbly changing her grip to do so, as his limbs flailed around trying to get purchase. Letting go of the waistband, he was held in there against her left hip, up to his armpits in the waistband, his arms, shoulders and head hanging out, but under the hem of the blouse. She tentatively released him and felt around, giving a few tentative steps. She felt him secure in there, and he did not trash nor moved, indicating he felt secure, too.

Then she, as nonchalantly as possible, got her panties out of the pocket and stepped into them, sliding them up her legs into place. It would not do to be bottomless and let an untimely gust of wind leaving her exposed to the looks of men in town.  Yep, I got definitely wet down there, she noticed as the fabric conformed to her curves and she felt a seeping stickiness between her body and the undergarment. Will have to change them when I get back.

After picking up her slippers and hat, she walked hastily back to town, keeping her left hand lightly pressed to her hip to ensure he would not fall from there.  Minutes later, as she passed through the small settlement near the inn, not a few heads, most men and some women, turned to look at the eye-catching Melina. But not more than usual; no one spotted the tiny bulge at her side.