Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Copyright (C) 1998, Clayton. ALL Rights Reserved Babysitter - Jenny Chapter 4 - Mg, no sex <begin Intro> Greg gives Jenny her next lesson. However, her disabled brother Jeremy disrupts procedings, causing a rethink of venues. <end intro> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No illegal activity described herein was carried out, this document details fantasies that took place late at night when I was alone in bed. I firmly believe that no fifteen minutes of pleasure is worth the innocence of a child. Besides, I derive much pleasure from the company of children, playing with them or simply watching them at play, I am not going to risk this for any momentarily heightened sense of pleasure. If you are under the age of eighteen the law says I've got to tell you to go away, so, "Go away!" Common sense says you're going to ignore me, so don't blame me if you go blind, your parents find you in possession of this document or your space bar to stops working. If this type of material is illegal in your city, state, country, then see above, substituting "law enforcement agency" in place of "parents". Introduction: Between now and the new year I will be unable to do much writing. Instead I will be proofreading this story, and possibly a couple of others, and publishing a chapter or so every day or two. When I next have the time to write, your responses will determine which stories I will work on. So if you have a preference for which story you would like me to finish first, send me an email or five. __ _ / ) // _/_ / // __. , , / ______ (__/ </_(_/|_/(_/_<__(_) / /_, / ' +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Clayton | clayton@nym.alias.net | |--------------------------------------------------------------------| | There is nothing so soft, or pleasing to the touch, as the skin of | | a child. Cup their cheek in your hand and ask yourself if you are | | willing to harm such beauty for your own gratification. | | Take you fantasies to bed - alone. | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ Chapter 4 - More Lessons With thoughts of Jenny filling my mind, Wednesday afternoon comes both far to quickly and also with agonising slowness. Her infatuation with me is much more than I have ever had to deal with before. I find myself recalling every forbidden, stolen glimpse of her delightful young charms, looking forward to many more, knowing that I could use her crush on me to gain more, much more. Yet unlike Vanessa, who saw what we had done as deliciously forbidden, and a great deal of fun, but nothing more, I knew that as Jenny's passion faded, as it inevitably would, there was an incredible potential for danger for me, and enormous heartache for her. Several times on the Tuesday, I find myself reaching for the phone to tell them that I will not be able to continue, but I'm unable to find it in myself to cause pain to Jenny, nor to deny myself her company and the company of her delightful family. Finally, after an almost sleepless night, filled with a confused melange of images combining Jenny, Vanessa and my niece, I resolve to continue as we have begun, but never to let Jenny give me more than she is emotionally equipped to offer. Tired and wrestling with my conscience, my entire morning is wasted in restoring the user directory tree from backups after I wipe out almost every line of source written by the third year students instead of cleaning up old object files as I'd intended. After fending off twenty understandably irate students and repairing the results of my mistake, I feed my supervisor a load of bull about family problems and beg the rest of the day off. Left with over four hours to kill, I try to lose myself in a book, but after reading the same page for the umpteenth time, I give up and snarling at myself I return it to its place on the shelf. Staring sightlessly at the rows of spines arrayed before me, I alternately berate myself for the effect one small girl has on me, and wonder how I am to teach science to that same girl without access to the proper apparatus. Finally a partial answer becomes apparent amongst the army of volumes standing stiffly before my eyes. Running my fingers along the shelves that up until a few seconds previously had mocked my confusion with their rigid order, I swiftly select about half a dozen volumes. I glance through the tables of contents and after exchanging one book for another, I sit down and begin marking pages with yellow PostIt notes. Caught up in doing something for the girl I am already thinking of as 'my Jenny' I lose all track of the time and when I finally glance at my watch I realise that I have less than half an hour to gather everything together and to drive over to her house. I make it, just barely, arriving on their doorstep with less than a minute to spare. Jenny answers my knock at the door, throwing it open and greeting me with a big grin. "Mum's not here yet," she tells me as she pulls me inside, "she's still getting Jeremy from his school." "Maybe I'd better wait for her then." I say with a glance toward the closed door behind me. "O.K." Jenny agrees, "The longer I have to wait to do those stupid fractions the better. Let's watch TV." "That's not what I meant Jenny." I say, "I don't think it's a good idea, my being alone with you." "Why?" she asks with innocent curiosity. Not sure that I want to try and explain that to Jenny in my current state, I change my mind, saying, "It's a bit hard to explain, but since I am here, I think it best if we get right to work. So start marching." "Meanie." She tells me, and turning on her heel, she flounces up the stairs, the hem of her tunic swirling tantalisingly, but not quite revealing any more than it should. "O.K. then," I say as I sling my bag onto a chair and pull another out from under the table. Straddling it backwards, I cross my arms on the back and finish with a grin, "let's get these fractions out of the way." "Do I have to?" she moans, hanging back, "I can't even do ordinary dividing properly yet." "Yes you have to." I reply, "Now sit." With poor grace, Jenny slumps into a chair and shoves the waiting pad of paper towards me, "It's no use," she complains "I really can't do them." "You won't know until you've tried." I reply, thrusting the pad back at her. "Now since I'm feeling lazy today, you can start by writing one quarter divided by, hmm, let's make it eleven sixteenths." "I can't do that." she howls, "It's much too hard." "There's no such word as 'can't'." I tell her pointing at the pad, "Write!" Muttering under her breath she scrawls out the equation, and sits staring at it despairingly, "What do I do now?" she asks. Time to put her out of her misery. Grinning I ask, "Can you remember how to multiply fractions?" "Yeah that's easy." she says. "Well dividing is just multiplication turned on it's head, so turn that," I point to the paper in front of her, "into a multiplication." "How?" "Turn the second number upside down." I tell her. "That's it?" she asks incredulously. "That's it." I reply with a broad grin. With a screech of outrage, Jenny flies out of her chair, launching herself bodily at me. Her arm locked tight around my neck, she pulls sideways, tipping me onto the floor. Laughing hugely, I let her drop down onto my stomach and thump my chest a couple of times before catching her wrists in my hands. Then grasping both small wrists in one hand I use the other to threaten her ribs and exposed armpits, drawing involuntary laughing screeches from her without actually touching her. Jerking ineffectually against my grip, she thrashes about, her short tartan tunic rising higher and higher on her widespread thighs until it becomes little more than a belt about her waist. Today however, there is little to see. A pair of bottle green gym shorts cover her to just below her navel. However as we continue to struggle playfully the scent of fresh little girl sweat begins to fill my nostrils, and I recall that she has sports on Wednesday afternoons. In her bouncing about to escape my threatening fingers, she slides backwards a few inches to far, her little bottom coming down on my already half hard member. Seconds later her squirming finishes the job. At first she continues to jounce around, unaware of the effect she is having on me, then just as I prepare to push her off me she comes down a little harder than normal making me gasp at the discomfort. Concerned she ceases her own movements, her eyes widening as she realises what she is sitting on. Suddenly self-conscious she looks down at herself realising her own exposure, minimal as it is. As I move to push her off me, she throws herself away from me, landing with a solid thud, some distance further away than either of us had intended. "Well I see you've taught her division." Dianne observes laughingly from the doorway. "Uh yeah." I stammer as her sudden unexpected presence has the salutatory effect of immediately reducing my cock to a limp noodle. "Um sorry." "What for?" she asks with a grin, "I don't see any bloodstains on the carpet, and near as I can tell you were the victim of an unprovoked and unwarranted attack by my naughty daughter." "It wasn't unprovoked," Jenny protests loudly, "he tricked me." "Oh really?" Dianne asks with deceptive mildness, "How?" "He made me think dividing fractions was hard. They're easy." she says. Then catching the expression on her mother's face she accuses, "Hey you already knew. How come you didn't tell me?" "Because it was too much fun watching you squirm." Dianne chuckles. Turning to me she adds, "Jenny tried to tell me she was sick this morning." "I was sick." Jenny declares, "I had a temperature and everything." "Yes it was a little high, forty five degrees if I recall correctly." Dianne tells me. "Well since I didn't pass any hearses on the way here, I can only assume you used the thermometer to stir your mother's coffee." I say to Jenny. "How did you... I mean I didn't, it really was that high." Jenny stammers in protest. "Forget it kid, your busted." I grin, "If your temperature really was that high, you'd be a rotting corpse. Now if you really want to make yourself look sick," I continue, "don't let the temperature get above thirty eight or thirty nine and lick your hands and rub them on your forehead to make it clammy." "Greg!" Dianne chides me. Grinning back at Dianne, I say, "And since your mum now knows those dodges, you'll have to figure something else out. Now since we're both supposed to be working, how about you do that problem for me, to see if dividing is as easy as you said." Showing me her tongue, Jenny takes her seat and hunches over the table. A few seconds later she lifts her head to tell me, "It's sixteen, forty-fourths. Isn't it?" "I don't know." I reply with a grin, "I don't remember what the numbers were, I just picked them out of the air." "Well work it out and tell me." Jenny says shoving the pad across the table at me. I quickly glance at her working before announcing, "Yeah it looks about right, but it's not the simplest answer possible. Have another go." "What? how?" she asks pulling it back before her. "Well I'll leave you two to it." Dianne says from the doorway, "And Jenny." "Huh yeah Mum?" Jenny turns her head to look at her mother. "You know you're supposed to get out of your uniform when you get home." "Sorry Mum." Jenny says contritely to the closing door. Suddenly a wicked gleam enters her eyes, and she looks at me as she stands and strips her tunic off over her head. Tossing it over the back of her chair, she assumes a saucy pose as she begins to unbutton her blouse. As she reaches the bottom button I find my voice. "Uh Jenny, I don't think this was what your mum had in mind." "Oh it's all right." Jenny says blithely as she shrugs the blouse off and tosses it on top of her tunic. "These are my sports clothes." Grinning at my discomfiture, she poses for me in her skin tight, sulphur yellow, halter top and equally tight dark green gym shorts. "I've even got knickers on underneath. See?" Still grinning she pulls the waistband of her shorts down far enough to reveal a two inch strip of pale pink cotton. "Jenny!" I manage to choke out, while tearing my eyes away from the alluring outline the top of her pudenda makes in the stretched fabric. "I tod you I don't mind if you see my undies." she tells me with a giggle. Thankfully though she tugs the waistband back up to its accustomed position just below her navel. "Well I do." I mutter to myself. To her I say, "You realise that you're going to have to work real hard now." "Why?" she asks, eyeing me somewhat apprehensively. "Because they're prime tickling clothes." I reply with a grin, "Now hop to it." "Oops I forgot about that." she admits, hastily taking her seat and pouring over the problem. After half a minute of brow furrowing concentration, she looks up at me. "I can't see why it's wrong." "There's nothing wrong with your answer Jen, it's just that there's an even simpler one." I say, "Try to see if you can work out what you can do to both the top and the bottom numbers so that they're smaller." "I can divide them both by two, but won't that change the answer?" she asks after a few seconds of scrutiny. "No it won't." I reply, "Give it a try and I'll explain why in a second." "Eight twenty-seconds," she announces, "and I can do it again, so that's four elevenths. Is that right? How come it doesn't change the answer?" "Exactly right, and it doesn't change because you did nothing to it." "Huh?" she looks at me perplexedly. "Well not exactly nothing, you divided it by four quarters. Which is the same as?" I say. "A football match." she tells me with a perfectly straight face. "Well I see I get to try out those tickle clothes of yours." I say with a grin. Before she can retreat, I jab my fingers into the soft skin between her top and bottoms. "ONE!" she shrieks, "It's the same as one." "Isn't it amazing what you can do with the right incentive?" I ask with a grin, while feinting at her belly button. "NO!" she squeals, batting my hand away. When I withdraw it she asks more calmly, "But wouldn't that make the numbers even bigger." "No because turning the second number upside down is just a mathematical trick." I answer, "You can get the same answer by dividing the two top numbers and then the two bottom numbers like you do with multiplying, but because using the trick is usually easier we don't normally bother until right at the end when we want to simplify the answer." "I think I get it." she replies doubtfully. "Look, remember on Monday when you were working out what fractions were the same as other fractions. What's two eighths the same as?" "A quarter." "And four eighths?" "A half." "Now simplify them the same way you did this one." I tell her pointing at her original answer. Frowning with concentration she does so, the frown clearing as she gets the same answers as the ones she'd more or less memorised." "So do you get it now?" I ask. "Uh huh." she nods. "Good girl." I praise her, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. "Now how about you make up a few more and do them to get it properly fixed in your head and then we can start on adding and subtracting." Pouting, she shrugs my hand off so roughly, that I begin to worry that my touch had upset her. However, as I concentrate on writing out some addition problems, I see her reach up to touch the shoulder my hand had been on, out of the corner of my eye, and a secretive smile crosses her lips as she briefly hugs herself. Ten minutes or so later she pushes her equations across to me and takes mine from me. Grinning I let her go for it, while I quickly check her answers, finding them all correct. "Very good." I complement her. "These aren't." She bemoans, "I can't get any of them right." Looking over her shoulder, I quickly see that she has got herself into all sorts of strife by trying to do the problems the same way as she had been doing multiplication and division. A couple of the answers are right, but it's obvious from the wildly inaccurate values she's scratched out that she is drawing on her memory of Monday for them. "O.K. stop." I tell her, "When you add and subtract, you have to make the number on the bottom of both fractions the same first and then when you add them that number doesn't change." "How am I supposed do I do that?" she demands. "By multiplying both fractions by one." I say cryptically. "Huh?" she begins, then her face clears a little and she asks, "Like four quarters, you mean?" "That's right." I begin, intending to clarify the process of determining a common denominator further, but she snatches the problems back and starts on the first one. "They're already the same," she says, "so I just have to add the top two together. Right?" "That's right." I reply. She quickly works through the first few then gets to the first problem with differing denominators. Frowning she works at it for a few seconds then announces, "I timesed the first number by two halves, but I don't have to change the second one b'cause the bottom number's already the same." "One on one is still a fraction." I remind her. She thinks about this for a few seconds then grins, "Oh yeah, so it is." Obviously pleased with herself she continues to power through the problems until she reaches the first problem where the denominator of one is not a factor of the other. I let her flounder away at it for half a minute or so before stopping her. "How about if you use this number for the first fraction and this one for the second?" I ask, pointing at the two denominators in reverse order. "But they're diff..." she begins, then her eyes light up, "Oh yeah, they're both still one they're just different 'ones'. Hey couldn't I have done that to these other ones too?" She asks pointing at the earlier equations. "Yes, but then you'd have to simplify them later." I reply, "Besides you're less likely to make a silly mistake if you keep the numbers on top as small as possible." "Uh-huh." she nods as she applies herself to the remainder of the problems. Barely pausing when she gets to problems with three and then four terms, she correctly breaks them down into simpler equations and ploughs on. Only when she gets to the last two problems I'd set, which involved both multiplication and addition does she stop and look up at me. Even then, all it takes is my reminding her of the BODMAS rule for her finish the sheet of problems, and slap her pencil down with a triumphant, "There." Taking the pad from her, I pretend to check her work over, even though I'd been doing so all the time she'd been working. As she waits for my verdict, I can't help teasing her by frowning, and occasionally 'tut, tutting' and shaking my head. "Well!" I finally say, in tones of utmost disapproval, "After reading through this lot," I flick the paper contemptuously, "I don't know what to say." I pause for a few seconds watching her face fall, until I can no longer restrain my grin, "Except: You are absolutely brilliant." For a few seconds she stares at me, a picture of supreme dejection, before what I'd said filters through and her face lights up. "Really?" she squeals exultantly. "Not a single one wrong." I reply smugly, "Just goes to show what a brilliant teacher I am. Ouch! what was that for?" I ask as she thumps me solidly in the shoulder. "For teasing me like that." she tells me. "Now you've gotta pay for it." "Oh do I now?" I grin, "And what's it going to cost me?" "A kiss." she replies, blushing furiously at the audacity of her request. "Is that all." I say, leaning over to deposit a chaste peck on her forehead. "No a proper one." she demands, "On the lips." "I don't think that's a very good idea." I reply gently but firmly. "You've gotta." she insists, "You're my boyfriend and now you have to kiss me properly." "No Jenny." "Pleeeezzze?" she wheedles, "Pretty pleeeezzze? Pretty, pretty please?" As she gazes soulfully up at me, I find myself weakening, thinking that one little kiss won't hurt anything, and when she hugs my arm against her tiny marble sized breast, I hear myself say, "O.K., but just one and that's it." Beaming smugly, she pulls my head down level with hers, but when I make a move to cover the last few centimetres she stops me, "No, you gotta do it properly. Close your eyes and put your arms around me and everything." As I close my eyes and encircle her in my arms, she pulls my lips to hers, for a moist, close-mouthed kiss that lasts for about three seconds before it is heart-stoppingly interrupted by a voice from behind us. "Well, if I could have looked forward to that was the sort of reward in school I might have done a whole lot better." Dianne says as I jerk backwards guiltily. "Mummy!" Jenny squeals red faced, "How long have you been there?" "Long enough." she chuckles, waving me silent, "I came up to tell you that it's time for a break, but you were doing so well I didn't want to interrupt. Come on I've got some cakes and drinks waiting downstairs." As Jenny pushes her way past us and pelts at breakneck speed down the stairs, Dianne holds me back. 'Oh shit, this is it.' I think 'She wanted to get Jenny out of the way first.' Frantically trying to find a way to excuse the inexcusable, I miss her first words. "...sweet. Thankyou for not rejecting her." "Huh?" It was like taking on a step that wasn't there. "I know puppy love can be somewhat trying." she says, "God knows, I made a big enough nuisance of myself when I was a kid, but you treated it like it was real and something special instead of laughing at her." "I thought you'd be mad at me for taking advantage of Jenny." I say wonderingly. "I don't think you are capable of doing that." she says, her voice tinged with, unbelievably, respect. "I couldn't." I say simply. "I know," she replies, "each time she's given you an opportunity, just now, and on Saturday, your first thought has been to protect her." "What makes you think I wasn't just protecting myself?" I ask. "Because you took the time to teach the girls why their actions on Saturday were dangerous, when the safest course for you was to dob them in, or pack your bags and run." Dianne says, "And if it was your own hide that you were seeking to protect, you would never have given her that sweet kiss today." "You've got me dead to rights there." I say, venturing a small smile. "And don't you forget it." She grins waggling a finger under my nose, "Now come on, or there'll be nothing left of afternoon tea but the bare bleached bones." She leads me to the kitchen, where Jenny and Jeremy are busy stripping the carcass of a fair sized tea cake. As soon as he hears my voice Jeremy abandons his plate. With surprising agility, he avoids his mother's attempt to intercept him, and babbling joyfully, he wraps himself about my leg. "Sorry about that." Dianne apologises while snatching up a cloth and attempting to clean his sticky fingers and face in situ. "It's O.K." I grin, "At least this food is at the beginning of it's journey." "Huh? Oh." she giggles. "What about your pants?" "Why I do believe I possess a washing machine." I say as if surprised to recall such a thing, "And wonder or wonders, I might even be able to use it. Dianne, I've been snotted, peed, pooed, and chucked up on, I doubt very much that a few cake crumbs are going to worry me unduly." "Upsidaisy." I say to Jeremy, as Dianne decides that he is as clean as she can make him. Lifting him to my knee I take a seat beside Jenny. "Let's see what morsels of sustenance your greedy sister has left us." "Hey he ate as much as I did." Jenny protests loudly. "What vile untruths are these?" I say, "Why the very evidence is against you young miss, not a single crumb doth besmirch my client's fair countenance, yet your own bears ample witness to your consummate greed." "Oh woe betide me, I am undone." Jenny bemoans, "I beg your leniency kind sir, for I am young and have never before offended." "I have no mercy," I reply grimly, "I insist that the court impose the harshest sentence possible, three terms of periodic detention at hard labour, beginning with one hour of science." Throwing herself to her knees, she clutches my hand and begs, "Oh no kind sir! Won't you please reconsider, I have been deprived most all of my life." "Oh for Pete's sake buy her some frilly knickers!" I cry turning to Dianne, "She's getting my pants all soggy." A rosy flush creeps down to the neck of Jenny's skimpy top as Dianne lets out a tuneful laugh Sobering she replies, "Nay, I fear to reward her would hasten her decline into moral turpitude. I concur with your evaluation of the need for harsh treatment, three full terms shall she labour at your direction." Winking she, adds in a stage whisper to Jenny, "Maybe when we go shopping on Saturday." "Caught between blushing once more and bouncing with glee, Jenny goes for broke. "And a horse?" Laughing helplessly, Dianne turns to me. "See what I mean?" she asks, "Give an inch and they take a mile." "Well it was worth a try." Jenny says with a sheepish grin. Uh Jenny?" I ask quietly, "Would you mind letting me have my hand back?" Giggling, she releases me and returns to her seat. Loading up a plate with two generous slices of cake, she pushes it toward me, along with a glass of orange juice. Noting the swift passage of time, I, with the enthusiastic help of Jeremy, make short work of the cake set before me. However, when I attempt to set Jeremy down, he clings fiercely to my neck, refusing to let go, and when his mother attempts to take him from me, he tightens his arms and begins to whimper. Trying to make light of it, I comment to Dianne, "Well, it looks like he wants to learn some science too." "You can try," Dianne replies doubtfully. Jenny too, is suddenly sober, "Once he starts he usually gets a lot worse before he gets better." she tells me. "We can but try." I reply optimistically. At first, it seems that my optimism is justified, as Jeremy quietens down and loosens the tight hold he has on my neck. Not wanting a relapse, I settle him on my knee as Jenny brings out her science books and takes her own seat. All goes well for a few minutes as Jenny tells me what they hand been doing that day in school. However once it becomes apparent that my attention is on his sister and not him, Jeremy angrily pushes her books to the floor and twists to look up at me hopefully. "No Jeremy," I tell him firmly, "I have to help Jenny now." He listens with his head cocked to one side as I speak, but the moment Jenny lifts her books to the table, he lunges at them with a shriek of outrage. Then when Jenny blocks him and slides the books out of his reach he wildly hits out at her and lets out a scream that leaves him blue in the face. Catching his hands in mine to protect her only seems to make matters worse. With his face only inches from mine he draws breath and cuts loose with a shriek that sets my ears ringing. On and on it goes, his face turning a deep shade of purple that scares the hell out of me. Yelling to be heard above the noise, Dianne says, "I'm sorry Greg you'll have to go, he's not going to stop until you are gone." But what about my lessons?" Jenny objects as I hand Jeremy, kicking and screaming, to his mother. "I'm sorry honey, they'll just have to wait." Dianne says, "You know what he's like when he gets like this." "Can't we do them outside?" Jenny asks hopefully. "Do you think you can manage without any books and things, because if Jeremy sees you take anything it's going to take me a lot longer to calm him down." "Remind me to tell you of a famous Greek philosopher's definition of a university one day." I say in reply. "No paraphernalia is needed." "Good, "Dianne says as Jeremy winds himself up for another ear splitting shriek, 'Now get out of here before I go completely deaf." They accompany me to the front door, allowing Jeremy to see me leaving alone. "Wait out the side, I'll be there soon." Jenny says as she closes the door behind me. A couple of minutes later Jenny comes flying around the corner of the house, having escaped via the rear. In the two minutes or so that she has been out of sight, she has exchanged her gym clothes for a loose fitting white blouse and a short denim skirt. As she leads me toward a remote corner of the garden, I ask, "What did I do wrong?" "Nuthin'," Jenny replies, "He just decided that I'd had you for long enough and it was his turn. I knew it was going to happen as soon as he started getting grizzly." "That's good," I reply, "I'd hate to think I was responsible, even by accident. Now let's go find that university." "Huh?" "A very famous man in Ancient Greece once said a university was a log with a teacher on one end and a student on the other." I explain. "And that over there looks to be just the place, to start." Jenny looks to where I am pointing at a swing hanging from a branch high overhead. "That's not a log." "Well the log is optional," I grin, "all you really need are the teacher and the student. Sit." She does as I instruct, giggling as I get behind her and start the swing moving. "This is a funny way to teach me." "I have my methods." I tell her while continuing to push. "Now why do you think you have to do science in primary school?" "I dunno?" she replies. "Well," I ask, "do you think you are going to make any startling discoveries? Like making water run uphill or curing the common cold?' "No of course not silly." she giggles, "We just do stuff that people have done heaps of times before." "So why do it if it's already been done?" I ask. "Uh, is it because you have to know what's already been done so that you can recognise something new?" "That's a pretty good guess," I say encouragingly, "but it's not right. It's been something like two hundred years since it was possible for one person to learn everything that was known about science. Nowadays, a person can go to university for ten years and still not know everything there is to know about one tiny insect." "Why would they want to? I hate insects." Jenny declares. "Because they can learn a lot about people by studying those insects and they can do things to them that they can't do to people, like giving them two heads and no bum, or legs where their eyes should be and other stuff like that." "Gross!" "It might seem like that," I agree, "but they have their reasons. Do you know what genes are? And I don't mean blue pants either." She snorts at my spoiling her joke, but answers me, "Is that like what makes our eyes different colours and stuff like that?" "Exactly." I say, "Well what these scientists do with fruit flies is find out what different genes do by changing them around to see what happens. When they think they have one worked out they swap it with another one, and if they are right, they get a fruit fly with legs on their heads." "Or eyes on their bums." Jenny giggles. "Or eyes on their bums." I agree. "But what do tiny little bugs have to do with people?" "Quite a bit really." I reply, "Scientists studied fruit flies, because what they were interested in was just learning about the genetic code, and fruit flies only have about two thousand genes while people have about a hundred thousand or so. So they started breeding millions of fruit flies and every time a weird one appeared they could examine it's genes and say well that gene has something to do with growing legs. "But what was really amazing, was when they found a tiny group of genes all together that seemed to control how all of the other genes worked. They found that if they changed almost any other gene, it might do nothing at all or it would make only a single change to the way the fruit fly would develop. But if they changed one of the genes in this group, really big changes would occur all over the fruit fly, things like extra eyes or legs, or a head at each end, or two tails and no head at all. "And when they looked at other creatures, they found that they all had a group of genes that did the same things and these genes were almost exactly the same whether it was a tiny insect no bigger than a full stop or a whale thirty metres long. They weren't exactly the same and they found that higher animals had other special control genes as well, but they found that the ones I've been talking about are so similar that they can put ones from a frog into a fruit fly and they still work." "Can you imagine what would have happened if they did it the other way round?" Jenny giggles. "The frog would have kept on trying to eat itself." "Very funny." I chuckle. "Now how about you do a little science yourself. I see that you have a watch on, so why don't you see what it can tell you about how this swing is moving." I step back, letting the swing travel freely whilst she attempts to time the length of each swing. After a half dozen or so cycles she complains, "I think they all take the same time but I just cant tell properly." "Well try timing ten swings at a time." I reply. She does as I suggest, finally announcing a figure and asking, "But what's this got to do with science?" "On it's own nothing," I respond, "but the essence of science is trying out the same things under different conditions to see how things change. That time, you started out about level with the bottom of my ribs, lets see what happens when you start out higher." Taking hold of the swing, I raise it up level with my shoulders and cautioning her not to pump it, I let go. A short while later she announces, with no little surprise in her voice, "It's the same." "Are you sure?" I ask. "After all the sample's pretty small. Those scientists with the fruit files might examine a million insects just to find the one or two that are worth studying." "I've got to do this a million times?" she asks incredulously, "I'll be sick." "No I don't think we need to do it quite that many times," I chuckle, "but you do have to do it often enough that you're sure of your answers." We repeat the experiment a few more times, with the height of the swing ranging from below waist height, to well above my head, and to Jenny's delight, it turns out that the period of the swing does indeed remain constant. "What now?" she asks, leaping from the swing. She lands awkwardly, teetering for a couple of seconds before falling forward onto her hands and knees, and giving me a brief tantalising flash of her bottom encased in pink cotton. "Now you get to do it all over again." I grin, "You have to make sure that your discovery is not just a peculiarity of your swing." "How?" "How about that locket hanging around your neck." I suggest, "You can try different lengths with it to see what effect that has." After a couple of abortive attempts trying to read her watch and hold the top of the swinging chain steady, she gets me to hold the chain while she performs her measurements. She is ready to announce her findings after performing the experiment once with the chain folded in half and again with the clasp undone and the locket suspended from the full length of the chain. "What if you made some sort of silly mistake." I remind her, holding my hand up to prevent her speaking. "It's not enough to get some answers, you have to get answers that make sense, and you have to be able to reproduce those answers when you repeat an experiment, otherwise it's not science." "But we don't do things over and over again at school." "Don't you?" I ask quietly, "How many of you are there in your class?" "About twenty five." she replies. "So how many times does the experiment get done then?" "Oh yeah!" she mumbles sheepishly. "That's right," I say, "you might not have time to do something twenty five times in class but if twenty five of you all do the same thing, it works out the same. What would you do if twenty three of your classmates got one answer and you and someone else got a completely different one?" "Try again, 'cause we obviously did something wrong." "Well that's a good working hypothesis, but what happens if you keep on getting the same answer anyway?" "Ask for help 'cause we're probably still doing something wrong but we're too dumb to see it." "Also a good working hypothesis and ninety nine times out of a hundred it's the right one, but that one time out of a hundred is why scientists always keep very careful notes. Sometimes some very profound insights come from getting things wrong, or from data that doesn't fit in with the rest. Did you know that the Germans were the first to split the atom, but the scientists working with uranium were trying to do something else and when they got results that they didn't expect they decided that their sample was contaminated and threw everything away. It was one of their assistants, who was a lady by the way, who guessed what had really happened, and when her colleagues wouldn't listen to her, she told another colleague who did listen. Luckily for us he moved to America before the war, or things might have turned out a lot different." "But what about when you're writing a report like for school?" Jenny asks, "If you put in all of the results, even the wrong ones you'll get the wrong answer." "You're right, you would," I agree, "so you don't use those figures when you're making your conclusion, but even so, you still record, and report every single result and then explain why you aren't using some of them." "So that's why we have to do things that everybody already knows the answer to at school." Jenny says, "So we do things the right way when we do important experiments later." "That's right, good science is all about doing experiments over and over again to help eliminate errors. Like when you're timing a pendulum, if you just time one swing, any errors are a big part of your answer, but if you time ten swings then the error is a much smaller part of the result. And you do it several times just in case you loose count and only time nine swings one time. "And that brings us to another important part of doing good science; meticulous record keeping. So that the proper conclusions just about jumps up off the paper and bite you on the nose. It also means that when you do make a silly mistake, and believe me everyone does at one time or another, the mistake stands out too. Whatever you do, never, never try to hide those mistakes. You might get laughed at if it's a particularly stupid blooper, but if you ever get caught cooking the books, you might as well get a job washing car windscreens, because no one will ever trust you again." "Is that all you need to know to be a scientist?" "Well they are probably the two most important things you need to know. However, when you do an experiment you need to design your experiment in such a way as to get rid of as many errors as possible before you start. Often scientists will spend hours or even days to get everything just right, checking everything over and over again, when the actual experiment takes less than a millionth of a second to perform. "Like using a tape measure and a ruler in case you forget about the bit over on the ends of the ruler?" "That is a perfect example." I praise her, "Nearly everybody will tell you a ruler is thirty centimetres long, and probably keep on telling you that until they're blue in the face, at least until you get them to measure it. "Now there is one more thing that you need to be able to do to be a scientist, and that is to ask the right sort of questions and then design the experiments you need to do to answer them. But you don't need to worry about that quite yet as you need to know enough science first, so that you know what the right sort of question is in the first place." "Sounds boring." Jenny says, "You do the same things over and over again and write everything down, and hope you get lucky one day." "Well if you insist on putting it that way, yes it does sound boring." I agree, "Then again so does playing the piano if you put it like that. You spend hours and hours every day doing the same things over and over again and in the end you hope you're good enough that you get to play for a proper audience. Look at anything worthwhile in that light and it's boring, hours and hours of practice and not much chance of a result. Why do *you* do gymnastics, you'll probably never go to the Olympics." "Besides," I continue, "not everybody who learns science does so, so that they can make new discoveries and become famous. There are hundreds of jobs which need you to know about science so you can do them well, like making wine or beer, or mining for gold, or making strong metals for better car engines." Sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest, Jenny looks thoughtful, "I guess so, Daddy's a sort of scientist, but he never says his job is boring. But he doesn't have to do stuff heaps of times either." "Don't you believe it." I chide her, "If he's designing a new rocket motor, he might test dozens of different designs until he gets one that works the way he wants it to, and even then he will probably change it a little bit and do some more testing. And again, and again, and then probably a few more times for good measure, but when he finally does get what he wanted, he also gets the satisfaction of having done the best job he is capable of." Frowning in deep thought, Jenny rocks slowly back and forth, the motion drawing my attention to where her pink cotton knickers pouch loosely over her hidden vulva. A little lower, I can see where the fabric in back has crept up into the crack of her backside. Lost in thought, she absently reaches down and scratches at the inside of her leg, her fingers briefly dislodging the loose cloth and letting me glimpse a smooth plump pussy lip. A few seconds later she scratches herself more vigorously, once again accidentally showing me a portion of her hairless charms. This time though, she realises what she is doing and with a squeak of embarrassment she throws her legs out straight in front and pushes her short skirt down between her thighs. Chuckling softly I observe, "You're going to have to learn to sit more carefully than that after your mum gets you those sexy knickers on Saturday." "You didn't see?" she asks red faced. "See what?" I ask in reply. "Nothing." she mumbles, obviously relieved. I could have left it there but a wicked little devil prompts me to say, "Well I wouldn't call it nothing, you just need to give it a few more years." "Oh you did see." she squeaks, hiding her face in her hands. "Jenny," I say softly, "the Japanese, have a saying, 'Nakedness is often seen but never noticed.' I'm not some silly little boy from school who's going to run around telling everyone I saw your pussy, so lets forget about it O.K.?" "O.K." she mumbles, still tugging at her too short skirt. "Did you see much?" "Hardly anything at all." I reassure her. "Now do like I said and forget it." "Bet you wish you saw more." she suddenly giggles. "Jenny." I say warningly, "I'm nearly three times your age, and what I might wish is both irrelevant and none of your concern. Now we have half an hour left, so let's have a bit of a wander around and try out your powers of observation." "How?" "Well what about that rock over there." I point to a large flat rock at the edge of a garden bed. "What about it?" "What about it indeed." I half mock, "Have a good look at it and tell me everything you can think of." With a look as if to say I'm mad, she bends over the rock in question, "It's sandstone." She announces. "And?" I prompt. "I guess that means it's made of sand." "Very likely." I say, "Anything else?" "It's got a whole lot of different layers in it." "Why do you think that might be?" I ask. "I don't know." She says, sounding unhappy that she has to make that admission. "Hey Jen," I say, "there's nothing wrong with saying 'I don't know.', It's the first step in saying 'I want to know.' Now have a look at this layer here," I trace my finger along a dark red, almost black, streak within the stone. "What does it look like to you?" "Rust?" she asks uncertainly. "Close enough." I grin, "It's the same stuff that rust is made of, iron oxide, though this here probably hasn't been pure metal since the star it was made in blew up. It formed when water that was very rich in iron salts dried up completely and left this layer behind. Now what about this layer?" I point out an almost pure white layer of stone. "There wasn't any iron in the water when it was made. And that means there was a little bit when this one was made and a lot when this one was. Right?" "What do you need me for?" I grin ruffling her hair. She reddens, this time with pleasure, as she jerks her head out from under my hand. Squatting, she peers closely at the rock, unconcerned that once again her knickers are on display, this time so tightly stretched over her mound that the cleft separating her labia is clearly evident.. "Hey, there are little shells in it." she cries excitedly, "And this looks like a bit of a big one. Are they fossils?" "Yes they're fossils." I confirm, "Now what do they tell you about where this rock came from?" I ask. "It was in the sea once." "The sea's a long way away from here," I say with false scepticism, "so how would it get here?" "Someone must have put it here." "Are you sure?" I ask, "Have a good look around and think about it." "Um, there's lots of rocks like this one, so that means it must have always been here. 'Cause nobody would have brought all of them here. So that means this spot must have been under the sea once. But how come it's not any more?" "You're right this spot once was under water millions of years ago." I say, "As for how it became dry land, that's because the Earth isn't just a big ball of rock. Over millions of years the top layer moves about, and some of it rises up and other parts sink. "Uh-huh." she nods, "How come it's all stuck together? I mean sand sticks together when it's wet, but it just comes apart when it dries out." "Well, when sand gets washed down into the sea, or into a lake, it spreads out on the bottom, and more gets washed down on top of it, and then some more still. Now this keeps on happening over millions of years until its hundreds or thousands of metres thick and the grains of sand in the bottom layers get squeezed so tightly together that they stick to each other." "Jenny. Greg." Dianne's voice calls out to us from the house. "Yeah Mum?" Jenny shouts back, still intent on examining the rock. "It's time to come in now." Dianne yells. "O.K. Mum." Jenny calls and holds her hand out for me to pull her upright. "You have an interesting way of tutoring in science." Dianne greets me with a smile, "First you play with her on the swing and then you try to hypnotise her." "He was too teaching me science." Jenny cries leaping to my defence, "Did you know it takes the same time to swing from one side to the other when you go high as when you go low. If you want to make the swings go longer you have to change how long the chain or rope is. We tested it scientifically." "As a mater of fact I didn't, so I'll take your word for it." Dianne says with a smile. "And did you know our place used to be under the sea too?" Jenny says excitedly, "We've got fossils and everything." "Well I knew it had to have been under water at some time, because the rock around here is sandstone," Dianne says, "but where did you find the fossils?" In that rock we were looking at, there's hundreds of tiny little sea shells." Jenny says. "So you found your log." Dianne grins at me. "Yes I did." I grin back. "So did you learn anything else." Dianne asks of Jenny. "Uh-huh," Jenny nods, "I learnt that people and fruit flies have got the same genes and that you can put genes from a frog into a fruit fly and they work the same. And when you change those genes really weird things happen like making fruit flies with two bottoms and other weird stuff." "Well you seemed to have jumped all over the place this afternoon," Dianne comments with raised eyebrows, "but none of it seems to have much to do with what you're doing at school at the moment." "Oh it does." Jenny says earnestly, 'it was all about how scientists have to do experiments hundreds and hundreds of times to make sure they got them right, like did you know they have to look at millions of fruit flies just to find a few interesting ones? And they have to write down everything even the wrong answers." "It's the scientific method." I say, noticing that Dianne is still looking a little confused, "It's a bit difficult to conduct many of the experiments that they do at school here at home, but since most of those experiments are intended to teach the scientific method by example, we don't really need to do them. Instead we'll probably just talk about anything interesting that comes to mind and how the scientific method should be applied." "But exactly what is this scientific method?" Dianne asks. "Careful observation, and experimentation and meticulous record keeping." I reply, "We'll probably do a few minor experiments that can be done around the home, but I have a feeling that a great deal of our science, will be learning to think, and how to ask the right sort of questions. Unlike maths where, every new thing is built up from what came before, primary level science is mostly about building up the skills needed later on. Jenny could probably learn the outcome of every experiment she'll do for the next two or three years by rote in a week, but without knowing how to get those results, the knowledge would be almost completely worthless. "In fact Jenny, I want you to start keeping a journal and write down anything you think is interesting. And it's not enough to say something like, 'I saw a magpie today.' I want you to write down everything you observe about that magpie. To get you started, I want you to go back to that rock tomorrow and turn it over. Then you can write down as much as you can about what you see underneath." Jenny makes a face, knowing what she is likely to find, but nods her agreement. "Also, I brought a lot of books with me that I'd like you to read, because you'll learn a lot about the history of science that you'll never be taught at school." "Well, that just leaves us with the problem of Jeremy." Dianne says, "I wish I could say that today was an isolated incident, but I know it's not. The problem is that he just can't understand that there are things just for Jenny, in this case you, and when he gets thwarted he often breaks out in these rages. Since it's impossible to keep him apart while you're here and not fair to him to try, I'd like to change our arrangement if I could." "I take it you mean tutoring Jenny at my place instead of here?" I say. "Yes," Dianne replies, "if it's not to inconvenient." "Not at all." I reply, "I could pick her up from here on my way home from college on Mondays, and since I only live a couple of blocks from her school she could go straight there on Wednesdays and I can drive her home afterwards." "Oh you don't have to go to any trouble," Dianne protests, "I can pick he up." "It's no trouble," I say, "and it means that we can run a little overtime without making you wait, and conversely if we finish early, you don't have to drop whatever it is you're doing at the time." "Well at least let me pay for the extra fuel." "What extra," I say, "I drive here at the moment anyway, so unless you want to try any calculate the extra burden put on my car by Jenny's weight, there's nothing to pay." "At least you can let me invite you to dinner occasionally." "Dianne," I grin pretending shock, "what would Tony say?" "Oh you know what I mean." Dianne laughs, with a glare toward her giggling daughter. "Yes I do, and I would be very pleased to accept." I say. "Are you having dinner with us tonight?" Jenny asks hopefully. "Not tonight Jen, I've got some friends coming around and we're going to slay us some dragons." "You' don't play that silly game do you?" Dianne asks. "Of course." I grin, "It gives me an excuse to get p- ah drunk and talk in funny voices." "You were going to say something else then." Jenny giggles. "I don't know what you could possibly be talking about." I say loftily. "You were going to say-" "Jenny!" "Paralytic." Jenny finishes with a cheeky grin as she dodges her mother's hand. "That sounds like a good word to me." I say, "Now come and get those books." Half way up the stairs Jenny whispers, "'Pissed', that's what you was going to say." and charges up to the schoolroom. Following at a more sedate pace, I join her a few seconds later and motion that she should hold her arms out for me to load her up. I begin taking books from my bag and piling them in her arms, my grin broadening in direct proportion to her growing look of dismay. By the time I finish she can barely see over the stack of books in her arms and she groans under the weight. "Do I have to read all these?" she protests. 'By Monday," I say, barely managing to keep my face straight, "and I'm going to test you on them too." "I won't do it." she declares stamping her foot, and then staggering as her load almost collapses. "Won't do what?" Dianne ask entering the room. "He says I have to read all these by Monday." Jenny complains in much aggrieved tones. Dianne surveys the pile in her daughter's arms and then looks at me, "Don't you think that might be a bit much for somebody her age." Hook, line sinker, rod, arm, *and* copy of Angling Times." I say with a smirk as I take the pile of books from Jenny's arms and deposit them on the table. Jenny stares at me open mouthed for several seconds before uttering a squeal of outrage and throwing herself at me. Grinning, I sidestep and pluck her out of the air, folding her knees up under her chin and immobilising her arms. "What do you plan on doing about it now?" I ask, grinning into her glare. "This." she suddenly grins. Demonstrating a flexibility developed in her gymnastics training, she wriggles her arms free and pulls my face down to hers, whereupon she proceeds to give me a very loud smacking kiss. "I got you right where I want you." she declares. Dianne erupts into peals of laughter, while Jenny grins at me, and wriggles around In my suddenly powerless arms until she is able to wrap her legs around my waist. "You look like a stunned mullet." Dianne finally gasps. "I feel like one." I manage to say, "Do you think it's safe for me to be alone with her. She might brutally ravish poor defenceless li'l ol' me." "You have my full permission to apply buckets of ice water as necessary." Dianne laughs. "Hear that." I say to the not so little girl still in my arms. "If you don't behave I get to pour a bucket of water over your head." "Oh I'll be *real* good, I promise." Jenny says archly. Dianne and I look at each other over the top of Jenny's head and roll our eyes. "Do you think if I start running now I might escape?" I ask. "It's unlikely, but you can try." Dianne laughs. "No way!" Jenny cries, "I caught you and now I'm gonna keep you, even if you are the worst tease in the world." "Why thank you." I say, grinning evilly, "Want to know what else I'm good at?" "No!" she shrieks, suddenly trying to escape. "Tickle torture." I growl. Holding her tight with one arm, I dig the fingers of my free hand into her ribs. "No! Stop!" she shrieks through her laughter. "Will you behave?" I ask, briefly pausing in my assault on her ribs. "No!" she cries defiantly. "Wrong answer." I grin, attacking an armpit. "NOooo!" she squeals redoubling her efforts to escape. During her struggles, her shirt comes untucked, and when my fingers find bare skin her voice rises to a piercing shriek, "No, stop!" she cries, "I'm gonna wet myself." Hearing the real distress in her voice I cease my attack, holding her in my arms as she gasps her way to recovery. Suddenly I realise that my left hand is clutching the soft bare skin of her bottom, where her knickers have been pulled awry in her struggle. I must have involuntarily flexed my fingers, because her eyes widen almost comically. "You're holding my bottom." she giggles. "Oops sorry." I apologise, reddening with embarrassment. Relaxing my grip, I let her slide to the floor, unfortunately the stiffness of her brief denim skirt conspires against me, and when I step back it remains caught up around her waist, exposing her pink cotton knickers to my gaze. And if that weren't bad enough, the gusset in front has slipped to one side, exposing half of her hairless pussy. "Oh god," I gasp, "I'm sorry." as Jenny hastily tugs her skirt down with a squeal, and Dianne chuckles at our joint discomfiture. Her modesty partially restored, Jenny reaches under the hem of her skirt and with a bobbing twist, extracts her knickers from her butt crack. "You gave me a wedgie." she says accusingly. I'm so relieved that Dianne isn't mad, that I find myself unable to contain the laughter bubbling up inside me. Jenny glowers at me for several seconds, until a smirk finds its way to her lips and she starts giggling uncontrollably. Not long after it stops abruptly and with a muttered "'scuse me." she bolts from the room. Then just as I manage to get myself under control, the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing reaches my ears. Dianne and I exchange glances, and when Jenny re-enters the room a few moments later she finds us howling like hyenas. Ignoring us, she stamps over to the table and picks up the top book from the pile. "So how much am I supposed to read?" she asks. Waving helplessly at her, I struggle mightily to contain my laughter. Finally I am able to gasp, "Just the parts I've marked, and you can take as long as you like." "What about the test?" she asks warily. "No test." I say, "They're all essays about science, and the ones I picked, are the ones that I think tell the history of science best. Oh, and you can skip the maths too. I have enough trouble following some of it, so I don't even expect you to try. "On Monday," I continue, "I want you to bring your maths book and your exercise book, so that we can go over your work and start getting you up to speed on this year's work. "Now I really do have to go, or I'm not going to have time to get set up before my friends arrive." I say, "I'll be here to pick you up at quarter past five on Monday, so make sure you're ready." Before I can pick up my bag, Jenny grabs it and slings it over her shoulder, obviously intending to see me to my car.