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



   Babysitting - Jenny Chapter 8 (MgF, tease, voy, massage)
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.  |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+

   Authors Note: I've had a couple of emails asking me if the pressure
point trick described in this chapter and also in my other story 'Clayton's
Children - Katy' is real.  The answer is yes it is.  However as it involved
applying pressure to a point very near the sciatic nerve, it's not
something you should look for on your own.  Find someone who knows how to
do it to teach you, or you might just subject your subject to a great deal
of excruciating pain.





   Chapter 8 - Hot Tub Hoydens.

   "You were right," Jenny says apologetically when I arrive for dinner on
Saturday night, "Mr Sampson saw you drop me off and he asked me all these
questions about you."

   "What's this?" Dianne asks, coming up behind her daughter.  "Come in
Greg."

   "I said something to Vanessa that made her get the wrong idea, and Mr
Sampson saw Greg tell me off." Jenny admits with a red face.

   "Oh Jenny!" her mother exclaims, "What happened?"

   "Well first he wanted to know who Greg was, so I told him Greg was my
tutor, and he was looking after me because Jeremy broke his wrist and you
had to stay in hospital with him."

   "Did he asks why Greg told you off?"

   "I told him the truth, just not all of it." Jenny says, "I said, 'I said
something silly to Vanessa and got told off for it.'"

   "Anything else?"

   "Well I think he was trying to find out if Greg was doing stuff to me,
because he asked if Greg touched me, so I acted a little dumb and said,
'Yeah when he does my hair.' and then I waved it around and asked if he
liked it."

   "Well it must have worked, since I haven't had any phone calls." Dianne
says, "Just be more careful in future.  You could have gotten Greg into a
lot of trouble."

   "As for you and that hairdo." she says severely, softening her tone with
a smile, "Don't you think it was a bit much for school."

   "Well, maybe a little." I admit, "I'll bet it was a hit though."

   "I believe *green* was the colour of the day." Dianne chuckles.

   "Yeah," Jenny giggles, "even the girls in grade six were jealous.  Some
of them even wanted to know where you lived."

   "I hope you didn't tell them." I say, "That'd be all I need, a whole
bunch of ten and eleven year olds trooping through my door, it'd really
give your Mr Sampson something to wonder about."

   "Of course I didn't tell them." she says, and grabs my arm possessively
"You belong to me, and I ain't sharing you with anyone, except maybe
Vanessa sometimes."

   "Why me oh Lord?  Why me?" I ask of the heavens.  Then with a grin into
Jenny's soulfully, gooey eyes, I suddenly pull my arm hard against my side,
trapping her hands.  "Then again, it does give me somebody to tickle."

   Shrieking wildly, Jenny struggles to pull away as I make brief darting
stabs towards her armpits and lower ribs.  Waiting until she is close to
the floor, I suddenly release her, and with a shriek that outdoes anything
that had come before, she falls the final six inches to land with a soft
thud on the carpet.

   "I think he needs a bit more training Jenny." Dianne observes with a
chuckle, "He's still a bit unruly."

   "I like him like that," Jenny giggles with a look towards me, "I never
know what he's going to do next."

   Fortunately for my peace of mind, Dianne misses the existence of the
hidden double meaning, simply saying with a grin, "Yes it does keep you on
your toes."

   "Not this time." I say with a nod to indicate Jenny's inelegant sprawl.

   Giggling, but eyeing me suspiciously, Jenny resumes her seat beside me
on the couch, though this time she maintains a wary distance, much to her
mother's amusement.

   Noticing the continued absence of the male members of the household, I
ask, "Where are Tony and Jeremy."

   "Tony's still at his conference, and I took Jeremy to my mother's since
he's already managed to ruin one cast by taking the plastic bag off it in
the spa."

   "So it's just you and two beeyootiful ladies tonight." Jenny giggles.

   "What?" I ask looking about in feigned surprise, "I only see one *lady*
here."

   "Maybe just a little more training is needed here." Jenny says mock
severely, "You never tell a lady she's not a lady, especially when she's
not."

   "I'm glad you admit it." I say with an absent pat on her head.  "You
should have told me Dianne, any night would have been fine by me."

   "What don't you trust me?" Dianne chuckles, ganging up against me with
her now glaring daughter.

   "Two?" I ask, looking helplessly upwards.

   "Don't worry I'll be *good*." Dianne says with a full blown giggle. 
"You're right Jenny, teasing him *is* fun."

   "Nooooo!" I wail, burying my face in my hands.

   "We're going to have lots of fun tonight," Jenny joins in, patting me
gentlingly on the back, "aren't we Mummy?"

   Fortunately, I'm saved by the bell, literally, as a timer goes off in
the kitchen.  "Excuse me, I have to put the vegies on," Dianne says rising
from her seat, "Jenny why don't you show Greg where he can put his bag and
wash up."

   Jenny leads me to a downstairs bathroom, bumping me to one side to make
a place for herself at the sink.  Continuing the bumps in time with her
words, she teases me, "Greg and Mummy sitting in the tree, K I S S I N G."

   A few seconds thought allows me to counter with, "Greg with Jenny lying
in his lap, B E A T I N G."

   "First comes love, and then comes marriage, now here they come with a
baby carriage."

   "Hmm." I muse, "Here's my hand, there's your seat.  Why is Jenny eating
on her feet?"

   "O.K.  I'll let you win." she giggles, "This time."

   "Want to tease your mother with it." I ask.

   "Oooh yeah!" she squeals.

   We repeat our lines to make sure that we get them right, and with a
minor change on my part to improve there meter, we prepare to make our
entrance.

   "So Greg are you ready to play some more?" Dianne asks archly, as we
return to the lounge.  Well you couldn't ask for a better opening than
that.

   "Greg and Mummy sitting in the tree, K I S S I N G." Dianne gives her
daughter a piercing look, then smiles, as she realises that this is a put
up job.

   "Greg with Jenny lying 'cross his lap, B E A T I N G."

   She giggles.

   "First comes love, and then comes marriage, now here they come with a
baby carriage." Dianne's smile is directed at me as she waits for my
response.

   "Here is my hand, there is your seat.  Why is Jenny eating on her feet?"

   "I like it." she giggles.  "And I think I can safely take it that she
tried to do a bit of unauthorised teasing." To her daughter she says mock
severely, "Jenny, when will you learn?  Never try to take them on alone if
you can avoid it.  Sometime they prove smart enough to manage an
*occasional* victory.  If you gang up on them they can never win."

   "Sorry Mummy." Jenny says contritely.

   "Well there's no real harm done, and we've still got the rest of the
evening to show him his proper place." Dianne says with a grin towards me.
"Men do have a few minor uses though.  How are you at carving Greg?"

   "A bit ragged, but I get the job done." I reply.

   "Good because, I'm terrible.  It's about the only thing that I trust
Tony to do in the kitchen." she admits.  "Jenny, you can come and set the
table."

   "Jenny tells me you've got a nice little table." Dianne says offhandedly
a few minutes later as we sit down to eat.

   "Well it keeps the food off the floor." I reply in the same manner while
trying to cut a piece of perfectly cooked crackling.

   "Uses your fingers." Dianne tells me, suiting her own actions to her
words, and crunching off a piece.  After crunching for several seconds, she
swallows and continues, "She tells me you got quite a bargain."

   "Fair." I say with a side to side flutter of my hand.

   "I think I'd call a thousand to one decidedly unfair, especially if I
was the person that sold it to you." she chuckles.

   "Well it did end up costing me quite a bit more than that in the end." I
say.  "Though right from the beginning I knew that there was something good
underneath all that paint, but even when I got it back to bare timber I
still had no idea of just how good.  All I knew was that it deserved
something better than a coat of varnish.

   "I was still thinking in terms of three or four thousand at the time and
since I was trying to save for a new computer, I thought I could hurry
things along by using that money to restore the table and chairs and then
sell them.  So I found a French polisher and got him to come and take a
look.  He was the one who told me what I'd found."

   "So if you wanted a new computer, why did you end up hanging on to it?"
Dianne asks curiously.

   "Well I didn't need that good a computer, and if I'd sold it I would
have wasted the money.  This way, it's always there if ever I do need that
sort of money, and it's not like I'd be tempted to chop off a leg when I
need a quick couple of hundred."

   "I hope you've got it insured."

   "I might be male but I'm not stupid." I chuckle.

   The conversation turns to my games club and how much Jenny had enjoyed
Wednesday evening, while we finish our meal, but as I'd expected, there was
no way that her mother was going to accept her staying out that late. 
Desert turns out to be a home baked cherry pie served with ice cream.  The
moment she has scraped the last of the ice cream from her bowl Jenny
bounces up and heads for her room to get changed, leaving Dianne and me to
finish at a slightly more leisurely pace.

   A thud at the bottom of the stairs announces her return via, the
forbidden route of the banister.  The towel in her hand explaining her
un-scorched backside.  Assuming a comically exaggerated pose in the
doorway, she asks silently for my opinion.

   While still acceptable in polite society, her florescent green bikini is
beginning to show signs of becoming too small.  On top there is nothing
amiss, but the straps of the bottom cut into her hips slightly and the
outline of her mound is clearly visible.  A narrow quarter inch strip of
untanned skin, running around the curve of her behind, indicates that it
has filled out a little since the last time she has worn the suit in the
sun.

   Dianne too notices the changes, commenting, "I think it's about time you
got a new suit young lady."

   "Can I have one like yours?" Jenny asks eagerly.

   "I was thinking of something more along the lines of those new neck to
knee outfits." Dianne teases, "We don't want you getting skin cancer."

   "Well it would certainly stop that happening." Jenny giggles, "I
wouldn't be caught dead outside in one of those things."

   "Sounds like just the thing." I chuckle, "It would certainly make
showing off a little difficult."

   "Indubitably."

   "Hey!" Jenny protests, "We're supposed to be picking on *him*."

   "That comes later dear," Dianne says as if I'm not in the room, "I'm
lulling him into a false sense of security right now."

   "Oh that's all right then." Jenny giggles.  "Are you coming now?"

   "Oh all right." Dianne chuckles, "But you can wait for Greg and show him
where to go."

   As Dianne heads up the stairs, Jenny dogs my heels forcing me to
pointedly close the bathroom door in her giggling face.  Figuring that
Jenny was going to give me as hard a time as she thought she could get away
with in front of her mother, and probably more besides, I'd packed board
shorts to go over my usual Speedos.  Her slightly disappointed look at my
nearly knee length pants when I emerge confirms my guess.

   As she turns her back and leads the way out onto a rear deck, I notice
that the strips of untanned skin on either side of her too tight bathing
suit have widened to nearly half an inch.  And by the time we actually
reach the deck, that milestone has been reached and surpassed.

   Jenny too notices the uncomfortable packing of her butt crack and with a
backwards glance, and a naughty giggle, she finishes the job by drawing the
back of her suit up into a wedgie.  Ah-ha a target!" I cry while advancing
menacingly.

   Shrieking, but doing nothing to cover herself, she skips out of my reach
and plunges into the fizzing waters of the eight foot diameter cedar hot
tub set into the deck.  Following at a more sedate pace, I take in the
matching cedar lodge nearby, before stepping down into the warm waters just
as Jenny sets the blower going.

   As I lower myself into the seat, I continue my look around the trellised
and vine covered pergola.  About half the area of my entire house, there is
ample room for the half dozen lounges and outdoor dining setting that
occupy the central area of the deck.  In one corner a fenced off play area
is obviously set up for Jeremy.  Except for a small area closest to the
steps leading out into the rear garden, the entire deck is completely
private, screened from the outside by the vine covered trellis.

   A sudden splash of water in my face reminds me that there is an
unchastised child occupying the water with me.  Giving her no time to
dodge, I duck beneath the surface and with a sweep of my arm, find and
grasp a slim leg, just below the knee, and with a quick jerk, pull her
under.

   A giggling fury erupts from the water moments after I rise, and even
before I can shake the water from my eyes, she leaps on me and wraps her
arms and legs around me.  Throwing herself repeatedly backwards, she
strives to pull me under.  I allow her several futile attempts, then timing
my move carefully I jab a pair of fingers into her sides, just below her
ribs.  Her look of sudden horror is priceless to behold as she turns almost
a complete somersault while flying backwards into the water.

   A few seconds later a small fist, thankfully slowed by the water, thumps
me in the stomach.

   "I thought I told you to wait until we could gang up on him." Dianne
laughs from the doorway as Jenny's wrathful features emerge from the water.

   "What a little bitty thing like you?" I chuckle, holding Jenny off by
the simple expedient of placing a palm on her forehead.

   "You'll pay." I'm told ominously as she sets down a crystal decanter of
aqua vitae, a bucket of ice and two tumblers.

   "Oh I hope so." I say, suddenly taking my hand away from Jenny's
forehead and adding an optimistic, "Whips *and* chains?" once the water
closes over head.

   "You're as bad as she is." Dianne chuckles as she shucks her robe.

   "Worse." I grin, "I've had more practice."

   Free of her robe, Dianne teasingly poses for me.  Though technically
modest by today's standards, her flesh tone bikini is fashioned in such a
way as to accentuate her salient features to their best advantage.  The top
is cut to fit her lemon sized breasts like a second skin, leaving them as
if bare, yet covering all but the upper slopes.

   "The bottoms, trace the creases beside her legs with micrometric
exactitude, cupping her mound with wrinkle free perfection, and rising high
over her hips to disappear behind her back.  The top edge dips in a broad
vee deep enough to reveal that at least a portion of her pubic hair has
been removed.

   "Her body would be the envy of women (girls) more than ten years her
junior.  While as athletically trim as her daughter's, its flared hips and
narrow waist attest to her greater maturity.  Only two tiny stretch marks
on her flat belly bear witness to the two children she has carried, yet
even they are flaws which enhance, rather than detract.  In fact, given her
slightly undersized breasts, she could pass for a girl in her early teens
from the waist down."

   "Got your eyes back in yet?" she chuckles a few seconds later.

   "Isn't she sexy?" Jenny asks.

   "Jenny!" Dianne scolds, laughingly, a faint blush colouring her
features.

   Well you are." Jenny protests.  "'Cept for her boobs." she gigglingly
adds, quietly enough for only me to hear it above the noise of the roiling
water.

   "Jenny!" I bark, unsuccessfully, choking back my laughter.

   "You do *not* want to know." I chuckle in response to Dianne's
questioning look.  Adding, "But I hope you plan on giving that body back to
the kid you took it from."

   Her colour deepens as she smiles her pleasure at my compliment.  With a
direct look at Jenny, she says, "I'm quite sure I don't."

   Still glaring at her daughter, who places her hands on my hips and hides
behind me, Dianne steps gracefully down into the water.  With her feet on
the bottom, the almost four foot deep water bisects her small breasts.

   Giggling, Jenny keeps me between herself and her mother, as Dianne
playfully lunges at her.  I allow myself to be used as a human shield for a
few seconds, then reach down to grab a small wrist and haul Jenny out in
front of me.  Quickly securing the other wrist, I hold Jenny suspended
chest deep in the water, her feet ineffectually kicking six inches clear of
the bottom.

   Taking advantage of her daughter's defenceless state, Dianne, advances
with her fingers reaching for Jenny's completely exposed armpits. 
Shrieking helplessly, Jenny twists and wriggles to no avail as her mother's
fingers make contact with her sensitive skin.

   Then having reduced Jenny to an impotently quivering and gasping
condition, Dianne calmly takes a seat, and prepares drinks for herself and
me.  "Leave that," she tells me, "and come and get a drink."

   Towing Jenny to where she can grasp the lip of the tub for support, I
take my drink from Dianne and take a seat far enough around the tub that I
don't have to crane my neck to talk to her.  As Dianne and I talk, Jenny
glowers at us from the far side of the tub, and in all probability plots
her revenge.

   A few minutes later, she surprises me by fitting herself into my lap
with a smile that bears not a single hint of mischief.  Leaning back
against my chest, she pulls my arm across her stomach, and settles my hand
on her hip.

   "Jenny!" Dianne scolds as a matter of form, though it is obvious that
she doesn't really mind too much.

   "Well his lap's softer than that stupid brick." Jenny says, and then her
naughtiness comes to the fore as she wriggles and adds, "Mostly."

   "Jenny!" This time Dianne's censure is sincere.  However it has no
effect on Jenny, who continues to twist her backside back and forth in my
lap.  The look Dianne turns on me is tinged with a mixture of embarrassment
and worry.  "It's not is it?" she asks.

   "No." I reply a trifle tightly.  Taking hold of the naughtily giggling
ten year old around the waist, I deposit her on the seat beside me, a
process which leaves her submerged to just below the hairline.  Adding
tightly, as I briefly hold her there, "But I couldn't answer for the
consequences if she'd kept that up much longer."

   Sputtering, Jenny pops up and still giggling naughtily, retreats to her
brick on the far side of the tub.

   "I wouldn't expect you too." Dianne reassures me.  To Jenny she says,
"Pull a stunt like that again, and you won't have to worry about how hard
that brick is, because your mattress will be plenty soft enough for the
rest of the evening."

   "Sorry," Jenny says, not really sounding it.  "But it was funny and I
got you both."

   "O.K.  I'll admit it was funny." Dianne chuckles.  Then adds severely,
"Once.  The next time will cost you a night in your room."

   "Can I come back now?" Jenny asks, "I promise I'll be good."

   "Define good." I say, learning to anticipate her facility with words.

   "Spoilsport." she giggles, "I won't be naughty."

   "Fair enough." I say, "Now ask your mother's permission to sit in a
strange man's lap."

   "Very strange." Dianne chuckles, not waiting for her daughter to speak.
"Go ahead Jenny," she gives her permission, "just keep still, men can't
help reacting if you don't."

   Smiling triumphantly, Jenny returns to my lap, and with admirable
restraint, limits herself to a single squirm, before leaning back and
pulling my hand into place above her hip.

   "How come you can't help it?" Jenny asks me, stretching her definition
of 'good' to the breaking point, as evidenced by her slightly wicked smile.

   "Ah," I say to Dianne, "Do you want to field that?"

   "No go ahead." she chuckles, "So far I've only heard about your
explanations second hand, I want to hear one for myself."

   "Uh, thanks.  I don't think." I mutter.

   "We'll since your mother has decided to drop me in it." I say to Jenny,
who giggles in response.  (Damn that's almost as bad as her squirming.)
"Let's see what I can do.  O.K.  I've already told you how dangerous
certain types of men can be, and what they can do to you, but I haven't
really said much about the reasons that this is so.

   "There are two major reasons, one biological and the other social.  Now
the biological part, which you very nearly demonstrated a couple of minutes
ago, <giggle> is that all creatures have a very strong mating urge.  With
most creatures the urge is triggered by certain scents that a female
excretes when she is ready to have a baby.  Now scientists think that the
sense of smell is actually the oldest sense there is, and the nose is
certainly connected to one of the most primitive parts of the brain."

   "But wouldn't touch be the oldest?" Jenny asks curiously.

   "No it's not because we smell by sensing different chemicals in the
environment around us, and every single creature there is, can do it.  Even
bacteria which are like the first creatures that ever existed will move
away from a poison like lactic acid and towards food like sugar."

   "But we *taste* sugar." Jenny objects.

   "Ah-ha," I say, "that's because smell and taste are in a lot of ways
like two sides of the same sense, and not two different senses at all.  I'm
sure that you've noticed that things taste different if you have a blocked
nose, and that there are some smells that are so strong that you feel like
you can taste them."

   "Yeah dad's farts." Jenny giggles.

   "Jenny!" Dianne says resignedly.  To me she says, "This seems to be
getting a little off track."

   "That happens." I chuckle, "But unfortunately never far enough yet,
Jenny alway put me back on track eventually."

   "So where were we?" I ask myself, going on, "Now since smell is
connected to the most primitive part of the brain, when a male smells that
a female is ready to mate he is forced do almost anything he can to mate
with her.  In fact a number of primitive creatures don't even care if they
die, so long as the job gets done first.

   "As we go from the lowest to the higher creatures, other senses become
more and involved in the mating process.  Sound comes next, but usually
it's just the male telling the female where he is and vice versa.  Then
there's sight, where one creature, usually the male, tries to put on an
impressive display to show how healthy he is and what healthy offspring
they would have together.  Peacocks are prime example there.

   "However, all these higher senses do is help one creature, usually the
female, decide which one of those proudly strutting cocks, <giggle> -Gutter
brain- flashing his tail, <another giggle> would be the best mate. 
Underneath it all there is still this incredibly powerful smell which is
saying 'time to mate, time to mate' and all those silly males can do is
strut around looking good until he gets chosen or that smell goes away.

   "Even when one male fights off all the other males in the area so he can
keep all the females for himself, like horses, and deer do, the other males
are still there, hovering around the edges.  They're sniffing the air and
sorting like crazy, just waiting for a chance that they might get lucky."

   "O.K.  that takes care of just about every creature in existence except
the primates: that's monkeys, apes and of course us humans."

   "I already knew that." she interrupts.

   "However," I go on, "since primates have hands with thumbs that take
quite a lot of brain power to use effectively, and also have quite a
delicate sense of touch, something had to give and what gave was smell. 
All of us monkey creatures have a very poor sense of smell."

   "But I can smell things O.K." Jenny says.

   "Not compared to a dog." I say "If your sense of smell was as sensitive
as a dog's, opening the toilet door after your father had been in there,
(to use your own example) <giggle> would be like stepping out in front of a
Mack truck doing a hundred kilometres an hour." Even Dianne has to giggle
at this.

   "Actually it wouldn't really be like that, because having a sensitive
sense of smell means that a creature is able to detect incredibly tiny
amounts of a particular chemical, but once it reaches a certain level it
doesn't matter how much more you add after that.  But you should still see
get what I'm getting at."

   "Yeah."

   "And dogs are nothing compared to moths.  Some of them are able to smell
a female from miles away.  If it was you looking for something, it would be
like being able to look and instantly see one tiny grain of sand somewhere
in the middle of a football field."

   "Really?" she asks incredulously.

   "Really." I nod, "Anyway since primates can't smell very well, they have
to rely on their other senses, primarily sight, to know when a female is
ready.  And it is the male who has to see that the female is ready.  Now
with all of the primates except humans, mating still only occurs when a
female is ready, which is usually signalled by her bottom and the area
around her sex organs swelling up and turning a bright colour."

   "But what's this got to do with me rubbing against you?" Jenny asks.

   "We're getting there." I reassure her, "But I want to make sure we cover
everything.  So finally we come to those most troublesome creatures call
humans, of which you are a prime example." I say, causing Dianne to laugh
and Jenny to look pleased after a brief second of indignation.

   "Humans can mate at anytime that it pleases them, and it pleases them a
lot.  <giggle> (We'll get to that part in a minute gutter brain.) And
they're pretty smart too, so with them the visual signals can be just about
anything at all.  Like flashing your knickers, <giggle> or very carefully
*not* flashing them.  <louder giggle> it can even be something like whether
you wear an ankle bracelet on the left or the right.

   "However because in our society, sex is considered naughty, our sexual
signals tend to be considered naughty too.  A hundred years ago, seeing a
woman's ankles was enough to make a mans heart thump.  Today a girl can
walk down the street with her bum hanging out of her shorts and most men
just look and say, 'Hmm not bad.' and go on their way.

   "For men, and boys, it's that hint of the forbidden which gets them
going.  Which is why, your mother can walk around on the beach with that
bathing suit on and not have a problem.  However if she was to wear a
sports bra and a pair of undies that covered her belly button, and in total
covered about six times as much as her bikini, every single eye would be
looking at her.  All because undies aren't supposed to be seen.

   "Once something becomes common, it looses it's power to excite a
response, which is why every man on a nudist beach, doesn't spend the whole
time he's there, in the ready position.  <giggle> It's not like that
because it's something that is common place and in that particular location
at least, not forbidden.  In fact that's how you tell the new bloke on the
beach, he's the one carrying around the two cups of coffee and half a dozen
donuts."

   "Greg!  That's terrible." Dianne cries, while laughing helplessly, and
Jenny has to be rescued, coughing and spluttering, from the bottom of the
tub, when she slips from beneath my loosely encircling arm.

   "I can't help it if you two have gutter minds." I chuckle, "I can carry
two coffee cups in one hand and I can even manage a bag of donuts in the
other, despite the fact that I'm a mere male."

   "Jenny," Dianne says soberly, but with a twinkle in her eye, "you have
just witnessed a male defeat two females at once, this man is dangerous,
and it is quite possible that he should not be allowed to live."

   "Let's see how good he is at back rubs first." Jenny giggles, "We can
always kill him later."

   "I think that means that it's time to adjourn to the sauna, but you can
finish your explanation in there because I'm starting to become curious
about exactly how touching fit's into this." Dianne says.

   Once we are in the dimly lighted, steamy heat of the sauna, I go on. 
"We're nearly up to touch, but first I'd like to go back to what we talked
about a couple of weeks ago, since Jenny might begin wondering about why we
made a big song and dance about it, when men can ignore what happens around
them, or even look and be excited but choose not to do anything about it.

   "This is true, and it's true because our primary sexual signalling sense
sight, is processed by a fairly advanced part of our brain and a lot of it
gets filtered through the parts we think with too.  Hence we can learn to
ignore, or at least reclassify the things we see, and even when we don't we
can choose to allow it to affect us without responding.  But there's the
rub, it is also possible to *choose* to react, and there are enough men out
there like that, that you have to be careful to keep the accidental
exposures to a minimum, and be very, very careful about the deliberate
ones.

   "And finally we get to the touching part.  Since sight is a higher
function, and can be ignored, or simply not noticed, mother nature has very
sneakily made touching, feel especially good to primates.  It feels good to
most creatures, but to primates, it's a bit like the sense of smell example
in the other direction.  You know how horses bite and nip each other."

   "Yes." they both reply.

   "Well to them, that's about the same as me doing this." I say, cupping
my hand under Jenny's chin and gently brushing her cheek with the ball of
my thumb.

   "Primates love to touch.  They do it all the time, but one thing feels
so incredibly good that it's almost a hunger, and that thing is sex.  So
now they have a reason to be watching very carefully for a visual signal,
and a reason to act when they do see it.  And very sneakily, mother nature
made it possible to achieve arousal and even climax entirely through touch,
so that they would have a reminder of what sex is like between one time and
the next."

   "And that is especially true for humans, because we are capable of sex
at any time and our visual signals are so ambiguous, touch is almost the
only way for mother nature to force us to have sex and make babies for her.
And even though it might never lead to sex, touching feels so good that
when we first discover it, we do it at every opportunity, like little
Sandy, though it does taper off once the novelty has worn off.

   "However, almost everyone eventually discovers that if we touch
ourselves the right way, it gos from just feeling pretty nice, to ohmigod
I'm in love with my fingers.  I know you're still at the two or three times
a day stage Jenny," I say, adding with a chuckle, "and probably more when
you get the chance.  Now I'm not going to embarrass your mother by asking
her how often she does it..."

   "Quite a bit more than usual in the last week." she admits with a
chuckle, much to her daughter's delighted amusement.

   "But I will ask her something else," I go on once Jenny has subsided,
"since your mother was probably brought up a little differently to you."
Turning to Dianne I ask, When did you first discover just how good touching
yourself could be?"

   "I assume you mean 'going pop' as I called it in those days." she says
self-consciously.  "I guess I was about twelve or thereabouts."

   "And once you started, what was the longest you managed to go without?"

   "About a week, but that was a special circumstance, since I was stuck in
a caravan with my parents, and nowhere private.  Even then I eventually
managed to find somewhere, because I was absolutely desperate by that time,
and we still had another two weeks of holiday to go.  Normally though, I'd
say about three days."

   "So for the first twelve years of your life, except for whatever it was
that lead you to this great discovery, and a few times when you were very
young, which were very quickly stopped by your parents, you never touched
yourself sexually, now we'll pick on Jenny.

   "Jenny, you were brought up differently to your mother, at least as far
as sexual matters are concerned, you've always know that it was all right
to touch yourself, just to do it in private.  So when did you make the
momentous discovery, that it wasn't just pleasant to give yourself a little
rub every now and again, but something to do at every opportunity?

   "About two weeks before you started teaching me." she giggles.

   "Well that partially excuses some of your silliness." I say, making a
few educated guesses, "You'd just found this great new toy, and you knew
that it had something to do with the things you'd read about but still
weren't quite sure because the books were a bit vague.  However you did
know that boys were definitely a part of it.

   "So When I came along at exactly the right time after you'd just gotten
over how scary it seemed at first, I seemed pretty safe, and you were going
to have lots of time alone with me.  So you decided that I would be just
right to practice on, and to help you learn some more about something that
seemed to be such a secret that even the book that told you exactly how to
make a baby, appeared to make no mention of it."

   "What do you mean?" Dianne asks me.  Though her eyes remain locked on
Jenny, having witnessed each guilty nod of Jenny's that had signalled the
accuracy of my guesses.  "All of the books we gave her talked about
masturbation."

   "Yes I know, but in what terms, I've probably read most of those books,
and while most of them are quite good, and certainly a lot better than an
embarrassed talk, behind the woodshed.  Which is what I got, and only
lasted five minutes at that.  All of the books I have seen however, have
one fatal flaw.

   "They are written with the fear that a child might use them as a manual
of discovery.  Even the ones that go into the mechanics of sex, generally
start out with some thing like 'When a man and a woman love each other very
much.'

   "I have to wonder, how many girls have ended up either totally alienated
from their fathers because he's now too scared to even hug her any more, or
worse still, molested by them.  All because of that stupid phrase."

   Looking horrified, Dianne murmurs, "I never thought about it like that."

   "I did," I say darkly, "because I'd just read about a particularly nasty
case, which I won't go into right now, just before I picked up one of those
books.  And once I came up with that one, I started to look for other
potential traps.  And the other big one was bit Jenny.

   "Her case, and almost certainly a lot more like it, revolves around the
word 'good'.  Those books say masturbation feels good, and they might even
mention sex feels good too.  As far as those books are concerned an orgasm
feels good.  Maybe even 'very good' if the author is feeling daring.  For
crying out loud, scratching yourself when you have an itch can feel very
good, an orgasm feels bloody fantastic.  Excuse the French.

   "Now even though things have advanced a long way since we first learnt
about it, sex still carries quite a bit of it's original baggage of fear,
naughtiness and secrecy, and children know this.  So when they discover
something like this, they might easily think, as Jenny did, that this must
be a real humdinger of a secret.  Boys at least have the advantage of an
easily recognisable sign which *is* mentioned in the books, that they have
reached orgasm.

   "What about the poor girl, what is she to think?.  Her orgasm isn't
properly described.  From everything that I've seen and heard, a girl's
orgasm is a considerably more intense experience when compared to a boys,
at least I never make anything like the commotion my girlfriends do, oh and
one small girl on the other side of my bedroom wall last Wednesday."

   "GREG!" Jenny shrieks.  While Dianne lets out a slightly hysterical
chuckle of release.

   "Sorry Jenny," I apologise sincerely, "but your mum was looking a bit
distressed and I felt she needed something to make her feel better."

   "I think I *did* need it." Dianne says.

   "Well I guess it's O.K." Jenny mumbles.  Though it is obvious that she's
still mightily embarrassed.  Then suddenly brightening, Jenny lifts her
head and looks directly at her mother, saying, "What else was it you were
going to pick on Mummy about.?"

   "Oh yes." I chuckle, "Well it's not really picking on her, just a final
observation that applies to the both of you, me, and just about everybody
else on this planet.  Which is, once you've discovered just how good sexual
feelings can be, it's almost impossible to do without them.  Which is
Mother Nature's way of making sure that people want to do the things that
make new babies."

   "And that terrible child is why you shouldn't wriggle your bottom in
men's laps.  It's not because you're sexy, though I must admit that you're
shaping up pretty nicely in that direction, <pleased grin> but because
certain physical sensations will cause a man's, or boy's, body to get ready
for sex, and it doesn't matter how those sensations are induced."

   So don't do it unless you're ready to deal with anything that might pop
up."

   "Greg!" Dianne remonstrates laughingly, and after a few seconds of
confusion, Jenny too giggles naughtily.

   "Well it is a classic pick up line," I grin unrepentantly, "and if she
hasn't heard it already, it won't be all that long before she does.  But,
I'd like to bet that when Jenny does hear it, she's more likely to think
about what I've just been saying, instead of giggling like an idiot."

   Good point." Dianne concedes.

   "It's actually interesting to note that the average age of first sex has
started to climb again, since sex education became more open.  Yet we still
have idiots who insist that it something that should be left entirely up to
the parents.  The same sort of idiot who, when it comes time to actually
educate his or her kids on the subject, will mumble 'Sex is how you make
babies.  You do it when you get married.'

   "We have to start trusting our kids enough to tell them enough of the
truth, including the juicy bits, to enable them to make an informed
decision as to whether to have sex or not.  Instead we leave all the juicy
bits to other kids, who are often wrong and sometimes very, very
persuasive.

   "For crying out loud up until less than a hundred years ago, most kids
grew up with sex all but shoved in their faces, Even today there are parts
of the world where things haven't changed.  Society has advanced so much in
nearly every way imaginable, but in something as fundamental as sex...  -I
can't even call it backsliding, because it's not- we try to sweep the whole
subject under a rug."

   "Well Jenny's certainly getting an earful of the juicy bits tonight."
Dianne says with a smile.  "Has it made you any the wiser?"

   "Well I know that my books are, aren't wrong, they're..." she says
searching for a word, "misleading, That's it.  They're misleading.  And I
know that's *why* I've been teasing Greg." She giggles.  "I'm still
thinking about whether I should stop though."

   "Oh Jenny!" Dianne chuckles.

   "And I'm going to think some more about having sex too, because it seems
like if I do it once, I'm going to keep on doing it afterwards."

   "That's a very good reason, to wait," I say seriously, adding with a
grin, "though it's not quite that bad since you've always got the Yellow
Pages option."

   "Huh?" both of them say with a blank look.

   "Let your fingers do the walking." I grin.

   <groan> <giggle>

   "Jenny," I ask, "could you please get me a cold drink?  I'm starting to
feel a bit thirsty."

   "You just want to talk to Mummy about something." she says with an
accurate guess.

   "Git." I chuckle, "And knock when you get back."

   Giggling, she scoots, pausing in the doorway to readjust her suit at me.

   "That suit really is getting a bit small." Dianne comments, not even
bothering to call out the obligatory 'Jenny!' after her daughter's
retreating back.

   "I noticed that on the way out here," I chuckle, "I figure that it would
have just about disappeared by the time she walked around the block."

   "You are terrible." She chuckles, "Now what is it you wanted to say that
you didn't want my daughter to hear."

   "Well I didn't want her getting any ideas, because while the average age
at which kids are first having sex is on the way up.  The lower ages are
coming down."

   "And you're wondering about Jenny?"

   "No, I don't really need to wonder." I reply, "But at least I'm nowhere
near as worried as I was a couple of weeks ago.  She's got her head screwed
on reasonably tight, and now that she has some accurate data to work with,
she's not likely to actually make the sort of mistakes that she nearly did.
But she is a very curious child and..."

   "You think she's going to do something soon, no matter what we say?"

   "Not immediately, she's got a lot to digest." I say, "But almost
certainly in the next year or two."

   "I can't exactly say I'm thrilled, but nor am I really surprised."
Dianne replies, "She's done everything else way ahead of schedule, she was
walking at just over nine months, and while we thought she was slow to talk
she certainly made up for it in a hurry when she decided to.

   "Do you know what her first words were?  No of course you don't.  She
was about two, and I was trying to get her to eat some beans, when she very
distinctly said, 'No 'sank 'oo Mummy, don' like 'em.' Seven words at once
and an almost perfectly grammatically correct sentence.  Tony wouldn't
believe me at first, I guess I did sound a little hysterical on the phone,
but he made some sort of excuse and came home.  Probably to separate his
precious offspring from her obviously deranged mother, but you could have
knocked him over with a feather, when she greeted him at the door with,
'Did 'oo have a good day Daddy?'

   "Flabbergasted?" I grin.

   "Completely, and proud enough to burst if you stuck him with a pin."
Dianne giggles, "I think he drove the entire office mad with tape
recordings of his precocious little girl."

   "You already know about her reading, and you know that the first week of
school is orientation and settling in?  Well she told her teacher that she
could play with toys at home, and he could either teach her, or she would
go home and come back when he was ready to do so."

   "So why not this too?" she concludes with a sigh, "Now all I've got to
do is figure out how to break the news to Tony."

   "I know it isn't too much consolation, but I've noticed that so long as
the decision is actually the child's, and not the result of the sort of
manipulation you suffered, no long term harm is done.  At least by the
actual act, it's the way people react that causes problems, and
unfortunately girls bear the brunt."

   "The biggest cause of complications arising from consensual underage
sex, is the screaming and hollering that often comes about when it's
discovered.  On the one hand, you've got sexual dysfunction..  On the other
this sort of irrational response is just going to be ignored, with all
sorts of possible consequences, most of them bad.

   "Then what happens?  The all too common reactions to a pregnant
daughter, is to either cut her off from the outside world, or to throw her
out of the house.  In either case, it comes as no surprise that she
probably ends up poorly educated and a permanent drain on the welfare
system.  Not many young girls set out to become pregnant, but since society
labels girls who are prepared for sex in a negative manner, and declares
that the only truly acceptable avenue to avoid pregnancy is abstinence, it
continues to happen to way too many girls.

   "Jenny for example would have great difficulty in obtaining birth
control pills.  One, because the only legal way a girl under fourteen can
be prescribed them is to control cramping from conditions like
endometriosis; and two, because the drug companies don't produce a pill
that is suitable for pubescent girls.  Most likely out of fear that they
would be thought to be encouraging underage sex.

   "And for the same sort of thinking applies to barrier methods.  When was
the last time you went down the chemist and saw a packet of Checkmate
Juniors?  One size fits all is a bit of a joke when you consider that it's
not unusual these days for a ten or eleven year old boy to speak the same
sentence in three separate registers.  Yet the best that we as a society
can offer is to say 'don't do it' in the face of overwhelming evidence that
kids, will, and do, 'do it'.

   "Instead of accepting the truth and dealing with reality, we offer up a
couple of tired old platitudes and a bit of moralising, and then shake our
heads sadly and say 'Well we did all we could.' when the inevitable
happens."

   "What's worse, is that a concerned adult who actually tries to help kids
out by supplying them with condoms, because they were too embarrassed to
buy them for themselves, or were scared that the chemist would turn around
and phone their parents, can get into nearly as much trouble as if they'd
had sex with the children themselves."

   "That's absurd, the police would never try to prosecute me if I gave
Jenny some." Dianne says.

   "No they wouldn't.  But if Jenny were to come home one day with a really
cute boy who was 'the one', and you being the enlightened parent that you
are, were to give the condoms to him, then *you* could be charged with
procuring a minor for sex."

   "That's insane." Dianne ejaculates, "It would never stand up in court."

   "Probably not, but if the boy's parents were to insist on kicking up a
big enough stink over it, it would almost certainly end up in court
nonetheless.  And if *I* were the one to supply the condoms, the odds are
good that at least some of it would stick, especially if I were to also
provide a safe haven for the activity to take place."

   "The law couldn't possibly be that stupid." Dianne says.

   "Couldn't it?" I ask softly, "Consider this: The sex laws here and in
almost every country in the world were *not* drafted to protect
individuals."

   "Now you're the one being ridiculous, of course they were." Dianne
replies.

   "No they're weren't.  They're property laws, intended to protect a man's
property and nothing more." I say harshly.  "Oh, western society has
evolved to the point where an individual *can* use them to seek justice for
themselves, but fundamentally sex laws are property laws.  You only have to
look at Muslim countries to see it as plain as day, and you don't have to
scratch the surface very hard to see it here as well.

   Dianne looks thoughtful as she mulls over what I have said, seeming
ready to speak several times and each time lapsing back into a meditative
silence Finally she slowly says, "I see what you mean.  It makes me sick to
my stomach to think about it, and when you consider that most men seem to
feel they have a right to sex, and support that right where others are
concerned, it explains a hell of a lot about why it's so hard to make
charges stick."

   "Especially since you women got uppity and refused to be owned by us
obviously superior males." I say with a grin.

   "If you weren't joking, I'd rip your balls off and feed them to you for
saying that." she says.

   "If I weren't joking, I'd deserve it." I say soberly, "But it
illustrates the point that I made about sex laws being formulated for the
benefit of men, and not the actual victims.  Not so much today, since
society is slowly reforming itself, but even as few as ten years ago, I
could have robbed you at knife point and even though you might have handed
over your valuables without a protest, the odds would be good that on your
say so alone I could have been convicted.  Yet if I were to have raped you
at knife point and you failed to struggle, my lawyer could have agued tacit
consent on your part, and I would have had a fair chance of walking. 
Thirty or forty years earlier, and any outcome would have depended on what
your husband chose to do: and in all too many cases that would have been to
use your adultery to secure a divorce.

   "Sad as it is that it took so long for society to recognise that women
have sexual rights of their own, what saddens me more is that where
children are concerned, the old idea of protecting them as property seems
to more important than protecting them as individuals.  In fact once
they've lost their value as *property* by having sex, it almost seems like
society places more importance on holding them up as examples, than in
actively helping them to safely deal with being sexually active.  And
anyone who tries to do so runs the risk of being punished themselves."

   Assuming an exaggerated moralistic tone, I say, "Children shouldn't have
sex.  See what happens to children who have sex."

   "It sounds like you're speaking from experience." Dianne says.

   "Not quite, but I did ask a law student friend about something after I'd
done it and he told me I was better off hand feeding sharks than sticking
my nose into the sex lives of other peoples children.  He then said he was
as dumb as I was, since he'd probably do the same thing under the
circumstances." I reply.

   "Remember the girl I told you about who had it backwards about her
periods.  I didn't tell you at the time because you didn't need to know,
but the reason she came to me was that she was scared stiff that she was
pregnant."

   I grin, saying, "I don't supposed you've noticed, but girls and women
don't seem to have any trouble talking to me."

   "Oh, I've noticed." she chuckles, "Go on."

   "Well since her parents were very straight laced, I became the logical
choice to run to when she bled from her vagina at exactly the same time
that she had sex.  Of course it was only her hymen breaking, but since her
mother had exhausted her courage in her decision to *prepare* her daughter
for *the curse*, this seemed to be exactly that to the poor kid.

   "I could cheerfully strangle that woman, since as far as I could tell
her entire explanation consisted, of: 'Soon you will start getting the
curse.  You will bleed from between your legs every four weeks.  There are
sanitary napkins in the bathroom.  You can get pregnant by having sex once
it starts.' Cripes!  What use was that?  The poor kid didn't even know how
long a period lasted.

   "The only fortunate thing in the whole mess was that when it happened,
she ran straight to me, instead of her mother, who would have probably
screamed so long and loud about the sex part of things that by the time she
got down to actually finding out whether the poor kid was pregnant or not,
the whole thing would be academic.  As by the time the girl got herself
straightened out, menopause would have been and gone.  And she would have
destroyed another family in the process."

   A knock at the door signals the return of Jenny.  "Go soak." Dianne
tells her, accepting our drinks.

   One look at her mother's face suffices to, tell her that a protest would
not be well met.  So with a mumbled O.K.  she lets the door swing shut.

   "What did you do?" Dianne asks, once the door closes.

   "Well to tell you that, I'm going to have to tell you something that you
might find a bit distasteful, but in my opinion is a reasonable solution to
many of the problems associated with early sexual awakening."

   "Go on."

   "Well it started when I came home and found her at my front door bawling
her eyes out.  I got her inside, and once I got her calmed down enough to
speak, she tells me that she thinks she's pregnant and promptly starts
bawling again.  In fact she was so bad that I did something that I am not
at all proud of, but I didn't know what else to do, short of handing her
over to her mother, and god knows what, or trusting a social worker not to
do the same thing.  And that would have opened a real can of worms, even,
or especially, if she or he had taken the time to get an explanation.  So I
gave her a quarter tablet of Serapax."

   I wait for Dianne's recrimination, but she simply nods for me to
continue.

   "Well, once that had taken hold, I was able to talk to her a bit better
and the whole story came out.  Actually I got most of the details during
her tutoring sessions afterwards but I got enough that afternoon to sort
out what the problem was and to convince her that she wasn't pregnant.

   "Part of it was of course her stupid mother's fault, but at the time I
thought it was a simple misunderstanding, so I gave her a quick but
accurate explanation of periods, and went on to what was potentially a much
bigger problem.

   "She'd gone to spend the night with a friend, and while her friend was
off doing something, she heard a noise that made her think somebody was
hurt and went to investigate.  What she found was her friend's twin brother
and sister, shall we say, stress testing a bed."

   "Well that's an interesting way of putting it." Dianne chuckles, "And
I'm not too shocked.  I know it happens, especially with mixed twins, but
why would you think it was such a good solution, wouldn't it just create
more problems."

   "Yes, and no, but can I leave it for a moment?" I say.

   She nods her permission, and I resume, "Well these two were so involved
with what they were doing, that they had no idea they had an audience.  So
that was where her friend found her a couple of minutes later, watching her
older brother and sister enjoying the hell out of each other.

   "Apparently the twins had been at it for a couple of years and when they
were found out by their little sister, she just joined in the fun and
games. So when they were found out yet again, they offered to let her join
in as well.

   "They warned her about the pain to expect, but forgot to mention the
blood, and asked her if she knew about periods and stuff.  Of course she
thought she did, so off came the clothes, and all three of the other kids
proceeded to show her just what they'd learned from each other.

   "That at least was a consolation, since she had three experienced,
uninhibited and very enthusiastic partners, she had the sort of first time
that most girls can only dream about.  The trauma didn't come until
afterwards when she saw the blood.  Unfortunately it upset her so much
that, she was unable to hear the other kids trying to tell her it was all
right.  She put her clothes back on and ran all the way to my place.

   "And that was where I found her an hour or so later.  I was able to
reassure her enough, that she was able to go back to her friend's place,
minus a rather incriminating pair of knickers, and fortunately before the
parents got home from work.  Over the next few weeks I got the whole story
and at the same time, I gave her advice, on how to better hide their
activities, and birth control, and such, to pass on.  And as far as I know,
all four are still quite happily stress testing mattresses to destruction."

   "Well what was I supposed to do?" I ask in response to Dianne's
questioning look, "If I told anybody, four kids would, at the very least,
be very unhappy, and the most likely outcome would be for two, if not
three, of them to be separated from each other and their parents, and put
into foster care.  It's even possible that the twins might have been
incarcerated as a *dangerous sex offenders* because they were nearly three
years older than the younger two.

   "Not because these kids parents would have done any such thing if they'd
found out, but because another child's parent would have been wanting to
blame somebody so much that she would have called in the authorities
without stopping to think, and would probably not have cared, even if she
had realised the sort of damage that it could do to the other family.

   "Oh I wasn't exactly questioning what you did." Dianne replies, "I was
just a little surprised at the risks you will take on behalf of children
that you don't even know."

   "Truthfully there wasn't much risk.  The kids were already pretty good
at keeping things in the dark, and were fanatically careful about birth
control.  About all I did, was tell her to tell them to make sure that
there was never anybody else in the house.  Which hopefully would prevent
any new additions to their little soiree, to always keep one of them on
lookout if there was any chance that somebody might enter unexpectedly, and
to *never* have sex anywhere that wasn't as close to perfectly safe as they
could possibly make it."

   "In other words basic common sense." Dianne says, "Now why do you
consider incest to be a solution?"

   "Well I think about it like this.  The kids are most unlikely to brag
about it, which indirectly disposes of the most dangerous way of being
found out, ie.  another parent outraged at their tattle tale, little
darling being exposed to such 'filth'.  The environment in which they carry
out their activities is much safer than the bush or the abandoned building
that too many kids feel they have to use in order to avoid detection.  They
aren't going to be looking for sex elsewhere, which almost completely cuts
out the risks of disease, and also the chance of them coming into contact
with the sort of person who causes most of the real problems in the first
place.

   "The biggest risk is that they'll be discovered by their parents, and
since kids are fiendishly clever at hiding things from their parents, that
risk remains acceptably small.  Especially since that, the worse the
expected reaction, the better they are hiding something.  Even if it does
get found out, it is very unlikely that anyone outside the family will ever
know, and the actual reaction will be generally be little worse than it
would have been if the kids had been caught having sex with anybody else."

   "What about the risk of pregnancy?"

   "Well considering that most kids do know about how it occurs these days,
and the precautions that need to be taken, the risks are no greater than if
they had been having sex with anyone else.  In fact probably less, because
if they are aware, they will be a lot more careful than they might
otherwise be."

   "No I mean genetic risk." Dianne corrects me.

   "Actually unless there is a known pre-existing genetic condition in the
family, the risk is very little greater than the risk in the general
community as a whole.  It takes several generations for the risk to build
up to an appreciable level.  Most genetic abnormalities are very minor and
on their own don't cause any problems, it's when a large number of them
accumulate that the risks begin to arise.  Like in a small town where
cousins marry, and then their children do the same."

   "Well you've certainly made a reasonable argument for incest." Dianne
says thoughtfully, "The risks that remain, aren't appreciably different to
what they would be in any case, and I can certainly see that it almost
completely eliminates a number of very real and dangerous risks as well. 
But what happens when they grow up?"

   "I have no real idea," I admit, 'because I haven't seen any statistics
to cover it.  In fact I had to guess about it being kept within the family,
based on the fact that the estimates for the actual incidence of incest,
bear absolutely no relationship to the number of reported cases.  However,
I doubt that anything really terrible is likely to happen when they grow
up, simply because there *is* so little information about it.  I think they
just join the community just like anybody else."

   "And probably a lot more relaxed than most." Dianne concludes.  "Come
on, I think it's time to cool down."

   "Finished?" Jenny asks when we emerge to plunge into the comparatively
chilly waters of the hot tub.

   "Yes we're finished." Dianne chuckles, moving to pour another whisky for
each of us.  However she stops with the stopper in her hand, saying, "I
think we need a bit more than this.  Do you smoke?" She cocks her thumb to
her mouth.

   "Occasionally." I admit.

   "See." blurts Jenny.  "Oops."

   "Do you often smoke dope in front of other peoples kids?" asks Dianne
disapprovingly.

   "Not unless their parents are doing it too." I reply, adding with a mock
dark look at Jenny, "Somebody got suspicious of how long it was taking us
to find the fridge the other night and went poking around where she
shouldn't have."

   "You know better than that." Dianne says, turning her disapproval on her
daughter.

   "I guess so." Jenny grudgingly admits, "But they sure looked funny when
I showed them the pipe."

   "Funny or not, you shouldn't have done it." Dianne scolds, "How would
you like it if I went poking around in your room for no good reason?  And
another thing, what makes you think that you have the right to tell other
people about what we do at home?"

   "Sorry Mummy, that sort of slipped." Jenny says, "I'll try not to do it
again."

   "Fair enough." Dianne says, and climbs out of the water and slips on her
robe.

   As soon as her mother leaves, Jenny occupies my lap and asks, "What did
you talk about?"

   "What did your mother just say about sticking your nose where it didn't
belong?" I ask reprovingly, "It applies to conversations quite as much as
it does to my cupboards."

   "Sorry."

   "You're forgiven." I say, "Just think about things a little bit more
before you open your mouth or act."

   "I always do for the important stuff." She informs me.  "Well mostly."

   "Do it for the little things too." I tell her, "It helps keeps the
peace, and keeps you out of trouble."

   "Makes sense to me." she giggles.  "'Cept trouble can be fun sometimes."

   "Not when it upsets other people." I reply, adding with a chuckle, "But
you're right, it can be.  Like right now." Straightening my legs, I give
her a quick shove, and she slides below the surface with a squeal.

   "I'm gonna get you for that." she declares with a giggle.

   "Oh goody," I squeak, clapping my hands delightedly, "that must mean I'm
in trouble."

   Reaching out with my leg, I snag an ankle and she goes under again. 
Surfacing with a vengeful gleam in her eye, she treads water to prevent a
recurrence of my previous attack.  Suddenly she disappears and I feel her
hands close about one of my ankle, a second later I find myself beneath the
surface with no clear idea of how I got there.

   When I surface my antagonist is nowhere in sight, and when I turn it is
just in time to see her leap from one of the seats with enough force to
knock me off my feet and put me under again.  But before I can grab her she
is gone, kicking off with a foot in my stomach perilously close to the
family jewels.

   Feeling for a bench, I get my back to it before I lift my head above the
surface.  Opposite me, Jenny looks on with a grin.  "Two all." she
declares.

   On my knees, I am much the same height as her and since it will make for
a fairer final point, I remain that way.  Giggling madly, we circle like a
pair of wrestlers, and eye each other warily, neither one of us willing to
make the first move.  A moment latter, my opening appears as a bubble
bursts directly under her nose.

   While she is blinking and snorting, I close with her and with my hands
encircling her waist, I lift her into the air.  Pausing with my lips just
millimetres from her belly button, I look up into her face.  Realising my
intention she lets out a long despairing "Nooooo!"

   "Oh yes." I chuckle evilly, and closing the distance, I blow long and
hard, as she convulses and shrieks loudly enough to wake the dead.  Then
with my breath exhausted, I finish by jamming my tongue as hard and deep as
possible into her navel.  The squeal that ensues, is fit to lift paint.

   "What on earth are you doing to my daughter?" Dianne asks with mock
disapproval.

   "Just blowing into her belly button." I grin, lowering Jenny into the
water and supporting her with a hand beneath her arm.

   "I could see that." Dianne chuckles, "But what on earth did you do at
the end?  She all but shattered the windows."

   "He stuck his tongue in it." Jenny glowers, adding with a naughty
giggle, "You can take your hand off my boob now, I can stand up on my own."

   "Oh shoot!" I mutter snatching my hand away as my ears begin to burn.

   "It's all right." Jenny says as her mother carefully sets bong, bowl and
cigarette lighter on the table, while laughing uproariously.  "I don't
mind." She pauses, and I cringe knowing what is coming next.  "So long as
you do it again."

   Dianne hits the deck with a crash that rattles the glasses beside the
tub, for a second it looks like she is throwing a fit, but then I realise
that she is laughing so hard that she is completely unable to catch her
breath.  Beside me Jenny musingly asks, "I wonder if that counts as a point
against her or against you."

   "Both I think." I chuckle, adding with a significant nod towards the
table, "But you almost needed your MacGuffy's Reader."

   "That's why I waited till she put it down."

   "Jennifer Rosalie Gormley!" Dianne sounds more than a little out of
breath as her voice rings out, as angry as I'd ever heard it.  Jenny, and
for that matter I, flinch as if we'd been slapped.  "That has got to be the
absolutely" suddenly her voice changes, "best laugh I've had in a long,
long time."

   "Looks like you lost that point." I murmur, "She countered."

   "I guess so." Jenny giggles.  "But I still got you."

   "As a matter of fact you didn't." I grin.  "I knew it was coming."

   Displaying her tongue, Jenny herds me into my seat and occupies my lap.

   "Oh no you don't." Dianne says setting down the smoking paraphernalia,
and handing me a towel.  "It's the brick for you, and I'm half tempted to
put you under it.  It was a funny thing to say, but you still shouldn't
have said it."

   "Why not?" Jenny giggles, "It's not like he'd do it or anything."

   "But the next bloke might." Dianne warns.

   "Hah.  The next bloke better be wearing a box when he tries it in the
first place." Jenny proclaims fiercely.

   "Ouch!" I wince.  "I think she means it."

   "Good!" Dianne says.

   Three -or was it four- cones of very good gear later, Dianne decides
that it's again time to bake ourselves in the sauna.  A decision with which
Jenny heartily agrees.  "Good I can get my back rub now." she declares.

   "Can I put some water on the rocks Mummy?" Jenny asks, "I want to be
nice and slippery."

   "O.K.," Dianne agrees, "but be careful, remember what happened last
time."

   "What was that?" I ask with a smile.

   "The bucket slipped, and I nearly cooked us, and then the fuse blew."
Jenny giggles.  "But we've got a dipper now."

   Jenny carefully ladles a dipper full of water into the heater and skips
back out of the billowing cloud of steam.  Almost instantly the resinous
scent pervading the small, dim lodge becomes stronger, and the suddenly
moisture laden air snatches my breath away.  Within seconds the sweat
begins to bead on our bodies.

   A minute or so later, Jenny jumps down from her seat on the upper bench.
She, grabs a handle to what I had thought was a hatch in the back wall and
pulls, revealing it to be a massage table.  Folded in the cavity behind it
is a vinyl covered foam pad, which she lays out on top of the table and
covers with a towel.

   "O.K.  lift me up." she directs.

   Taking what I believe is a secure grip around her waist I try to lift
her onto the table.  An instant later, her feet are still on the floor, and
my hands are in her armpits, along with her bikini top.  Between my hands
her tiny boobs stand revealed, while my thumbs now occupy the recently
vacated garment.

   "Oops sorry." I chuckle.  Since her back is to Dianne, I allow the pads
of my thumbs to brush over the small resilient mounds as I pull my hands
away.  Earning myself a look that is quite naughty and all pleased.

   "I bet you're not." Jenny giggles, tugging the two small triangles back
over her chest.  Pausing with her thumbs still hooked in it, she asks her
chortling mother, "Can I take it off Mummy?  It's just going to get in the
way."

   "I bet *you* just want to show off." Dianne laughs, adding with mild
exasperation, "Go on."

   Grinning wickedly up at me, Jenny unfastens the small catch between her
breasts, and naughtily flashes first one side and then the other, much to
her mother's amusement, before shrugging it off and tossing it up on a
bench.  For the sake of verisimilitude, Jenny gives me what passes for a
nervous giggle, and asks, "What do you think?"

   Ignoring the question, I look over Jenny's head to Dianne, commenting,
"Must be pretty big mosquitos around here."

   "Terrible," Dianne replies with a straight face, "one of them carried
off the cat last week."

   "Oh, it must have been a couple of the little ones who got Jenny then."
I murmur, looking her in the eye and then allowing my gaze to drop a
little.

   I grin at her open mouthed gape, then look down to Jenny, inquiring
mildly, "My point?"

   "I think that's a *two* pointer." she giggles naughtily, turning to lean
her elbows on the table, and stare at her stunned looking mother.

   "Are you saying my boobs are too small?" Dianne asks ominously, several
seconds later, though a softening twinkle gleams in her eyes.

   "Did I say that?" I ask Jenny.

   "Of course not." Jenny replies, "That would be rude." And then after a
short pause, "You implied it."

   "Ouch," I grin, "I am stung by your accusation.  Truthfully," I add to
Dianne, "I'm not that fond of massive mammaries, but you do have a
problem."

   "Oh, and what might that be?" she asks with deliberately deceptive
mildness.

   "How are you going to keep your lap warm when you're old and grey?"

   "You," she chuckles, raising her voice over Jenny's delighted giggles,
"are a terrible man, and a corrupting influence."

   "Oh I hope so." Jenny says eagerly, grabbing my hand and pulling it
around he shoulder, dangerously near her small right breast.

   "And *you*, are a terrible little girl, who doesn't need corrupting,
because she already is." Dianne continues.

   "Oh I hope so." I leer.

   "I think I walked into that one." Dianne laughs ruefully.  "Now get her
up on the table before I spank the pair of you."

   "Promith." I lisp.

   "You better be dammed good at back rubs," Dianne warns, "or you might
not make it out of here alive."

   "Better see what I can do then." I chuckle.  Taking hold of Jenny, under
the arms this time, I lift her to sit on the edge of the table.

   Twisting onto her hands and knees, Jenny crawls up the table a little
and stretches out on her stomach, pillowing her head on her hands. 
"Uh-uh," I grin, pulling her hands from beneath her head and putting them
down by her side.  "I need those arms.  You're getting the works."

   Turning Jenny's head to face her mother, I walk to the foot of the table
and pull her down until her toes extend just beyond the end.  Picking up
Jenny's left foot I press my thumbs into the fleshy pad just behind her
toes, and work them back to her heel, making her toes curl and a shudder
pass through her body.  I repeat the move half a dozen more times until the
shudder becomes a slight tremor, then take up her right foot, this time it
only takes three firm passes of my thumbs for the shudders to subside.

   Moving back to the left leg, I encircle her ankle with both hands, then
pressing firmly with the ball and pad of my thumbs, I push my hands up to
the back of her knee, sliding smoothly over the film of sweat coating her
soft flawless skin.  Moving back to her ankle I slide my hands upwards,
repeating the action, until my skin begins to grab, and then move across to
give the right leg the same treatment.

   Taking a leg in each hand, I push my thumbs into the hollows at the
backs of her knees, pushing upwards a half dozen or so times.  As I move
around to the left side of the table, I am peripherally aware of Dianne
shifting to look past me.  Encircling the bottom of her daughter's thigh
with my hands, I dig my thumbs in, pushing upwards until the side of my
hand is within a few millimetres of her cloth covered pussy.  In passing I
note that a good inch of untanned skin is visible on either side of Jenny's
too small suit.

   Then having moved around to the far side of the table and working my way
up Jenny's right leg, I move back to the foot.  Leaning forwards, I
encircle the top of Jenny's right thigh, and in a single smooth motion, I
pull my hands all of the way to the bottom, letting her toes slip from
between my fingers at the end.  Twice more, and I move on to the right leg.

   Once again interposing myself between Dianne and her daughter, I pick up
Jenny's left hand and massage her palm with my thumbs.  Moving an inch or
so at a time, I work past the inside of her wrist, up her forearms to her
elbows and onward to her shoulder.  Then closing my hands around her upper
arm, I pull downwards to her fingertips a few times.

   When I have finished with the right arm, I pause with my hands hovering
a little below Jenny's waist and look questioningly towards her mother. 
Receiving a nod, I allow my fingers to touch Jenny's hips, but keep my
thumbs clear of her skin while I gauge her reaction.  In an unequivocal
invitation to go ahead, Jenny reaches back and pulls the back of her suit
upwards, exposing her buttock in their entirety.

   Another look towards Dianne is greeted with an amused smile, but no
indication that I shouldn't continue.  Pushing my thumbs into the crease at
the tops of her thighs, I work from the inside out, moving upwards in
smooth arcs until I reach the bunched up fabric encircling Jenny's waist.
Then with the palms of my hands almost completely covering Jenny's small
buttocks, I push firmly outwards several times with the heels of my hands.

   Pausing to pull the fabric of her bikini bottoms back into place, I roll
the waistband downwards just enough to reveal the very beginning of the
crease at the base of her spine.  Then after a brief search with the balls
of my thumbs, I press down hard, bringing a sharp gasp to Jenny's lips, as
her head lifts into the air, and a ripple of muscular contractions walks up
her spine.

   "That looked interesting." Dianne murmurs curiously, as Jenny's head
subsides with a soft moan.

   "Shhh." I hush her while sliding my fingers to Jenny's flanks and
drawing the heels of my hands outwards.  Beginning with my thumbs one
vertebra higher each time, I work my way upwards until my fingers slide
over Jenny's shoulders and my thumbs press into the base of her skull.

   "O.K.  roll over." I instruct Jenny, as I place my hands on her hip and
shoulder to pull her towards me.  Almost groaning, she moves with me, until
she lies on her back, her shoulder projecting beyond the edge of the pad.
Slipping my arms beneath her, I gently lift her back to the centre and move
down to her feet.

   Using a sense that I possess but can not explain, I gauge the pressure
of my thumbs to that point just below the threshold of pain, as I begin to
work on the bony upper side of Jenny's foot.  Moving from left to right leg
and back again, I work upwards.  My thumbs either side of the bony ridge of
her shin.  Thumbs and fingertips digging in around her kneecaps.  Then a
series of gentle horse-bites up each of her thighs, again stopping within
millimetres of forbidden territory.

   At the tops of her thighs, I press my thumbs into the muscle just to the
outside of the crease separating the base of her mons from the tops of her
legs, and push up and out.  With my hands so close to her pussy it is easy
for my eyes to fasten on her barely covered mound, where a shallow vertical
depression delineates her hairless slit.  As my thumbs draw her flesh away
from the centre, a thin strip of white skin appears to either side of her
bathers, and when I loosen my grip, her slit becomes more pronounced as the
fabric settles into the cleft of her mound.

   My prick lengthens within my Speedos, nestling undetectably into the
hollow of my right hip as I slide my thumbs to within a quarter of an inch
of her small pussy, and again push up and out.  More white skin appears,
and as her labia separate beneath the florescent cloth, I'm almost certain
that I can see a tiny bump nestled between them up near the top.  This time
when I let go, her thick pussy lips actually close around the fabric of her
bikini.  The third time my thumbs push outwards, there is no doubt, her
clit forms a small but clearly discernible peak beneath the bright green
cloth, and a subtly different note has crept into the soft moans of
contented pleasure that she has been uttering, almost since I first laid
hands on her.

   Realising that a fourth pass, would be unwise, I slide my thumbs between
Jenny's thighs and with a leg in each hand, I pull smoothly downwards to
her feet, and whether the moan that escapes her lips is of disappointment
or contentment is impossible to detect.  Though I would lay my money on it
being the former.

   Moving back past her now almost obscenely defined mound, I lower my
hands to her hips, and pressing just firmly enough to avoid tickling, I
draw my thumbs out past her sharp hipbones, tracing the waistband of her
bikini.  I then use the heels of my hands to knead her stomach, while my
fingers press in on her flanks.

   Bringing my thumbs together on her sternum, I trace each rib in turn,
though I skip the two ribs passing beneath her small chocolate bud breasts.
Once past her collar bones, I lift her shoulders with my fingers, allowing
her head to loll backwards as I gently work over her throat and the sides
of her neck with my thumbs.

   Then gently lowering her back to the mat, I bring my thumbs to the point
of he chin and trace her jaw line back to her ears.  With my fingertips I
gently caress her cheeks and eyelids, finishing with a firmer touch as I
draw my thumbs outwards from the centre of her forehead to her temples.

   "You didn't do all my front." Jenny says, as I take my hands from her
body, sounding only disappointed, without a hint of her usual naughtiness.

   Just as I'm about to tell Jenny that I can't touch her boobs, Dianne
gives her permission.  "Go ahead and give her what she wants, just don't
make a production of it."

   I start again at the bottom of Jenny breastbone, but this time I use the
heels of my hands to firmly massage her narrow chest, moving up one rib at
a time until her tiny boobs nestle into the vee formed by my thumb and
forefinger.  As I bring them together, lightly pinching the whole of her
small breasts, her back arches slightly, and she exhales with a sharp gasp,
when I finish by pushing the small mound flat with the heel of my hand as I
pass over it.

   Two more like passes suffice to make her nipples pop up, and there is no
disguising her disappointment when I take my hands away to lift her arms
and fold them above her head.  Curling my hands around her ribs, just
beneath her arms, I conclude by drawing my hands down the full length of
her body, the waist band of her bikini rolling slightly beneath my palms as
I pass over her hips, while my thumbs pass just to the east and west of the
forbidden zone.

   "More?" Jenny pleads wistfully, when I finish with a light slap on the
sole of her foot.

   "Not likely." Dianne chuckles, "I think you've had quite enough.  How do
you feel?"

   "Fantastic mummy." Jenny murmurs, "I'm so relaxed, I can hardly move."

   To me Dianne says, "Give her a couple of minutes, then toss her in the
tub.  I'll get us something to drink." A rush of cool air causes Jenny to
shiver slightly, as she opens the door and leaves.

   "So you liked it." I say as I sit down on the bench vacated by Dianne.

   "Oh yeah!" she breathes, adding with a soft giggle, "I think if you did
it here a few more times," She pokes top of her leg next to her vulva.  "I
would have 'gone pop'.  I nearly screamed when you stopped."

   "It's a good thing you didn't." I chuckle, "Better fix your suit too."

   "You do it." she challenges mischievously.

   "Not bloody likely." I grin.  "I think I better get you cooled off."

   Groaning theatrically, Jenny twists onto her side, putting her still
less than properly covered mound less than a foot from my face, as I rear
back, she pushes herself up onto her elbow and then swinging her legs over
the edge sits up.  Resting her elbows on her knees, she allows her head to
drop forward.

   "Oops!" she giggles as her eyes fall on where the fabric of her suit is
still stuffing her little slit.  "You can see my crack."

   "So fix it." I tell her.

   "You did it." she giggles naughtily, "*You* fix it."

   "Like I said 'not bloody likely'." I chuckle, "You've got ten seconds
and then I'll do as your mother suggested, and toss you in the water."

   "Can you help me down first?" she asks.

   "Oh all right." I say, standing up.  Hands under her arms, I heave and
guide her to the floor, beside the table.

   She wobbles a little on unsteady feet, steadying herself with a hand on
the pad that she had just vacated.  As I step back her other hand reaches
downward, my eyes following it of their own accord.  Teasingly, she slides
a finger under the leg band and tugs a good deal harder than necessary,
causing the elastic rimming the left leg hole to disappear into the crease
separating her labia, revealing a plump, white, hairless pillow of flesh.

   "Oops!" she says insincerely, moving her hand across and doing exactly
the same thing on the other side.  "Damn." she giggles, "I can't get it
right.  You better help me."

   Forcing my eyes away, I look her in the eye and growl, "Oh I'll help you
all right.  Straight up to the bedroom you'll occupy for a month if I tell
your mother." Finishing sweetly, I ask, "Do you think you can remember how
to dress yourself now?"

   This time her "Oops." is sincere, and when I look down a moment later,
she is correctly covered.

   "Come on," I say, "lets get you cooled off, before we both end up in hot
water."

   Herding her giggling body ahead of me, I gently shove her to the door,
and out onto the deck.  Just as we emerge, Dianne steps out of the tub and
reaches for her robe.  "How do you feel now?" she asks her daughter.

   "Good." Jenny replies, "Real good."

   As Dianne disappears to collect the drinks, Jenny and I jump into the
centre of the fizzing hot tub, plunging ourselves beneath the surface and
rising with whooshing exhalations at the chill shock.

   "No, let's just soak." I say when Jenny reaches to reactivate the
blower.

   "O.K."

   The moment I sit, Jenny squirms into my lap, pulling my arm about her
waist and snuggling back against my shoulder with a sigh, and when Dianne
returns a few minutes later, we haven't moved a muscle.  A condition which
changes rapidly when Dianne shucks out of her robe to reveal that she has
removed the top half of her bikini.

   For myself, self induced whiplash is enough, but Jenny twists wholly
around in my lap and rises to her knees.  A process that leaves me with my
eyes watering as she cries out, "Mummy!  You're showing your boobs!"

   "Your knee Jenny." I gasp feebly, barely noticing the small mound
against my lips, "Move your knee."

   "Oops sorry." she says contritely, as she hurriedly moves herself to the
submerged bench beside me.  "How come you took your top off Mummy?"

   "How come you didn't put yours back on?" Dianne retorts, mimicking her
daughter's bad grammar.

   "I forgot." Jenny giggles, "Besides he's seen them now so who cares.  He
even *touched* them." she adds placing a naughty emphasis on the word
'touched'.

   Having recovered enough to blink away the tears, my eyes avidly follow
Dianne's jiggling torso as she brings three tall, beaded glasses of orange
juice to the rim of the tub.  Her small, lemon sized breasts bobble nicely,
but otherwise retain almost all of the shape that they had possessed, when
encased within her top.  Small button like nipples are centred in the dark,
chocolate brown areolae, no larger than bottle tops, which cap the small
quivering mounds.  The most surprising thing though, is that there is not
the slightest hint of a tan line.

   Her eyes meet mine as she bends to set down drinks for me and Jenny, but
apart from a wink, she does nothing to acknowledge my obvious stare. 
Retaining her own drink, she steps down into the water and sits, giggling
almost as naughtily as her daughter, at the look of disappointment that
crosses my face when her delectable looking breasts disappear beneath the
surface.

   "You still haven't told us why you took your top off." Jenny persists.

   "I didn't want to be the only one wearing one?" Dianne proffers as a
possible solution.

   "Come on!" Jenny cries, "You only ever take it off when there's only
Daddy and me and Jeremy."

   "That shows what you know." Dianne tells her daughter.  "Truthfully
though, I just didn't see the point of keeping it on any longer.  It'll be
coming off soon enough anyway, and I can tease Greg a bit in the meantime.
Did you know you look funny when your eyes bug out."

   "That was Jenny." I chuckle.

   "I can see where having a boob shoved in your mouth could do that."
Dianne smirks.

   "More like a knee in the genitals." Jenny giggles, "Did I really shove
my boob in his mouth?"

   "Yes you did." Dianne chuckles, "Wasted an opportunity didn't you?"

   "Mummy!" Jenny cries out sounding shocked, "How could you even consider
that I would even think of doing a thing like that?"

   "Because I know my daughter." Dianne says, "I hope you apologised to
Greg, you can really do some serious damage if you're not careful."

   "Uh-huh." Jenny nods, "Is it really that bad?"

   "Worse." I tell her, "I've seen grown men faint, just from *seeing* it
happen.  So don't ever do it unless you mean it, and if you do, make sure
it's a good one, because you want to be a long way away before he gets up.
If he's just being obnoxious, you're much better off just belting him on
the snout and getting the hell out of his way before he can see again."

   "O.K." she nods.  "Can I get back in your lap now?"

   "Yes but be careful." I reply with a smile.

   "What was that thing you did with your thumbs on her back?" Dianne asks
as Jenny settles herself into her accustomed position.

   "Actually it's a way to look for knotted muscles and slightly misaligned
vertebrae, but it sure feels good.  My sister reckons it's just about the
best thing since the big 'O'."

   "It felt good Mummy."

   "I bet it did." Dianne smiles.  "Can you show me how to do it to Tony?"

   "Sure." I grin.  "Are you going to tell him who told you?"

   "If you can do to me what you did to Jenny, I'm going to have him take
lessons." Dianne chuckles.

   "Can't we just sell Daddy, and keep him instead?" Jenny giggles.

   "That's a thought." Dianne says mock seriously, "Are you interested?"

   "What move in with you two?" I ask as if horrified, "I think I'd rather
put my wedding tackle in a lions mouth while flicking his love spuds with a
wet towel."

   "Greg!" Dianne shrieks, shaking with suppressed laughter, as Jenny
leaves a trail of bubbles to the bottom.

   "Good one isn't it?" I ask.  "Don't worry, she's already heard it.  I
put a tape on to watch while I was doing her hair, and I forgot that was in
it."

   "What else was in it?" She asks, as Jenny surfaces.  Who after taking a
breath, shrieks with laughter.

   "That's it." I say, "Apart from a continuous barrage of fairly innocuous
insults, and some less graphic similes, that is probably the worst, or
possibly the best, in thirty six episodes, of Red Dwarf."

   "Oh is that all, Tony watches those on TV sometimes, obviously I missed
that one."

   "Why can't I watch them?" Jenny asks, reoccupying my lap, "They really
are funny."

   "Because they're on well after you should be asleep."

   "Can I borrow your tapes?" Jenny asks me.

   I look at Dianne, who nods, and agree.

   A few minutes later, Dianne lifts herself out of the water, waving me
back as I rise, saying, "No I'm coming back."

   As my eyes follow Dianne's small bobbling breasts, my prick, which
except for the few moments of agony that immediately followed my first
sighting of these delights, had been half hard since I'd reached the tops
of Jenny's legs, twitches against her bottom, making her gasp softly, and
giggle naughtily, as she deliberately squirms against it.

   "Don't." I whisper forcefully enough for her to take notice.  But just
to make sure, I take hold of her waist and push her bottom a couple of
inches clear.

   While I had been dealing with her naughty daughter, Dianne has collected
bong and mix from the table and is returning.  Seeing what is coming, Jenny
pushes off from my lap, managing one last naughty bottom squirm as she
leaves, and moves into exile on the far side of the tub.

   With the mixbowl beside her, Dianne kneels sideways on the bench,
placing her breasts at level, which action brings her small nipples, barely
larger than her daughters, just clear of the water.  Across the tub,
Jenny's knowing giggles draw nothing more than a withering glance from her
mother.  Not that it has much effect.

   Each time Dianne passes the bong to me, she rises right up on to her
knees, placing her handful sized breasts, exactly on a level with my eyes,
and she remains in that position the whole time I am drawing the sweet
intoxicating smoke into my lungs, waiting until I pass the bong back,
before she subsides to her heels.  Except for a brief shocked silence the
first time, this too earns a naughty giggle from a delighted Jenny each
time it happens.

   The moment the bong is set aside, Jenny shoots across the water, and
moulds her buttocks to my groin so firmly that you could take a plaster
cast of the impression I left there.  Smirking knowingly, she lets me push
her away.

   "Well?  Did you find out what you wanted to know?" Dianne asks her
suddenly blushing daughter dryly, seemingly too stoned to be that worried
any more.

   "Yeah!" the naughty ten year old all but filling my lap giggles while my
ears burn.

   "Good.  Let me catch you doing that again, and you'll wish I'd sent you
to your room for a month." Dianne tells Jenny firmly enough to leave no
doubt in her mind.  Fortunately it seems that while she is quite stoned
enough to see most things as a joke, she isn't so far gone as to have
completely lost her sense of perspective.

   "O.K.  Mummy." Jenny says, "I won't let you catch me."

   "I give up." Dianne laughs, "Do you want her?  She's going cheap."

   "No thankyou," I chuckle, "three hours a week is too much already. 
However if *I* catch her, she might just wish you'd gotten hold of her
first."

   "Well, how do you plan to weasel out of that?" Dianne asks.

   "I guess I'll just have to find someone else." Jenny giggles, obviously
not meaning it.

   "Do *that* and you'll wish your father had gotten hold of you first."
Dianne chuckles, "And since I know you'll keep on doing it anyway, please
do confine your teasing to Greg until you're a bit older."

   "Oh thanks!" I cry my voice heavy with sarcasm, while Jenny shakes with
laughter, "That I did *not* need.  She was more than bad enough already."

   "You'll survive." Dianne grins, adding more seriously, "And I think you
can live with it better than the possible alternatives."

   "That's a low down dirty trick." I chuckle.

   "I knew you'd appreciate it." Dianne replies mirthfully, "Now how about
that rub down?"

   "I don't know if I want to any more." I say, "What's in it for me?"

   "How would you like for us to return the favour?" she asks.

   "I guess that will do for a down payment." I grin, "We'll talk about the
rest once little big ears has gone to bed."

   "Greg!" Dianne scolds laughingly.

   "You're naughty." Jenny giggles, "I'm telling Daddy."

   "Not if I drown you first." I chuckle, giving her just enough time to
appreciate my words and try to escape, before rolling under the surface and
taking her with me.

   Leaving her gasping in the middle of the tub, I step up onto the deck
and hold out my hand to Dianne, "Shall we go?"

   "Why not?" she grins, accepting my proffered hand, and allowing me to
haul her up onto the deck.  "Let's just get this out of harms way." She
picks up the smoking paraphernalia and puts it on the table.

   "Are you coming?" I ask of a still glaring Jenny.

   Switching to a grin, she replies.  "Of course, I've got to make sure you
don't molest my mummy."

   From near the table Dianne adds a mirthful, "Much."

   "I think I might just start running now." I say, "Tony can bring my
stuff around when he gets back."

   "Chicken." Dianne giggles.

   "Brrrk, buk-buk, brrrrrrk." is Jenny's mirthful contribution, as she
skips out of range.

   When Dianne climbs up onto the massage table a few minutes later, she
makes it pretty clear that she expects the same treatment as Jenny, not
even waiting for me to begin, before she compresses the already narrow back
of her suit into her butt crack.  (Interesting still no sign of a tan
line.) However, I still ask, "The works?" just to be sure.

   "Hold the anchovies." she says in a crude but oblique reference to the
only prohibition.  Jenny's naughty giggle indicates that it hadn't been
oblique enough.

   "Children these days." Dianne sighs.

   Within a few seconds of my going to work on her legs, Dianne begins
making little noises of contentment, occasionally grunting softly when I
find a hard knot and dig it out with my thumbs.  Then when I strip my hands
down her leg, she lets out a surprised, "Ohhhh!" of pleasure.  Apart from a
tiny snort, Jenny manages to contain her amusement.

   A snigger however, does escape when I trace the well-defined crease
running across the tops of her mother's thighs.  And another when I allow
my hands to travel up over the twin, milk coffee toned globes of her
behind. As my thumbs dig into the soft resilient, I strike a larger than
usual hardish lump, and Dianne hisses with pain.  "Ouch, that's where I hit
the deck out there."

   "Do you want me to skip it, it or try to work some of it out?" I ask. 
Noticing for the first time the slight discolouration blooming beneath her
tan.

   "Oh work on it please, or I'll hardly be able to walk by the morning."

   As I go to work with my thumbs, working out from the centre with smooth,
firm strokes, Dianne releases occasional hisses of pain, but otherwise
makes no complaint, and within a minute or so, even these fade as the clots
forming beneath her skin break up.  By the time I finish, the flesh
immediately beneath her skin has taken on a slightly mushy texture, but the
hard underlying muscular knot is gone.  And while her bruise might a shade
or two darker for my efforts, she will be able to get around with
considerably less discomfort.

   Interrupted by dealing with her bruise, I start again at the bottom with
my massage of her delightful arse.  At the top, I have to fold down the
waistband of her bikini in order to get at the two pressure points at the
top of her buttocks, and when I dig my thumbs into the nerves, I notice
that there is a slight catch in the muscular ripple that travels up on
either side of her spine.  Though her pleased cry of "Oh!" is evidence that
it was still enjoyable.

   "Lift your head and look straight ahead." I instruct her.  "I need to
check something."

   While she does so, I tuck my thumbs beneath my hand and run the sides of
my forefingers down her spine, detecting a minute displacement to the left,
just where the glitch had occurred.  Placing the outside of the heel of my
right hand to the left of the affected vertebrae, I strike firmly against
my thumb and forefinger with the heel of the other hand, feeling rather
than hearing the slight click that follows.

   "Oh!" Dianne gasps, "Ohhh!  That's been niggling at me for days. 
Thankyou."

   "You're welcome." I say as I search out the nerve points and press to
check that everything is as it should be.

   "Oh wow!" she cries happily, "I'll give you half an hour to quit that
you masher."

   "I wouldn't recommend it." I chuckle, "At least not in present company.
I did that to my sister once and the result was, shall we say, very
interesting to watch, and quite noisy."

   "Did she hit you or kiss you?" Dianne asks, sounding merry.  Jenny just
sounds plain naughty.

   "Both." I chuckle, "I got belted for laughing, and kissed for the
other."

   "You *really* are going to have to give Tony some lessons." she says.

   "I'd be happy to." I reply, adding with a grin as look at her still
exposed bottom.  "Is there any part of your exterior anatomy that isn't
tanned?"

   "Wouldn't you like to know?" she giggles.

   "I know." puts in Jenny mischievously.

   "Don't you dare." Dianne threatens laughingly, while at the same time I
say, "So tell me."

   "O.K.  mummy." Jenny agrees dutifully, while shaking her head in answer
for me.

   "You'll pay for that." Dianne says menacingly, having seen her
daughter's naughty head shake.  To me she says, "My gymnasium has private
tanning booths, and with this suit, if any thing slipped I'd look striped."

   "O.K., roll over." I instruct when I finish her neck and shoulders a few
minutes later.o

   Chuckling, "You just want to look at my boobs." she rolls onto her back.

   The aforementioned appurtenances, surprise me slightly by remaining
firm, rounded chocolate capped domes, even under the full influence of
gravity.  A few seconds later, Dianne giggles naughtily, "See Jenny, he's
staring at my boobs."

   Rather than giving her the satisfaction of hearing a basically insincere
apology, I simply say, "See Jenny, if this were your average *pneumatic*
blonde, her boobs would be spread all over her chest by the time she was
your mother's age."

   "And her *orifice* days would be over." Jenny say lewdly.

   Dianne gives me a long hard look, after an initial bark of laughter, but
I can truthfully say, "Don't look at me, she came up with that one all on
her own."

   Shaking her head, Dianne subsides back to the pad.

   As I close on the tops of her thighs, it becomes apparent to me that the
only hair beneath her bikini might be a stray one from her head.  Between
her slightly parted thighs, Dianne's mature labia fill her flesh coloured
suit so exactly that it is obvious that it was professionally fitted. 
Toward the front where the cloth smoothly covers the remainder of her
pussy, a slight indentation runs unbroken to within two inches of her
waistband.

   As I go to work at the very tops of her thighs, my prick stirs once
again, lengthening to point towards my right hip.  This time however,
Dianne's better fitted suit remains firmly in place as I pull up and out,
and when I pass onwards there is little to show beyond a very slight
deepening of the shadow marking her bare cleft.  And she gives me a strange
look, which passes on to Jenny, as I look up.

   When I reach her chest, I note with some amusement, that her nipples
already stand partially erect in anticipation of what is to come.  Nor does
this observation escape Jenny, who mischievously whispers, "Mummy's feeling
sexy."

   "The correct word is horny." I chuckle much to Dianne's embarrassment.
"And don't bother saying it." I continue as she opens her mouth to speak.

   Modifying my technique to suit her larger, though still small, breasts,
I circle them with my hands, and gently squeeze as I draw upwards, trapping
only her nipples between thumbs and forefingers.  And when I do it again, I
discover that her nipples have stiffened fully.

   Giving her lovely breasts just one more kneading squeeze to match what
I'd done to Jenny, I pass on to her shoulders and face, and finish with a
long drawing pass down the full length of her body.

   "Please sir, may I have some more?" Dianne asks piteously when I finish.

   "I'll assume that means I get to live." I chuckle while lowering myself
to a seat.

   "For now." she allows.

   "I still reckon we should sell Daddy and keep him." Jenny giggles, "Even
if he does win sometimes."

   "No I've invested too much time and effort in your father.  But if you
can hang on to him until you're sixteen you can keep him."

   "That's easy." Jenny brags, "Let's get his pants off and I'll show you
how."

   "Jenny!" Dianne and I both gasp simultaneously.

   "Who's got the gutter minds now, huh?" she giggles.

   "So what was it you had in mind?" Dianne asks a trifle warily.

   "I was just going to give him his back rub." Jenny says, "He's got to
have something on underneath.  Otherwise we could use him for a sundial."

   "Jenny!" Dianne laughs.

   "I'd concede the point if I were you." I chuckle, as once again I feel
my ears burn.

   "I do." she chuckles, "Now did she make a fair guess, and if so, is it
safe to liberate you from those monstrosities?"

   "Depends on what you mean by safe." I grin, "But if you mean opaque,
then yes."

   "In that case, get your gear off and we'll show you what we can do."

   "Promith?"

   "More like a threat if you don't behave."

   "Yeth mithtreth." I grin, pulling out the drawstring of my shorts and
loosening it, to let them fall with a wet splat to the floor.

   Jenny's eyes fix hungrily on my groin, but without the tactile
stimulation of touching female flesh to keep me up, the heat has done its
work and beyond the usual bulge seen on the beach throughout the summer,
there is nothing to be seen.  And a few seconds later, nothing, as I climb
up onto the table and lie down.

   Did I say nothing?  Two small hands grip the back of my suit and with
considerably more force than necessary, give me a wedgie.  "Oooh," she
giggles, "it really is a hairy bum."

   Jenny pulls the lower bench toward the centre of the sauna, and climbs
up onto it, making it possible for her to get properly above my body.  A
moment later two pretty ladies go to work on my body.  As they work I
occasionally give them a little advice or tell them to dig a little harder
at a particularly troublesome spot.  Maybe it was a stern look from her
mother, but Jenny fails to giggle as expected, when she begins to mould the
flesh of my right buttock.

   Then when it comes time to 'ripple' my back, I instruct them on how to
locate the small depression in the underlying bone which indicates where to
push.  It takes Dianne a couple of one sided attempts to get it right. 
Jenny however, solves the symmetry problem by climbing up onto the table
and straddling my legs, getting it right on her first attempt, and then
just to prove that it wasn't a fluke, she sends a few more pleasurable
ripples up my spine.  And one or two also, elsewhere.

   Fearing a mess, (Which in truth is highly unlikely.  After all my
sister's fingers had been rather busy at the same time.) Dianne restrains
her naughtily giggling daughter and they resume their slow progress up my
back.

   By the time it is time to turn over, my prick has made a half-hearted
attempt at rising and I hesitate for a few seconds before deciding what the
hell.  Of course Jenny's eyes are immediately drawn to the slight ridge
that has begun to form.  "I think we're doing a good job Mummy." she
giggles.

   "And the fun is just beginning." Dianne chuckles, instead of scolding.

   Jenny's work on the front of my legs is a little perfunctory to begin
with, her hands moving ahead of her mothers in her eagerness to get to the
good bits, and her Dianne has to restrain her with a quick word of caution.
Giggling Jenny subsides.

   When a minute later their fingers reach the tops of my legs, it is
Dianne's thumb which accidentally(?) caresses my balls, causing an
involuntary twitch and a slight tightening of my garment.  A turn of events
which delights Jenny no end.  By the time they leave the area and move onto
my stomach, there is no doubt there is something stirring within my
speedos, and Jenny is continuously glancing backwards for another peek, an
ailment to which her mother is not entirely immune.

   Then when my nipples erect, when they copy the technique I'd used on
Jenny, she becomes surprised enough to forget, at least temporarily, about
my prick.  "Wow," she giggles, "I didn't know boy's boobs did that."

   "Well now you do." Dianne chuckles.

   A couple of minutes later, they finish with my face, and I feel them
position their hands for the final run down my body.  Naughtily Jenny tries
to take my speedos with her as she passes over them, but fortunately is
defeated by the drawstring, holding them in place.  The only reward for her
efforts being a small tuft of hair.

   "Good try but no cigar." I grin at her slightly disappointed expression.

   "Well it was worth a shot." she giggles."

   "Would it be worth a month in solitary, if you'd succeeded?" Dianne
chuckles.

   "Won't know till I do." Jenny replies mischievously.

   "I think it's past your bedtime young lady." Dianne says, lifting my
hand to check my watch.  "Sugar, eleven o'clock.  Way past your bedtime! 
It's a quick soak and off you go."

   "But I'm not tired." Jenny objects, "Can't I stay up a bit longer
please?" She turns her eyes on me in an eloquent appeal for my
intervention.

   "I think it's probably time we all packed it in." I say instead.  "But
if you're quick I *might* stick around long enough to do your hair."

   Seeing that this is the best she'll get from me, she turns to her
mother, "Is that all right?"

   "Well since he's not going anywhere anyway," Dianne says, "I guess I can
stretch a point and let you stay up long enough for that."

   Huh?" I ask.

   "He's staying here?" is Jenny's excited response.

   "You've had too much of a good thing for me to let you drive home, so
you can stay in the spare room." Dianne says, "Besides, we haven't finished
the mix yet."

   After a quick soak in the hot tub, we each separate to various
bathrooms, Dianne telling me that I can use one of the robes in the
downstairs bathroom, to save having to dress.  Being both male and closest,
I'm the first to enter the family room.  Strangely Dianne is the next to
enter.  She is wearing a silk happy coat, which gapes open enough to reveal
the matching silk button down pyjamas beneath.

   She also surprises me by handing me a hairbrush and sitting herself on
the floor between my feet.  And when Jenny enters a few minutes later,
wearing nothing but a pair of plain white undies and a naughty smile, she
finds her mother occupying the place she'd considered her own.

   "And just where is your nightie?" Dianne asks, not really pleased, but
neither does she seem too concerned.

   "Under my pillow." the naughty girl giggles, "I'm treating him like he
belongs here too."

   "Point taken." Dianne chuckles resignedly, "Now go get the bong and
stuff from outside and bring them here."

   Pleased her victory, hollow as it is considering fact that she is now
more completely covered than she has been for most of the evening, Jenny
dashes from the room, returning to announce, "I locked up and turned the
lights and stuff off too." as she hands over the objects she'd been sent to
collect.  Then selecting a book to read, Jenny parks herself directly
opposite us, and crossing her legs tailor fashion, settles down to wait her
turn.

   "Do you think that might be deliberate?" Dianne asks in a soft whisper,
drawing my attention what I'm trying to ignore.  Seated like this, the
fabric of her daughter's knickers, is stretched so tightly as to reveal in
almost complete detail every nook, fold and crease of her hairless,
juvenile pudenda.

   "I don't want to know." I chuckle softly, adding a little more loudly,
"But from the smirk, I'm afraid that it is."

   "I'm afraid you're right." Dianne agrees in a tone intended to carry
just far enough, "What do you think I should do about it."

   "Oh creative application of a hairbrush might do the trick." I suggest.

   "Can't they're spank proof." Jenny says, looking up from her book just
long enough to speak.

   "Well since they might as well not be there anyway, I don't see any
problems with removing them." Dianne says, adding as she twists to look up
at me, "Do you?"

   "None whatsoever." I grin.  "But then again she might just be
subscribing to the notion that little girls should be obscene, but not
heard."

   "I don't know whether to groan or bust you one that crack." She says,
once she has recovered her voice enough to speak, and is able to be heard
above the noise of the giggling hyena rolling about opposite.

   "Well she certainly crack up over it." I murmur sotto voce.

   This time she does groan.  "That is not punny."

   "Oh you're a pundit now." I reply.  "What are you going to do *pun*ish
me?"

   "Worse." She replies, "I won't."

   "Well now." I murmur, "That sounds interesting."

   "Shut up and smoke your pipe."

   As I hasten to comply, Jenny takes up station opposite us once again,
but this time, perched on a footstool, with her knees primly pressed
together.  The contrast between her stiff, maiden great aunt posture, and
her almost complete lack of attire, proves too much for Dianne who rolls to
the floor helpless with laughter, narrowly avoiding the not quite empty
mixbowl by her hip.

   As I bend to rescue it, I make the interesting discovery that her short
pyjama pants conceal nothing but herself, and at this point in time fail
miserably at even that task.  With a perfect view up the inside of her leg,
I briefly glimpse a pair of nicely formed pussy lips.  Tanned hairless lips
that almost completely close over her inner labia, leaving visible only two
finely scalloped ridges.  Even the colour would do credit to a teenager,
barely darker than the tan of her outer lips, with a hair-thin light coral
pink seam between them.

   As she rolls to her side, I tear my eyes away, Lifting them to find
Jenny watching me with a naughty half smile on her lips.  "I think she
crack up this time." Jenny says loudly enough to cut through her mother's
laughter.

   Suddenly made aware of her somewhat inadequate attire, Dianne rockets
upright, throwing me a half hopeful, half embarrassed glance.  "Definitely
stolen." I grin, shifting the balance to the red faced side of the
equation, "You do realise that body snatching is a serious offence?"

   Crimson featured, but also looking very pleased, Dianne giggles like a
schoolgirl as she carefully tucks her happy coat back around her body and
leans back between my knees.  "Have you finished with that pipe yet?" she
asks severely.

   "No, sorry," I say, handing her the mixbowl, "I was too busy rescuing
this."

   "Too busy picking your eyeballs up off the floor's more like it." Jenny
giggles.  "Now hurry up I want my turn."

   By the time, I finish Dianne's hair a few minutes later, the mix is
finished, and Jenny shows the first sign of tiredness, yawning hugely, as
she tugs the footstool into place between my knees.  And by the time I
finish with her, about the only thing keeping her upright is those knees.

   "She's been out like a light for the last ten minutes or so." Dianne
chuckles, "If you'll bring her, I get her bed ready."

   Now about the only thing harder than picking up a sleeping child, is
doing the same to a sleeping cat, and the difference is too small to be
worth mentioning.  Dianne looks on with amusement, as I fumble around with
Jenny's boneless body for several seconds, before finally getting her
settled on my hip with, one hand supporting her shoulders, the other cupped
under her bottom.

   "Wa's happnin'?" she whispers muzzily into my neck as I mount the first
of the stairs.

   "You're going to bed." I reply.

   Even in her half somnolent state, she can't resist, "You too?"

   "Let's ask your mother and see." I tease.

   "O.K." she giggles softly.

   "Forget it kid." I grin, "We're both sleeping alone tonight."

   "Meanie." she pouts, "My bed gets cold at night."

   "Privation is good for the soul." I reply sententiously.  "Besides, the
way you thrash around, I'd probably wake up on the floor with a black eye.
No thanks."

   "Do not." she giggles.

   Do to." I retort.

   "I see, she's recovered enough to tease you." Dianne chuckles, stepping
back from the bed, after turning down the sheets.

   "I think she'd figure out a way to do it three days dead." I grin,
bending over and allowing her to fall with a squeal to the mattress.

   "Tuck me in pwease Greg." she pleads, her little girl voice at complete
odds, to the deliberately provocative way in which she lifts one leg at a
time, and slowly slides them under the sheets.

   Chuckling softly, I draw the sheets and doona up under her chin and
holding them tight across her shoulders, I give her a little shake. 
"There. Happy?" I ask.

   "Don't I get a kiss?" she simpers, and not waiting for me to answer, nor
get out of reach, she lifts her arms from beneath the bed clothes, pushing
them down to below her chest, and pulls me down to her waiting face.

   The kiss I receive is, soft, sweet, and lingering, and also entirely
inappropriate for a girl of her age.  When finally released a few seconds
later, I find myself staring at two tiny, stiff nippled boobs.  Shaking my
head to clear the cobwebs, I turn a slightly shamefaced glance toward an
amused Dianne.

   "Goodnight." Jenny says.  All sweetly innocent, as she rolls onto her
side and pulls the bedclothes under her chin as she snuggles into the
pillow.

   "Go to sleep." I growl.

   "Goodnight Honey." Dianne replies.

   "Well that certainly looked interesting." Dianne chuckles, as she pulls
the door to, "Are you giving her lessons in that too?"

   "I don't need to." I mutter darkly, "She has entirely too much natural
talent as it is."

   "Oh poor man." she grins, "Is a little, ten year old girl too much for
you?"

   "Way too much sometimes." I chuckle.

   "What about her mother?" Dianne asks, with just a hint of
suggestiveness, "Would I be too much for ou?"

   "Oh entirely." I joke, trying to dispel the suddenly charged atmosphere.

   "You're entirely too principled for your own good." she mutters softly.

   As we part at the door to the room I will be using, Dianne asks softly,
"What would you have done, if I'd actually invited you to my room?"

   "Asked you to repeat the invitation in the morning, when you weren't
recreationally enhanced."

   "You are too much of a bloody gentleman, do you know that?" She says,
half admiringly, half exasperated, "You know damned well I wouldn't even
consider it then."

   "I know." I reply softly.  "Goodnight."

   "Goodnight.  And thankyou."

   ***

   Always a light sleeper when in a strange bed, I'm woken by the sensation
of my bedclothes creeping stealthily downwards.  Running a quick catalogue
of what I am wearing, I recall that I'd climbed into bed with both my jocks
and footy knicks on.  So maintaining my pretence of sleep I wait.

   "Oh damn!" she mutters when she finally discovers that all her efforts
had been for naught.

   "Disappointed?" I ask mildly, allowing my eyes to open.

   Uttering a small squeal of shock she lets my blankets fall across the
tops of my legs as she jumps guiltily backwards.  I am however pleased to
note that she has slipped on a nightie, even if it is a little on the filmy
side, and only just covers the tops of her thighs.  "Don't do that!" she
squeaks.

   "Well you shouldn't have done what you did." I reply, "It's a major
invasion of privacy and in its own way, nearly as bad as many of the things
I've told you about."

   "I'm sorry." she mumbles contritely, "I didn't think."

   "Oh well.  There's no harm done.  So we'll say no more about it." I say
sitting up and leaning back against a pillow against the headboard. 
"That's a nice nightie you've got on."

   "Do you like it?" she squeaks happily, "Mummy got it for me when we got
my new undies."

   "It's very sexy." I say, telling her what she wants to hear.

   It's got sexy knickers with it too." she says naughtily, "See?"

   She lifts the frilly hem of her misty blue nightie to reveal a pair of
matching, all but transparent knickers.  Not quite form fitting, they still
give tantalising shadowy hints of the sweet little mound that is barely
hidden beneath them.  As she performs a slow pirouette, her bottom comes
into view, fully clad and not at all hidden."

   "Yes I see." I chuckle, "Why didn't you hand them in with the rest?"

   "'Cause they're not really undies." she giggles.

   "I think you might have been stretching a point keeping them
*unde*clared, since they're *unde*niably sexy."

   "Ouch, and double ouch." She giggles, "You got me right here, and here."
She raises the hem of her nightie to her chin.

   "I think that'll do," I chuckle, "I can see more than enough."

   Giggling, she lets her nightie fall and jumps up onto the bed,
positioning herself cross legged at my feet.  Fortunately, or
unfortunately, depending on your point of view, the fabric of her knickers
remains loose enough to provide nothing more than hints as to what delights
are hidden, if barely, beneath.

   Even so, I comment, "I'll bet those aren't spank proof."

   "Want to try and see?" she giggles, putting one hand down as if in
preparation to turn.

   "I think I'll pass." I chuckle, and asking, "What time is it?"

   "A bit after seven." Jenny says, as I at the same time lift my watch to
look.

   Then just as I look away, I catch sight of the date, and a quick count
back by sevens confirms my first thought.  With my own mother dead of
cancer for nearly fifteen years, it hadn't really crossed my mind that I'd
been accepting a dinner invitation on the eve of Mother's Day, even though
I help my niece celebrate with her mother.

   "Jenny," I ask, "do you know what day this is?"

   "Oh, it's Mother's Day!" she exclaims, "I almost forgot."

   "You've remembered now and that's all that matters." I say, "What time
does she usually get up on a Sunday?"

   "'Bout eight thirty, but she might get up a bit earlier since you're
here."

   "In that case, we've got about three quarters of an hour to make her
breakfast in bed." I say swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, "Pass
me that robe and lets get moving."

   Jenny hands me the robe hanging on the bedpost, and we go to investigate
the kitchen.  "So what does she like?" I ask.

   "Oh anything." Jenny replies, "We gave her eggs on toast last year.  She
really likes pancakes though."

   "O.K.  Pancakes it is." I say, "We need flour, milk, and an egg.  Oh,
and some vinegar, since we should have started last night."

   As Jenny looks out the ingredients, I poke around for the necessary
utensils.  Then after helping her to mix up the batter, and splashing in a
little vinegar, I say, "We need to leave that stand a bit for the milk to
sour.  So let's see what flowers we can find while we wait.  And You'd
better get something to put on, or the neighbours will be complaining."

   "Yuck sour milk." Jenny says with a grimace.

   "Not like in off." I reassure her, "Just a bit sour, so they come out
nice and fluffy."

   Reassured, Jenny disappears and returns a few moments later wearing a
terry robe that matches mine, though better suited to her size.  Out in the
garden I allow Jenny to make the selections, only intervening to ensure
that she cuts the stems long enough and doesn't damage the plants.  I also
leave her to arrange them in a vase while I heat a pan and warm the oven.

   However once that is done, I step back to allow her to do the cooking.
Though I do step in when she seems to consider trying the approved method
for turning pancakes.  "Uh-uh, use the egg lifter.  The idea is to make
things easier for your mother on mother's day, not leave her with a kitchen
to clean."

   Giggling her agreement, Jenny flips the pancake manually, and a little
later, slides it onto the plate warming in the oven.  Keeping an eye on
Jenny, I begin making up the tray, with two varieties of jam in small
crystal pots, a couple of lemon wedges, and some sugar.  I also warm a
small teapot, and boil the kettle as eight o'clock approaches.

   At five past eight Jenny finishes arranging the tray to her
satisfaction, and it plus a lap table are carried up the stairs.  Then once
Jenny has collected her gift, I put everything in her hands, and reach over
her shoulder to knock at the door.  Once the direction to "Come in." is
given I open the door and step back.

   "Happy Mother's Day Mummy." Jenny says.

   "Darling, thankyou." Dianne replies, "I'd forgotten all about it.  And
what's this?  Pancakes.  How lovely."

   "I made them myself." Jenny declares proudly, "And picked the flowers.
Greg just told me what to do."

   "Greg." she calls, "Come in here.  I want to thank you too."

   I enter to find Dianne sitting up in bed, the lap table already across
her knees, and Jenny perched on the edge of the bed beside her.  "This
really is thoughtful." she says, "Thankyou very much."

   "That's O.K." I say depreciatingly, "Apart from the tea, my role was
almost entirely supervisory."

   "You still helped Jenny do something she couldn't do on her own.  For
that I thank you." she says, "Now come here so I can thank you properly."

   Phew!" I say, stepping back from a soft, lingering, prick twitching
kiss, complete with a naughty tracing of my lips with her tongue.  "Now I
know where, Jenny gets it from.  I should warn you though, I bite
unauthorised tongues."

   "She hasn't?" Dianne asks, half shocked, half amused.  There no need for
me to answer the question however, as Jenny's red faced giggle tells all.

   "Terrible child." Dianne chuckles, "You're lucky you're in my good books
right now.  Now go put some clothes on, and let me eat my breakfast in
peace."

   "You've got to open your present first." Jenny cries.

   "Of course how thoughtless of me." Dianne apologises, picking up the
card and reading it.  "That is lovely." she says sincerely, "Now I think
that deserves another kiss."

   Having delivered said reward.  she takes up the parcel, and does a
creditable imitation of an eager young child at Christmas, tearing away the
wrapping paper to get at the plain unadorned box beneath.  Lifting the lid
she look inside, and cries out in shocked surprise, "Oh Honey, you
shouldn't have!" as she lifts out a gossamer thin, pale blue, silk
negligee.

   "I wanted to get you something sexy, instead of stupid chocolates like I
always do." Jenny says.

   "Which you then eat anyway." Dianne chuckles.  "But Honey this is way
too much."

   "It's from Daddy too, because he's sorry he couldn't be here today, and
he picked it out for me, but I still paid for half of it."

   "And just how did you manage that since you haven't had any money for
two weeks?" Dianne asks.

   "I got lots of negative dollars." Jenny giggles, making me chuckle as
well.

   "Ah it's a maths thing." I reply in answer to Dianne's questioning look.
"Tony obviously loaned her the money, hence the negative dollars."

   "Are you going to put it on Mummy?" Jenny asks eagerly.

   "Ah, I think we might wait until I can model it for your father
darling." Dianne says with a blushing chuckle, "After all it's his present
too."

   "Too chicken to let Greg see it huh?" Jenny giggles.

   "That too." Dianne admits laughingly.  "Now I think I should eat this
lovely breakfast before it goes cold."

   Kiss first." Jenny grins.

   "O.K." Dianne agrees.  "Whew!" she giggles a few seconds later, "That is
quite some talent, and definitely not the way to kiss your mother.  Now
git."

   We git.

   Instead of allowing me to turn off at the top of the stairs to collect
my bag and clothes from the downstairs bathroom, Jenny tows me the rest of
the way down the hall to her bedroom, and shuts the door with me on the
inside.  "Somehow or other, I don't think this was what your mother had in
mind." I say firmly.

   "Chicken." she giggles, opening the door for me to escape into the hall
beyond, "Wait out there while I put some undies on then, and then you can
help me choose what to wear to Gran and Grandad's."

   As on the first day, the door fails to close leaving me with a two inch
gap, that with the aid of the mirror, allows me to see almost a third of
the room, just by moving my head a few inches.  And although I know that I
shouldn't do it, I remain in place, waiting for any glimpses that might
eventuate.

   As I watch, Jenny passes out of sight and a moment later the room floods
with light as she opens the curtains.  A moment later she reappears in the
gap, and rummages through her dresser drawer for a few seconds before
tossing a pair of pair of knickers on the end of the bed.  Once more she
disappears, this time behind the door, and a number of different garments
are tossed beside the knickers.  A moment later her nightie, and then the
pants follow.  Then just as I decide that I'll see nothing beyond her hand
as she reaches for the knickers, Jenny walks back to the dresser, and
completely naked, begins to brush out her long, lustrous hair.

   With just a slight tilt of my head, I can either look at her pert, white
buttocks directly, or more interestingly, almost her entire her front from
the knees up, with only her left arm and a portion of her hip cut off by
the edge of the mirror.  What draws my gaze though, is the small, cleft
mound that, up until now, I have seen only in brief flashes.  Seemingly
about two inches high, from the base to the top of her slit, twin
completely hairless lips, press firmly together, forming an upside down
triangular mound.

   As I continue to watch, Jenny sets her brush down, and lifts her hands
to the tiny hillocks on her chest.  At first she seems much like my sister
had been at that stage in her development, cupping them as well as is
possible given their size, then pinching her nipples to erection, and
turning sideways to look at them in profile.  Suddenly though, I realise
that her eyes are not directed at her chest, where they should be, but
directly toward the reflection of the gap in the door, and therefore at me.

   While I guiltily debate, moving and confirming my presence, Jenny turns
and picks up the knickers she'd tossed on the bed earlier, and pulls them
on.  "O.K., you can come in now." she giggles.

   I take a couple of seconds to compose myself, then push the door open,
and leaving it open, perch on the end of her bed.  "You were peeking." she
accuses me merrily.

   "Was I?"

   "I saw you in the mirror." she giggles.

   "I think you meant me to see you in the mirror." I retort, and her
sudden blush indicates that I am right on the mark.

   "I s'pose I did." she admits naughtily, "So how come you went outside in
the first place?"

   "Mainly because I didn't want to take the chance of being caught in here
with you when you didn't have any clothes on." I reply, "Which is why your
door is wide open right now."

   "Even though you saw me with only my undies on last night, and Mummy
didn't care?"

   "Even so." I reply, "Parent's of young girls do *not* like closed doors,
especially bedroom ones, when there is a boy involved."

   "There's another reason too." I add with a naughty chuckle of my own,
"Peeking's a lot more fun than just looking.  However, you should only do
it when you know the other person doesn't mind."

   "I think it was more fun letting you peek too." she giggles, "'Cause I
don't think I would have played with my boobs like that if you were in here
with me."

   "I'm sure you wouldn't have." I reply, "You can do a lot that you
wouldn't normally do if you can pretend that nobody's watching, that's why
you stopped once you knew, that I knew, that you knew."

   "I guess so." she nods, "I could have kept going, but it wouldn't have
been the same."

   "And there's the real secret to being sexy, instead of looking like a
slut." I say, "So long as both of you can pretend that the other one
doesn't know, it's sexy."

   "What about when, you know?  You're getting ready to do stuff?" she
asks. "And what about last night?"

   "Let's take last night first." I say, "I suppose you mean what your
mother did in the spa?" She nods.  "Well since we all knew that it was just
teasing, your mother could pretend to act like a bit of a slut.  As for the
other, well let's just say that the only rule apart from not hurting other
people, is that there are no rules."

   "I guess that means that it's really the pretending that's important."
Jenny says after a short pause, "So long as you're pretending, It's sexy,
but when you stop it's serious."

   "Yes, that's a pretty good approximation." I agree, "But you still have
to be careful, because not everybody agrees on where the pretending begins
and stops, and that's where you can get into trouble.  And you don't have
to stop pretending, just because it's become serious - seriously fun that
is - in fact pretending can make it a lot more fun."

   "Now let's get you dressed, before your mother finishes her breakfast."

   "Oh yeah." she giggles, "I want you to make me look sexy."

   "With you that's easy." I chuckle, "I think the hard trick would be to
do the opposite.  Now what kind of zeggzy would zee mademoiselle require? A
little bit zeggzy, quite zeggzy, or busted zippers."

   "That last one sounds like fun," she giggles, "but Mummy would chuck a
fit.  How about quite sexy, but like I didn't know it."

   "Ah-ha, zee zexpot innozent." I say, "Zat iz in this year, and vary you.
Well if first zee mademoiselle she would ztand and let me look at her zen
zee Great Gregori would know what he should do."

   Giggling, Jenny stands before me and slowly turns.  Her hands on her
hips, which in turn are slightly thrust forward.  "Non, non zat will not
do." I cry in mock horror, "Zee armz zey muzt be loose, and you should
stand straight, since you know not what you are.  Zere Zat is much
bettair." I continue as she adjusts her stance.

   "Now zince zee weathair she is cool, I zink we should covair almost
everything, while yet we ensure that much iz vizible.  First zee legs, I
zink zee tights zey are in order, and zince zee knickairs zey are dark, zen
zee tights zey should be white."

   "I got some of those," Jenny giggles, "really thin ones."

   "Zat would be pairfect." I say, "If zee mademoiselle, she would get zem,
we will begin."

   Jenny rummages in a draw for a few seconds, and produces a balled
handful of fine white cloth.  "Here." she holds them out to me.

   "Non, non." I cry, "Zee Great Gregori, he iz no ladiez maid, he is an
artiste.  If zee mademoiselle, she would don her garment, zen zee Great
Gregori, he will conzider the next ztage in hiz creation.

   By now Jenny is giggling almost too hard to get her foot into her
tights, and it takes her several seconds to calm down enough to stand and
pull them up to her hips.

   "Ah zat is pairfect, for if zee mademoiselle were zo unfortunate az to
allow an eye to alight where it should not, zen zee colour of her
undergarment, would be most apparent.  Next zee Great Gregori, he believez
zee t-shirt blanche is bezt, but he should be fitting like a zecond zkin."

   Jenny quickly retrieves a plain white t-shirt and slips it on over her
head, and indeed it does fit her like a second skin, making the budding
hillocks of her tiny breasts very apparent.  "Ah, zee Great Gregori, he is
a genius, his evairy creation a work of art.  Now iz zee time to hide zat
which should be hidden, for zis zee short zkirt du blue jeanz."

   A blue denim almost mini-skirt is quickly produced and snugged into
place on her hips.

   "Zee hair, she iz next, for zat is zee firzt zat many will zee, and zat,
zat will eztablish zee appearanze of innozenze.  For zis zee Great Gregori
he will do zee work zat iz required."

   Taking up her hairbrush, I pull her hair back into a pony tail setting
it fairly high on the back of her head, and fastening it in place with a
plain white scrunchie from the top of her dresser.

   "And finally zee ovaircoat, have we a zippair jacket zat covairs zee
hipz but not zee thighz?"

   Since I can see exactly what I am referring to in her wardrobe, the
question is required only to remain in character.

   As Jenny slips on the two tone grey jacket, we are both surprised by
Dianne's voice ringing out from the doorway.  "Bravo." she cries clapping
her hands, "Bravo."

   "Mummy!" Jenny squeaks, blushing bright crimson, "How long have you been
there?"

   "Since he told you to put on your own tights." Dianne chuckles, "That
was quite a performance Greg."

   Dianne's apparent good humour notwithstanding, I decide that if I am to
go, I will do so with style.  "Zee madam iz too kind," I say taking her
hand and bowing low over it, zee Gregori, he iz but a poor craftsman,
blezzed with zuch exquizite material, zat even he can do no wrong."

   "What happened to the *great* Gregori?" she chuckles, retrieving her
hand.

   "Ah zat would be prezumptuouz when he iz trying to imprezz you wiz hiz
humble nature."

   "Enough." she giggles, "I'm going to need hip boots and a shovel if you
keep that up much longer.  How on earth did you manage to keep zat, (Now
you've got me doing it.) that accent up for so long?"

   "Practice." I chuckle, "Lot's of practice.  My niece loves it, and
insists that I do it whenever I do hers or her mother's hair, and also when
I dressed her, when she was younger."

   "I'm not quite sure that this was what I had in mind when I said she
could practice on you.  I mean putting up with her shenanigans is one
thing, but instructing her in how to best go about it.  Well I ask you."

   "Well since I have to put up with her *shenanigans*, the sooner they are
over the better." I say, adding with a grin, "Is that a sufficiently facile
rationalisation to get me off the hook?"

   "You are a terrible person, Greg Parry." she chuckles.

   "I think you've told me that before." I grin.

   "Hey I just look like a little girl." Jenny bewails, having taken a
proper look at herself in the mirror.

   "Sorry." I say with a glance towards Dianne, continuing with my very
fake French accent, "If zee mademoiselle would care to put her handz in her
pocketz, and to part zee front of her ovaircoat."

   "Oh I see." she giggles, turning and thrusting out her chest, to admire
herself in profile.

   "Non, Non." I cry, "Zee mademoiselle, she can not call zee attention to
zee boobies like zat, zee mademoiselle, she muzt not know she have zee
boobiez."

   "I think I'm getting it," Jenny says, "I want to make it look like I
don't know that I'm sexy, and that makes me look even sexier.  That's why
you made me put on different coloured tights to my undies, so that when I
sit on the floor with my legs crossed, people just think that I don't know
they should be the same colour."

   "Zee mademoiselle, she should not zit in zuch a fashion," I cry in
horror, "but yez, if zuch and unfortunate event came to pazz, zat iz zee
effect zee Great Gregori wishez to create."

   She looks down at her feet, and asks, "What shoes should I put on?"

   "Mademoiselle may chooze from zee shiny black or zee zandshoez.  But zee
Great Gregori, he recomendz zee zandshoez, zee shiny black, he zay 'I am
too innozent.'"

   "That would just spoil it." Jenny says in understanding, "I want to look
like I just put on my normal clothes and I didn't know they made me look
sexy."

   "Exactly like I explained with the makeup." I say dropping the accent,
"The best makeup is the makeup that you can not see."

   "Have you quite finished?" Dianne says with a laugh, "She was quite
corrupt enough without your help."

   "Madam you wrong me," I say with mock hurt, "for behold, a daughter as
innocent as any you could hope to see."

   "Who leaves a trail of zipper shrapnel behind her everywhere she goes."
Dianne chuckles, and also pleasing her daughter greatly.

   "Hey I got both my choices." Jenny giggles.  "Innocent sexpot, *and*
busted zippers."

   "That's good," I say, "because if you dress and act like a slut, you
have the boys thinking about what they would like to do *to* you, and if
you're sexy, they think about what they'd like to do *with* you.  It might
not seem like much of a distinction, but it's a very real one."

   "Uh-huh." Jenny nods in understanding, idly swinging her hands back and
forth in her pockets.

   Suddenly the corners of her lips curl up in a mischievous smile.  "Hey
watch what happens when I do this." she cries, exaggerating the motions of
her hands.  "It makes my boobs pop up and that makes me even sexier."

   Indeed the friction of the jacket's zipper brushing over her nipples has
caused the small buds beneath her taut t-shirt to fill with blood and make
noticeable lumps atop the already obvious rise of her budding breasts.

   Chuckling, Dianne asks me, "Was that a part of Zee Great Gregori's
design when creating the ensemble?"

   "Mai non madame," I protest, "for he iz not one to encourahge zuch
wanton behaviour." In my normal tones I continue laughingly, "I never
thought of that, I just figured the cool air outside and an open jacket
would do the job nicely." To Jenny I add, "Watch it Jen.  You don't want to
get caught doing that."

   "Because then I'd be a slut." She grins, fanning the front of her jacket
in great sweeping arcs.  "Whilst zee effect Zee Great Gregori, he wishes to
create is for the -damn- zee innozent zeggspot."

   In a sudden transformation, her grin becomes a cute little half smile,
she stills her swinging arms, and her entire posture undergoes a radical,
if subtle, alteration.  Gone is the naughty little girl trying to get a
rise of us, replaced by a sexy, blossoming young woman who is getting a
rise of an altogether different kind out of me.

   Tearing my eyes from the magnetic little tits still just visible through
the open front of Jenny's jacket, I'm surprised to see that Dianne's more
mature nipples are prominently erect beneath the thin silk of her PJ's, and
a fine sheen of moisture beads her upper lip.  Seeming to feel my eyes on
her, she turns her head towards me, and wryly comments, "I think she just
graduated with honours from Zee Great Gregori's course in advanced boy
baiting."

   Beneath her words, I detect a carefully hidden hint that *boys* might
not be the only ones taking the bait.

   Jenny's gaze passes from her mother to me as her face splits with the
sort of cheeky grin that only a ten year old who realises that she has
succeeded big time, can generate.  "Was I really sexy?" she cries
excitedly, leaping up to wrap her arms around my neck and her legs about my
hips.

   Caught by surprise, I'm too slow to catch her before she slips a little
and her thinly encased crotch presses against the rock solid swelling
beneath my jeans.  For a few seconds she waits, grinning, for an answer
that I am suddenly too breathless to supply, while Dianne looks on with
barely suppressed mirth.

   Suddenly Jenny's open comically wide, and her jaw drops as her lips form
an 'O' of utter surprise.  Dropping abruptly to the floor, she staggers
back a step and mutters, "Oh boy was I ever."

   Then since she's very carefully looking at her mother, and *not* at me,
she suddenly notices that I wasn't the only one affected.  The look on her
face when she realised that her pussy had been pressing on my hardon, was
nothing to the gobstopped expression she was now wearing as she takes in
the prominences distorting the sheer fabric of her mother's pyjama top.

   "Oh!" she squeaks, her eyes riveted to her mother's swollen nipples.

   Now equally red faced, Dianne and I maintain eye contact until we
suddenly crack up with slightly hysterical laughter.  It only lasts a few
seconds before we recover and Dianne mutter's, uh-, um-, I better go and
get dressed.

   "Uh me too." I mumble.  "And then Jenny, you and I have a kitchen to
clean, while your mother gets to do what she wants to for a change."

   "We've got to have our breakfast first." Jenny reminds me.

   "O.K.  but then I think I should go since you've already told me that
you're making the pilgrimage to your mother's, mother's later today."

   "What are you doing today?" Dianne asks, "Is your mother expecting you?"

   "I hope not, she died almost fifteen years ago." I say, "No, I'll go
around to my sister's when I finish here and help Christine to do her bit
by getting her out of the way for a little while.  With a bit of luck
though, I won't have to clean up half a box of Corn Flakes, and small lake
of milk when I get there this time."

   "Breakfast in bed?" Dianne asks with a smile.

   "Literally, and just about everywhere else too." I chuckle
reminiscently. "What a mess."

   "Well it's the thought that counts."

   "I know, but it still doesn't make it any easier to clean up." I grin.
"O.K.  sexy kid, let's go."

   As Dianne returns to her bedroom to dress for the day, I head downstairs
to where I'd left my things the night before.  Jenny of course dogs my
heels, and looks very surprised when I don't object to her following me
into the bathroom.

   "Oh dear two disappointments in one day." I chuckle, when her eyes fall
on the all concealing burgundy jocks that I am wearing beneath my footy
knicks.  "How will she ever survive?"

   Giggling, Jenny perches on the edge of the shower bath, while I quickly
dress, wash my face and do my hair.  A few minutes later, Dianne brings her
tray into the kitchen, as Jenny pours some batter into the reheated pan. 
Almost automatically, she begins to stack the dishes in the dishwasher, and
I have to chase her out of the room, playfully cracking a tea towel at her
behind.

   Three quarters and hour after that, Jenny and I step out into the
garden, where Dianne is surveying the carnage we'd created in her autumn
flower beds.  "Well it's not as bad as it could have been," she chuckles as
we stop beside her, "but did you have to take all the best flowers?"

   "But you're the *best* Mummy in the world." Jenny protests.

   "And that's the way I think about my mother too, you little horror."
Dianne smiles, "Why couldn't you be contented with a handful of daisies
like you usually give me."

   "Because I'm older now." Jenny replies.

   "Oh well," Dianne sighs, "Mum will just have to make do with second best
this year."

   "Somehow or other I don't think she will mind," I say, "considering the
reason.  In fact why don't you do something symbolic and give *her* the
handful of daisies."

   "Greg, I could kiss you!" she cries, "That's exactly what I'll do.  Now
what do I put on the card?"

   "How about: 'From your little girl who grew up.'?" Jenny suggests.

   "You, I can kiss." Dianne says, "Come here."

   How come you can't kiss Greg?" Jenny asks curiously, once she has been
released from a fierce and noisy embrace.

   "Because Mrs Grundy over there would enjoy it way too much." Dianne
chuckles softly.

   "That's not Mrs Grundy." Jenny says a bit too loudly, "That's Mrs
Leitch."

   "Oops.  I think she heard." I whisper, noting the sudden frown on the
old lady's face as she abandons her unnecessary hedge trimming and stalks
off.

   "Good." Dianne giggles, "She might tend to her own knitting for a
while."

   "But why did you call her Mrs Grundy?" Jenny persists.

   "Do you remember in that book 'Time Enough For Love, something that
said: 'Happiness begins with telling Mrs Grundy to go fly a kite.'?  Well,
'Mrs Grundy' is just a polite way of saying, 'that meddling old gossip next
door'.  And what the book meant was, that so long as you aren't doing
anything terribly wrong, which shouldn't make you happy in the first place,
you shouldn't care about what she says about you to other people."

   "I think I'll call her Mrs Grundy from now on." Jenny giggles.

   "Don't." I say at the same time, Dianne cries, "No you won't"

   "That would be rude and let her talk about what lousy parents you had."
I finish.

   "But you just said..." Jenny says.

   "I know what I said," I reply, "but that just applies to getting on with
your life and ignoring her.  If you do want to do anything, say, 'Yes Mrs
Leitch.', 'No Mrs Leitch.', 'Of course Mrs Leitch.' in all the right places
if she talks to you.  Be as sickeningly, sweetly polite as you possibly can
be.  It will make her madder than hell, because she'll know exactly what
you are doing, and won't be able to say a blessed thing about it without
looking like an idiot."

   Mimicking a gossipy old hen I say, "What do you mean Edna?  She was too
polite?  Well, I always say that the youth of today are not polite enough
by half.  I think I'd like to meet this darling child.  Why don't you
introduce me too her when I pop around next week."

   "And then," I say in my normal voice, "The two of you would have a great
deal of fun being polite to each other at Mrs Leitch's expense, because
there is nothing a gossip likes more than being able to score off another
gossip.  No, Mrs Leitch will seethe like a volcano, and will very quickly
remember that she's put the kettle on."

   "You are a most terrible person Greg Parry." Dianne giggles.

   "I know." I grin, "Don't you just love me anyway?"

   "Well I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that," she grins, "but you
do have your good points."

   "Like he gives good back and boob rubs." Jenny giggles naughtily.

   "Jenny!" Dianne giggles, "You don't have to actually say it, but you're
right he does give good chest rubs."

   "And on that note," I chuckle, "I think I'll go rescue my sister from a
too loving daughter.  Thankyou for a lovely meal and a very pleasant
evening."

   "And thank you again for helping Jenny this morning."

   "Yeah, thanks for teaching me how to be sexy by not being sexy." Jenny
giggles.

   "Well that wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Dianne chuckles, "but you
did a good job there too."

   "Zee mozt Humble Gregori," I say with a deep bow, "he zank you for your
mozt undezerved praize."

   "Go on, get out of here." Dianne giggles, "Go and annoy your sister for
a while."

   Escorted by a merry ten year old and her mother, I make my way to my car
and head off for a change of clothes and then to see what sort of mayhem my
niece has managed to create.

   [Well I did say 'hoydens' not 'harlots'.  But there's plenty of juicy
stuff in the next chapter.  Should be out in mid January, in the mean time
Merry X-mas and a Happy New Year to all.]