Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Copyright (C) 1998, Clayton.  ALL Rights Reserved

   Babysitting - Jenny, Chapter 7


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 7 - Practicing.

   On the final day of Jenny's punishment, she arrives at her usual time a
trifle damp from the rain, but otherwise unmussed by her usual exertions.
"We had a film today." she announces by way of explanation.

   "Good, you can get straight to work and work up a little credit for the
next time I have Sandy." I say.

   "Pooh to you too." she grins, but sets too with aclarity, realising that
my words make sense.

   About half an hour or so before we're due to finish up, the phone rings.

   "Hello?"

   "Greg, it's Dianne." the worried sounding voice on the other end tells
me.

   "Dianne, is there anything wrong?" Jenny perks up at the sound of her
mother's name.

   "Jeremy's had an accident." she tells me, "The doctors think he's broken
his wrist and he bumped his head."

   "Is he all right?" I ask anxiously.

   "What's wrong?" Jenny asks, "Who's hurt?"

   "Shush." I say waving at Jenny, "No not you Dianne."

   "Because of his CP.  they've had to give him a general, and that means
he has to stay in overnight.  Could you please..."

   Jenny worriedly tugs on my arm hard enough that I miss what Dianne has
to say, "Tell me what's wrong."

   Cupping my hand over the mouthpiece, I say, "It's your brother, he's
broken his wrist, but he's fine.  Now would you please let me hear what
your mother has to say, and I'll tell you all about it when she's finished.
Or more likely she'll tell her yourself."

   Uncovering the mouthpiece, I say, "I'm sorry Dianne, could you repeat
that, I had to calm Jenny down."

   "I said, Tony's at a conference in Sydney.  Would you mind keeping Jenny
there for another hour or so, until my mother can get there to pick her up.
I want to stay here to be with Jeremy tonight."

   "Of course I don't mind." I say, "Would you prefer if she stayed here
for the night." Jenny's face lights up at the prospect.  "That way she
won't miss school in the morning." It falls.

   "Oh would you?" Dianne breaths, "That would be even better, my mother
doesn't like driving at night, but what about clothes."

   "Not a problem, they watched a film in phys-ed today, so I figure she's
still got a clean pair of undies, and her dress looks fine too.  As for
tonight, I'll find an old t-shirt or something for her to wear."

   "What about your friends and your game?" Dianne suddenly asks, "I
understand it can get a bit rowdy."

   "Not tonight it won't," I reassure her, "they can moderate themselves
for one evening at least."

   "Well that's that then." Dianne says, sounding a little more relieved
now that the problem of Jenny is out of the way.  "Can I speak to Jenny
now, so I can put her mind at rest?"

   "Sure." I say, "Here Jenny, she wants to speak to you."

   "Hi Mummy," Jenny says, "is he all right?" <...> "Uh-huh, that's good."
<...> "I will." <...> "Yeah, it was about circulation and respiration and
stuff." <...> "Oh wow thanks Mum." <...> "I promise." <...> "O.K." She
holds the receiver out to me, "She wants to speak to you again."

   "Yes Dianne?"

   "I just wanted to tell you, I've let Jenny off the last bit of her
punishment, so she can watch TV tonight and stay out of your hair." 'Oh
shit.  Fat chance of that happening.' A sideways glance confirms my fears,
Jenny is scratching at her hip beneath he dress and when she takes her hand
away, she leaves it rucked up to reveal a narrow strip of white cotton
crossing her hip.

   "Sorry I missed that bit." I say to Dianne, "Jenny bumped my elbow.

   "I just said, she's been told to do as you say, and be good.  Bed time
is no later than ten o'clock, and you can finish early if you like." Dianne
repeats, "Oh and one other thing, could you lend her five dollars for lunch
tomorrow, I'll fix you up later, when we work out what I owe you for
tonight."

   "Not a problem." I say, "And as for what you owe me, forget it, what I
save in beer will more than cover what she eats tonight."

   "I've got to do something." Dianne protests.

   "O.K.  do you like roast pork?" I ask.

   "Yes, why."

   "Well that's my price, one roast pork dinner with crackling." I say, "I
love the stuff, but it's a waste for me to cook it, because most of it goes
soggy before I can eat it.  Alternatively I have to starve myself for the
next two days to make up for it."

   "Done." Dianne laughs, "How does Saturday night sound?"

   "Like 'Saturday night'." I chuckle.  "What time should I be there?"

   "Six thirtyish, we'll eat at seven." Dianne replies.  "Oh and bring some
bathers, you can sweat some of it off in the sauna and spa."

   "I'll do that." I say, "Thanks.  I'll let you go now, and you can get
back to Jeremy."

   "Thankyou again Greg, you don't know how grateful I am.  I'll call about
eight thirty in the morning, so Jenny won't be totally useless at school
tomorrow.  Bye for now."

   "Bye."

   "Are you having dinner with us on Saturday?" Jenny asks as I hang up and
turn away from the phone.

   "Yes, and apparently a sauna and spa afterwards."

   "Oh good." she says, adding with a naughty giggle, "I can show off to
you in my bathers."

   "We'll see what your father has to say about that." I say, "Well it
looks like I'm stuck with you for the night."

   "I know that silly," she giggles, "and since my punishment's over, I can
start practicing on you now."

   "I see that you've already started," I say nodding towards her partially
exposed knickers, "and not very subtly either.  Well since you're
punishments over I guess I can begin, giving you lessons, but I hope your
dad never finds out."

   "The real secret of showing off your knickers is not to do it at all." I
begin.

   "Huh, how does that work?"

   "Like this." I say, "If you keep on giving a bloke almost peeks, he's
going to keep looking in the hope that the next time you move, he might
actually see something.  You might just let him see a tiny flash of white
to get his attention in the first place, but once you've got him on the
hook you want to play your fish and make him sweat a bit.  So that when you
do land him, he's ready to do what you want.

   "It also gives you time to look him over and decide if you want to keep
him.  If you don't, all you have to do is tug your skirt down tight, and
that tells him that you're not interested.  It's also when, you watch for
the warning signs that might indicate that's he's trouble.  Like if he
looks a little bit too eager, or he looks interested, but you get the
feeling that you're going to have to let him see some more before he'll
bite.  If he doesn't look interested at all, don't even bother continuing
the game, either he really isn't interested, and you're wasting your time,
or he's a shark.

   "If you show off too much at once and he is interested, you'll get one
of three basic responses, either he'll say something like: 'Hey babe, wanna
come up to my place?'; or even worse, 'How much?' The third thing that
might happen is he's the sort of bloke who doesn't like sluts and bang
you've chased away the sort of fish that might be worth hanging onto.

   "Huh, what do you mean 'How much?'?"

   "Some women and older girls sell sex." I explain, "They're called
prostitutes or hookers, and if you send the wrong signals that's what
blokes will think you are."

   "Do they really do that?" Jenny asks curiously.

   "Yes they do." I reply, "And for the most part, they are not very well
regarded, so I'd steer clear of being thought one."

   "It's a lot more complicated than I thought." Jenny says.

   "And it's even more complicated than that." I say, "That's why all of
this is for informational purposes only, if I ever catch you using it
before you're quite a bit older than you are now, I'll beat your bum to a
rosy blister and worry about your dad killing me later.  Got it?"

   "Got it." she nods, "What about here though?"

   "Well I'm still not sure if I'm happy about it," I say, "but since I
know what you're doing, I guess it's O.K."

   "O.K." she agrees.  "How much older?"

   "Well you can begin with some of the more basic stuff when you're twelve
or thirteen, but only on boys you're own age, or maybe up to a year or two
older.  But you don't bring out the big guns or work on men until you're at
least eighteen.  And speaking of such I've got some friends coming over for
a game of D&D in about an hour so, we'd better pack up here and start
thinking about making your bed and dinner."

   "Do I keep my credit since we finished early?" she asks.

   "Yes you can keep your credit." I tell her, neglecting to mention that
her mother has already given permission for an early finish.  "Now get
packing."

   Leaving her to her packing, I get sheets and pillow cases from the linen
press and set out to make her bed.  As I flick the top sheet across the
mattress, she follows me into the room and starts helping me.  "Can I have
my bath now?" she asks as she tucks in her side.  The sound of running
water, indicates that's she takes my answer as a foregone conclusion.

   "Yes." I say, "Pillows and blankets are in the wardrobe."

   After we finish the bed, Jenny picks up her bag and heads for the
bathroom while I make my way towards the kitchen.  Five minutes later she
sings out, "Greg there aren't any towels."

   Sighing, I grab a couple of towels on my way past the linen press and
prepare to toss them through the bathroom door.  "No don't throw them,"
Jenny cries, "they'll get wet."

   "You're pushing the friendship kid." I mutter as I back through the
door.

   "Oh don't be silly?" she giggles, "You can't see anything, and you're
going to fall over my bag if you aren't careful."

   "You better be right." I mutter as I turn around.

   Sure enough, my feet are only inches from where her bag sits in the
middle of the floor.  Carefully laid out next to it are a pair of plain
white knickers, probably the ones she's worn all day since her bag is still
closed.  Her school dress hangs neatly over the empty towel rail.  And true
to her word, Jenny is sitting in the bath with her hands cupped over her
chest and the washcloth tucked between her legs.

   "See." she grins, "You can't see a thing that you wouldn't see at the
beach anyway."

   "So I noticed," I say as I hang up the towels, "but I doubt that would
carry much weight if your dad knew I was in here with you right now."

   "So don't tell him." she says reasonably.

   "Don't worry I won't." I grin with a mock shudder.

   As I leave, I remember that I'm supposed to be supplying nightwear. 
"Hold that pose," I tell her, "I'll be right back with something for you to
wear tonight."

   When I return with an oversized t-shirt that will hopefully cover her to
her knees, I pause at the door and knock, saying, "O.K.  coming through."
before I enter.

   This time the cheeky little shit, has got her tits on display as she
casually, way too casually, soaps her arms.  However the cloth at least
remains tucked between her legs.  Deciding to say nothing and just get out
of there, I hang the t-shirt over the top of her dress, and turn to leave.

   "Well?" Jenny asks significantly, making me pause in the doorway.

   "What?" I ask sharply.

   "What do you think?"

   "I think you're asking for trouble." I say to the empty hallway.

   "Not with you I'm not." she says, "What do you think of my boobs?"

   "If I answer truthfully will you stop this silly game?" I ask.

   "O.K.  but you've got to look at them properly."

   Sighing, I turn back to face her.  Tiny barely protuberant cones of fat,
push out beneath three quarter inch diameter brown-pink circles. 
Surmounting them are two very tasty looking nipples about the size of peas.
From the way they stand out, it is obvious that Jenny has been playing with
them just prior to my entrance, and probably while my back was turned as
well.

   "Jenny," I say, "they are very nice boobs for a girl your age and if
you're mother is anything to judge by you'll make some fellow very happy
when you get older."

   "But mum's only got tiny little boobs." Jenny replies, "I want big
ones."

   "What on earth for?" I ask.

   "Because boys like big boobs." she says.

   "And if that's all they can see in you, you don't want them." I reply,
"That sort of boy thinks that big boobs equals no brains, or he doesn't
care if you do have any, or more correctly he doesn't want you to have any.
The sort of bloke I'd hope you were looking for should be a bit smarter
than that.  Besides, your boobs will still be where they belong when you're
forty or fifty, and the girls with the big boobs will have them hanging
around their belly buttons when they take their bras off.  Again the bloke
you're looking for will know that too, so it's more likely he'll stick with
you when you're older, rather than chasing his twenty one year old,
pneumatic blonde sexretary around the desk."

   "What's pneumatic?" she asks, giggling.  "And what's a sexretary?"

   "Filled with air." I explain, "In other words big boobs and no brains.
And I think you can figure out the other one for yourself.  I'll give you a
hint, her office skills are irrelevant to her job."

   "But I bet her orifice skills aren't." Jenny giggles wickedly.

   I can't help it, I slide to the floor, helpless with laughter.  When I
recover, I notice that Jenny has turned over and is looking at me over the
end of the tub, around the end of the screen separating it from the shower,
and she's still giggling wickedly.  "Shit Jenny, where did you come up with
that?" I gasp.

   "I thought of it myself," she chortles, "but I'm right aren't I, if she
doesn't use her hole she doesn't get the job."

   "You're perfectly correct and, a little gutter brain for thinking of
it." I laugh, leaning back against the doorframe.

   "Why thank you sir." she giggles, "Pass the shampoo please."

   Somehow or other it transpires that I return to my seat in the doorway,
and remain for the remainder of her bath.  Answering her questions, I tell
her a little about what it's like at college, correcting some of the many
misconceptions that movies like 'Frat House' have given her.  I wonder out
loud where she's seen it, given it's age.  As it turns out her father owns
it.

   "You better go now," she giggles, "I'm getting out now." Grinning
wickedly, she doesn't wait for me to get up before she begins to rise. 
However, she stops on her knees, pressed up against the side of the bath,
with the rim cutting across her pelvis, just above the level of her hips.

   "You are a little tease." I inform her with a chuckle as I finish
getting up, "And you're going to come to a bad end."

   "Very bad I hope." Her laughter chases me as I close the door.

   "Oh by the way, nice bum." I call out through the wood.  Even though the
door is closed and I can no longer see it, she still squeaks, and I hear
the splash of her dropping back into the water.

   "Bugger it," I mutter as I re-enter the kitchen and start putting things
away.  "Pizza."

   By the time I finish hanging up from placing the order, Jenny is waiting
for me with her hairbrush in her hand, a towel wrapped like a turban on her
head.  She is also holding the t-shirt she is supposed to be wearing, and
instead, she has the towel, wrapped around her shoulders, her other hand
holding it closed in front, providing adequate, if minimal decency.

   In response to, my questioning look, she replies, "Oh it's all right
I've got my undies on." Smirking she pulls a dangling corner of the towel
to one side to reveal a pair of white knickers.  A repeated motif of
Sylvester chasing Tweety pie runs around the waistband, with the same
picture repeated, enlarged, on the front panel.  though all I can see is
Tweety and a part of Sylvester's foot.

   "Why do you keep asking for trouble?" I mutter, "If I was a child
molester trying to seduce you, I'd be saying, 'That's a nice picture.' and
'What a pity I cant see more of it.'"

   "O.K." she giggles, releasing the grip that has been keeping the towel
closed.  It falls open enough to show me the entire picture, while still
barely covering her tiny boobs.  Shit, who was trying to seduce whom.  As
for the picture, Sylvester's outstretched grasping hand, lies at the top of
the slight indentation marking her slit, just about where her clit should
be.

   "Jesus Christ child, just which end of your body do you want me to apply
that hairbrush to?" I ask ominously.

   "Your choice." she giggles, pulling the front of the towel closed.

   Pulling some cushions together, I sit down with my leg spread out in a
vee, and growl, "Sit down and give me that brush."

   "Damn, wrong end." she giggles, as she does as I ask.

   "The night's still young." I tell her as I begin the task of drying and
brushing her hair.

   "Oh goody, I need a good spanking." she giggles.

   "How right you are." I mutter.  "I think I'll tell your dad to give you
one the next time I see him."

   "Oooh, that's no fun." she complains, "Besides, he wouldn't do it, I
haven't had a spanking since I was a little kid."

   "So why all the threats?" I ask.

   "That just tells me I better not do anything else or I have to pay a
fine or something." she says.  In sudden reflection she adds, "I think I
nearly got a spanking the other night though."

   "I think you did too.  And a good one at that." I chuckle, "What's this
about a fine?"

   "Dad gives me my pocket money, and then I have to give some of it back
if I'm naughty." she explains, "He says it makes me more aware than if he
just takes it out himself."

   "I like it." I say.

   "You would." she mutters darkly.

   We both fall silent as I continue to work on her hair, and since we have
plenty of time, I continue past the point where I could stop, working
towards brushing her hair dry.  As I work, I notice a dreamy little half
smile flickering across her lips, and her eyes are half-lidded in
contentment.  At least that's what I think at first.  A suspicious motion
beneath the towel leads me to think otherwise, and a minute or so later my
suspicions are confirmed.

   Released from her grip the towel falls open far enough for me to see
that both of her hands are now busy, gently pinching and rubbing at the
tiny nipples surmounting her brand new breasts.  Seeking both a better
look, (dirty boy) and to embarrass her, I allow the bristles of the brush
to catch in the looped threads of the towel on the next downstroke, fully
exposing what she is doing.

   With a sudden shriek, she covers her breasts with her hands.  "I
wasn't.. I didn't..." she stutters, her blush spreading from beneath her
cupped hands to the roots of her hair.

   "No, I can see you weren't playing with your tits." I chuckle.

   "You did that deliberately." she accuses.

   "You should have been holding onto your towel and it wouldn't have
happened." I counter.

   "But then I can only do one at...  a...  time." she trails off as she
realises her admission.

   "Well since you shouldn't be doing it at all." I grimace.

   "It just felt nice when you were doing my hair," she says, "and I guess
I just started doing it with one hand."

   "And that felt even better, so you forgot about the towel and started
using both hands." I finish for her, "See how easy it is for you to get
into trouble?"

   "I guess." she admits.

   "No guessing allowed." I tell her, "Think back to what I said last week.
Now here you are in my house with nothing but a pair of knickers on, and I
can just bet how anxious you are that your mother, or even worse, your dad,
doesn't find out about it, since it's been your own idea all along and I
haven't had to do even one single thing that I told you about to get you to
this state.  Jesus, you might as well have jumped into my tackle box and
started stuffing the hooks into your mouth."

   "You're the only person I know, that I would do it with." she says
earnestly.

   "Why, because you think you're in love with me?" I ask deliberately
harsh.

   "Well I guess so at first," she admits candidly, "but now I think it's
because I know you love me and won't hurt me."

   'Bingo.' shouts that less than principled brain residing between my
legs. 'Bingo, bingo, bingo.'

   Ignoring these thoughts, I make one last try.  "I love you?" I ask
softly.

   "Oh I don't think you're *in love* with me." she says, "But, I think
it's like 'agape' in that book "Time Enough For Love." and what he said
about one person having to be happy to make the other one happy."

   "Shit kid you don't pull any punches." I gasp, "I guess I do love you
like that because, I don't want anything to happen that would make you
really unhappy."

   "No guessing allowed." she giggles, "Can I take my hands away?"

   Still reeling from shock, I absently say, "Go ahead."

   Her hands come away from her chest to reveal her tiny boobs.  During our
discussion, the engorging blood has drained away from her nipples, leaving
her breasts as two semi-conical domes capped by tiny chocolate chip buttons
of pink-brown flesh.

   Caught up in thought, my hands automatically take up where they've left
off, pulling the brush through Jenny's hair until the last of the moisture
is gone and it crackles with static electricity.  When I finally lay the
brush aside, Jenny snuggles back against my chest and pulls my arms about
her waist.

   "Mmmm, that was nice." she murmurs, twisting slightly in order to find
the most comfortable position.

   Almost of their own accord, my hands begin to lightly brush the skin of
her flanks.  "Mmmm that's nice too." she sigh's contentedly.  "Is it true
what you said the other day about it being nicer when somebody else does
something?"

   Two little voices within my cry out.  'Uh-oh', says the more
responsible, the other 'Party time.' "Sometimes." I admit slowly.

   "Could you..." she begins hesitantly, "Could you touch my boobs?"

   "Yes I could." I agree.

   "Would you?  Please?"

   "And what comes next?" I ask softly, "What it feels like when I use my
mouth?  And after that?  My hands somewhere else?  My tongue?  More?  No I
don't think it's a very good idea."

   "Just this." she whispers, "Please?"

   "Are you sure?" I ask, my resistance crumbling.

   "Please." her hands cover mine and push them up to cover her small
chest.

   With the small chocolate bud mounds of her proto-pubescent breasts
cupped in the palms of my hands, I surrender myself to her pleasure. 
Folding my hands sideways, I briefly capture her tiny breasts in their
entirety between the two pads of flesh on either side of my palms, allowing
them to slip free as I finish the motion.

   "Nice." she murmurs, her hands on mine, encouraging them to repeat their
actions.

   By the fourth or fifth time that my hands open and close on her chest,
two firm nubbins press into my palms.  Shifting my hands slightly, I now
capture these between my thumb and forefinger, and tug gently outwards. 
Once again she murmurs contentedly, her hands laxly griping my wrists.

   A feathery brush, with the pads of my thumbs brings an involuntary
shudder to her slight frame, and an almost silent outcry from her throat.

   Catching her now fully engorged nipples between each adjacent pair of
fingers in turn, I bring a series of surprised 'Ohs' to her lips.  Then
taking my hands away one at a time, I wet the tips of my thumbs and
forefingers in my mouth, transporting the slippery saliva to her turgid
nipples.

   Now as I squeeze my fingers together, the tiny knobs atop her
Lilliputian breasts pop free, like the seeds of a watermelon.  Now her
fingers tighten convulsively on my wrists, holding my hands to her breasts
as if she were afraid that I would deprive her of the pleasure that she is
so obviously feeling.

   A gust of air from my lip, passes her shoulder, evaporates the moisture
coating her nipple, forcing a shrill outcry from her slightly parted lips,
as her back arches and pushes the blood engorged bulbs of her nipples back
between my fingers.

   Another shift of my hands, and I am now rapidly flicking my thumbs back
and forth, alternately striking the sensitised flesh of her tumescent
nipples with the hard keratin of my thumbnail and then the soft fleshy pad
beneath.  Lost in the sensations I am bringing to her for the first time,
she gasps out, "Oh, oh, oh, oh." in time with my practiced manipulations.

   Reclining into the cushions behind me, I ease her backwards, her head
lolling like a newborn's as I begin a chaotic mix of all the touches,
pinches and rubs that I have subjected her to up till now.  Always
different, one sensation follows another until she suddenly digs her
fingers into my wrists and screams softly with orgasmic release.

   Gently, slowly, using only the pads of my thumbs, I bring her back to
earth, finishing with a final gentle pinch to the firm, erect pinnacles of
flesh atop her tiny breasts.

   "Ohmigod," she mumbles once she is again capable of coherent speech, "I
didn't know *that* could happen just from touching my boobs."

   "Well now you do." I say, "Can you see just how easily one thing follows
another?" I ask.  "What would you have done, if I'd started to move my
hands lower?"

   "Probably ripped my knickers off to get them out of your way." she
giggles.  "Oh boy, I didn't know it could happen like that."

   "*Now* do you appreciate what I've been saying for the last month?" I
ask, "How easy was it for you to lose control, and give yourself up to
anything that I might have wanted to do to you?"

   "Too easy." she says with a shiver.  "I just didn't know it could happen
like that." She looks to be deep in thought for a few moments, then says,
"But I *think* I would have still told Mummy afterwards if you'd touched me
anywhere else."

   Picking her up, I turn her around in my lap until she is facing me. 
"Jenny," I say, "I hope you would have too.  And I think that is one of the
bravest things that you have said.  I know how angry she'd be to hear it,
but I also know just how much more grieved she would be if you didn't and
something terrible happened as a result.

   "Your mother loves you more than you can possibly imagine, and when
she's angry it's because she's scared that might get hurt.  I'm going to
tell you something now that I never want you to repeat to another living
soul.  Your mother was molested when she was a girl about your age, and it
lasted for two years, because she was afraid of what her father would do if
he ever found out.

   "Never be afraid to tell somebody about anything that happens to you,
because of anything that you have done that might have encouraged it.  They
might be angry at what you've done, and they have every right to be, but
they will be devastated if you say nothing and something terrible happens.

   "Like in 'Time Enough For Love', when you love somebody you will do
almost anything to make them happy, but when they're unhappy, you feel it
too, and even when it's not your fault you still wonder what you could have
done to make it different.  So when you get hurt, all of the people who
love you, blame themselves for not doing something to stop it from
happening."

   "Is it always like that when somebody else touches you?" she asks
sombrely.  "I mean you get so you can't stop them."

   "Fortunately no." I tell her, "It happened this time, party because you
trusted me so much that you couldn't comprehend that I might do anything to
hurt you, and also because what you were feeling was so new that there
wasn't room in your mind for anything else.  As you get more experienced,
you'll become better able to deal with it, and you'll be able to keep some
control right up to the end.

   "There is something I should say about those feelings.  If something bad
ever does happen to you, and I hope it never does.  But if it does, you
might experience a lot of those feelings even though you are scared out of
your wits and hating every single second.  It's not because there is
anything wrong with you, it's because the parts of your body where you
experience them are hooked up to a part of your brain that you don't have
very much control over.

   "Those feelings are part of what makes the mating urge so strong, and
they help to ensure that there will be a new generation.  Don't ever think
that because your vagina gets wet and slippery, that parts of what was
happening felt good, it's because some part of you must have liked what was
happeneing, wanted it to happen.  It happened because if it didn't, sex
would be so painful that it would almost never happen and no babies would
be born.

   "There are some incredibly powerful feelings associated with sex,
because it is an incredibly powerful thing, it is the most central thing
there is to life.  Eating, sleeping, shitting, they're nothing compared to
sex.  Those things may help to keep you alive, but sex is about making life
itself.

   "This is something else I don't want you to think about, and I hope you
never have to remember, but if you ever do, it might help to make things
just a little easier to bear, and help you to recover a little bit faster."

   "It would have been a lot easier if we were like other animals and only
had sex to have babies like they do." Jenny comments.

   "True." I say with a nod.  Then add with a big grin, "But think of all
the fun you'd miss out on practicing."

   "Yeah." she giggles, "Wanna practice on my boobs some more?"

   You, are a terrible child." I chuckle, giving the aforementioned
articles a tweak.

   "Bet I'd be good at something else though." she says challengingly.

   I just bet you would." I say making a teasing foray out onto the flat
expanse of her bare midriff.

   Giggling she captures my hand and puts it back on her chest.  "Don't be
naughty, I didn't say you could go down there."

   As I treat her small breasts to a nice, but not earth shattering
massage, she asks me, "Can I play with you tonight?"

   "What?" I ask with a teasing tug on her right nipple.

   "I mean can I play with you and your friends?"

   "Oh, I'm not enough for you now, is that it?" I say as if hurt, and take
my hands away from her boobs.

   "Stop it." she giggles, "You know what I mean.  Can I play D&D, whatever
that is, with you?"

   "It's Dungeons and Dragons, and I don't see why not, at least until ten
o'clock," I reply, "but I'll have to ask the rest of the blokes about it
first."

   "O.K." she agrees, "Now play with my boobs some more."

   Just then there is a knock at the door.  "Ah saved by the bell." I
chuckle, unceremoniously pushing her aside and rising to my feet.  "Better
put your shirt on now."

   "What if I don't?" she giggles.

   "Well in that case," I chuckle evilly, "I send you to get the pizza."

   "I dare you to dare me." she says naughtily.

   "No dare." I say, as a second knock sound, "Put it on and stop being
stupid."

   Smirking she begins to do as I ask, as I go to answer the door.  When I
return with the pizza, I find that the shirt comes within two inches of my
expectations, finishing just above her knees.  The neck opening however, is
so large that her right shoulder and the top several inches of her chest
are visible, and on that side the sleeve covers her arm to well below the
elbow.

   Only one thing remains to complete the ensemble, even if it shouldn't be
seen during the evening.  "Good." I nod, "Now since they're clean, go and
put your gym shorts on."

   "Why?" she asks un-comprehendingly.

   "Because I don't trust you, that's why."

   "Why?" she giggles, "Do you think I might try to show off these?" she
lifts the bottom of the shirt to display her cartoon adorned knickers.  "Or
these?" She pulls it up under her chin, looking for all the world like a
two or three year old proudly showing off that she doesn't need a nappy any
longer.

   On the other hand she also looks like a proto-pubescent preteen, a
slight narrowing of her waist and flaring of her hips, showing that it is
only a matter of months before she reaches the first major milestone of her
rapidly approaching womanhood.

   "If I told you what you looked like, you'd hit me." I chuckle.

   "What's that?" she giggles, thankfully allowing the t-shirt to drop back
down over her somewhat distracting, if admittedly sweet charms.

   "Well I doubt if you'd remember," I say, "but I bet you did something
just like that, the first time you wore *big girl* knickers instead of a
nappy, and your parents had visitors."

   "Didn't I look sexy?" she giggles.

   "Well a little bit I guess, because I could see the beginnings of the
changes that show that you are growing up.  But mostly it went so far
beyond 'slut' that it was actually funny.  Now go and do as I asked, and
then we'll eat."

   With one final flirt of her tail, she leaves the room, returning a
minute later wearing her gym shorts, but with the shirt tucked into them,
and looking as if she had swallowed an inner tube.  "Satisfied." she
smirks.

   "Almost." I say with an outright laugh, "Now untuck that shirt, you look
grotesque."

   Giggling, she pulls the shirt out and throws herself down beside me, to
reach into the open pizza box for a slice.

   About three quarters of the way through the pizza, a knock at the door
announces the arrival of the first of the gamers.  Morrie, Dave and Vaughan
follow me into the lounge and are brought up short by the sight of a ten
year old girl obviously dressed for bed, calmly munching on a slice of
pizza.

   "Is *this* the girlfriend?" Dave asks, ducking as I take a swing at his
head.

   "Hi I'm Jenny." she giggles, looking pleased at being called my
girlfriend.

   "What's she doing here?" Morrie asks.

   "Her brother had an accident and since her dad's out of town, I got
stuck with her for the night." I say, trying to sound as if it were an
arduous chore.  Arduous?  Maybe.  Sometimes frightening?  Certainly.  A
chore?  Never.

   "So what about tonight?"

   "You stay sober." I tell them with a grin.

   "So I guess an orgy's out of the question." he says, in crude reference
to that earlier session when they'd had so much fun tormenting me.

   "Shit sorry." he mutters, when Jenny snorts and utters a half shocked,
and very naughty titter.

   "I'd watch what you say around her if I were you." I warn, "She could
beat you to death with the words she eats for breakfast.  Jenny what's
'apposite'?"

   "The opposite of opposite." she says as if it's a word everybody should
know.

   "Shit I've never even heard the word and I'm and English lit.  major."
Vaughan gasps, "What did she do swallow a dictionary?"

   "And a thesaurus and probably half the Britanica." I laugh, "And you can
watch your language too."

   "Sorry."

   "It means faecal matter." Jenny giggles.  "Actually apposite means 'very
appropriate', but I like the other way of putting it better and it's close
enough." To me she says, "Now are you going to tell me who these gentlemen
of the collegial persuasion are?"

   "Stop doing that!" Vaughan cries, "You sound like my lit.  lecturer. 
Besides I'm starting to feel inadequate."

   "Inadequate:" Jenny begins sententiously, "less than adequate; not up to
the task; unable to perform."

   "She's got you there." Dave chuckles, "At least after our usual nights."

   "But not tonight." I say, "Which should make you happy.  Jenny, this is
Dave, he doesn't drink, smoke, or pass wind," I joke, "but apart from that
we hate him.  The fat bloke over there,"

   "I'm not fat, just well padded." he protests good naturedly.

   "setting things up," I continue as if he hadn't spoken, "is Morrie, and
the one you so effectively and accurately put down is Vaughan, but more
usually Vague since it's so apposite."

   "And that," I say as there is another knock at the door, "is probably
Joseph and Matt, we call him Speed, since it only takes about a minute for
him to decide which hand to scratch his head with."

   "Unlike the rest of you where it takes about half an hour." she grins,
ducking the swipe that I aim at her head.

   "Be polite to your elders and betters." I chide her as I got to let
Joseph and Speed in.

   "Morrie says I can play." Jenny announces, as I return, "He says the
rest of you don't count since he's the Dungeon Master."

   To the new arrivals she says brightly, "Hi, I'm Kitty Kat."

   Five pairs of eyes fasten on me and the room breaks up into
uncontrollable laughter.  For once Matt isn't slow on the uptake and within
a second, Jenny and I are the only ones left standing.  Jenny looking
completely bewildered, and me heartily embarrassed.

   "What's so funny?" she demands once the others begin to recover and she
can be heard above the noise.

   "I'll explain it to you later." I tell her with a chuckle, "Probably
when you're about twenty one or so."

   "I'll bet it's dirty then." she sniggers, igniting another round of
laughter.

   "Go away, gutter brain." I tell her, with a swipe of my hand, "Go and
bother somebody else."

   Since she knows nothing about the game, Morrie is the obvious target,
and once she is gone, Vaughan asks me, "What about?" He cocks his thumb and
little finger in a fashion similar to the universal sign for a telephone,
but brings his thumb to his lips instead of his ear.  "I got some wicked
skunk tonight.  Can we use the kitchen?"

   "I guess so," I agree reluctantly, knowing full well that, if I didn't
he'd just use the spare room instead.  Being the way he is, he'd probably
just kick Jenny's bag under the bed and not even think about why it was
there.  At least there's an exhaust fan in the kitchen.  "But make sure you
keep it out of sight."

   "Right you are." he says.

   "Well come on you bastards, We've only got a couple of hours tonight."
Morrie yells.

   "I'll get the drinks." Vaughan offers.

   "What do all these numbers mean?" Jenny asks me as she pulls up a
cushion beside me.

   "Jeez Morrie what did you tell her?" I ask.

   "Cripes mate, I barely had time to tell her about her character." he
replies.

   "Censored I hope?" I say darkly.

   "He said I was a young thief who you rescued and that I'm in love with
you, but you think I'm a little pest." she tells me, "Just like me," she
giggles brightly, "except I'm not a thief."

   "Well he's certainly right about the pest part." I grimace, as the
others start laughing.

   "So what do they mean?"

   "Well they describe the characteristics of you're character that are
important to the game." I explain, "That's how strong you are, which is
pretty low since your character is a kid.  The next one is how smart you
are, which isn't too bad but it's nothing to write home about.  It's most
important to mages, and apart from the fact that you are able to learn a
couple of extra languages it doesn't matter much too you.  Wisdom, again
not to bad, your character has been around and unlike Speed over there she
knows it's a good idea to duck when chairs start flying.  This one is your
prime stat.  dexterity, it's how good you are with your fingers, and an
eighteen means that you can just about take out my false teeth while I'm
talking.  Your constitution affects your hit points which is how often
somebody can stick a sword into you before you fall over, and it's also how
often you can be killed and brought back to life.  And the last one is a
measure of how likely people are to like you.  Pretty useless in a dungeon,
since just about anything you meet thinks of you as lunch, but from now on
you're doing all the shopping for us."

   "That's because I'm so cute and irresistible." she skites.  "What's this
one?  T H A C 0"

   "Thack-oh." I say giving it it's usual pronunciation, "That's how likely
you are to hit enemies.  And this one, armour class, is how well armoured
you are, the lower it is the better.  Yours isn't too bad, but I wouldn't
get into the middle of a fight either.  You'll do better waiting on the
edge for a chance to stick a knife between somebody's shoulder blades. 
These numbers are how likely you are to survive different things that might
happen to you.  They're not too good yet, so I'd let "Lightfingers over
there" I wave towards Speed, "poke around for traps.

   "And these numbers here are, how good you are at the sort of things
thieves do, not the best yet, but you're still a useful backup in case
Lightfingers makes a mess of things, and they'll get better as your
character's experience increases.  If Morrie hasn't told you already, the
unfortunate thing for the rest of us, is that you think that you are a hell
of a lot better than you are."

   "Is this one my experience?" she asks pointing to a figure near the
middle of her character sheet.

   "Yes but it's actually your level which is important." I reply, "You're
a level four thief, which is pretty low compared to the rest of us, but
since you need more and more experience points to go up each level, you'll
catch up fairly quick, and thieves advance pretty quickly anyway.  I'll
explain the rest to you as we go along." I finish as Vaughan finally enters
the room, carrying a six-pack, a can of Coke, and a half glass of 'Jack in
the black' for me.

   Eager to try out her abilities and get a feel for the game, and
incidentally remain within character, Jenny or I should say Kitty Kat, goes
to work on the rest of the party and to a slightly lesser extent the wagon
drivers.  She even makes one abortive attempt to rob the caravan master. 
In fact she indulges in a veritable orgy of note passing with Morrie, and
by the second day of the trip, it becomes something of a joke to pick her
up and shake her to see what falls out of her pockets.

   She also turns out to be quite a hustler in her own right, and even when
caught, she shows quite a talent for talking her way out of trouble, or
failing that, buying her way out.  Usually with money taken from my
character, Grul.  All the while she maintains that other facet of her
character that amuses the others so greatly.  She quickly realises this
fact, and much to my embarrassment, plays up to it, snuggling into my
shoulder and purring.

   Since the party is in the middle of escorting a caravan from one city to
another, it's not hard for Morrie to work in a little side trip by having a
marauding band of orcs attack us.  In they fray Lightfingers, as well as a
rich merchant's daughter who was travelling with the caravan, get captured,
and it is now incumbent upon us to rescue them before they become the main
course.  Suddenly Kitty Kat is all that stands between us and every nasty
trap that Morrie's devious mind has devised.

   Because Lightfingers was captured while in camp, Morrie rules that Kitty
Kat has access to most of his equipment, so things aren't quite as bad as
they might have been.  As play continues, my decision to make Jenny wear
her gym shorts proves justified, though not for the reason I gave her.  Her
continuous rocking back and forth to retrieve and throw dice, coupled with
her sitting tailor fashion, means that for a good part of the evening, her
shirt sits at or near the tops of her thighs.

   On the other hand, my choice of t-shirts could have been better.  On
more than one occasion, I notice the eyes of those sitting most closely
opposite her, widening, as she leans forwards to pick something up, or hand
a note to Morrie.  A sideways glance confirms my fears, through the gapping
neck opening of the t-shirt, I can see all of her left breast, and in all
probability those opposite, are treated to the sight of both.

   However, it appears that for once, Jenny is unaware of what she is
doing. At least I see no evidence of secret smiles.  Nor do I notice her
moving with untoward lack of speed or excessive haste, just her usual
gymnasts grace as she sweeps up the dice or passes a note across the floor.

   From time to time during the evening, each of us, except Dave and, much
to his disgust, Morrie, head for the kitchen for another drink, and at the
same time take the opportunity to smoke a couple of quick cones.  Then
about three quarters of an hour into the game, Jenny gets up to refresh her
own drink.  Just as I'm thinking that she's taken enough time to grab a
couple of pipes for herself, I hear a triumphant cry, followed by a giggle
that continues as she brings bong and mixbowl back into the lounge.

   "I *thought* you were doing something naughty," she giggles, taking in
our looks of shock and panic with glee, "but you don't have to hide it, Mum
and Dad smoke it too sometimes."

   Being at least partially used to her, I recover first.  "Well now you
can put it right back where you found it." I tell her, "The other reason
it's out there is that I don't want you sniffing the fumes."

   "Spoilsport." she giggles, turning to return to the kitchen.

   "Well at least we don't have to hide it any more." I say with a grimace.

   "Do you think she'll tell anyone?" Vaughan asks me.

   "Depends." comes a voice from the doorway, "What's in it for me?"

   "What do you want?" Vaughan groans.

   "Don't even think about it." I say warningly as she opens her mouth to
speak.  "And you." I address Vaughan, "Don't try make any bargains with her
unless you own a stable."

   "Coises foiled again." Jenny giggles.

   Morrie, go get yourself a couple of pipes." I say, "Jenny and I are
going to have a little session of our own."

   "I wasn't really going to tell." Jenny hastily reassures us.

   "I know." I reply, "But we're still going to talk.  Park it!"

   Startled into compliance, she drops to her cushion like a stone. 
"O.K.," I say, "We all know you were joking, but blackmail is not a very
nice thing, somebody always gets hurt, and in the long run it usually gets
found out anyway.  So if you know something either tell, or keep your mouth
shut, and on the flip side, if somebody tells *you*, that they'll keep
quiet about something you've done if you do something for them, or give
them something, dob yourself in, or there's a damned good chance that
they'll keep coming back for more, and more, and more."

   "What if you've both done something wrong?" she asks, "Neither one of
you can say anything then."

   "What if they get caught?" I ask, "Can you trust them not to spill their
guts, if it means that they'll get off easier?  Think back to what got you
grounded.  What if it had been both you *and* Vanessa?  All it would take
is for her to accidentally says something that means that it gets found
out, and if she's scared enough she might say it was all your idea. 
Actually knowing what I do of the pair of you, that's what everybody would
think anyway."

   Jenny lets out a nervous giggle, as I finish off with, "So what do you
think you'd get if your mum found out about it from Vanessa's mum?"

   "About a year." she says with a shudder.

   "So in the long run you're almost always better off confessing your part
in anything immediately, even if you decide to keep quiet about what others
have done." I conclude.

   "Not only that," Dave says, putting in his own two cents worth, "but if
you always do confess, and something happens that you didn't do, but it
looks like you did, you're more likely to be believed."

   "So is she properly chastised?" Morrie asks as he resumes his seat.

   "You can bet your gluteus maximal." she giggles.

   "Hey that's not right!" exclaims Speed, quick on the uptake but slow of
understanding.  "Isn't it supposed to..."

   "Oh I understood what she said," Morrie cuts him off, "and I *know* that
I've been insulted." He then adds with a nasty grin, "I think it's time for
Tucker's kobolds."

   "What are Tucker's kobolds?" she asks curiously, while the rest of us
groan with dismay.

   "You don't want to know." I tell her, "I would suggest that you see just
how good you can be with apologies."

   "O.K.," she says naughtily, "I'm sorry I said you had a fat arse."

   "With refinements." he adds ominously.

   "Well at least we can console ourselves that she's got the least number
of hit points." Joseph observes.

   "But not by much," Dave, our magic user complains, "and with all of
Lightfingers' stuff, she's got a hell of a lot better armour class than I
do."

   "This sounds like fun." Jenny giggles.

   "I hope you think so afterwards." Vaughan laughs, safely out of this
part of the proceedings.

   "Well let's get it over with." I mutter.

   At first things go pretty easily, our party meets a few sentries and
dispatches all but one who wriggles into a small hole in the wall and
disappears.  "That's it," Orac the Magnificent mutters, "now the fun
starts."

   "I could go after it." Jenny says in her role as Kitty Kat, "I'd fit."

   "Much as I would like to stuff you headfirst down that hole," Corin
Silverhair (Joseph) says, "I advise you to think about it for a moment. 
Yes you'll fit, but only just and I doubt very much you would like what you
would find at the other end.  It would be large, heavy and it would have
your brains on it."

   "Oh."

   "O.K.  form up." I order in my role as leader of the fighting members of
the party, "Non-combatants, that's you, to the middle."

   As we continue, we encounter another twenty or so of the diminutive dog
faced creatures, killing all but a couple who escape down side tunnels too
small to take anyone but Kitty Kat, and taking no damage ourselves.

   "This is easy," Jenny declares after observing the dice rolls for a
while, "even I could kill them."

   "Jeezuss," Joseph groans loudly, "why don't you just say, 'Can anyone
smell naphtha.'"

   "Oh good idea." Morrie chuckles, and rolls a die a few times as he says,
"Grul, Kitty Kat, and oh damn, Friar Tuck, a stinking, slimy, brown liquid
pours over your heads.  Save vs.  Deathray please."

   "What's that?" Jenny asks.

   "Roll a twenty sided die and pray for a high number." I tell her as I
roll for both me, and Morrie's character, Friar Tuck.

   "Will a twenty do?" Jenny asks brightly.

   "Well I made it." I tell him with a grin.

   "Shit.  A lit torch is thrown from a hole in the roof igniting the oil
covering Friar Tuck.  Roll for my backpack." he tells me, rolling a pair of
dice.  "And take off eight hit points."

   "O.K.  you lost two healing potions and your net of entanglement." I
tell him.

   "Me and my big mouth." Joseph mutters once the carnage is over.

   Next a hail of fist sized stones falls from the ceiling, they only
inflict a few hit points of damage, but we know that there is a lot more to
come.  With shields held high, we advance and are immediately peppered with
darts from a number of small holes in the walls.  More hit points lost.  As
we run through this section of the tunnel and almost straight into a net as
it opens out into a chamber.

   Chastened we slow our advance, every one of us looking for any sign of
irregularities in the walls and ceiling.  Kitty Kat announces that she sees
hole in the roof of the tunnel and we raise our shields once more.  This
time however, it's a half dozen or so ripe puffball fungi, and the shields
are useless.  Then while half of us are coughing and sneezing from the
spores, more oil follows.  This time, Morrie declares that the
incapacitated are to save at a disadvantage, and while the physical damage
is minor, we lose still more equipment.

   A little at a time, Morrie wears us down, until by the time we finally
clear the kobold's territory, most of us have taken about twenty-five
percent damage, and every single one of us has lost at least one useful
magic item.  However, the luck of the Irish must have been with Kitty Kat,
as she is the one who gets off lightest, having only taken two minor hits
and loosing Lightfingers' rope of climbing.

   "Well do you still think it was fun?" Joseph asks darkly, mourning the
loss of one of his spellbooks.

   "Yeah," she giggles, "but I think I'll pass on a repeat performance."

   "In that case you'd better start working on a proper apology," he tells
her, "you've still got to get out."

   "Actually," I say looking at my watch, "you're right about that.  She's
got to go to bed."

   "Do I *have* to?" is the inevitable complaint.

   "No you don't *have* to." I tell her, "but I'll leave it up to you to
explain to your mother why you fell asleep at school tomorrow.  And it
won't gain you anything not to, because whatever you decide, the game's
over as far as you're concerned."

   Giving in to the inevitable, she says goodnight, if not cheerfully, at
least pleasantly, and thanks everybody for a great time.  A minute or so
later, after visiting the toilet, she closes her door with excessive force,
as a final protest against mean and unfair tutors.

   "Quite a kid." Dave says admiringly.

   "But not for much longer, I'd say." Vaughan mutters, indicating that, he
at least, had been presented with a view down her top.

   "You've got a filthy mind." Morrie tells him, "I think most of us saw,
but you didn't have to say anything." To me he adds, "Maybe you should ask
her mother, to say something, before she runs into someone with more than
just a dirty mind."

   "It's already been said." I tell him, "I just don't think she realised
what she was doing." 'This time.' I add silently, "Besides it was partly my
fault, she wasn't supposed to spend the night, and I just grabbed the first
t-shirt in the drawer for her."

   "Well I guess we better head off." Morrie says a few minutes later, once
the last of the mix has been consumed.  "We got through most of what we'd
normally manage since we didn't need to keep asking Dave to tell us what
we'd just done, and If we stay here drinking, she's not going to get any
sleep anyway."

   The others agree, and for once even tidy up their own mess before
heading for the door.

   "Thanks guys," I say as I see them out, "I'll catch you at college."

   Closing the door, I head for the bathroom and a quick shower before
going to bed.  Noticing that the light is still on in Jenny's room, I tap
lightly at the door.  I then hear the sound of sheets rustling for a few
seconds, before she says, "come in."

   "Why's the light still on?" I ask, "You're supposed to be sleeping."

   "I was just reading," she says, holding the last of the books that I'd
originally lent her, "I always read before I go to sleep."

   "O.K., half an hour," I agree, "but you'd better not be sleepy in the
morning."

   "Oh I won't be." she assures me, "I sometimes read until eleven
o'clock."

   "Not tonight." I tell her, turning away, "Now goodnight."

   "Greg?" she asks quietly, as I reach the doorway.

   "Yes?"

   "Come here, I want to ask you something."

   Settling on the edge of the bed, I say, "O.K.  let's hear it."

   "I think Vaughan was looking down my top." she tells me.

   Well that's not news to me, but I still ask, "What makes you think
that?"

   "Well every time I leant forwards he'd move his head a little bit." she
replies.

   "See?" Pushing the bedclothes aside, she kneels on the mattress and
leans towards me, presenting me with a perfect view of both tiny boobs.

   "Well I can certainly see something." I say, "But they might just be
mosquito bites."

   "Nope they're the real thing." she giggles.  "Do you think he *was*
peeking?"

   "I know he was." I say, "But if you thought he was, why did you keep on
giving him looks?"

   "Well I didn't notice until nearly then end, and I thought that if I
just kept on pretending I didn't know, *he'd" just think I was a little kid
and really didn't know.  Was that wrong?"

   She sounds so worried that I hasten to reassure her, "In this case you
did exactly right.  Everybody sitting opposite you saw very early in the
piece and so did I, however it looks like Vaughan was going out of his way
to look.  Then again, I think that Vaughan would go out of his way to look
under a cow."

   She giggles at this, but quickly sobers, "Well why didn't you stop me?"

   "Because for once, I could see that you weren't doing it deliberately,
and if I called attention to it, you would either become so self-conscious
that you'd have a terrible time, or knowing you, more likely started doing
it deliberately.

   "Actually, I'm rather proud that you managed to carry it off like that,
because when accidents happen, it's often a good idea, to just not notice,
however if you can you should do something casual to stop them happening
again."

   "I though of that," she says, "but I couldn't because this neck is just
too big." She hooks a finger in it and pulls it completely below her right
tit to illustrate.

   "Now that's deliberate." I chuckle.  "And so was your staying leant
forwards while we talked.  Now while they are admittedly very pretty
boobies, I've seen enough and you can put them away now."

   Giggling, she lies back in bed, deliberately wriggling downwards until,
it is her undies that I can see.  "I hope you gave yourself a wedgie." I
tell her, as I pull the blankets up to her chin and briefly pin her down
with them.

   "I did." she admits ruefully as I let go and sit back.  Then after a
short commotion beneath the blankets, the offending article of clothing is
produced and tossed to the floor.  "There it can't happen again."

   "You are completely beyond help." I laugh.

   "You could help me by rubbing my boobies again." she giggles.

   "Now *that* we are *not* going to make a habit of doing." I tell her,
"It's too bloody dangerous for both of us."

   "But I know you won't do anything I don't want you too." she says, "And
I'm not going to tell, are you?"

   "No." I reply, "But that's not the problem.  The problem lies with what
you might *want* me to do next."

   "I think I see what you mean." she admits.  Blushing she goes on, "It's
always felt nice when I touched my boobs, at least since they started to
grow, but what you did is like the difference between dry bread and
chocolate cake.  I can make it feel that good though, if I rub my clitoris.
Especially with my toothbrush." she giggles, "And I guess I'm already
beginning to wonder a bit, if it would be that much better if you or
somebody else did it."

   "Well wonder away." I say with a grin, "One day you'll find a boyfriend
you trust enough to let him show you."

   "I trust you." she says quietly.

   "But I'm a lot older than you and that causes some very big problems.

   "I know." she says a trifle sadly.  Suddenly she giggles, "I bet you'd
be good though."

   "Who would you get to take that bet?" I chuckle back, "If it was me, I'd
be lousy just so I could take your money."

   "No you wouldn't." she says quietly, "Because then I wouldn't be happy.
*If*" she carefully emphasises the word, "you did do it, you'd do the very
best you could."

   "Well it looks like you managed to win the bet without even testing the
hypothesis." I laugh while reaching for my wallet, and handing her five
dollars.

   "But we didn't have a bet." she protests, holding the money out to me.

   "Actually," I grin, "that's the lunch money your mother asked me to lend
you."

   "Thanks." she says, "And may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your
armpits for teasing me."

   "And thank you." I grimace.  "Not."

   "Can I play again next week?" she asks hopefully.

   "I doubt very much whether your mother would agree to me bringing you
home at this time of night." I say, "Tonight's was a special case because
of your brother's accident."

   "I guess so." she says regretfully, "But it was fun."

   "Yes it was." I agree.  "Now it really is time you got some sleep."

   "Can I ask one more thing?" she asks.

   "One."

   "How come everybody laughed when I said I was Kitty Kat?"

   "I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that." I grimace, "I told you, I'd tell
you when you were twenty one."

   "Oh come on?" she urges me.

   "Well it started when I stupidly told those degenerates about you having
a bit of a crush on me.  They said a lot of pretty crude things that I'm
not going to repeat to you, and Morrie invented Kitty Kat to tease me with.
So when you said 'I'm Kitty Kat.' they remembered that and laughed."

   Her naughty giggle tells me that she understands all to well.

   "O.K.  Goodnight." I say, "I'll see you in the morning."

   "Goodnight." she giggles.

   "Hey don't I get a kiss goodnight?" she asks as I rise and turn to
leave.

   "You're asking for it." I growl.

   "I know." she giggles, "So you'd better give it to me."

   Placing my hands to either side of her shoulders, I lean down to give
her a quick kiss.  Jenny however, has different ideas.  Wriggling her arms
free of the bedclothes, she encircles my neck and holds me in place while
delivering a soft, lingering, toe curling kiss to my lips.

   Extricating myself, I murmur, "Goodnight." and once again turn to leave.

   "Goodnight." she says, "Oops, almost forgot to feed the monster."

   Wondering what she is talking about, I turn back just in time to see
her, wriggle from beneath the bedclothes.  Lying on her stomach she leans
over the edge of the bed, and with her untanned, creamy white bottom
pointing ceilingward, she squeals into the space beneath.

   "What was that about?" I ask, reaching out to pull down her t-shirt.

   "Oops sorry, that was an accident." she blushes as she pulls the
bedclothes over herself, before getting herself straight in bed.  "I was
feeding your monster under the bed.  You see they eat squeals, so if you
give them one, they won't grab your ankle."

   Grinning wickedly, she adds, "Maybe I should give him a few more.  He
must be pretty hungry because hardly anyone ever sleeps here."

   "Well wait until I'm gone then." I chuckle, "Good.  Night."

   "G'nite." she giggles.

   At the door I pause, but just in case, I don't look back.  "Turn off the
light."

   "But if I turn off the light I won't be able to see, and that means he
can grab my nose."

   "We can't have that." I chuckle.  "So feed him and *then* turn off the
light."

   Closing the door I make my way to my bedroom, followed by a volley of
shrill shrieks that must have the neighbours wondering, if they hear them.
The next disturbance occurs as I'm lying back in my bed slowly fisting my
cock, while recalling how Jenny's tiny boobs looked and more importantly,
felt, in my hands.

   With only a thin wall separating us, I soon become aware of a rising
series of soft, muffled squeals that have nothing to do with feeding any
monsters under the bed.  Unconsciously my hand takes up the rhythm of those
soft cries, and within a minute I bite back a groan, as wave after wave of
white hot pleasure surges through my loins.  Spattering wetly on my chest
and stomach.

   A minute later Jenny's cries reach a yelping climax, suddenly cutting
off midstream.  Endless moments later, a long shuddering sigh signals the
ebbing of her orgasm.  Suppressing an urge to join Jenny, and offer her a
chance to make a direct comparison, I take up the towel in which I usually
catch my emissions, and scrub the worst of the slimy and now rapidly
cooling mess from my front.

   ***

   Due to my early night, and the relative paucity of mind altering
chemicals consumed, I wake quite early the next morning, and for a pleasant
change clear headed.  Pulling on my robe, I head for the toilet to dispose
of what's left of the little booze that I had drunk, and then the rare
luxury of a long, leisurely morning shower.

   On my way back to my room, I recall that I have a house guest.  A gentle
knock at the door brings no response, so I quietly open the door to look
in. Sleeping in that boneless manner that only kids can manage, Jenny
occupies most of the double bed, lying diagonally across the upper third.
One arm dangles limply over the edge, while her cheek rests on the hand of
the other.

   A narrow shaft of sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains,
falling across the upper part of her body, even as I watch it clears her
shoulder and strikes her nose, which wrinkles slightly in response.  Second
by second, it creeps slowly up her face until it reaches her eyelids. 
Squeezing them tightly shut, she turns her face toward the mattress then a
moment later lifts her free hand to scrub sleepily at her eyes.  Grimacing
she rolls to her back and stares blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds
while she tries to sort out where she is.

   As she does so, she absently slips a hand beneath the blankets and I
watch it disappear towards the lower half of her body.  Deciding to
announce my presence before she does something embarrassing, I clear my
throat and say, "Good morning."

   As if scalded her hand jerks out from under the sheet and she mumbles
sleepily, "G'morning.  What are you doing here."

   "Watching the sun wake you up." I chuckle.  "How do you feel?  Not too
tired I hope."

   I'm all right." she says sitting up, "What time is it?"

   "About seven." I reply, "Do you want to get a bit more sleep?"

   "No, I slept like a log." she says, "I think I'm going to ask for a
double bed, you can really spread out in it."

   "So I noticed." I chuckle.

   "Yeah I did make a bit of a mess." she giggles while surveying the
rumpled and twisted bedclothes.

   "Well if you're not going back to sleep," I say, "I'll go start
breakfast."

   "Do I get a kiss first?"

   "Oh I guess so." I grumble loudly as I approach.

   Grinning, she tosses the bedclothes back and throws her legs over the
edge of the bed, unveiling her legs all the way up to her belly button.  As
her legs part and come back together, I'm treated to the cock twitching
sight of her hairless slit opening to reveal two pale pink strips of flesh
and a small dark hole at the base.  All to quickly, and not quickly enough
by far, the display is over she brings her legs together, dangling over the
side of the bed.

   "But not like that." I continue, with a significant glance towards the
small exposed slit at the juncture of her muscular thighs.

   With an incoherent squeal of embarrassment, that tells me that she had
completely forgotten her knickerless state, she blushes a fiery red and
jerks the hem of her t-shirt down over her knees with enough force to pop
threads.  "Ohmigod, I didn't mean it?" she apologises, once her flush has
dimmed to a pink glow, and she has recovered the power of speech.

   "I know." I say gently, reaching down to recover her knickers.  Holding
them out her, I say, "Better put these on so it doesn't happen again."

   Giggling shamefacedly, she accepts them and drops to the floor with a
thud.  Before I can move, she bends and steps into them, working them up
over her hips under the cover of her T-shirt.  "There, you can't see
anything now." she says with a grin as she lifts the shirt to show off
Tweety and Sylvester in their endless chase around her waist.

   "I can still see way too much." I growl good-naturedly, "And a very
juicy target, right where they're tightest."

   Showing me her tongue, she lets the hem drop back into place and then
with a suddenly ingenuous air, she holds her arms out.  "Kiss me Uncle
Greg."

   Shaking my head and smiling, I bring myself close enough for her to pull
my face down to hers.  Her kiss this morning is every bit as good as the
kiss of the night, before, her lips moulding themselves softly to mine.  A
sudden tightening signals imminent mischief, but before I can escape, her
lips part, and her tongue flickers briefly along my lips.

   "Phew, not bad," I chuckle as she releases me, "but next time I'll bite
it."

   She giggles naughtily, and then gasps, her eyes widening as they fasten
on a point a few inches below my waist.  Looking down, I realise that when
I'd bent to kiss her, the front of my robe had parted sufficiently to allow
the head of my half hard cock to peep through, and it had elected not to
withdraw when I straightened.  Hastily rearranging things, I apologise
profusely while she giggles uproariously.

   "Maybe *you* should put some undies on too." she sniggers.

   "I think you're right." I chuckle ruefully, "While I'm doing that could
you get some bacon and eggs out of the fridge and put the kettle on."

   When I join her in the kitchen a couple of minute later, I find that she
has done not only that but has also started a pat of butter melting in one
of my cast iron pans.  Taking over, I instruct her to get out some plates
and to set the table.  "How many eggs?" I ask as the butter begins to
sizzle.

   "Two." she replies, as she readies two cups of instant coffee.  A couple
of minute later she looks past my shoulder, into the pan, and starts
preparing the toast.

   A few minutes later we sit down to our breakfast.  "I like your table."
Jenny observes tracing a finger around a knot in the polished wood.

   "Yeah, it's not bad for twenty bucks and a bit of work." I reply
casually.

   "No way," she exclaims, "it's got to be worth at least a thousand
dollars."

   "Try again." I smile.

   "Five?" she asks incredulously.

   "Try nearly half as much as this house." I tell her, grinning at her
shocked look of amazement.

   "Are you joking?" she asks sounding more than a bit sceptical.

   "Nope." I say, enjoying her gaping stare.  "If you offered me twenty
five grand you wouldn't be getting any change."

   "Twe-twenty five thousand?" She looks at me with her chin nearly on her
chest.  "And only you paid twenty dollars?"

   "Pretty good bargain don't you think?" I chuckle.

   "No way." she breathes, "You've got to be pulling my leg."

   "Well it didn't look quite like this when I bought it." I admit, "There
was about a hundred years worth of paint on it, and it was starting to come
to pieces.  Then again, what can you expect after more than four hundred
years."

   Having known nothing but the throwaway society that we have become since
the war, Jenny finds this figure even more impressive than the value. 
"That's longer than people have been in Australia."

   "Not even close," I remind her, "but it is about twice as long as
*white* people have been here."

   "Oh yeah I forgot." she mumbles.

   "Well don't," I say, "Coories are very much people too.  Now hurry up
and eat."

   "We've got ages." she says.  Then remembering something I'd said nearly
a month before, she asks, "Have you got time to do a beaver tail?"

   "If you hurry."

   Hurry she does, wolfing down her food and then bouncing impatiently in
her chair as I finish mine.  "You better have a quick shower and wet your
hair." I tell her as I gulp the last of my coffee.  "Remember to grab a
towel this time."

   While she is in the shower I quickly dress.  In the lounge, I grab some
rubber bands, bobby pins, and a can of hair spray from the kit I keep ready
for the occasions my sister and more occasionally her friends go out.  I
also shove a Red Dwarf tape in the VCR for a bit of background.

   Just as I put the chairs ready, she enters, towelling her hair, and
wearing nothing but her undies and a grin.  Shaking my head, I instruct her
to sit backwards on the higher of the two chairs, and set to work, brushing
out the tangles.

   Once that is done, I pull it into a pony tail at the back of her neck,
and repeatedly halving the strands, I separate it into sixteen equal parts,
tying them off with small rubber bands.  Then slowly and methodically, I
start working it into a broad, flat paddle.

   Every now and then her giggles make me look up to the TV, to see what
she has found amusing this time, and since I've watched the tapes so many
times, I am usually able to work back to the joke from what comes after.

   "Oh that's really good." she says giggling almost hard enough to
collapse.

   "What's that?" I ask.

   "Goalpost Head, said something about putting your penis in a lions mouth
and flicking him with a towel."

   "Oh that one," I chuckle.  "It is a pretty good one, Now forget you ever
heard it."

   "You've got a big penis." Jenny suddenly comments, almost making me drop
her hair.

   "What makes you say that?" I ask carefully.

   "Well it is." she persists, "I've seen Jeremy's lots of time, and my
dad's and I've even seen them in a few <giggle> dirty books."

   "Well, I don't know about your dad," I say, 'but your brother's a very
little boy."

   "What about in the magazines?" she asks.

   "Do you know what they were called?" I ask, "Because the only ones I can
think of, tend to go quite a bit in the other direction."

   "Um Fiesta or something like that I think." she tells me.  "Mostly they
were really little.  Yours had a big red knob on it."

   Light dawns.  "Well that explains it." I chuckle, "I remember those
magazines now, god I haven't seen one in years, and unlike most, the
publishers seem to go out of their way to put in pictures of below average
penises.  As for mine having a big red knob...  Why am I telling you this?"

   "I don't know," she giggles, "but keep going."

   "O.K.  I assume that you know how a man's penis has to fill with blood
and get hard before he can have sex." she nods slightly, "Well with me it
starts with the head filling up first, and that's what you saw.  You only
think that it's big because all of the other ones you have seen were
completely limp."

   "Was it like that because you saw my...  Can I say fanny?  [Author's
note: don't tell an Aussie girl she's got a nice fanny unless you can duck
fast.] The proper words are so doctorish."
"That's because for so long, it was something that only ever got talked
about by doctors, so the only acceptable words were medical terms.  Go
ahead and use whatever you are comfortable with, but don't be a gutter

mouth just to try and shock me.  O.K.?"

   "Uh-huh." she nods, "*Was* it because you saw my fanny?"

   "Yes it was." I admit.

   "Even though it's little and hasn't got any hair on it yet?" She asks,
"Most of the ones in those magazines were all big and puffy and the insides
were pink too."

   "Well not everybody likes big and puffy." I say, "Besides when was the
last time you had a look at yourself down there in the mirror?"

   "How...  I know, all girls do it." she giggles, "I dunno, ages I guess."

   "Well I think if you looked now, you'd notice things are starting to a
change a bit." I say, adding wickedly, "And if you'd looked a few minutes
after I kissed you goodnight, I'd confidently say that it would have been
plenty pink enough too.  About as pink as your face is right now." I finish
with a chuckle.

   "Are you guessing?" she mumbles hopefully.

   "Nope," I grin, "think about where my bed is in relation to yours."

   "Oh!" she says, turning an even deeper shade of crimson.

   "Was it a good one?" I ask, "It certainly sounded like it."

   "Um yeah." she admits, then almost pulls her hair out of my hands as she
turns to look directly at me.  "Was yours?"

   "Not bad." I casually reply, pushing her head around and smoothing out
her half completed hairdo.

   "Did you do it at the same time?"

   "What do you think?" I ask.

   "I bet you did." she giggles, "Did listening to me make it better?"

   'Unimaginably kid.  Unimaginably.' I think, but all I own up to, is, "A
bit."

   "Were you thinking about me?"

   'Oh shit!' Damning question, 'What do I say now?' "I was thinking about
how much fun you were having." I admit.

   "Lot's." she giggles, "I was thinking about how good it felt when you
touched my boobs.  How come it feels better when somebody else does it?"

   "For the same reason you can't tickle yourself." I say, "You already
know what you are going to do, it's just that there are a lot more nerves
in your pussy and boobs, and your lips for that matter, so some of the
feeling gets through anyway.  When I did it, you never knew what was going
to happen next."

   "I'll say." she giggles, "You never did the same thing twice in a row."

   "Of course not." I say as if horrified at the thought, "I'd be a pretty
lousy boob polisher if I did."

   "Well you can polish my boobs any time that you like." she says.

   "I thought we already covered why that's not going to happen, last
night." I say.

   "I know." she says with regret in her voice, "I wish I was older so it
didn't matter so much."

   "Unfortunately you're not, and we have to deal with what is." I reply
softly.  "Now pass me a bobby pin, we're nearly done."

   As she hands me bobby pins, I begin rounding off the end of my creation,
tucking the ends under and fastening them into place.  A few minutes later
I pin the last strands into place and give it a good dose of hair spray,
especially at the end, as I tease it into its final shape.

   "There done." I announce.  "Go get your uniform and I'll help you into
it."

   "Can I see it?" she asks.

   "Sure.  Come with me." I instruct, and lead her into my bedroom,
stopping along the way for her school frock.

   Standing her in front of the full length mirror, I survey her slender
frame.  From her muscular shoulders and chocolate kiss boobs, past her trim
flat stomach and oval belly button, to where her rounded, slightly out
thrust mound pushes Tweety and Sylvester into the third dimension.

   A moment later it becomes apparent that she has been following the
direction of my eyes, as she assumes a more aggressively sexy stance,
lifting her right heel from the floor and bending her knee.  "You're
looking at me, aren't you?" she accuses merrily.

   "Just a little bit." I admit with a sheepish grin, "I think that you're
going have your mother's build, but quite a bit of your father's height. 
So these," I tell her, giving the whole of her small boobs a light pinch,
"will be quite big enough in the end."

   "Oooh you touched my boobs." she says, "I'm telling on you.  Unless..."

   "Unless what?" I ask, already anticipating the answer.

   "Unless you do it again." she giggles.

   "Well we don't have time now." I tell her, leaving the matter open, but
not making any promises either.

   Gathering her dress up in my hands, I say, "Arms up." and carefully work
it down over her head, and onto her shoulders.  After lifting her hair over
the collar, I reach around the front to fasten her buttons, ignoring it
when she takes the opportunity to briefly rub her nipples against the
insides of my wrists.

   "Now to show mademoiselle, what zee Great Gregori, he has created." I
say in a cheesy French accent, taking down a smaller mirror hanging on the
wall.

   Standing behind her, I angle the second mirror so that she can see the
back of her head, and the four inch wide oval that hangs down to between
her shoulder blades.  "Voila."

   "WOW!" she yelps, "It' makes me look heaps older."

   "Hmm, maybe I better take it out then." I tease.

   "Don't you dare." she says threateningly.

   "Mademoiselle likes?"

   "Mademoiselle loves it." she declares, turning around and hugging me
fiercely.

   "Glad to oblige." I say, briefly returning the hug, "Now we better get a
move on, or we're going to be late.  At least I will be.  Go get your
stuff."

   As I pack my own backpack in the lounge, Jenny comes in asking, "Can you
help me put my jumper on?"

   I carefully work the neck opening down over her head, lifting her now
stiff hair through and holding it out of the way as she works her arms down
the sleeves.  "There." I say giving it a final check and pushing a loose
bobby pin back into place, "Let's go."

   ***

   "Hi Jenny, Hi Greg." Vanessa waves approaching the car, her bus having
arrived at the same time as us.  "Why's he here?" she asks of Jenny.

   "Because I stayed at his house last night." Jenny answers.

   "You did?" Vanessa squeals, "Why?"

   "Wouldn't you like to know." Jenny giggles teasingly.

   I watch Vanessa put one and one together to come up with three, her eyes
widening comically as she stares at me.  "Jeremy had an accident," I
hastily put in, "and I looked after her so her mum could stay with Jeremy
in the hospital."

   "Oh." Vanessa says looking slightly disappointed.

   "Excuse me a sec Vanessa." I say winding up the window, and turning to
Jenny, "What sort of trouble are you trying to get me into?" I ask harshly.

   "I was only joking." Jenny giggles, "I was going to tell her.  Didn't
she look funny?"

   "She looked hilarious," I reply, "and she also looked like she was about
to run off before you would have had a chance to explain.  Next time think
before you open your mouth, now get out of here before I'm late for class."

   "Still giggling, Jenny scoots out of the car and the joins Vanessa,
making sure that her friend gets a good look at her hair.  "Oh wow, who did
that?" Vanessa yelps enviously.

   "Oh he did." Jenny replies offhandedly, "Do you like it?"

   "I love it, I wish I had long enough hair to do something like that."
Vanessa says wistfully.

   "Here let's have a look?" I say.  I survey her beautiful red gold hair
for a moment.  No fringe, which is good, since it gives me a bit more hair
to work with.  Recalling a photo I'd seen In a magazine once, I say, "I
could try to make a hat brim, but I've never done it before, so it mightn't
work.  Give me a call the next time the two of you are going to a party and
I'll see what I can do."

   "Oh wow would you?" Vanessa squeals with delight, "Thanks."

   "You're welcome." I reply, "Now I've got to go or I'll be late.  See you
later."

   The two girls make their way to the gate, their heads close together as
they talk.  Turning they smile and wave.  Waving back I pull out into the
traffic.