Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 And the alarm went off on Monday morning.  We shared a very sensual cuddle
and got up and started the rest of the routine.  By seven I was out the
door headed to work and she was waiting for the school bus.

   Arrived at the project, just like always.  Walked in, fired up the
computer, started a pot of coffee and was tapping out the replay to an
email when Sara walked in.

   Her first words were, "That was some cute young lady you brought in
Friday."

   "Yeah, she's a cutie, all right.  She's also scary smart.  I started
helping her with her homework and she was interested in what engineers do,
so I told her that if she had good grades, I'd bring her out for the tour."

   "That was sweet of you.  What'd she think?" Sara asked.

   I smiled.  "She says she wants to be like you and make people's lives
miserable."

   "Uh, she didn't say THAT!"

   "No, really, she did, but she was laughing.  I told her what you really
do."

   Sara laughed, "What?  Sit around all day eatin' bon-bons and polishin'
my nails?"

   "That too," I laughed.

   The rest of my day was normal, except for hearing at least a dozen
comments about Cindy's visit.  Most of them were suitable for polite
company, but it WAS a construction site, and a couple of the comments were
somewhat suggestive.  "Jailbait" was in one of them.  "They didn't have
THOSE when I was young" was a comment from an older co-worker.

   Finally Monday came to an end and I drove to the RV park.  Cindy was at
the office with Helen when I checked in.

   "Cindy says ya'll have had a busy weekend," Helen said.

   "Yeah, you and the judge Friday, a concert Saturday, supper at Jim
Hardesty's house yesterday.  I had to go to work to get some rest."

   Cindy smiled.  "Anybody say anything about me there Friday?"

   "EVERYBODY asked about you," I said.  "You are a memorable thing on a
construction site."

   "Do you have homework?" I asked.

   "The normal stuff.  Mr.  Hardesty waved at me in the hall today, too. 
That's pretty cool, you playing music with him and Mizz Ann."

   "Ya'll played music?" Helen questioned.

   "Yeah, his wife plays fiddle, he plays banjo, and I can do a little on a
bass guitar and we did some bluegrass stuff."

   "Awww!  I wish I could've heard that," she said.

   "I dunno," I said, "I'm kind of rusty.  But it was fun."

   Cindy said, "They were GOOD!  I never heard live music before, and they
were having fun!"

   We laughed and chatted for a while longer before Cindy and I headed to
our trailer.  "I looked at her.  "We need to go find you a bicycle."

   "What kind of bicycle?"

   I said, "Nothing too fancy.  Just something we can ride around parks and
stuff.  We'll go tomorrow.  No, wait.  I promised Jim Hardesty I'd meet him
at the airport.  He's got the flying itch again."

   "Can I come?" Cindy asked.

   "Of course.  You're my little shadow, as far as Jim's concerned."

   She smiled.  "That sounds good.  What are we doing this evening?  I
mean, the pool's closed."

   "I know," I said.  "Wanna go for a ride before dinner?"

   "Yeah.  And we can end up at that salad place for dinner.  It'll be good
for us."

   "You got it, sweetie," I said.  We drove off.  I had a goal in mind,
acting on advice from some co-workers, I had a lead on a secluded campsite
not too far away from the park.  That's where we headed.  It was one of
those "and then turn off the paved road" places, and just wouldn't have
been accessible to a vehicle less capable than my big pickup truck, but
after a bit of trying, with Cindy squealing a couple of times as we rode
through some rather muddy spots, we emerged on the bank of a creek deep in
the woods.

   "So this is the place?" she asked.  "We're gonna come camp here?  And
sleep in a tent?  And it's supposed to be fun?"

   "Yep!" I said.  "We try it at least one time.  If you don't like it, we
don't do it anymore.  If you do like it, well, then we can do it again." We
got out and walked around.  There was a space between the treeline and the
creek, about twenty yards of short grass, and then a sandy bank.  There was
evidence of some previous camping activity, but here between hunting season
and summer, it was deserted and I was told that very little activity ever
occurred.  And that there were no questions about people camping there.  I
saw the creek, clear, swift water, suitable for swimming and bathing, and
there was enough fallen deadwood for a fire, and I was pretty sure that
we'd have to visit the place soon.

   Cindy looked around, walked down to the water's edge.  "We can swim
here?"

   "Yeah.  Don't know how deep it is, though.  And it's probably cold. 
Looks cold."

   As I was saying this, Cindy was slipping her shoes and socks off.  I
watched step into the creek.  "Yes, it is cold.  Not too bad, but a lot
colder than the pool."

   "That'll make your nipples perkier than usual."

   "Ummm," she giggled.  "You're a dirty old man, thinkin' about a young
girl's nipples."

   "Actually I'm thinking of a moonlit skinny dip..."

   She laughed.  "Exactly what I had in mind, love," she said.  "I wish it
was dark right now..."

   "Me too," I said.  "Maybe next weekend, huh?" This comment was just as a
canoe with a couple of paddlers rounded the bend from upstream.  I gestured
in that direction.  "That's why we're not naked right now..."

   "Uh-huh." She smiled.  And we waved at the people in the canoe, watched
as they passed, paddles glistening in the sunlight.  Then we returned to
the truck and rumbled back through the woods and up the road to the little
restaurant.

   The ladies who owned the place recognized us immediately.  I knew it
wasn't me they remembered.  It was that red hair and green eyes of my young
partner.  We were seated immediately and along with menus we were informed
of some specials that they whip together, delicious-sounding combinations
of vegetables and pork or chicken.  We dined well, and afterward as the
table was cleared, we talked with first one, then both the owners about the
business and the area.  It was a pleasant evening.

   It was even more pleasant getting Cindy home before eight and lounging
around on the sofa, deliciously entangled together after our showers, then
to bed for a gentle and satisfying sharing of love.

   Tuesday came and we stepped through the routine.  It was a pleasant
thing to leave the trailer with Cindy's kiss on my lips and the scent of
her in my head.  Work was work.  No big fires to put out.  No hurdles to
jump.  That was one reason that I was hired, to keep excitement at a low
level.  Four o'clock and I was running out the gate.

   When I got to the park, I found my jeans-clad baby talking with Helen at
the front office.  "Hi, Helen," I said.

   "Hey, Dan," she replied.  "Charley was impressed Friday night."

   "Must've been Cindy." This got a smile from Cindy.

   "Actually, it was both of you.  He told me that after meeting you two,
he was quite a bit more certain that he'd made the right decision."

   "Oh, yeah?"

   "Yeah," Helen continued.  "Said he was surprised you showed up wearing a
suit and Cindy looked very proper and pretty and he could see how you two
belonged together."

   Cindy said, "He's a nice man.  He knows how to tell stories."

   Helen laughed.  "Yes, he does.  I just wanted ya'll to know what he
thought."

   "I was wondering," I said.  "He's everything I'd imagined he'd be.  You
two an item yet?"

   It was Helen's turn to blush.  "You know ...  I just might be makin'
that decision.  It's gotten to the point that we had supper with his son
and his family."

   "And the son approved?"

   "Yeah.  The son used to go to the huntin' camp with his dad and my
husband, and I used to run the camp every fall.  He knows me.  I used to
feed 'im pie and run 'im out of my kitchen."

   "Oh, great!  You pissed off the DA."

   Helen laughed.  "Yeah.  Cindy says you're goin' to go flyin' with her
guidance counselor?"

   "Yeah.  You know he's a Marine pilot?"

   "That's what Cindy said."

   "Yes, ma'am," I said.  "And if you'll excuse me, I need to go change
shoes.  It's hard to fly wearin' steel-toe boots."

   "Ya'll go have fun," Helen laughed.

   Cindy and I left and scooted over to the trailer.  Once inside, my
original task of changing shoes was extended just a little bit while we
kissed.  Then we were out the door and on the road.

   "You're in the back seat today, sweetie."

   "I figured that part out.  I'll be okay." She smiled.  "But we haven't
flown since the first time.  I really want to go again."

   "We will, babe.  And we're going to fly home in it for Thanksgiving,
too."

   Squeal.  "We're going to your real home?"

   "Nope," I said.  "We're going to my OLD home.  Thanksgiving with my
sister and brother."

   Her brow wrinkled.  "Your OLD home?"

   "Yes.  My new home is wherever WE are."

   "Awwww ...  You're so sweet." She paused a second, thinking.  "But what
are you going to tell your sister and brother?"

   "Just a teeny tiny little lie or two.  I'm going to tell them you're
eighteen.  And we're married."

   Another squeal.  "You think they'll believe you?"

   "What are they gonna do, ask to see your driver's license?"

   Green eyes narrowed.  "I don't know..."

   I continued, "They're my brother and sister.  I don't think we have a
problem."

   We were unlocking the T-hangar when Jim Hardesty drove up.  "Hi, Dan! 
Hi, Miss Cindy!" he said.

   "Hi, Mr.  Hardesty," Cindy chirped.

   "Hey, Jim.  Push a door." He and I pushed the doors open on the hangar,
revealing the other woman in my life.

   "Well, I'll be damned," he said.  "She looks nice, Dan!"

   I laughed.  "Cindy?  Or the plane."

   Jim chuckled.  "Both.  But Cindy's not forty.  You spent some bucks
keepin' this old girl in THIS shape."

   "I spent a dime or two.  Engine's been overhauled to new.  And the prop.
And I gave a mechanic a blank check on the airframe.  She's not show
quality, but she sure is 'go' quality.  Let's drag 'er out." We pushed the
plane out onto the apron and the three of us did the pre-flight.  Cindy
climbed the ladder to check fuel levels with a dipstick.

   While she was up on the ladder, Jim asked, "She knows what she's doing?"

   "Showed her once.  That's all it takes with Cindy."

   "Yeah.  That's what her teachers say."

   "Uh, guys, it's NOT polite to talk about somebody when she's right
there," Cindy said.  "Mr.  Dan, you have about three-quarters of a tank. 
Twice." She climbed down and before I could do it, she folded the ladder
and carried it back to the hangar.

   Cindy was the first into the plane, buckling herself into the back seat.
Jim took the passenger seat, "because it's YOUR plane and I haven't flown
in a decade." And I got in the pilot's seat.  In five more minutes we were
in the air and Jim was at the controls, his round face grinning.

   I spoke into my headset.  "It's yours.  Just remember, plus four G's,
minus three, and Cindy's on her SECOND flight of her life and there's only
two barf bags."

   "Oh, man," Jim said.  "This is great.  I know.  I already tried to find
the gun switch."

   We flew around.  Jim ran us through the operating envelope: slow,
hanging on the prop, and steep turns, and a few stalls.  I looked over my
shoulder hoping that Cindy was turning green.  Cindy was grinning widely.
"Mister Dan, you didn't show me all THIS stuff the first time!"

   Dan popped in, "Oh, I'm sorry Cindy!  Am it getting' too radical?"

   "Oh, no sir!  This is GREAT!"

   I smiled.  Two happy people.  Make that three.  Me too.  We made a great
circuit of the local area, then the shadows on the ground started to
lengthen and it was time to go home.

   "Plane's yours, Dan," said Jim.  "I've never landed a taildragger."

   "Then follow along with me.  Just requires some footwork and make sure
you're pointed in the direction you're traveling when the wheels touch
down." We shot a couple of touch and goes and then landed for real, taxing
to the hangar.

   I grabbed Cindy by the waist and helped her down as the three of us
exited.  We pushed the plane back into the hangar and closed and locked the
door.

   "Wow!" Jim laughed.  "That was great!  Makes me want to get current
again." And my own...

   "It's expensive, man."

   "Yeah, I know," said Jim.  "But I'm thinking of long vacations and
stuff, an' this one'll do the whole family."

   "Yeah, it will.  You should've seen what they were haulin' with it in
Alaska."

   "This was a bush plane?"

   "Yep.  I flew it back to the Lower 48 after I finished a job up there."

   "Man!  I might have to dip into the savings for one of these."

   "Wanna go to dinner with me an' Cindy?  That's our next stop." I smiled.

   "Yeah, Mister Jim.  Come have dinner!" Cindy injected.

   "No, I need to get home tonight.  But, golly, thanks!" Jim shook hands
with both of us.  Cindy waved as he drove off.

   "You sure made HIM happy!" she smiled.  "And me too!  All those
maneuvers ...  He knows what he's doing?"

   "Baby, he's a Marine aviator.  He's so far above me in pilot cred that
it's scary.  He knows everything we did today.  It's just that with this
little plane, the numbers are all different.  Like a baby carriage compared
with an Indy car."

   "Oh ...  But it's your plane.  You can do all that stuff in YOUR plane."

   "Yes, I can.  And since I am now convinced that you won't barf all over,
I will show you what we did and why." I paused.  "Come on.  We have a stop
to make before supper."

   We got in the truck and drove off.  The stop was the local jewelry
store. To pick up a pair of rings.  I got out, went inside, and came back
out, handing Cindy the little velvet-covered box.

   She started to open it.

   "Nope!  Not yet.  When we get home after supper."

   Her eyes glittered.  "Then we're having TV dinners for supper.  Drive
straight home.  Fast."

   "Now ain't this just great!  I present the love of my life with a ring,
and she marks the occasion with TV dinners?!?!?"

   Cindy giggled.  That giggle.  It melted my heart.  On the fifteen minute
drive home she cradled the little box in both hands, clasped to her chest.
When we pulled up to the trailer, she dashed to the door, her key in one
hand, the box in the other.

   "Slow down," I said.  I thought she'd be on the sofa.  As I locked the
door behind me, I saw her at the opposite end of the trailer, kneeling in
the bed.  Her face was turned toward me, waiting.

   "Let's do this right," I said.  I sat on the edge of our bed.  "Open the
box."

   Her eyes were wide as she opened it, revealing two gold rings,
filigreed, just as she'd shown me.

   "Oh, Dan..." she sighed.

   I took the smaller ring and holding her left hand, I slid it onto the
ring finger.  And kissed her.  "My Cindy.  Forever!"

   "Oh, Dan..." She took the other ring and I held my hand up.  She slid it
onto my finger.  And slid herself into my arms.  And I hugged her to me,
hearing her whisper breathlessly, "My Dan forever!  I love you!"

   "D'you like them?"

   "Oh, god, YES!  That's the one I showed you!  And you got YOU one, too!"

   "Because I want to be as much YOURS as you are mine!" This got me
kisses. Bunches.  Some longer than the others.  "But sweetie," I explained,
"I can't wear mine all the time like you can."

   "I know..." she sighed.  "On YOU it's a wedding ring."

   "That's how people will see it.  At work, that's hard to explain."

   "I know..."

   "But every chance I get, I'll have this ring on my finger."

   She took my hand to her lips and kissed the ring.  "I know you love me,
Dan.  And you got us rings.  Like we're married."

   "As far as I'm concerned, baby, we ARE married.  When I tell my brother
and sister, I won't be lying.  The only thing is that we haven't done it in
public records, because we just CAN'T."

   "I know, baby." She hugged me.  Hard.  Pulled me down onto the bed and
climbed on top of me and showered me with kisses.

   "Married means forever.  What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine."

   She interrupted.  "But I don't have anything."

   "You sweet, sweet thing.  You ARE everything.  The riches of the
universe.  And everything I have, I give to you."

   More kisses.  She was tugging at my shirt, pulling it, unbuttoning.  She
stood up and began undressing herself.  "You do you.  I'll do me.  And then
it'll be US.  Naked."

   And that is a good thing.  Thirty minutes later, the orgasm score was
Cindy 2, Me 1.  And it was shower time.  And finally the TV dinners went in
the microwave.

   And life was good.  Very good.  Friday night we camped out, just like
we'd talked about.  Skinny-dipped in the creek in the moonlight.  Made
love, then lay together under the stars, safe from insects in my screened
tent, but still able to marvel at the heavens.  It was still warm enough at
night to only need a light cover, so we lay on one unzipped sleeping bag
and covered with the other.  I didn't push the "cook breakfast over an open
fire" bit.  When the sun came up, we splashed into the creek to wake up and
then broke camp and headed back to civilization for breakfast, then back to
the storage unit to unload the gear, and then to the airfield.

   This time the flying was more of a lesson than the oohing and ahhhing of
previous events.  Cindy wanted to know HOW.  I showed her.  We chatted back
and forth over the intercom as I showed and told her what to do and why. 
Two hours and she understood much, but I knew that she needed a practice to
turn thought into subtle movements and pressures to fly smoothly.  I knew
that would come.

   We returned to the airfield at lunch and at her insistence we ended up
at a burger joint.  I had a burger stuffed in my mouth when she said,
"Let's fly someplace next weekend.  You know, for overnight."

   "You know, that's a good idea, babe," I said.  "I can get us a rental
car when we get there, and a reservation at a hotel, and we'll have a new
city to play in."

   "Why didn't we do this before?" Her eyebrow was arched at me.

   "I dunno.  I was just so happy running you around here.  Flying will get
us a three hundred mile range for the weekend." I was thinking we had four
adjacent states to play with.

   She was thinking about more flying, among other things.  "Let's go back
to the field and get the charts.  You can show me flight planning again."

   "Okay, babe!" I watched that sassy body bounce out of the eatery ahead
of me to the truck.  Fourteen!  And so much potential.  And so perfect it
made my eyes water.  We complied with her wish.  While we were there, we
chatted up another recreational pilot.  He let Cindy sit in his sixty year
old airplane.  She was tickled by it.

   Back in the truck, I said, "Okay, now what?" It's mid-afternoon."

   "You said I needed a bike."

   "Right!  Let's go to town." "Town" was the big city an hour's drive
away. I knew there had to be a bike shop somewhere.  We found it.  The
salesman found a mountain bike with a frame that would work for Cindy, I
got a bike rack that would fit in the bed of my pickup truck, and we headed
back home, stopping by the storage place again so I could pick up my bike.

   She already knew what it looked like, and said so.  "Like mine, except
the frame's bigger, huh?"

   "Yep.  My leg's longer.  Want to go ride around the park?"

   She smiled.  That's a good place to start.  It's been a few years since
I rode a bike.  There's no traffic in the park."

   Which put me riding a bicycle behind a Cindy clad in shorts and a
t-shirt.  Watching that perfect butt as she pedaled ahead of me - yes,
there is truly poetry in motion.  I spent some time observing it, then,
"Dannn!  Ride beside me!"

   "Okay," I answered, "we can do that here, but on the street we have to
ride single file."

   "I know.  But we're in a park."

   So that's the way we rode.  Nope, not spandex-clad bicycle nuts, just
two people enjoying the beginnings of fall air on a Saturday afternoon, and
yes, it was exercise.  The Saturday park population was maybe ten RV's. 
Two families had kids.  A couple of them were on bicycles also.  And with
the change in seasons, Helen's snowbirds were coming in, people from the
northern states migrating south ahead of the cold.  These were older folks,
and they were clustered on groups, socializing.  Some of them waved as we
rode by.  We put an hour in, lazily pedaling around, then locked the bikes
up at the trailer.

   Entering our little nest, Cindy said, "Dan, I really need a shower."

   "Me too, babe!  We've done a lot today."

   "Wouldn't it be nice if we could shower together?"

   "Yes it would.  Are you thinking..."

   She finished the thought.  "that we should go find us a motel with a big
shower?"

   "A kiss would make me do that." I got my kiss.  And I flipped open my
cellphone and punched a number.  A couple of minutes later, I hung up and
looked toward the bedroom.  Cindy was zipping up her overnight bag.  Mine
was on the bed beside her.

   Giggle.  "We're packed!"

   "Let's go, then!" We kissed before heading out the door.  She crawled in
the pickup, pushing the console up out of the way, then buckling in the
passenger seat, leaving a huge space between us, but she was grinning as we
left the park and got onto the open road.

   Five miles later she was sitting beside me.  Her eyes were sparkling as
she played with the gold band on her finger.  "I can't believe you got me
this, baby," she said.  "and you have yours on, too!"

   I waved my ring at her.  "You bet, baby!"

   The month of October passed, and then half of November.  The first cold
fronts made their way down south, and we saw our first frost of the winter
a couple of weeks early, according to Helen.  "It's that global warming,"
she laughed.

   On a practical note, living in a travel trailer made us very cognizant
of the seasons.  Winter meant keeping an eye on the propane bottles that
heated the place.  It also meant that I spent colder nights with the
warming influence of a fourteen year old form cuddled up next to me.

   The first one of those mornings, as good luck would have it, was a
Saturday morning, and with no alarm clock driving the day, we eased awake
in each other's arms.  The previous evening was rainy, presaging the coming
cold front.  And because I was bouncing in bed with a sexy fourteen year
old redhead, I forgot to set the thermostat, so forties on the outside
translated to fifties on the inside, and green eyes just barely peeking
over the blanket.

   "'S cold, Dan!"

   "I know, babe.  I should've turned the thermostat on to heat." I got out
of bed.  The temperature made the floor cold and my bare feet stepped
spritely as I reached the thermostat and flipped it on, then raced back to
dive under the covers.  I knew EXACTLY what to do next.  Cold feet.  Warm
girl.  BINGO!

   Screech!!!  "Your feet are ICE!"

   "But sweetie, you're sooooo warm!" I laughed, cuddling her giggly form
in my arms.  Kissing Cindy in the morning was finding the universe in
harmony.

   "Mmmmmm, baby.  We sleep sooooo good together.  But it's even BETTER
when it's cold and WE'RE warm!" And then "What's it like to make love UNDER
a blanket?" And a hand found my dick, already hard.  She pushed me over
onto my back, climbing on top of me, then kissing me a quick peck, and then
saying, "Nope!  You gotta be on top!"

   We rolled together, her legs spreading to accept me.  A wiggle had me
sliding into a tight but oh so accepting pussy.  I reached full penetration
to her sigh.  She drew a breath and as our eyes met, she giggled.  "We're
so perfect together, Dan.  We feel sooo darned perfect!"

   I kissed her pert nose, drew back enough to see the scattering of
freckles across it, and answered, "Yes indeed we do, cutie!" And was part
of the wonder of making love with Cindy.  She was giggling, laughing,
savoring, eyes laughing at the pure joy of coupling, right up to the point
where she'd bite her bottom lip, a sure sign of impending orgasm.  And our
bodies on this cool morning merged with each other and in some minutes of
kissing and grasping and pushing and sliding and the bottom lip was pressed
by perfect white teeth, the eyelashes fluttered over improbable green, and
I struggled to hold my own until I felt her first spasm, then I released
with her.

   "I'm hot NOW!" she announced, throwing the bedclothes off us.  "and
we're gonna have a mess!"

   The "mess", of course, was what we'd have from leaking juices from a
happy and vigorous coupling.  "I'm gonna clean MY end!" she announced, and
spun around, presenting me with a view that, although I'd seen it many
times in the last three months, was always new and exciting, and I happily
lapped her juicy pussy clean, again listening to happy giggles, then an
"Nnnnnnnnngghhhhh!" through clenched teeth as she came once again.  When
she recovered and turned back around to put her head on my chest, she
dragged the bedspread up with her, covering us up again.

   "This is gonna be the BEST winter EVER!" she told me.

   "Yes it is, angel.  And I've already had forty-two of 'em." I cradled
her in my arms, stroking her red head, smelling the remnants of the dab of
perfume she always seems to dab on before going to bed with me.  It was
just a dab, and sometimes it was her throat, sometimes the nape of her
neck, sometimes behind an ear, occasionally between her perky breasts, or
right on her pubic mound, her muffin, and I always took time to search for
it.  Last night it was on the back of her neck, under her hair, and I
kissed the spot.  "Mmmmmm!"

   Of course the cooler air meant that the bicycle rides were now going to
be in jeans, but she defined the effect of jeans on the female form, bent
over the handlebars, her legs pedaling, the musculature smoothly flowing
under blue denim.

   Another thing, too.  A couple more visits to the Hardesty's and he and
his wife Ann and I decided we were ready for the public.  And Cindy had a
voice.  And one Saturday evening we played our first public show at the RV
park pavilion, our audience twenty or thirty weekend residents.  We weren't
good enough to do requests, and our repertoire was limited to a few
bluegrass favorites, but the ticket price, i.e., free, and the
accessibility, i.e., we showed up, and sometimes enthusiasm covers up the
occasional (all too occasional) wrong note or missed chord change, and a
fourteen year old redhead with a microphone and a sweet, although
untrained, voice, we got ovations.

   Deeper into November, another milestone loomed.  Thanksgiving.  I had a
mandatory invitation to my sister's house for Thanksgiving.  She lived in
the same town that we grew up in, the town where I owned a home, and it was
pre-planned that I would be there.

   Thanksgiving week at the project, we were fighting the schedule.  My
stuff was on track, even a bit ahead, but other parts were lagging,
fighting, and it was ordained that we would work the Monday and Tuesday of
Thanksgiving week.
   And that week was coming.