Copyright © 1998,   Clayton.  ALL Rights Reserved


Babysitter - Jenny Chapter 3 - Mg, teasing


Disclaimer:
	This is a work of fiction.  No illegal activity described
	herein was carried out, this document details fantasies
	that took place late at night when I was alone in bed. I
	firmly believe that no fifteen minutes of pleasure is
	worth the innocence of a child.  Besides, I derive much
	pleasure from the company of children, playing with them
	or simply watching them at play, I am not going to risk
	this for any momentarily heightened sense of pleasure.

	If you are under the age of eighteen the law says I've
	got to tell you to go away, so, "Go away!"  Common sense
	says you're going to ignore me, so don't blame me if you
	go blind, your parents find you in possession of this
	document or your space bar to stops working.

	If this type of material is illegal in your city, state,
	country, then see above, substituting "law enforcement
	agency" in place of "parents".


Introduction:
	Between now and the new year I will be unable to do much
	writing.  Instead I will be proofreading this story, and
	possibly a couple of others, and publishing a chapter or
	so every day or two.

	When I next have the time to write, your responses will
	determine which stories I will work on.  So if you have
	a preference for which story you would like me to finish
	first, send me an email or five.

   __   _
  /  ) //          _/_
 /    // __.  ,  , /  ______
(__/ </_(_/|_/(_/_<__(_) / /_,
               /
              '

+--------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Clayton | clayton@nym.alias.net                                    |
|--------------------------------------------------------------------|
| There is nothing so soft, or pleasing to the touch, as the skin of |
| a child.  Cup their cheek in your hand and ask yourself if you are |
| willing to harm such beauty for your own gratification.            |
| Take you fantasies to bed - alone.                                 |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------+



Chapter 3 - First Lesson

Almost exactly two days to the minute later, I pull up in front of Jenny's house, ready to begin our first lessons.  Armed with her books and a couple of tools I'd whipped up on the computer to demonstrate both fractions and especially compound fractions, I straighten my collar and reach for the door knocker.

Almost immediately I let the heavy brass ring thump into the door, it swings open and I'm greeted by two giggling nymphs.  Vanessa is still wearing her school uniform, a simple tunic of bottle green tartan, that covers her to mid thigh, over a long sleeved white blouse.  Plain white stockings or tights cover her slim legs and her feet are tucked into black patent leather shoes.

Jenny having had the opportunity to change, greets me with a cheerful "Hi." She's wearing a green and gold pair of satin running shorts, and a matching loose fitting singlet, her feet stuffed into a scuffed pair of runners with the laces undone.

"Hi Jenny, Hi Stinky Girl." I greet them bringing a rosy flush of embarrassment to Vanessa's cheeks.

"Stinky Girl?" Jenny shrieks, rounding on her friend, "Did you fluff in his car?"

"Something like that." I chuckle. "Here Vanessa, this must have fallen out of your bag the other day." I hand her, the compact she'd left on the seat of my car.

"Thanks," she says, "I was wondering where I'd lost it."

"Ready for your lessons Jen?" I ask.

"Yeah." she pulls a long face, "Vanessa was just going.  Mum say's she's a distraction."

"That I can believe." I say significantly, making Vanessa giggle helplessly.

"What's so funny?" Jenny demands, looking back and forth between Vanessa and me.

Oops, damage control mode, "Well I seem to recall the two of you doing your best to *distract* me the other day." I say with a direct look at her.

"Oh yeah." she subsides with a blushing giggle.

"Girls!" Dianne cries, emerging from the family room, "Don't just stand there blocking the door, let him in.  Vanessa, I think it's time you went home."

"O.K. Mr's Gormley, See ya Jen, bye Greg." Vanessa scoops up her schoolbag from beside the front door and heads off down the path at full tilt.

"Hello Greg, nice to see you again." Dianne greets me, with a warm handshake.

"The pleasure is all mine Mam." I reply bowing low over her hand.

Beside us, Jenny giggles at her mother's rosy blush.

"Get on with you." Dianne laughs lightly, retrieving her hand, "I'll be up with some refreshments in half an hour."

Showing me her heels, Jenny pelts up the stairs ahead of me, leaving me to follow at a more sedate pace.  By the time I enter the schoolroom, Jenny has already got her books out, and is sitting at the table waiting for me to join her.

"O.K. Jen," I say, pulling up a chair at her side, "let's see what you already know about fractions."

As it turns out, she has a pretty fair knowledge of fractions when she is able to visualise them using concrete examples.  Where she falls down is in seeing them as abstract ratios of whole numbers with no more sense than the numbers themselves.

Much to her disgust, having established this, I take her right back to the beginning, halves and quarters.  She sets herself to the task with poor grace, complaining when I won't let her draw little circles and pie wedges to help her, arrive at the answers.  Suddenly though it clicks and she comes to realise exactly how two quarters make a half, and with fingers flying, she quickly writes out all of the different combinations of halves and quarters that add up to a half, three quarters, and a whole.

"There." she declares, thumping her pencil down on the table.

"O.K.," I say, laying a fresh sheet of paper in front of her, "lets see how you go with thirds and sixths."

She frowns at the blank sheet before her for several seconds, unsure where to begin.

"O.K.," I say, "Start with just the sixths and write them out across the top."

Following my instructions, she writes down 1/6, 2/6 through to 6/6. "What next?" she asks looking up at me.

"Well where do you think three thirds goes?"

"That's easy." she declares, writing 3/3 underneath 6/6.

"And one third?"

"There?" she asks tentatively pointing bellow 2/6.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"Yeah there." she decides, writing it down and adding in 2/3 in the right spot without asking.

After staring at the two rows of numbers for a few seconds she starts toting up the different combinations, groaning as she realises that the final list will be longer than that for halves and quarters.

"Very good." I compliment her, as she finishes with a sigh. "Now do fifths and tenths."

Looking daggers at me, she scrawls the tenths across the page, and then the fifths underneath.  I let her begin the list of combinations, but stop her as it becomes apparent that she understands the concept.

"What now?" she asks with a long suffering look.

"Start with twelfths and see what you can come up with." I say with a grin.

She replies with a low mutter to my instructions.

"What was that?" I ask sweetly.

"Nuffin'" she growls applying herself to the clean sheet of paper in front of her.

The twelfths are written out across the top and after a few seconds she adds in sixths and thirds.  Suddenly something clicks and she adds halves, and quarters, then after a little thought five tenths.  Some more thought and she snatches up the sheet with sixths on it and fills in all of the ninths that she can match up.  She then does the same with eights on the first sheet.

Taking a fresh sheet she writes out the sevenths and comes to a grinding halt, looking up at me perplexedly.

"Don't worry about it." I chuckle. "You'd have to go up to around two and a half thousand if you wanted to fit in everything from halves to sevenths.  Now that you seem to have the basic idea let's see about converting fractions to different fractions."

I quickly write up a set of equivalences for her to complete, throwing in a couple which are impossible to do, just to see what she will do with them.  Then setting her to do these, I pick up her homework sheet.

A tiny grunt from her makes me glance over the top of the sheet at her.  She is sitting hunched over the sheet of problems I'd given her, sucking on the end of her pencil as she contemplates the problems.  As I watch she squirms in her seat, kicking her heel against the leg of the chair.

Through the open armhole of her singlet, I glimpse a tiny swelling pushing her areola out from the smooth childish planes of her chest.  The tiny three quarter inch pink rosette surrounding her nipple rising in a rounded cone no more than a quarter inch high.  A moment later, her arm comes down, obscuring my view of her budding breast as she makes a notation on the page.

"How's my girl doing?" Dianne's voice breaks the silence, as she backs into the room with a laden tray.

"Oh mum he's mean," Jenny complains, as I jump up to take the tray from her mother, "some of these just can't be done."

"Just keep at it," Dianne encourages her daughter, "I'm sure you'll work them out eventually dear."

"I doubt it." I chuckle, "She's absolutely right some of those problems can't be done, I wanted to see if Jenny could spot them, which would show that she really did understand this, or if she'd just make a wild guesses."

"So how'd she do?"

I pick up the problem sheet and quickly go through it in my head, "Two not finished, one wrong, one wild guess and two little faces with their tongues poking out, which I assume are her way of telling me what she thinks of my red herrings."

"Jenny!" Dianne berates her daughter, though in notice the corner of her mouth twitching.

"Sorry Greg." Jenny giggles.

"So you should be." I reply while pushing a sheet of problems I'd prepared at home across in front of her. "Just for that, you can show me what you can do with these, while I chow down on some of this excellent looking cake."

"Slave driver." she accuses me taking up her pencil in one hand, while snatching up a slice of cake in the other.

While she works at adding up fractions with the same denominator, I begin writing up some problems on converting whole numbers to fractions and vice versa.

"O.K. I'll leave you to it." Dianne says after watching her daughter at work for a while.

"Thanks for the snack." I say looking up.

"Yeah thanks Mum." Jenny says around a mouthful of crumbs.

As Dianne closes the door behind her, Jenny makes a little sound of disgust and looks up at me, "I can't do this one, it keeps on coming out to nine eighths."

"Really." I say mildly. "Leave it then and keep going, I'll correct it when you're finished."

Ten minutes later, she announces, "Done."

As I take the sheet of completed problems from her, she lifts her right foot - the one nearest me - onto the seat of her chair.  The fabric of her shorts is pushed up at the side, exposing the entire length of her muscular leg to me, all  the way up to leg band of her plain cotton knickers.  Then as she turns to face me, the leg hole gapes open at the crotch, showing me the rounded outline of her preteen vulva, though the reinforced gusset hides most of the detail.

A quick glance down the list of problems determines that she has got them all right.  However those problems which resulted in the numerator being larger than the denominator have all earned me more cheeky little faces.

"Very good Jenny." I praise her, "All correct and accounted for."

"But what about those ones that came out bigger on top?" she asks.

"What about them?" I return, "They're supposed to come out that way."

"But why?" she asks plaintively.

"You'll see in a minute." I reply. "Let's work on these together."

Pulling her chair over next to mine, Jenny peruses the sheet of paper I set before us. "Oh I can do these." she skites, "We did these the other week."

"O.K. go for it." I say.

It takes her less than five minutes to scribble in the answers, and sit back with an 'I told you so.' look plastered over her face.  Taking the sheet, I go along beside all of the whole numbers, adding the denominators of fractions, beside her whole numbers.

"O.K. smartie," I grin, "fill in the blanks."

"How?" she asks, looking at the sheet with a perplexed air.

"Think about it." I say, "Eight quarters is two and how many quarters."

"None." she replies, still looking puzzled.

"So?"

"But what do I do?" she all but wails.

"Well what number is the same as none?" I prompt.

"Zero." she replies. "Oh!" With that light dawns, and she quickly runs down the sheet filling in zeros all the way.

"Hey they look like what we're doing now." she cries excitedly.

"That's because they are." I grin. "So what's five halves?"

"Two and one half." she throws back.

"And seven quarters?"

"One and three quarters."

"So two and one third would be?"

"Um, seven thirds?" she says, questioning her own answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah seven thirds." she repeats, this time making it a statement. "Hey how come Mr Sampson doesn't put in the zero bits?"

"Because you don't really need them if you know fractions really well, your mind fills them in without you even thinking about it." I explain.  "Now lets see how you go multiplying fractions together."

"Shouldn't I do adding first?" she asks.

"Nope." I reply with a grin, "Strange as it may seem you need to know how to multiply fractions before you can add them."

"That's silly." she objects.

"Yep," I agree, "but it's also true, you'll see why when we get to it."

After explaining the rules for multiplying fractions, I spend the rest of the evening, setting harder and harder problems.  She devours them voraciously, only occasionally producing a wrong answer, which more often than not, is the result of carelessness as she hurries to get on with the next problem.  At one point I have to stop and teach her how to multiply a large number by a single digit number so that she can continue.

"Hey don't you think it's time you stopped." Dianne's voice interrupts our progress some time later.

When I look up, I discover that it's nearly seven o'clock. "Sorry," I say, "we were going so well, I lost track of the time."

"Hey Mum," Jenny says excitedly, "did you know, you have to be able to multiply fractions before you can add them up?"

"Well it was never put like that when I was at school, but yes I see how it makes sense." Dianne replies, "Do you know why that is?"

"No we haven't got to the adding up part yet." Jenny admits, "But I can times big numbers now, well at least one big number and a little one anyway.  Go on give me one."

"O.K. do fifteen times eight."

"Mu-um," Jenny cries scornfully, "give me a hard one."

"O.K. then." Dianne says, pausing a moment to think, "How about, five hundred and eighty nine times seven."

"Four thousand one hundred and twenty three." Jenny announces triumphantly after several seconds of scribbling.

"Is she right?" Dianne asks me.

"I don't know," I reply, "it's your problem, you work it out."

After taking nearly three times as long as her daughter, and with one false start, Dianne looks up with a rueful chuckle. "She's right, and she's also shown me that her old Mum has just about forgotten her seven times tables."

"Told ya." Jenny skites, "Now you're going to have to be tutored too."

"We'll see." Dianne smiles. "Now say goodbye to Greg, I need to talk to him downstairs for a minute."

"O.K.  Goodbye to Greg." she recites wandering off to switch on the TV.

"Jenny!" Dianne cries shocked.

"That's all right Dianne." I stick my oar in, "I think Jenny's going to love dividing fractions next time."

"I thought we were going to do adding." the suddenly attentive little girl protests.

"I changed my mind." I reply blandly.

"NOooo." Jenny wails in sudden despair, "I hate dividing things."

"Come on Dianne," I say, when it appears that she might let the cat out of the bag. "Let's leave Miss Smarty Pants to stew in her own juices for a while.  'Bye Jenny see you Wednesday."

"'Bye!" Jenny's response comes back with poor grace, but at least it has *some* feeling in it.

Almost steering Dianne ahead of me, we make our way to the family room where, as soon as the door is closed, she breaks down into quiet chuckles, "You're a cruel man Mr Parry."

"Moi?" I ask in surprise, touching my fingertips to my chest.

"Vous." she chuckles, "She's been dividing things all evening, and if I remember my primary school maths, dividing fractions is just multiplying turned upside down."

"You know that, I know that," I laugh back, "Jenny don't know no such thing."

"Well it's your funeral." Dianne smiles, "And your English is atrocious."

She chuckles at my exaggeratedly shocked expression, and continues, "Would you mind staying for a few more minutes?  My husband should be back with Jeremy soon, They've been at a physio session."

"Of course." I answer, and we spend the next few minutes making small talk, waiting for Jenny's father to return.  The sound of car doors slamming, followed by the sound a harmonica being played on a single note, announces their arrival.

Then as the front door opens, we hear a loud "Daddy!" and several thumps as Jenny flies down the stairs to greet her father.

A few seconds later, a tall lanky man with receding jet black hair enters the room, Jenny clinging like a limpet to one hip.  On his other hip, he carries a small boy, who looks to be no more than five or six years old.  The beautiful smiling face that he turns toward me is in such contrast to the pathetically twisted body that I find myself swallowing a lump in my throat.

Immediately, Jenny's father sets his children down, Jenny takes her brother by the hand and leads him over to me, "Greg," she begins hesitantly, unsure of my reaction, "this is my brother Jeremy.  You have to speak loud b'cause his hearing aids don't work too good." she tells me.

"Hello Jeremy," I say, hopefully loud enough for him to hear, as kneel in front of him, and I hold out my hand, "How do you do?"

His smile, already sunny, widens beatifically, and he holds up an harmonica, that he had been clutching in his twisted fingers, putting it to his lips he repeatedly sounds the same note over and over again, then looks back at me expectantly.

"What a beautiful harmonica," I praise, "did Santa bring it for you?"

Though not understanding my words, he picks up on the inquiring note in my voice and nods enthusiastically in answer.  Suddenly he throws his arms around my neck and deposits a wet, smacking kiss on my cheek.  A moment later another pair of small arms surround the both of us and Jenny gives me a drier, but just as enthusiastic kiss on the other cheek.

Then still with her arms around us, she turns her head towards her parents, "Did you hear it?  Jeremy play your harmonica." She touches the small instrument in her brother's hand, pushing it towards his lips.

Unerringly, he picks out the same note as before and plays it continuously until Jenny yells, "Enough Jeremy." gently forcing the harmonica from his lips.  In more moderate tones, she says to me, "Say something Greg."

"Like what?" I ask, my mind going blank as I'm put on the spot.  Jeremy's head snaps around to watch my lips as soon as I open my mouth, so I address myself to him. "Did you have a good day Jeremy?"

"Did you hear that?" Jenny cries exultantly, "They sound the same.  Jeremy can hear him."

"Yes I did." Dianne says, her voice filled with wonder and unshed tears, "Thankyou Greg."

For what?" I ask, still not sure what I've done.

"First for accepting him as he is, though I expected no less of you.  But mostly for showing us something we didn't know about Jeremy.  He only got that harmonica from his grandfather on Saturday, and since then he's been driving us to distraction by playing that one note over and over again.  Before that, he was always yelling like I warned you, and now we know why, his yell was the same pitch as that note and so is your voice."

"Yes thankyou Greg." Mr Gormley says gruffly.

"Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou." Jenny cries happily while plastering my face with kisses.

"Ahem," Mr Gormley clears his throat, "I think that's enough Jenny."

Blushing, Jenny ceases her osculatory assault, but still keeping an arm about us, she turns to ask, "Can Greg stay and have dinner with us?  Pleeeezzze Mummy?"

"Greg might have other plans for dinner." Dianne cautions her daughter, while asking me with her eyes if it would be all right.

"Pleeeezzze Greg?" turns her wiles on me.

"Would you mind Greg?" Dianne asks me.

A small hand pats my cheek, and when I look down, Jeremy raises the Harmonica to his lips and plays a single note, then waits looking at me expectantly.  Though I'm sure that all he is waiting for is for me to speak, I answer, "I don't think I dare not accept your invitation." earning myself another beautiful smile from Jeremy and a further flurry of kisses from Jenny.

"Jenny!" Mr Gormley calls.

"I think I can live with it, Mr Gormley." I chuckle, rising to sit in my chair and lifting Jeremy into my lap.

"Tony please." he replies with a chuckle of his own, "I'm sure you can, but she's getting too old to be kissing strange men like that."

"He's not a strange man," Jenny declares hotly, squirming into the chair beside me and throwing her arms around her brother and me, "I'm adopting him."

"I give up." Tony chuckles throwing his hands into the air, "Welcome to the family Greg."

"Yay!" Jenny cheers, welcoming me with yet another kiss, this one smack on the lips.

"Wah, Wah." Jeremy says, pushing at his sister.

The moment she moves her head out of the way, I find myself the recipient of a wet and sloppy kiss from him.

"Now you got to kiss him too." Jenny demands of her parents.

"Maybe later." Dianne begs off, I've got to see what I can do to stretch dinner.

"I think we'll settle for a handshake." Tony smiles, walking over to offer me his hand.

Rising with Jeremy on my hip, I return the handshake, "You've got lovely children Tony."

"Thankyou." he replies, "Jenny why don't you take Jeremy off and play with him, I'd like to have a few words with Greg before dinner."

"O.K. Daddy, C'mon Jeremy."

I set the little boy down, smiling as he gazes longingly back at me, while obediently trailing after his sister.  At the door he raises his harmonica to his lip and I hear the single note that is able to penetrate his silent world repeated over and over as he stumbles up the stairs.

"You don't know how much I have to thank you for." Tony says.

"For what?" I say, "For being myself?  I've done nothing."

"You've given me hope." he replies gruffly, "But I won't embarrass you any more.  How did your first lesson with Jenny go?"

"Marvellously," I reply, "and for that I have to thank you.  You've given me a student who wants to learn.  At the rate she's going, I'm soon going to be out of a job."

"You don't sound too unhappy about that."

"Should I be?" I ask, "The faster she learns, the more successful I've been."

"Dianne told me about her conversation with you on Saturday, and quite frankly I didn't believe her.  You sounded too good to be true, but you welcome my son with open arms, and you've shown us a new way reach him.  In your first hour with Jenny you make successful strides towards undoing three months of mismanagement, and you're pleased when her progress puts you that much closer to returning to bacon grease sandwiches and scraped icebox soup.  I remember those times far too well, Dianne's money was the only thing that got me through, and in your position I'd be sorely tempted to do anything I could to milk even an extra month's rent out of the situation."

"Yeah well," I say uncomfortably, "graduate assistants aren't quite as badly off as they were in your day.  Besides, I don't have to worry about rent, my grandmother left me my house."

"And Jeremy?  You looked past his deformities as if you dealt with children like him all the time.  Do you?"

"Not for quite some time and never on a regular basis." I reply, "I simply find it more profitable to look first for the beauty in those I meet.  With Jeremy that was easy, he's a beautiful child, it was the very first thing I saw when you came in with him."

After that the silence stretches uncomfortably, until Dianne breezes back into the room, "Dinner will be about ten minutes." she says, then noticing the strained silence between us, she asks, "What's up."

"Uh nothing darling," Tony replies with a shake of his head, "just a little too much not-guy talk."

Dianne chuckles, saying, "He has that effect doesn't he?  Come on, I'm sure you two can find something to talk about."

With Dianne in the room we make a few desultory attempts at talking about politics and world events before giving up and just talking shop.  We barely notice when she leaves the room to finish dinner.  When Dianne calls the children down a few minutes later we find ourselves well on the way to forming a new friendship.

Acting the little hostess, Jenny seats me at the table between herself and her brother, then helps her mother bring in the food from the kitchen.  The womenfolk serve up ravioli with a spicy meat sauce, due to my unexpected inclusion at the meal table it is a little heavy on the pasta, but delicious all the same.

Tony and I continue our conversation for a couple of minutes, until a significant look from Dianne brings her husband to a halt.  It seems that I truly am included in the family as with a slightly apologetic look at me, he asks Jenny about her day, something I'm sure he wouldn't do, nor Dianne require, if I'd been a run of the mill dinner guest.

"We did painting today, but I spilt water on mine so it was wrecked. And we had to write a story, and Mr Sampson read mine to the whole class, he read out Jimmy's and Rachel's too."

"And what was this literary masterpiece about?" Dianne asks, scooping up a dribble of meat sauce from Jeremy's chin and spooning it back into his mouth.

"This girl who lives with her daddy who runs away from home because he won't let her have a horse and she meets a unicorn who can speak and make magic happen with his horn.  And they rescue a prince from some bandits.  And then he marries her and everybody lives happily ever after except for the girl's father, b'cause he has to cook his own teas."

"Do I detect a significant thread running through that story somewhere?" I ask Tony with a grin.

"Just a small hawser." he grins back, "My poor deprived offspring had to make do with a new bike and a trip to Seaworld for Christmas.  Though I am a bit disappointed she killed her mother off."

"But I had too Daddy," Jenny explains, "otherwise you wouldn't have to cook your own teas."

"A fate worse than it sounds." Tony tells me with a grin, "On the few occasions that Dianne has left me to look after the kids, we order out or they refuse to eat."

"Not to mention the expense of new cookware." Dianne puts in, "I could have literally served his last attempt at cooking with a hammer and chisel."

"What else did you do Jenny?" Tony hastily asks.

"We did compound fractions in maths and I didn't do very good." she answers, "But I can do them now, Greg showed me.  And he showed me how to multiply them b'cause he says you need to know that before you can add them up." With a dirty look at me she finishes her account on a disgusted note, "And have to learn dividing next b'cause I was rude."

"But-" Tony begins, only to be cut off by Dianne. "What?  Oh ho!"  Looking at Jenny, he smiles, "Are you in for a surprise young lady."

"Yeah he's mean." Jenny glares at me.  She then hugs my arm, "But I like him anyway."

"Let the poor man eat his dinner in peace." Dianne tells her daughter with a long suffering sigh.

"He doesn't mind." Jenny declares on my behalf, "Do you?  You can eat with your other hand."

"Jenny." Tony grates warningly.

With an impudent grin, Jenny releases my arm and turns her attention to her own plate, letting me get on with mine.  The remainder of the meal passes without event, Tony and I permitted to continue our own conversation now that Jenny has had her turn.

After the meal Dianne takes Jeremy off to get him ready for bed, while Tony invites me to have a drink with him.  As I settle myself in an armchair, Jenny squirms her way in beside me, her expression daring Tony to try dislodging her.

Wisely, he limits his response to rolling his eyes heavenward and telling me, "Dump her on the floor when you get sick of her."

"Greg won't do that." Jenny declares, pulling my arm around her shoulders and laying her head on my chest. "He's nice, not like my mean Daddy."

A few minutes into Tony telling me about a new computer system they are trialing to manage attitude control in a communications satellite they have under development, Jenny interrupts, "I can hear your heart Greg, it's going thump-thump, thump-thump."

"Here," I say handing her my watch, "you can do some science homework by taking my pulse."

"I don't know how." she complains as Tony chuckles.

"Count the thumps in fifteen seconds and multiply it by four." I tell her. "So how do you deal with a thruster that won't fire."

"It's set up to fire the working thrusters in combination without any intervention from the ground.  All the controllers on ground have to do is tell the satellite where to point, the system does the rest."

"Oooh!" Jenny grates in frustration.

"Did you hear something?" I ask Tony.

"No, I don't think so." he replies with a grin. "What we're working towards Greg, is a point and click style of interface for satellite systems.  To do this, we're designing a satellite chassis with as much autonomy as possible, it's not like rad hardened memory is a million bucks a kilobyte any more.  Nowadays the ground stations, and especially the people needed to staff them, are what costs."

"One system we have on the drawing board deals with handing over control from one ground station to the next.  Instead of the satellite relying on a signal from the ground to let it know when to do so, it uses GPS to determine where it is and which ground station it should be talking to."

"Seventy two." Jenny announces, when her father stops speaking.

"Check it again." He says.

"Already did." Jenny replies impudently. "What happens if it can't find a ground station to talk to?"

"That depends on the job the satellite is doing," he replies, "if it's something that it can keep doing on it's own, it does so, otherwise it shuts down the bits of itself that aren't needed.  Either way it keeps pinging ground stations beneath its track until one replies."

"What if there aren't *any* ground stations any more?"

"Little nihilist." Tony chuckles, "It keeps on waiting until new ground stations get built or it runs out of fuel and burns up in the atmosphere."

"Am not," she declares, "I just reckon people shouldn't be testing atom bombs any more b'cause there's too many already."

"You won't get any disagreement from me there." I say, "But hopefully nobody will be stupid enough to ever use them."

"Well why do they have to have them then?  I mean if they won't ever use them it's stupid to have them just lying around b'cause someone might set one off by accident."

"Because the men who run those countries are all trying to show off to each other what big-"

"Greg." Dianne says warningly from the doorway, as Jeremy limps across the floor to clamber awkwardly into his father's lap.

"*weapons* they have." I finish with a grin.

Dianne and Tony chuckle at the double entendre while Jenny looks back and forth with a frown, realising that she is missing something.

"Jenny," Dianne says, "it's time you had your bath and got ready for bed."

"Do I have to?" Jenny complains, pulling my arm tighter around herself.

"Yes you have to." Dianne says, "Now git."

"Another drink Greg? Dianne?" Tony asks getting up to refresh his own glass.

"I really should be going." I say.

"You can't go yet." Jenny cries, sticking her head back in through the doorway, "You've got to say goodnight to me."

"Jenny!" Dianne barks, and the small head disappears with aclarity.

Chuckling Tony says, "I think you'd better hang about, I don't think I could stand her love sick pouting."

"I heard that!" Jenny's voice rings out, followed by the pounding of her feet as she ascends the stairs.

"That bad huh?" Dianne grins at her husband.

"She looked ready to tear my eyes out and eat them if I even thought about objecting to her forcing her way into the chair with him."

"Oh well," Dianne sighs with resignation, "it'll pass, these things always do."

"I remember *one* schoolgirl crush that didn't pass." Tony says archly.

"Tony!" Dianne chides him blushingly, "I was sixteen, besides it wasn't a crush."

"No it was true love," he teases, "just like the ailment afflicting Jenny right now." To me he says, "Dianne fell in L O V E with her maths tutor too."

"Hah!" Dianne scoffs, "You were a lousy tutor.  Dad only kept you around because he could never deny his little girl anything."

"Yes you were a bit of a spoiled brat, I don't know why I put up with you."

"Really?" Dianne asks in a way that makes Tony stutter with embarrassment.

"Ah- let's not go into that." he mumbles, "Another drink Greg?  What about you Hon?"

"Just the Coke thanks," I reply, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, "I have to drive."

"I'll have whisky and ice Darling." Dianne replies in a voice dripping with honey, "As for that spoiled brat crack, I'll give you spoiled brat tonight."

Holding his hands up in a mock warding gesture, Tony steers the conversation back onto the safer subject of experimental satellite design.  After a few more arch digs at her husband Dianne subsides, watching with rapt fascination the animation her son shows at the sound of my voice.

Clutching his precious harmonica, Jeremy climbs down from his fathers lap and hobbles across to me, holding his arms out for me to lift him into my lap.  Wriggling a little, he settles himself so that he can look up into my face, his eyes locked on my lips as I speak.

Some fifteen minutes later, Jenny announces that she has finished her bath with a loud thud in the foyer outside.

"Jenny," Tony says loudly as she bursts into the room, "what have I told you about sliding down the banister?"

"Don't let you catch me doing it." she replies impudently, "But you didn't catch me, I might have jumped down the last few steps just to wind you up."

"You might have," he concedes, "but I know you didn't." Of me, he asks helplessly, "What do I do, she's impossible."

"A small nail halfway down might do the trick." I grin, pretending to peer around her body at her behind.  Something that wouldn't be all that hard to manage, given the barely adequate nature of her nightwear.

Dressed for bed, Jenny is wearing a somewhat faded nightshirt with a picture of Taz on the front.  Obviously bought for her some time ago, it comes within a bare two inches of indecency.

"Good idea." Tony says, grinning at his suddenly self-conscious daughter, "An extra crease in your bum might remind you that I'm still boss around here."

"Only when Mum lets you." Jenny replies unabashed.

"Don't be cheeky." Dianne says, grinning, "Even if you are right."

"They want to put holes in mine." Jenny pouts, pushing her bottom out and tapping it lightly with the hairbrush in her hand.

"You'd better put that hairbrush to it's proper use or I'll show you how to do that properly." Tony warns with a chuckle.

Ooh I'm real scared." Jenny responds, sounding anything but.  Coming over to me, she gently moves Jeremy to make room for herself between my knees and asks, "Will you do my hair please Greg?"

"Jenny!" both her parents cry, even as I say:

"I'd be happy to." To her parents I add, "Don't worry, It's something I enjoy doing."

Taking the brush from Jenny, I slowly work the tangles from her luxuriant cascade of jet black hair until I can draw the brush unimpeded through its full length.  With Jenny murmuring her approval, I continue brushing as we talk until her raven locks crackle with electricity.  Then separating the dark, silken strands into six, I finish it off with a simple herringbone braid, fastening it with the hair elastic Dianne had been using to hold her pony tail.

Seizing the braid from my grip, Jenny inspects it, going cross-eyed in her attempt to count the strands.  Finally she asks, "How many?"

"Six," I reply, "it's all I can do without another pair of hands, or lots of little rubber bands,"

"How many can you do then?" she asks.

"How long is a piece of string?" I ask her.

"Huh?" she grunts, confused by my answer.

"How many would you like?  I can do you a beaver tail if you have an hour or so to spare."

"Not tonight she doesn't." Dianne puts in before Jenny can open her mouth, "Where'd you learn to do hair like that?"

"Well half of it came about when I was trying to make a whip, and the other half was my big sister who insisted I do her hair when she saw me going for a record with twenty pieces of string.  Since she's six years older and has a viscous right hook, I learnt hairdressing, Though I can't cut hair to save my life."

"Twenty?" Jenny twists around to look at me incredulously.

"Twenty or a hundred, it's all pretty much the same." I reply easily, "The only difference is that the with a lot of strands it's pretty easy to tangle things up."

"Have you ever done a hundred?" Jenny asks me.

"No," I admit, "twenty's the most I've ever done."

"Well how do you know you can do a hundred then?" she asks, her tone challengingly sceptical.

Because the patterns the same no matter how many you do."

"Oh." she says briefly deflated, "What's a 'beaver tail' anyway?"

"it's the bit that keeps the water out of his bum." I answer without thinking.  Then recalling the tender years of my audience, and more importantly the presence of her parents, my ears burn as I stammer out my apology. "Uh, sorry Dianne, Tony, it slipped out."

"It's O.K.," Tony reassures me with a chuckle, while Dianne unsuccessfully tries to keep the corner of her mouth from twitching as she attempts to direct a withering glare at her husband, her madly giggling daughter and myself, "I don't think I could have resisted a straight line like that either.  Besides you should hear some of the ones she and her friends come up with when she doesn't think we are listening.  Right Luv?"

Giving up, Dianne chortles at her daughter's suddenly discomfited look. "That's right.  What was that one about Cherry Lane, Jen?."

I have no trouble recognising the joke she was referring to, having heard it myself for the first time when I was about Jenny's age, but even if I hadn't, the look on her face would have given away its decidedly unclean nature.  I join her parent's unrestrained laughter as Jenny first goes white with shock and then so violently red that the thin white fabric of her nightshirt visibly darkens as the crimson flush spreads beneath it.

"You're all mean!" Jenny declares with a scowl all round, once she is finally able to find her voice.  The only result of her heated allegation is to draw another round of laughter from us, this time joined by joyful gurgles as Jeremy, all unknowing joins in our mirth.

"Et tu Brutus." Jenny says with a quirky smile.  Unable to be mad at her little brother, especially for something he has no way of understanding, she gives up on being mad at the rest of us too.

Somewhat surprised at her quote, "I raise my eyebrows and look towards Dianne, "Shakespeare?"

"Since she was three." Dianne replies, "We were staying in a guest house up in the Southern Highlands and she insisted on a bed time story, but when I got out her books to choose from she pushed it away and said, 'I don't like them.  I want a growed up story.'  In the end, I said 'fine' and started to read Macbeth to her thinking that she would quickly become bored with it."

"Ha," Tony puts in, "She lapped it up, and came back for more, the second night I got dragooned into it, because as Jenny put it, 'Mummy can't do the growly voices proper.' and by the end of the trip all three of us were reading the different parts."

He chuckles at my incredulous look, "That's right, Jenny learnt to read from a Shakespeare play.  It surprised the hell out of us too.  We'd tried on a few earlier occasions to get her interested in reading by pointing out the words as we said them, but she showed absolutely no interest so we didn't try to push her."

"However after a couple of days of reading Macbeth to her, she caught on that we were skipping the stage directions.  She insisted on knowing what they said too, and to make sure that we didn't hold out on her, she pointed out each and every word from then on.  The story suffered a bit, but by the end of the evening she was picking out several of the easier words on her own and by the end of our stay, she was the main attraction."

"You should have seen the look on the waiter's face, when he asked me what she would like for dinner." Dianne puts in, "She grabbed his sleeve and gave it a tug, saying, 'I can do it myself.' Holding up the menu, which was very nearly as big as she was, she copied the way Tony had ordered, and said in the most serious of tones, 'For 'tarters I will have the tomato soup, but I want the b'ead all cut up in little bits and put in it.  Then I want the chicken - what's that word Mummy - kiev, but I don't want any salad just the chips, and for desert I'll have ice cream with lots of hundreds and thousands.'"

"He obviously thought it as a put up job, but he very nicely complimented her on her reading ability anyway and gravely took down her order.  When he returned with the soup though, it was a whole different story.  He very nearly had to fight his way through the crowd that surrounded our table.  Knowing that there would be a wait before our meals would be served, we'd brought the book along to keep her amused, not thinking about the sort attention it would attract."

"The first we knew of his return, was the crash as three bowls of soup hit the floor, and the startled oath that followed.  Jenny was just reading out 'Is this a dagger I see before me.' when it happened, and we all looks up to see this poor man standing there with a mixture of tomato, and mushroom soups dripping down his front, complete with small squares of bread stuck to his white shirt front.  'Hey that's my soup.' she yelled at him."

"The poor fellow was mortified, and when the owner, who was also the chef, came out to see what all the fuss was about he looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.  The chef who was a very determined lady, chased him out of the room and called in someone to clean up the mess.  Then as the other guests started to pester Jenny to read some more, she chased them back to their seats and laid down the law.  No one was to ask her to read anything, if she wanted to read she would read but it was to be her choice, and they weren't to crowd her."

"Right in the middle of this, Jenny piped up, 'Who are you?' and when the woman told her that she was the chef. they then proceeded to have an argument about proper chefs having to wear their hats.  In the end she served us herself wearing a 'proper' chefs hat cobbled together out of butcher's paper.  The next morning, Jenny found her very own newspaper waiting for her at breakfast."

"So you think you're pretty smart?" I ask the smug looking little girl perched between my knees.

"Uh-huh." she nods, grinning hugely.

"Well we'll see about that on Wednesday." I grin back.

Still grinning, she complains, "Did'ja have to remind me?"

"No," I reply loftily, "but I wanted to."

"Oooh!" she growls, and thumps my chest.

"You know," I remark conversationally, "that wasn't a very smart thing to do."

"Why not?"

"Because I can do this." I say, lifting my legs to cross them over her lap and poking her in the sides.

"NO!" she shrieks, struggling to pull my legs apart so she can escape.

"No what?" I tease, delivering another pair of jabs to her unprotected sides.

"Please don't." she begs, "I'm ticklish."

"You don't say." three more jabs.  This time a little harder to deliver as she pulls her arms into her sides. "Are you sure about that?" Four more.

No please!." she cries, giggling and wriggling like mad.

"What?" I ask with mock surprise, "You're not ticklish?" Bypassing her arms, I go straight for the stomach, making her double over and yell with laughter.

"Yes!." she gasps, then as I come at her ribs from behind, "I mean no."

"Yes?  No?  What is it?" I inquire mildly while punctuating my words with more jabs to her ribs and sides.

"Oh please stop." she pleads, almost impossible to understand through her giggles.

"Stop what?" I ask.

"STOP TICKLING ME!" she yells.

"There's no need to yell." I say in hurt tones, as I suddenly release her. "All you had to do was ask."

Bereft of support, she slides bonelessly from the chair, landing with a soft thump on the floor between my feet.  As she falls her nightshirt gets caught up on the front of the cushion and my legs, rucking the garment up under her arms and leaving her with nothing but her thin white knickers to cover her from just below her nipples down.  As she rolls away from me, intent on escape, it becomes apparent that these too did not escape the effects of her precipitous descent.

For the second time in two days, I'm treated to the sight of Jenny's milky white buttocks, this time with the seat of her undies pulled up between them in a full fledged wedgie.  Then as she rolls over to glare at me, I'm pleased to note that the gusset of these knickers isn't lined and the outline of her sweet young pussy is clearly visible through the taught fabric.

So intent is she on letting me know just how badly I've blotted my copybook, that it is not until her mother tells her, "Jenny!  Straighten your clothes." that she realises the extent of her dishabille.

With a crimson flush rising to cover her  face, she lets out a little shriek of embarrassment, and unintentionally prolongs her display by first casting about with her eyes, looking for somewhere to hide.  Then as she realises what she is doing she squeaks "Oh God!" and in her flustered state, the first thing she thinks to straighten is the undies uncomfortably stuffing her bum crack.

As she pulls the rucked up fabric from between her buttocks I'm treated to a brief glimpse of a smooth hairless lip and the pale, pink flesh lining her prepubescent vulva.  As she finishes her eyes meet mine and her flush deepens.  With a despairing, "Oh no." she quickly tugs the hem of her nightshirt down, stretching the fabric until it almost meets her knees.

Once she is decently covered, I apologise, "Sorry about that Jen."

"Humph!" she responds, as she pointedly turns her back on me and her laughing father to select a book from the bookcase.

"Don't worry about it." Dianne replies with a chuckle, "She started it and you finished it, though half tearing her clothes off was taking it a little too far."

Now it is my turn to flush crimson as I stammer out, "I'm sorry, that was an accident."

Chuckling again, she tells me, "Forget it, I was only teasing you." Turning to Tony she asks, "My point, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indubitably, I couldn't agree more." he says in imitation of the Loony Toons chipmunks while grinning at me.

"Hey I didn't know we were keeping score." I protest.

"Well now you do." Dianne grins at me.

"If I weren't a gentleman," I say, "I'd have to make a point about the attire in which it is customary to greets prospective employees."

"But you're not." Dianne smiles, unfazed. "By your own admission: A true gentleman would not walk into a young ladies chamber unannounced."

"Two - love," Tony says, "If I were you I'd stop digging before you get yourself in any deeper."

A giggle from the bookshelves indicates that while she may not be talking to me, Jenny is still listening.  "Watch it kid," I warn, "or I'll tell your mum why she had an extra pair of hands in the garden on Saturday."

"What's this?" Tony asks, his interest piqued.

"Nothing dear." Dianne tells him, "The girls decided to tease Greg with a fashion show, and he dealt with it.  No Greg," she continues seeing the querying look in my eyes, "I didn't give her the third degree, she 'fessed up herself and told me everything, and I think you dealt with it admirably."

"Thankyou." I respond.  Then of Jenny I ask, "So why did you ask me to keep it quiet Jenny?"

"B'cause I wanted to see if I could trust you of course stupid." She replies with an edge to her voice, then turns back to the bookcase.

"Damn," I mutter in a voice intended to be heard across the room, "I lose more girlfriends that way."

The tips of Jenny's ears turn bright pink as I say this, and her parents chuckle. "Your point." Tony tells me.

An unintelligible mutter comes from Jenny as she grabs a copy of MAD from the shelf and throws herself face down on the floor in front of us, her back pointedly toward both Tony and myself.  At first her bottom remains covered by her nightshirt but as she repeatedly rises to turn the pages, the hem begins to creep upwards until the bottom of her knickers comes into view. 

As Dianne, Tony and I talk she continues to move and within a very few minutes almost all of her tightly encased behind is on unconscious display.  As neither of her parents comment, I take the opportunity to steal quick glances at her squirming bottom as I turn from one to the other.

Finally though the temptation becomes too much for me and I say, "Jenny, I'm not sure that we really need to see what you had for breakfast."

At first she looks up at me in confusion while her father roars with laughter and Dianne fights to look properly scandalised, then as she realises what I mean, she mutters a clearly audible "Oh Shit!" and tugs her recalcitrant hem back into place over her partially exposed rear.

"Sorry mum, it slipped out." she apologises, red faced.

"So we saw." Dianne says, giving up on her attempt to appear outraged. "That's a disgusting expression Greg." she giggles.

"It's a beauty isn't it?" I respond with a grin.

"Depends on what you're talking about," Tony says, "because if you mean my daughter's backside, I'd have to kill you."

"Nah it's too flabby for my tastes." I say casually, pretending to flinch as Jenny rolls over to glare at me.

"Flabby?" she shrieks indignantly, "Flabby?" Scrambling to her feet she presents me with her back and bends over.  "You call this flabby?" she asks looking back over her shoulder as she slaps her protruding buttocks with both hands.

Even through the twin layers of cloth, the outline of her tightly encased buttocks is clearly visible, while beneath them only a single layer of fabric stands between my eyes and the puffy mound of her juvenile labia.  Critically examining the out thrust fundament before me, I say, "No I call it a target." I pick up the hairbrush from where I'd set it down and brandish it menacingly, "And if you don't put it away, we'll see just how firm your bum really is."

"Ha you don't scare me." she declares, skipping out of range just in case, "Daddy wouldn't let you.  Would you Daddy?"

"No honey I won't let him." Tony promises.

"See." she says smugly, showing me her tongue and waggling her admittedly cute tail at me.

"But I might let him watch me do it." Tony continues with a growl.

With a sudden squeak Jenny jerks upright and skips backwards out of range of both me and her father.  Grinning, she turns and briefly flips up the back of her nightshirt and bends over to wiggle her bottom twice before bolting from the room, her giggles fading as she pounds up the stairs.

"I get no respect." Tony mutters while directing a glare at his chortling wife.

"Yes dear." Dianne murmurs submissively, straightening her back and schooling her features into something resembling proper wifely respect. (For the eighteen nineties) "What would my lord and master have me do?"

Lifting Jeremy around to sit astride my knees facing me, I smile saying, "Game, set, and match to the womenfolk, don't you think?"

Chortling, he lifts the harmonica to his lips and blows a single short blast, almost as if he were agreeing with me.

"Quite right," I nod solemnly, "sometimes I wonder why we put up with them."

He answers with four short blasts on the harmonica, grouped two and two.

"Yes," I say, as if agreeing with something he'd said, and continue with an arch look over his head at Dianne, "there is that."

Two more notes, slightly longer this time.

"Oh, and of course that." I respond, "But aren't you a little too young for that yet?"

Giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl, Dianne breaks into my one sided conversation, "Enough, I concede the point.  Now if you've quite finished corrupting my son, I think it's time he went to bed."

"Aw, and just as we were getting to the juicy bits too." I complain to Jeremy with a grin.  I cock my head as he blows another couple of blasts on the harmonica. "Really?" I look wide eyed at Dianne as she approaches. "Shocking, just shocking." I murmur, shaking my head and tutting loudly.

Red faced, Dianne lifts Jeremy from my lap, pausing to allow him to deliver a sloppy kiss goodnight and to unwrap his arms from about my neck.  Chuckling Tony allows himself to be hugged, kissed, and regaled with a one note tune.  Then with a shocked glance at Dianne he says, "The gardener, AND the postman?  At the same time?"

Flushing a brilliant scarlet, Dianne turns from her husband with Jeremy on one hip.  Then as her eyes pass over me, a wicked grin spreads across her face, and she says, "Damn found out, and just when I was thinking of adding another tutor to my collection too." Grinning at our red faces she asks, "Want to play some more boys?"

"Uh, no." Tony stammers.

"Uh, I really should be going." I say, "Thankyou for a delightful evening."

"Spoilsport." Dianne says with a grin. "O.K. We'll see you on Wednesday."

"I'll see you out." says Tony rising from his chair.

Gathering my things from the floor, I follow Tony into the foyer, just as Dianne reaches the top of the stairs and sings out, "Greg's going now Jenny."

"No wait." I hear Jenny yelp, "I gotta say goodbye first."

Seconds later Jenny pelts into view on the landing and bounds down the stairs. Five steps from the bottom, she takes a flying leap, almost knocking me over as she crashes into me, her legs locking about my waist and her arms about my neck.  "You were going to go without saying goodbye." she accuses me.

"I thought you didn't like me any more." I reply, dropping my bag so that I can slip my hands beneath her buttocks and take some of the load off my neck.

"I don't," she tells me, "but you can still be my boyfriend if you like." making both of her parents chuckle at this example of juvenile illogic.

"Well in that case, I'd better apologise for teasing you." I say with a grin.

"Yes you should." she tells me.  Then after a few seconds, she prompts me impatiently, "Well hurry up, I'm waiting."

Letting go of her bottom, I reach up and grasp her wrists.  Pulling her arms from about my neck, I lower her to the floor and drop to one knee before her.  Taking one small hand in both of mine, I look beseechingly into her eyes. "O sweet, fair maiden," I say, "I most humbly beg that you can find it in your heart bestow on this pitiful creature, who is your most unworthy servant, a single kind word of forgiveness."

"I'll think about it." she says snatching her hand away, and assuming a pose with one hand cupping her elbow and the other her chin, her index finger tapping slowly on her cheek.  Then as Tony chuckles: "Shut up Daddy, I'm thinking."

As she thinks, I remain on bended knee, allowing my shoulders to droop in a show of abject dejection.  Until, after an appropriately dramatic pause, Jenny says, "O.K. get up, I forgive you."

Groaning theatrically, I press a hand to the small of my back as I lever myself upright.  Then brace myself as Jenny leaps up to wrap her legs about my waist once more.  Hanging from one arm about my neck, she leans back to repeatedly tap her finger on my nose. "Now let that be a lesson to you young man." she tells me sententiously.

"Yes dear." I say in my most submissive tones.

"He's silly." Jenny giggles, turning to look up the stairs at her smiling mother, "Can I keep him?"

"Hey don't I get a say in this?" I protest, though not too strenuously.

"Of course not male." Dianne tells me contemptuously. "Jenny, you'll have to train your man better than that if you want to let him in the house."

"Oh goody!" Jenny cries joyfully, "That means I can keep you." Grabbing my ears, she plants a loud smacking kiss on my lips.  Then before her parents can protest, she says, "That's for Jeremy."

Slipping her arms about my neck she hugs me tightly, and whispers in my ear, "And me too.  And I don't mind if you see my undies either."

Blushing and giggling, she slips from my arms, deliberately (I'm sure) allowing het nightshirt to be pulled up to expose her white cotton knickers.

"O.K. 'bye folks." I say as Jenny tugs her hem back into place. "See you Wednesday."

"'Bye Greg." Tony says, "And thanks again for Jeremy."

"'Goodbye Greg." Dianne calls, "And thanks."

Blowing his harmonica, Jeremy waves wildly, his crabbed hand nearly clipping his mother's ear as she ducks.

In deference to Dianne's continued good looks, I hastily grab my bag and with a final wave slip through the door and down the path.  As I turn to close the gate, I glance up towards the front door.  Jenny stands, silhouetted in the twilight, by the light streaming through the open doorway her arm upraised.  As I wave back, I hear a startled squeak as she disappears abruptly and the door swings shut.

Smiling to myself, I throw my bag into my car and slide behind the wheel.