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TheDance_1.txt

Meeting Simone at Her School Dance - Part 1 of 4 (TheDance_#.txt)

(Formerly:  Meeting my future preteen wife at a private elementary &
middle school dance)

Mg MF MFg Fg
Cons, Rom, Pett, Pedo, Oral, Anal, Piv, 1st, Inc

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What was your favorite school dance like?  Was it unforgettable?  Do
you remember it with tender affection, a reminiscence that's carved
into your brain and will stay with you for the rest of your life?
Consider a thirty something man going to a dance held at a private
school where he meets someone that he couldn't forget if he tried, a
preteen that stole his heart and eagerly relinquished the most precious
gift she could give him in return.

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There's nothing I truly detest more than being forced into doing
something and made to feel as if I should be GLAD I was volunteered for
the job.  In spite of my inability to decide for myself if it might be
something I would enjoy, it still irks me to no end, ESPECIALLY if I
had other plans.

My nephew had been doing this to me so often in the past, I was ready
to strangle the prick when I was told by my sister that my Friday
afternoon, evening and night had already been planned FOR me.  Oh, and
by the way, she called on Thursday just before noon, the day before the
glorious event was supposed to take place.

I was spitting 16 penny nails when I hung up the phone!  I'm surprised
I didn't break any of my own teeth, my jaws were clenched so tight.

My sister, Carla, knew exactly which words to use on me, an almost
practiced whimpering rhythm to her speech when she informed me that I
was supposed to provide my electrical, mechanical, musical and
logistics skills for an event that my NEPHEW had signed up for.  She
knew I had little resistance to her genuine requests for my help, but
made it a habit of getting me to do things for her and her only son
without checking with me first.  I love my younger sister dearly and do
everything possible to make her life easier, in spite of her continued
predilection for taking advantage of me.

The fact that a majority of my own audio, musical and lighting
equipment, digital controller and sequencer, public address system with
wireless microphone, patch cables and many power extension cords had to
be trudged from my private recording studio on the third floor of my
house, BY MYSELF, all the way to where he was going to do his 'gig' was
additional salt in my recently reopened wounds.

When I got to the school auditorium, my nephew had the good sense to
have three other guys there to help unload and set up my stuff, his
knowledge of how everything went together making me somewhat less
determined to pound his spoiled little head into the ground below his
expensive name-brand shoes.  He knew just what to do and what words to
say to defuse the situation, his 'army' there to protect him from my
wrath when he might have said the wrong thing at the right time.

The only GOOD thing was my impending move out of state in about a year,
a long deserved change of venue soon to prevent my callous young nephew
from taking advantage of my good nature and expensive electronic
equipment for very much longer.

Being a student at a local private and VERY exclusive school where my
sister teaches had tremendous benefits for my handsome young nephew,
his future all too certain so long as he continued to barely skate his
way through school.  His institute of learning was one of those
fashionable and VERY expensive ones where all the children wore the
same uniform, had every modern amenity conceivable, had access to full
music and dance curriculums, swimming, painting, computer training and
liberal arts electives to broaden their horizons, and lots of impromptu
activities to keep them out of trouble and hopefully focused on making
them smarter and better citizens.

RIGHT!

This evening's event was yet ANOTHER example of just how far the school
would go to keep the children entertained if they achieved a certain
level of academic success.  It was the last dance before school was
about to end for the summer break, a way to let them blow off some
steam before they had to knuckle down and study for one more week so
they could do well on their final exams.  Funny, 'I' never remember
being rewarded BEFORE I took my tests.

Carla left all the musical arrangements to her son, Martin, never
saying anything more than a simple 'Thanks big brother!'  and giving me
a gentle and genuine kiss on the cheek once her son was busying himself
with the pre-dance activities.

My skills and knowledge were only required three times, Martin and his
friends smart enough to get everything set up without my constant
suggestions until they ran into some obscure problem that stumped them.
By seven that evening, I was sitting down to a greasy hamburger and
cold fries, my reward for providing all the equipment for THEIR venue.

Promptly at eight, the doors swung open and about seventy children
ranging in age from four to fourteen burst through the wide portal,
screaming at the top of their lungs.  It looked as if they were trying
to get OUT of school, not into the main auditorium to hear my nephew DJ
a whole list of their favorite songs.

Having spent the better part of my adult life collecting all SORTS of
music, I genuinely enjoyed everything Martin cued up and then blasted
across the room at me and a few of the other attending adults, most of
the other people there over eighteen that were foolish enough to remain
in the auditorium being the parents of many of the children in
attendance.

What I hadn't anticipated was the constant visual display of long legs
under short dresses or skirts and quite a few eyefuls of growing bosoms
if one of the pretty young ladies grew careless enough, bent forward
and permitted a quick peek down inside her top.  This dance was a
completely uniform-free event, all the children permitted to wear any
of their normal clothes so long as it looked decent.  Apparently, the
word 'decent' had a MUCH different meaning to those precious little
minxes than it did to an old fart like me.

There were a few older girls that pushed the limits of decency,
extremely short miniskirts and VERY lowcut blouses making more than
just the BOYS take long looks.  I actually caught myself staring at a
GORGEOUS younger teenaged babe, her hair fixed to perfection, her eyes
and face painted incredibly skillfully, her growing titties jiggling
with the right amount of heft, and legs that went from the floor all
the way to Heaven and made a perfect ass of themselves.  It was almost
too much to bear.

It was enough to make ANY of the males' hearts beat quite a bit faster,
no matter their age.  I even saw a number of the fathers take long hard
looks at a few of those cuties, the real show-off the primary focus for
most of our interest.  My woody was saluting to her for about five
minutes, my brain finally kicking in and purging any of the wasted
hormones in my bloodstream once I realized how many years in jail a few
minutes with her would get me.

The fact that she was but ONE of about a dozen angels strutting her
stuff for all the boys and men to admire made my constant gazes into
the maddening crowd tempting me to do more than just watch.  The idea
was quickly suppressed when a gaggle of six to eight year olds streamed
past in front of me, breaking whatever thought process I had about
trying to coax the older girl into the darkness of the hallway around
the back of the stage.

It didn't take very long before my nephew Martin had a whole collection
of preteen 'groupies' along the front of the stage strutting their
stuff, dancing erotically and making lots of suggestive or lewd
gestures with their hips and bums.  I even saw a few younger girls
around nine or ten carefully lifting the bottom hem of their skirts at
the appropriate moment so my lucky nephew could get an eyeful of
something soft and smooth underneath.

Like the cool dude he was, he never once let the girls see him take
notice of how much he got to observe under their outfits.  If it had
been ME at his age, I would have openly stared and made some visual
gesture with my eyes to make certain they knew I was appreciating what
they showed off.

As the dance wore on, more and more panty shots were freely offered to
my twerp of a young nephew, each show disguised within a series of
dance steps or timed to coincide with an array of strobelight blasts.
The lucky prick probably got to see more little girl panties that night
than I had if I went walking through the local department store on the
weekend.

There was this one slender angel wearing what looked like an exercise
leotard and tights under a traditional pleated skirt, the smooth
elegance of her outfit giving her the appearance of being topless and
naked under her skirt when the lights hit her just right.  When she
began to do a routine on stage in front of the other students, I had to
make my way around the tight crowd so I could see what she was up to.

It was fortunate she had on tights and her leotard, because her short
skirt did NOTHING to hide any of the features under her pleated outfit.
I could clearly see her almost bulbous mound where her cunny was
developing, and after she did two or three splits, a long tight crease
in her leotard after she let her skirt flip.  I had to genuinely rub my
cock a few times to enjoy the mental sensation of a young woman 'of
age' riding my hips.  It looked as if she was auditioning for some
serious pole dancing work at a local strip club.

It had been so long since I had enjoyed the pleasures of a woman that
being at this dance was beginning to wear me down, my interest in
pretty young things taking a dangerous turn if I should allow my mind
to slip.  Each time I saw down inside a little girl's blouse and snuck
a quick peek of a pair of developing titties or a pair of firm nipples,
I had to remind myself that these were nothing more than babies,
somebody else's little girls just enjoying some supposedly 'innocent'
fun at a school dance.

Sure, they LOOKED like vixens and might have acted like they knew what
kind of effect they were having on all the males there, but deep down,
they were nothing more than innocent little girls imitating what they
saw someone ELSE do on their TV at home.

It took quite a bit of mental adroitness to confirm that these precious
angels were little more than copying what they might have seen a much
more worldly and less innocent girl do in front of Hollywood types, my
mind trying to deal with what might happen to them in the process if
they were successful.

That seemed to work for a while, until I saw a young teenaged boy's
hand up under one girl's short skirt, fondling her ass while they
danced to a slow song.  My first inclination was to intervene
immediately, coming to the aide of a poor helpless ten or eleven year
old little girl-child, being sexually assaulted and abused thoroughly.

That notion was quickly suppressed when I saw the girl reach under her
skirt and pull her panties down slightly so the boy could push his
fingers inside, the softness of her naked ass generously granted and
fondled as a gesture of preteen lust and sexual curiosity.  She knew
perfectly well what that lucky young boy was up to, and had no
illusions of where his hand was headed and why he was rummaging around
under her skirt.

It looked both cute and horribly immoral for a young couple to be
involved in such an open display of sexual emotions, both of the
partners smiling as they gently swayed to the loud music and dazzling
lights, his digits disappearing further and deeper inside her tight
white panties.  I actually began to envy the young lad, his hand
working quite diligently around inside the girl's underpants, his
fingers able to dip between her cheeks and her thighs coming apart
immediately after.

She began to dance with her legs unusually further apart than they
normally would have been, her need to allow his hand enough room so he
could work his fingers further between her aching thighs.  It didn't
make her dance moves any easier, but it certainly made HIS moves more
pleasant.

I almost got as hard as stone when I saw her ass stick out and her
knees remain apart when his hand went all the way inside her underwear.
For the briefest of moments, I knew what he had been able to achieve,
the tips of his fingers dipping just far enough underneath her body to
come into contact with his prize, her hot, wet, tender, hairless and
aching vagina.  She flinched for a moment and then seemed to melt into
his grip, the ends of his digits instantly flooded with her growing
arousal.

I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw her hips twitch twice, the
talented young rascal quite adept at tactile stimulation, his female
partner surrendering to his skills and slowly bucking into his
adventuresome journey.  It was plainly apparent that he had more than
her virginal orifice under his control.  He had actually been able to
insinuate the tips of his talented fingers completely between her tight
slit and was working her nubbin furiously.

Skilled little devil!

He wrestled her completely into submission and had initiated a
wonderful hip busting cum by the time she had a tight grasp around his
neck, her knees ready to give way at any moment.  It was only when the
fullness of her first public orgasm had passed that she realized just
how far along they both were.  She was about to reconsider just how
much more to grant this gifted fellow when he found her weak spot all
over again.

For the next fifteen minutes, he found each and every one of her
incredibly sensitive spots, none of her sexual anatomy left unexplored
or untouched.  By the look on her face, she was quite pleased at being
the object of his interests, her eyelids half closed and her lips
quivering from erotic frenzy.  I didn't feel the slightest
uncomfortable about how good she felt and how completely he'd fondled
her, both of them nervous but highly satisfied.  Instead of letting her
rest for a few minutes, the boy just kept pushing his good fortune,
taking far too many chances in the jumble of young bodies.

His luck changed when one of his rivals saw what he was doing and
informed one of the OTHER adults attending the festivities, the couple
immediately separated and his future activities closely monitored.  The
only slightly satisfied lass was more angry than upset, her next sweet
cum cut off before she could enjoy it.  The boy, on the other hand,
looked horribly ashamed . . . at getting caught.  Poor kid!  I almost
felt as bad as HE did.

I would have left them alone, remembering fleeting moments of my OWN
youth when I had a brief opportunity at a soft squeeze of tender flesh.
He most likely wouldn't have been able to do much more than get a nice
handful, so what damage might he have caused if the young girl enjoyed
being gently touched and played with?

The activities around me didn't seem that different from when 'I' was
in school, except for the fact that what THESE youth were doing wasn't
experienced by me and my friends until we were about five or six years
older.  I tried to let it go as the changing mood of society and the
permissive nature of parents today.

Each time I saw up under a short skirt or down inside a girl's blouse,
I changed my venue and accepted what I saw as nothing more than a naive
gift offered by the darling angel wearing provocative clothes.  It was
almost too much for an older guy to take!

Relocating my butt to the second row of a long string of chairs next to
the stage, I sat back and watched as all the tiny bodies milled about
and gyrated wildly.  In less than two minutes, I had my own silent
partner, a little girl about ten or eleven that seemed to need someone
to talk to, or at the very least, sit near.  But instead of sitting on
the front row that faced the large gathering of sexy little girls and
horny boys, she chose to sit on the second row next to me.

She didn't say anything at first, choosing to sit quietly close to, but
not next to me.  When she got up twice and sat back down, each time one
chair closer, I knew what was up.  She was trying her best to work up
enough courage to say 'Hi' to someone she thought might be nice enough
to talk to.

Every time she tried to turn and face me, she'd chicken out and lower
her face, her fear so intense she couldn't even offer an innocent
greeting.  That's when I decided to make her evening.

"Do you like the music that's playing?"

"YEAH!"

I got the distinct impression she was expecting me to ask her to dance.

"Why aren't you dancing with one of your boyfriends?"

"I don't have one."

"I guess you have too many to pick from, huh?"

"NOOOO!  I mean, I don't even have ONE."

"You DON'T?  A pretty girl like you?  I'd have thought that at least
five or six guys might want to dance with you or maybe even hold hands.
If 'I' was your age, that's what I'd want to do."

She was so enthusiastic about my kind words that she shifted all the
way next to me, her skirt tugged under the back of her thighs far
enough that I got a brief peek at something soft and white underneath.
If she wanted to have a brief thrill with an old man that couldn't do
anything to her anyway, why not indulge her?

"What's your name, Sugar?  Mine's Randy."

"Jessica."

"It's nice to meet you, Jessica."

"You too, Randy."

"Now Jessica, you're gonna have to tell me why such a foxy little
hottie like you isn't out there on the dance floor with one of these
lucky guys?"

All she could do was shrug her shoulders and look at her hands in her
lap, nothing about her incredibly short skirt showing a LOT more of her
thighs than I should have been entitled to giving her cause for
concern.

"Don't you WANT to dance?"

She immediately looked up at me with a broad smile and told me
wordlessly that I should be the next guy on the list to ask.

"Angel, I guess I'll never understand boys, even though I was one many
many years ago.  I was also just as silly and shy as some of these guys
are for a while, afraid to sit next to a pretty little angel and maybe
even hold her hand.  But back then, if we held a girl's hand, we were
practically married and had a dozen babies on the way."

Her chuckle was a welcome sound.  Oddly, so was the sensation of her
right thigh pressing hard against my left and her right hand tucked
under my arm.  It wasn't so bad that she wanted me to hold her hand, as
it was WHERE she let her hand stop moving, right over my aching cock!
She HAD to know where her hand was and what was directly underneath,
because she even pressed down slightly to confirm that I was as excited
as she was.  For a cute preteen, this little angel was working on her
horns and about to invite me into Hell.

I felt more uneasy at that moment than when I blew through a radar
speed trap at eighty three miles an hour two years before.  Thankfully,
THAT incident was overlooked and full justice not brought to bear on my
careless ass.

This time, however, I wasn't about to push the chance that her parents
or one of the school staff would see what we were up to, my butt tossed
into jail so damn fast, it would take a week for my feet to catch up.
But because we were behind a long row of tall auditorium chairs, most
of our bodies up to our chests were hidden from view.

Still, to dissuade her from being so bold, I reached for, captured and
then gently held her right hand for a few seconds and then lay her soft
appendage down on her right thigh with my hand gently cupping hers.  In
doing so, my fingers were able to sample from her silken softness, her
tender leg aching to be commanded and her panties most likely dripping
with excitement.

Instead of frightening her, she spread her thighs apart and pushed
against my left thigh again, telling me that she wanted me to take a
larger and more complete sample of her tender beauty.  She eliminated
all doubt moments later, urging me to bring my face closer to hers so
we could carry on a quiet conversation.

"Randy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh, Angel.  I think you're INCREDIBLY pretty.  Far too pretty to hang
around with an old pervert like me."

It was the wrong thing to tell her, because in an even softer voice,
she offered me something that I had no right to accept.

"If you want to, you can touch my leg some more.  Nobody can see."

I pulled back slightly and looked right into her eyes, both amazed and
horrified that a sexy little preteen would be so bold.

"Do you think that's such a good idea, Jessica?  I'm quite a bit older
than you are and I'm sure at least ONE of these boys has a better
chance of making you feel good than I do."

"I don't mind, Randy.  If they wanted to be with me, they would have
asked me to dance already.  Since nobody will dance with me, at least
you and me could have some fun for a little while, okay?"

"What kind of fun would you like to have?"

She looked me dead in the eyes and stared as she answered.

"Can I touch your thing again?  It was nice and hard and I've never
felt one that big before.  You can touch me as much as you want to at
the same time 'cause nobody can see."

Now 'I' was blushing.

"So, if I wanted to slip my hand between your soft thighs and give you
some nice tingles, you wouldn't mind at all?"

"Nuh uh!  I like to get tingles."

FUCK ME!

To push me along, she spread her thighs a little more and pulled my
left hand down slightly and then let go, leaving my fingers resting on
the soft inside of her right leg.  She then openly pushed her right
hand over my thigh and went right for her goal, her small fingers
claiming a rock-hard firmness that would have split her in two.

Even with my brain telling me that this was wrong on so many levels, I
let her softly explore as much of my cock as she wanted to, from the
OUTSIDE of my jeans.  She explored quite a bit!

With my little head doing all of my thinking for me, my left hand
dipped even further down between her thighs and my fingers began to
make small circles across her leg, less than an inch from her panties.
She was far more impatient than I had been so many years before,
because she pressed her mouth to my left ear and breathed a few well
chosen words right into my brain.

"You don't have to be afraid.  Nobody can see and I won't tell."

As soon as she finished speaking, my fingertips pushed down and in and
felt the wet warmth of her soft pussy, her panties just as wet as I
imagined.  Now we were BOTH exploring each other, with lots of her
classmates milling about and dancing wildly less than twenty feet away
from us.

She must not have expected me to know where to push, because the
instant I split her labia and found her clitty, she flinched and
whimpered.

"MMMMMMM!  YEAH!  Right THERE!  You can push your hand inside my
panties if you want to."

My hand had less sense than the rest of my body, my fingertips wiggling
inside the leg elastic along the inside of her right thigh and claiming
what I had only briefly sampled from outside her underwear.

The millisecond I relocated my fingers and found my prize, I softly
made a quick series of small circles on that incredibly sensitive spot
for almost a minute and a half, Jessica lost to a new world where
tingles should be handed out like air.  Her eyes were half closed and
her mouth half open, her hips twitching into the invasion and her legs
doing their best to splay outward so I had all the room I needed.

With more than a hundred people right there in the same room, I gave a
preteen little girl her first public cum, her hips bucking and legs
jerking open and closed to the rhythm of her vagina's spasms.  She let
me keep her going far longer than any mature woman had ever done
before, including my ex-wife.  Jessica had no need for reality or
decency at that moment, only the intense need to have a wild and
enjoyable time with a virtual stranger.

To bring this horribly erotic and astonishingly stupid act to an end, I
wiggled my middle finger further down and found the wet, steaming
warmth of her immature vagina.  I thought my move would frighten or at
least startle her, but to MY surprise, she pushed INTO my finger, the
end of my digit slipping much further between those hot nether lips
that her parents would have preferred ANY boy's finger traveling.

In mere seconds, I had my middle finger as far inside that little girl
as it would travel, the entirety of my digit buried inside her sweet
and elegantly tight pussy.  All it took was a few more wiggles deep
inside for her next cum to arrive, her thighs clamped hard around my
hand but her hands pulling hard so I knew to keep up her abuse.

I finger fucked that poor thing for almost five minutes, my heart
beating even faster than hers.  The whole time I was fingering her, she
was softly whimpering and shifting back and forth as if she knew what
REAL fucking was all about.

With one firm inward press, I rolled her Grafenburg spot one last time
and peaked her, a short yelp and then her body going rigid for about
ten seconds.  After that, her spasms were constant but much slower than
before, subtlely masked by tightly restrained body movements.

My finger was removed, her panties replaced and her skirt tugged back
down so nobody could see that her underwear were soaked all the way
through with her clear lubrication.

It took ten minutes before she finally came around, but once she was
able to think somewhat coherently, she nervously grinned at me and gave
me a little hug, whispering into my left ear with her lips tight
against my head.

"Thank you, Randy.  That was the best feeling I've EVER had, and I'll
never forget this dance for the rest of my life.  I promise I won't
tell nobody how much fun we had, so you don't have to worry none.  I
wish you could babysit me a bunch of times so we could do that again,
but I know you don't have any children here and my folks don't know
you.  But I'll dream about you every night and will remember those
tingles for a LOOOONNNNGGG time."

With a stolen kiss and a nice tongue dance shared, she rose to her feet
and stumbled toward the girls bathroom.  It was only after she was gone
before I grew brave enough to sniff my finger, the scent so incredible,
I buried my finger in my mouth.  DAMN, I wanted to find out where she
lived!

After a quick trip to the mens room to reduce the tension inside my
slacks and only ten strokes along my cock, I felt a lot better and a
whole lot worse.  Now, all she had to do was slip and whisper to a
friend that I had given her the best cum of her life right there at the
dance, and I'd be in jail before the morning.

I made myself scarce for about half an hour, watching what Jessica did
and who she talked to the whole time.  As unbelievable as it appeared,
she chose to sit next to a man around my age that had to have been her
dad, because she openly tickled him, held his hand and got lots of warm
hugs with a lot of other adults around them.  Before she got to dance
with any of the stupid boys in the room, her mom showed up and the
three of them disappeared through the front door together, ostensibly
to go home.

What I'd never know was her promise to me regarding my anonymity, our
secret just that, not spoken about for more than fifteen years until
her husband afforded her a similar wild and sexually pleasurable night.

It was only after they left that I decided to return to the same
general area where I'd fingered a preteen little girl to her first
public orgasm.  But this time, I decided to sit along the FRONT row so
my antics wouldn't be repeated.

It wasn't more than ten minutes before another little girl showed up,
most likely just as anxious to have an older male friend as Jessica
did.

"Hi, Sweetie.  Why aren't you dancing with one of the boys?"

"Nobody wants to dance with me."

"I'll bet if I found the right guy, he'd be GLAD to dance with you."

"Naw.  I NEVER get to dance."

"Well, if I was your age or maybe one or two years older, I'd be PROUD
to dance with you."

She blushed so brightly, her face practically lit up the whole area.
Just before our quiet conversation was resumed, a boy about eight or
nine sat down on the opposite side of my chair from hers, trying to be
as inconspicuous as possible.  He looked more nervous than 'I' felt
when I saw one of his classmates copping a quick bare-assed feel
earlier or while I had my hand inside Jessica's panties.

It wasn't hard to start a conversation with him either, eventually
coaxing him to draw up whatever courage he had to ask the preteen girl
on my left for a dance.  I kept working on his pride and courage until
finally, I made him think an approaching male classmate was about to
step in and ask the girl before HE could.

It worked much better than I had hoped, the boy asking the girl for a
dance, and the girl absolutely ecstatic at receiving the invitation.
For the next half hour, they were the perfect couple.  He held her
hand, danced every dance, and even got her a drink and some munchies.
I was quite proud of myself for conjuring up a little romantic
adventure.

It was only after I saw him ask for and then be granted permission to
slip his hand up under her skirt that I almost swallowed my tongue.
Instead of recklessly shoving his fingers down inside the back of her
panties where people might see, he actually kept his hand hidden by
lifting the bottom hem of her dress between their bodies, dipping his
digits down into the FRONT of her underwear.  Her smile was all the
support I had to leave them to their sexual pursuits.  If she'd let
him, I wasn't about to interfere.

MY GOSH!  These kids don't take long to work on the preliminaries!

To make myself a lot less available for any more visual or tactile
opportunities, I decided it best if I sat along the back wall of the
auditorium opposite the stage, a long line of chairs situated so
nonparticipants could watch everything going on.  Having been seated
near a whole conglomeration of the teachers and parents, there was a
lot less sexual antics being conducted, so I was able to calm down
after ten minutes.

Many of the young crowd mingled in carefully crafted groups, the girls
clinging to each others' arms and the boys trying to act cool or
talented.  It brought back long held memories of when 'I' was one of
those nervous boys, fearful of making some horribly significant faux
pas and being thought of as a real loser.

It was painfully obvious which of the boys was thought of as neat or
cute, many of the girls in small 'herds' circling a few of the older
boys and then running away giggling once the boys grew brave enough to
make the girls' presence known.  What WASN'T apparent was the twelve
year old sitting close to me, watching everything going on and
nervously trying to remain out of reach from any of the other
childrens' annoying antics.

When I noticed her, she was trying her best to avoid the constant
torment from three boys her age who were pestering her about some
benign aspect of her recent school activities, her chubby frame
scooting closer to me at each of her bothersome classmates' jibes and
harrassment.

"Leave me ALONE!"

That's all I needed before I decided to come to her aide, a sorrowful
expression on her face the right incentive for me to act on the boys'
lack of social skills regarding someone that wanted to remain by
herself.

"Okay guys.  That's enough.  Go find something else to do or someone
else to bother."

There were a whole series of mumbled expletives and stern facial
expressions in my general direction, none of the boys happy about the
girl having someone my size and age come to her defense.  I'd have
thought all the expensive schooling might have given them an improved
ability to communicate their thoughts more clearly.

It didn't, three singular middle fingers thrust upward in my direction
as they turned and walked away with additional references to my
parents' marriage certificate being invalid.

Once the boys were a fair distance from the poor tortured girl, I
leaned toward her and whispered loud enough for her to hear me.

"I hope they don't make the rest of your evening or school year tough
on you because I came to your assistance."

The only thing I got from her was a sorrowful expression and a quick
shake of her head.

"I'm sorry some boys don't know how to act with girls.  When I was
THEIR age, I might not have been any smarter than THEY are and picked
on a pretty young lady in my class without understanding just how bad
it might make her feel.  I wish there was something I could do or say
to make you feel better, Miss."

She just sat there with a huge alligator tear rolling down her right
cheek, staring out into the crowd and most likely wishing she were
some-ONE else or some-WHERE else.  Poor thing.  She must have felt
awful about being picked on by a group of immature boys that didn't
have a clue about the opposite sex yet.

Lots of children came and went around us, the long row of chairs along
the back wall of the auditorium a constant flurry of boys and girls
sitting, changing positions frequently if someone from 'that' group sat
too close, and then getting up and chasing someone of the 'other' side
when prompted to do so by their friends, to say little of the middle of
the floor where a teaming mass of short bodies tried their best to
outdo each other with the latest dance step.

The entire time my partner-less companion sat there, she kept looking
at everything going on around her, a few nervous attempts made to gain
someones' attention but no strong move to go talk to anyone or try to
fit into any of the dozen or so groups huddled together in front of us.
I knew she felt an insatiable need to 'belong', her eyes, mouth and
facial expressions giving away every facet of her mental anguish.

Both of us saw the same three boys circling from the opposite side of
the large room, my eyes keeping tabs on them as they approached the
nervous and lonely little girl.  I made it a point to keep my face away
from their direction but my eyes cocked just right so I could see
everything they were doing.  Just as I suspected they might, they tried
to get close to the girl sitting next to me, using a gathering of girls
as cover.

By now, the twelve year old next to me looked like she was practically
fearing for her life, the boys being told earlier to leave her alone
just the incentive the insensitive lumoxes needed to make an example of
her to their other friends.  When she scooted even CLOSER to me, I knew
it was a desperate move on her part so she could gain a sense of
security from the only human around that would stick up for her.

I took a quick glance in the opposite direction, seeing a matronly
woman two chairs away from my right.  I recognized her from the picture
in the lobby, the owner of the school.  A plan was quickly devised and
put into play to get the preteen to sit on the other side of me so she
could be protected.

The twelve year old was practically sitting on my lap by the time I
turned to see one of the boys reaching out to either poke her left
titty or attempt to pull her tube top down, most likely because he
wanted to cop at feel of her growing boobies or see what they looked
like.  I instinctively reached around the girl's body as quickly as I
could with my right hand and caught his digit before it could do any
harm, less than two inches from her left breast.

Whatever plans I had to have the sixth grader sit between me and the
owner of the school were forgotten less than a second later.

My reaction time must have been more for the little twerp than he
expected, my fingers tightly gripping and even twisting his index
finger with enough force to make him grimace in pain, my right wrist
now less than an inch away from the tip of her small left titty.  Only
two words were needed to bring his crude action into focus for a whole
gathering of his friends, and a number of the adults behind me.

"That's RUDE!"

Those two words were just enough to send the other boys scampering
away, the lone idiot trying to pull his hand back with as much strength
as he could muster, but my slow twist of his digit to his left making
him turn outward in a horribly uncomfortable position.  After I rose
from my chair and stepped in front of him, I let his finger go but not
before gripping his wrist with my other hand.

"If I EVER catch you trying that again, next time, I'll BREAK your
finger.  GOT IT?"

"LET GO!  LET GO!  LET GO!"

His pitiful wail got everyones' attention within a thirty foot radius,
the owner of the school waddling over to see why I had gripped one of
her students by the index finger and was now holding him by the wrist.
Holding him in place, I issued a command that made the twelve year old
little girl smile under her astonished expression.

"Not until you apologize and promise this young lady AND me that you'll
NEVER try that again."

"What's going ON here, Mister Williams?"

The owner of the school had an unusual habit of calling all her
students by their last names and using 'sir', 'miss' or other proper
references.

"HE WON'T LET GO OF MY ARM!  OWW!  OWW!  OWW!"

"Why is this man holding your wrist, Mister Williams?"

Mrs.  Jackson didn't quite have the concern I suspected she might have,
her calm demeanor regarding an adult gripping a young preteen boy's
wrist certain to cause her to act much more protectively, since it
looked like I was offering the twerp just a LITTLE pain.

"I DON'T KNOOWWWW!!!"

That's when my damsel in distress spoke so strongly, it didn't sound
like the same girl.

"YES YOU DO, CAMERON WILLIAMS!  TELL MRS.  JACKSON WHAT YOU JUST DID!"

It looked cute to see her put her hands on her hips and glare at the
dunce in defiance, Mrs.  Jackson standing next to the sixth grader and
holding her around the shoulder.  It was obvious to every person in our
small area who Mrs.  Jackson was tending to take pity on.

It took a few seconds before the lout decided to come clean and tell
Mrs.  Jackson what he had done and why I had a tight grip around his
wrist.  After he provided a lame excuse about something only PARTIALLY
related to the truth, he finally apologized and was permitted to leave
the immediate area and then strongly encouraged by the school owner to
withdraw from the dance entirely after his parents were called.  By the
end of the ordeal, Mrs.  Jackson recognized who I was from my frequent
visits with Carla, quietly thanking me for my chivalrous act.

"Thank you for coming to her rescue, Mr.  Liftsome.  I'm pleased that
you prevented what young Mister Williams was trying to get away with."

"You're perfectly welcome.  If there's something I CAN'T stand is for a
boy to be rude or nasty to a pretty young woman."

My silent seat-neighbor blushed yet again, this time with a huge smile
all over her lovely face.  She was now completely aware of HER being
the center of attention, lots of other girls keen to the direct
reference I made of her lovely features.

Once the twelve year old girl looked relatively calm, Mrs.  Jackson
smiled and left us to keep each other company.

Feeling as if I might have overstepped my authority, I needed to go and
cool off, a quick trip to the fruit punch bowl and the abundant snack
table enough justification to walk away.  Knowing that I might set a
bad precident with the still unnamed and injured waif, I decided to
excuse myself properly.

"I'm sorry if I scared you by grabbing his finger like that, Miss.  I
promise I won't do anything like that around you or anyone else unless
it's absolutely necessary.  If you'll excuse me, it might be a good
idea if I made myself a little scarce so nobody thought I was being
bossy or mean to your boyfriend."

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!  HE'S DUMB!"

It wasn't meant to provoke such an animated and loud response, but the
intent was easily communicated.  Time for a quick volley back to her
side of the court so she didn't think I was completely clueless.

"Well, just the same.  It still might be a good idea if I didn't hang
around you too much since all your friends or classmates might think I
was trying to be disrespectful and hit on you or something like that.
You have a good time at the dance.  Maybe I'll have a chance to talk to
you later if you'd let me."

I never gave her a chance to respond, my body turned and my feet
carrying me toward the food table before she could say a word or even
lift her hands to try to stop me.  Less than two seconds later, she
jumped up and followed me without saying anything.

I felt a small hand pressing against my back and almost tossed the half
full insulated foam cup in my left hand straight into the air, my
reaction to her touching me an uncomfortable reminder of my having
spent time in the Middle East at the request of a former head of state.
After I collected my senses and saw the frightened twelve year old
looking at me just as scared as 'I' was, I smiled at her and decided to
invite further conversation.

"Sorry I jumped like that.  I used to be in the military, and I startle
easily if someone walks up behind me."

"I'm sorry, Mister.  I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay, Miss.  I'm okay now.  By the way, what's your name?  My
name is Randy."

"Simone."

"That's a lovely name . . . for a lovely young lady."

Even at the dimly lit food table, I could see her blush forty shades of
red.

"Here!  Why don't you have this cup after I fill it back up.  I was
about to get some popcorn and chips too.  May I offer you some?"

"SURE!"

Simone accepted the filled fruit punch cup and stepped slightly closer,
a downward turned face and a broad smile making her look that much
cuter.  With a second cup of juice and a large bowl of popcorn and
chips collected, we slowly made our way toward the far wall, this time
headed further away from most of the noisy collection of giggling girls
and strutting boys.  Both of us filled the air around us with nervous
banter as we walked, trying to sound smart and confident but failing at
every turn.  It actually made me feel as if 'I' was back in junior high
school.

We never made it to the chairs before being stopped.

"Well, HELLO, Randy!  Hi, Simone.  Randy, I see you've met one of my
favorite students."

It was my younger sister Carla, the mother to the talented DJ using my
borrowed equipment, and one of the teachers in the school.  Apparently,
she was Simone's teacher as well.

"Hi, Carla.  Yes, I just found out Simone's name a minute ago."

"Hi, Miss Fortam."

"Simone, I'm sorry for what 'you-know-who' did earlier and I'm glad it
was Randy that was there to rescue you.  I'll bet he kind of surprised
you by coming to your rescue so fast and making 'you-know-who' regret
ever trying to hurt you.  Randy's been looking for his next princess
for quite some time, since the last one he had wasn't smart enough to
stick around.  It's okay.  She wasn't the right girl for my big
brother, anyway."

"CARLA!  Simone doesn't have to hear about THAT!"

"Of COURSE she does, Randy.  ALL girls LOVE to be the damsel in
distress and rescued from evil and cruel villians by a handsome prince
and thought of as a lovely princess, don't they Simone?  I know 'I' do!
I'll bet she feels like YOUR princess now, since you saved her from
that rather insensitive dumbass a little while ago.  EVERYBODY'S
talking about it now and think Simone's got a big handsome boyfriend.
YOU think Randy's handsome, don't you Simone?  I'll bet all your
friends agree with me, don't they?"

Whatever illusion Simone had about remaining anonymous was lost now.
Even with the new sensation of belonging to somebody tightly clutching
her heart and filling her insides with tingles, Simone had the good
sense to just smile and blush, keeping her eyes lowered.  When she
finally decided to rebut what my younger sister offered, she looked up
into my eyes for a second and then twisted back and forth, excited and
embarrassed.

"Randy is your BROTHER, Miss Fortam?"

"Uh huh.  And he's still young enough to find the energy and enthusiasm
to help a pretty young lady in distress and make her fall in love with
him, HUH Randy?"

"Carla!  CUT IT OUT!  You're gonna get me into trouble!"

"Come on, big brother.  Don't have a cow!  It's not like you're gonna
MARRY or get Simone pregnant tonight or something.  Just make her feel
special and let her fall in love with you like so many of the OTHER
little girls already have."

I looked at her with an astonished gaze, my eyes practically popping
out of my sockets.  Whatever delusion I had about being subtle when I
was enjoying the lovely sights before while I walked around the dance
floor was immediately dashed.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood
straight up and I could feel my face burning, a deepening blush clearly
evident to both Carla and Simone.  Now I understood why those two
little angels had come to sit near me at that long row of chairs.
Thankfully, Jessica was the only one that took away any lasting
memories from our encounter.

Carla must have realized just how vulnerable I was at that moment, her
body leaning hard against my right side and a tight squeeze offered by
her left hand to finish the job.  I could have fallen into a thimble
and STILL had lots of room left over when she kissed me on the cheek
and winked at Simone.

Simone was smiling much bigger by the time Carla finished embarrassing
me, my younger sister letting me go just in time for a small gathering
of eight to fifteen year old girls in one of Carla's classes to scamper
away giggling and squealing.

"You two have fun tonight, Randy.  I'll talk to Simone on Monday and
see if you got to first or second base before the dance competition
starts."

In spite of my sister's thorough training regarding appropriate
behavior around all her students, in this setting, she had absolutely
NO hesitation to push the limits of polite society and propriety and
also make me an example of lots of school gossip.  I felt completely
inadequate and humiliated, my desire to spend ANY time with Simone now
being carefully reconsidered.  Carla walked away looking back over her
shoulder, winking at and throwing kisses toward Simone and me.

Knowing that all of my actions were being carefully scrutinized by
every little girl in a hundred feet, I decided to adjust where and what
I was about to do with a middle school girl at a private school
sponsored function.

Our final destination was a set of chairs under a downward facing
security lamp, the bowl of popcorn and chips set on a chair between her
bum and mine.  I had NO desire to be thought of as a man trying to
coerce a little girl into a compromising situation, at least now that
everyone was watching me, so there'd be PLENTY of open space between my
body and hers.  The light was strong enough for both of us to see the
paper bowl of popcorn and chips, and all the features of the twelve
year old little girl that I had just rescued a few minutes before.

That's when I realized just how precious Simone looked, her brown hair
long and straight, her smile pouty with full, sexy lips, and almond
eyes that captivated my soul and held my interest, even if she wasn't
talking.  Then I saw what she was wearing.  She had on a light jacket
over a tube top that was held in place with elastic at the top and
bottom, and a straight skirt with a long slit up her left leg that
covered her pantyhose covered thighs.  She had the legs of a dancer,
full and firm, smooth and well developed, most likely spending quite a
bit of time in the gymnasium while dancing or doing floor exercises.
It took a lot of effort on my part to keep from eating her up with my
eyes.

We carried on a relatively normal conversation for a while, until
Simone began to ask me a series of personal questions, both about Carla
and then about me.  I kind of figured she might want to know some
'dirt' about my younger sister, one of Simone's favorite and very
attractive teachers.

What I DIDN'T anticipate was her need to ask me so many questions about
my past, my life, if I was married or had any children, where I worked,
who I liked to hang around with and where I liked to go on the
weekends.  All of her queries were responded to in as delicate a manner
as possible without providing TOO much detail, her most revealing
questions coming when she found out that we were neighbors.

She openly commented about vaguely recognizing me around my place a few
times, remembering me from a neighborhood yard party that we had last
summer.  The fact that her mother was the lady I was genuinely
interested in during that party wasn't lost on my curious visitor, a
relaxed demeanor exuding from her manner and expressions once she
concluded that I wasn't a total stranger to her or her mother.  It
almost made Simone begin to treat me as if I were some long lost
relative.

Once the popcorn, chips and drinks were finished, it was time I took a
bathroom break.  I invited Simone back to the refreshment table, tossed
the empty containers in the trash and then shook her hand as a gesture
of thanks.  Instead of being an invitation for her to go see or talk to
any of her classmates, our touch seemed to captivate her fascination
with me, her grip lasting far longer than I had expected.

Our eyes locked for quite a few seconds as she held and then squeezed
my hand, the look on her face taking on the passion of a woman many
years her senior.  Being just a twelve year old child, I had to be sure
she knew our handhold was nothing more than a gesture of friendship and
was finally able to free my fingers.  She looked as if she was both
lost and hungry at the same time, in spite of the genuine proximity and
variety of food less than four feet away.

"If we get a chance, maybe we'll talk later, Simone."

I made my best attempt at a departure, but was stopped before I could
turn away.

"RANDY?"

"Yes?"

"I'm kinda scared of being alone right now because of what Cameron
Williams did earlier.  Will you come back so I can stay with you until
later on?"

"Well, I don't know if . . . "

"Please?  I'd feel a lot better if I could be with YOU.  PLEASE?"

The combination of her pitiful expression and her tender desire to feel
safe wore me down, my ability to resist ANY woman so weak that she
could have asked me to stand on my head, and I might have tried.

"Alright.  Wait here with some of your teachers and I'll be back in a
minute."

I made my way toward and then through the door that had a brightly lit
red 'EXIT' sign over the threshold, a uniformed police officer
stationed at the door so trouble could be averted should a curious
couple decide to venture into places beyond anyone's gaze.

Once nature had been tamed, I returned to the auditorium, the officer
asking if I was Randy Liftsome as I walked through the doorway.  That's
when I felt my heart stop, my careless visual adventures down the front
of so many young girls' blouses and up under their skirts, and then my
digital entertainment inside the snug panties of that lovely little
Jessica about to send me away for a number of days or weeks doing
public service work.  If they knew what was in my mind and what I'd
already done, they'd have locked me up that night.

"Yes, that's me."

"Your nephew is looking for you.  Your sister, Carla Fortam told me to
tell you there was some trouble on stage and Martin needs your help."

Forgetting Simone for the moment, I practically ran to the stage,
Martin looking relieved once he saw me approach.  What I thought was
going to be a disaster turned out to be only minor, a quick trip to my
truck for a toolcase made so I could return with a battery powered
soldering iron.  After the pinched wire was repaired and the digital
light control correctly dazzling the crowd, I put my tools back and was
about to head out to the truck.

That's when Simone reached out from the side and touched my arm.

Something about her hand made me stop without feeling threatened, a
single caress all that was needed for me to cease my forward progress
and turn to face her.  That's when I realized I'd forgotten to return
to the food table and collect my frightened companion.

"OH!  I'm sorry, Simone.  I genuinely forgot about coming back to the
food table.  The officer got my attention as I was leaving the bathroom
and told me that my nephew, Martin, needed my assistance on stage.
Please forgive me, but I truly forgot about you waiting for me to
return."

"That's okay, Randy.  I don't mind 'cause I saw you run to the stage
when you came out of the bathroom hallway.  I saw Martin talk to you
about the lights not working and figured YOU'D be able to fix whatever
was broken.  I knew you could do it 'cause you look smart."

I heard her compliment and tried to ignore it.

"Well, I tell you what.  Now that my work on stage is done, how about
if I met you at the refreshment table in a few minutes.  I need to go
drop my toolcase off in my truck and shouldn't be gone for more than a
couple of minutes."

"Randy?"

"Yes?"

"May I go with you, please?"

I don't know why I did, but I answered her without thinking.

"SURE!"

She immediately broke out into a huge grin, an ever widening blush
filling her darling face until it looked like she had gotten a sunburn.

We walked along the edge of the crowd toward the main entrance, Simone
slightly ahead of me and to my right.  My toolcase was in my left hand,
so when it was appropriate, I used my right hand to hold her around the
waist as we walked.  I actually felt her lean into me twice before we
were at the front door.  What I hadn't expected was seeing Carla
sitting at the doorway, her temporary duty to make certain none of the
younger guests went outside unless they were accompanied by their
parents or other adult guardian.

"HELLO, you two.  Going out for a lovers' stroll?"

"CARLA, CUT IT OUT!  You're gonna get Simone into trouble with her
other teachers and friends if you keep saying things like that."

"Take a chill pill, Randy!  You don't have to worry about Simone.
She's a big girl and won't hurt YOU."

I actually heard Simone giggle behind her right hand.  It sounded good
to hear her do that, in spite of me being the focus of the joke at the
time.  That's when I decided to rethink having a twelve year old
outside the protection of the entrance doors and in my presence in the
darkened parking lot.  Since I'd parked along the side of the
auditorium near the back where I unloaded my gear, the normal parking
lot lights were of no benefit for my guest's safety.

"Simone.  Why don't you stay here inside the auditorium and wait until
I get back.  I don't want anyone to worry about you being with me, so
please wait with your teacher and I'll be right back."

"NOOOOOO!  Can't I go with you, Randy?  PLEASE?"

That's when my darling younger sister again tried to get me to do
something that I either didn't want to or shouldn't have considered in
the first place.

"Oh, come on, Randy.  I know who she's gonna be with and have no
problem with Simone walking with you around the parking lot a few
times.  It just might be the right medicine to help soothe BOTH your
troubled spirits.  I know how YOU feel right now and also how Simone
feels after being the center of Cameron's earlier unprovoked attack.
Why don't you two go walk around the parking lot a couple of times and
get to know each other?"

"Please, Randy?  Please?"

Whatever strength I had moments before was lost.

"Alright."

Simone almost hugged me right there, but thought better of it.  Nobody
but Carla saw us leave, Simone leaning against me as I opened the door
for her to walk through.

After my toolcase was put away, I made sure my cellphone was on and
fully charged, just in case Carla or Martin might need to get a hold of
me while I was outside the auditorium with a preteen.  Just as Carla
had suggested, instead of walking back toward the front entrance of the
school auditorium, Simone led me toward the school parking lot.

The sound of the music in the auditorium was enough of a distraction to
keep from hearing anything along the horizon, Simone's voice light and
slightly high-pitched.  It drilled into my head and heart like a
rapier, my soul lost and my hormones raging.  Why I'd fall for such a
cute little twelve year old wasn't necessarily a surprise, but feeling
so strongly for her like that took me off guard.  The calm demeanor of
her conversation was just enough of a focus to keep me from acting
recklessly.

We hadn't gone around the first row of cars before I felt her little
hand brush against my larger one.  I knew what she had done and why, a
rush of electricity bursting through my body as it did when I was in
junior high school and something similar happened.  I also remembered
just how quickly all the other girls in that gymnasium had invited lots
of sexual adventures with members of the opposite sex, including ME!

She did it a second time a few seconds later, but this time, I wanted
to fill her heart and soul with just as much tingling excitement, so I
extended my fingers slightly and briefly captured her tiny hand but let
it go.  I heard her softly gasp in astonishment.

The third time she 'accidentally' ran her hand against mine, I
genuinely snagged one of her fingers, held it for a few moments and
then released it.  I could feel the tension building in the air, her
delicate discourse about some minor school activity frequently
interrupted when our hands touched.

It may bave been inappropriate for a thirty four year old man to tease
a twelve year old little girl, but I knew nothing truly dangerous was
about to happen, especially after I had given that other preteen an
adventure she'd never forget.  Why not fill Simone's heart with
mountains of tingles and let her have a nice dream for one night in her
young life?  She seemed far less provocative or as pushy as the other
two girls I had been with.

I can remember having a crush on one of MY lady teachers when I was her
age, so her having a fleeting and quite innocent love affair with an
older man shouldn't cause her any permanent psychological damage.

The fourth time I felt her hand come into contact with mine, I captured
it and gripped it tenderly, giving her diminuative hand a slow squeeze
and then opening mine so she could pull back and reconsider letting me
continue.

Instead, she tucked her fingers as far around mine as she could reach,
the first ten seconds of our first geniune handhold leaving both of us
speechless.  The only thing we could do was to keep walking down the
long row of cars, quietly strolling side-by-side and nervously holding
hands.

At the far end and finally around the end of the row, we turned and
began our return journey, Simone leaning much harder against my right
side until I released her grip and extended my arm around her slim
waist.  The moment I felt the warmth of her bare midriff under her
jacket, I knew I just went over a dangerous line that might lead to
real trouble.  What I hadn't counted on was Simone slipping her left
hand around MY waist and tugging her body tight to mine.  All she had
to do then was to look up into my face with her sexy almond eyes and I
was immediately lost.

Her gaze stole whatever reserve of strength I might have had, little
more than a few seconds left before I would promise her anything and
completely succumb to her will.

The bright flare of headlights at the far end of the row broke whatever
reverie we were both in, our bodies separating immediately as if we had
been caught necking by our class teacher or school principal.  Instead
of coming toward us, the car turned around and went the other way
toward the exit.

As much as we both might have wanted to return to our earlier embrace,
all we had the strength for was a fleeting handhold before we heard the
spray of an oncoming shower approach from behind us.

Neither of us were aware of the infrequent lightning strikes along the
horizon toward the west, an impending storm drawing closer and tons of
water about to invade our once dry domain.

I don't know why, but instead of walking toward the front entrance, our
feet carried us toward my truck.  That's when we began to be pelted
with a cascade of large raindrops.  As soon as we realized just how wet
we were going to get, we took off in a dead sprint toward my truck,
Simone easily keeping up with me.  The last twenty feet was a genuine
battle to keep dry, Simone practically flying through the driver side
door in front of me as the downpour was unleashed.

Our hearts were beating wildly from the rush and our hair slightly wet
from the rain, both of us laughing like little kids.  Then, we had a
new problem.

The rain on her head was just enough to give her a chill, her body
trembling.  My keys were put to use and the engine started, the
rhythmic burble of tuned headers, high-priced glass-packs and a set of
throaty mufflers filling the air outside with a low rumble.  The heater
was turned all the way up so my young guest would be warmed and
comfortable in just a few moments, the gentle twitching of the truck
cab reminescent of a vibrator on low.

It may have been more than the dampness or chill that caused Simone to
tremble and shake, her body quivering and stuttering most likely out of
a combination of excitement and fear at being with an older man in his
darkened truck.  The only thing I knew to make her feel better was to
pull her toward me and hug her snugly, my body emitting enough radiant
energy to light a small bonfire.  Simone seemed to melt into my arms,
her hands snaking around my sides until she was hugging me just as
tightly as I was her.

I don't know how long we remained like that, our arms intertwined and
our hearts beating wildly, but not a word was spoken for quite a while.
The instant my cellphone rang, she squealed out of fear and jumped away
from me.  It looked like I was in the middle of a movie theater trying
to turn my phone off, fumbling with it nervously.  By the time I got a
good grip, Simone was giggling at me for my nervousness.

"Hello?"

"Randy, are you and Simone okay?  I heard a loud thunderclap and when I
looked outside, I saw that it was raining pretty hard."

"Yeah.  We barely made it back to my truck before all Hell broke loose
and the sky began to fall down on our heads."

"GOOD!  So, you don't mind keeping Simone with you until the shower
passes?  I don't want her to get wet and catch a cold."

"I've started the engine and am trying to warm her up right now.
She'll be fine until she wants to come back inside and be with her
friends.  If I need to, I'll drive up on the sidewalk and stop under
the walkway cover so she can get out and come back inside."

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!  We just recently had the front entrance
redone after the LAST idiot tried something stupid like that.  Just
keep her safe and dry with you in your truck and let me know if the
weather gets any worse.  Let me talk to her for a minute, okay?"

"Sure.  Here, Simone.  Your teacher wants to chat with you."

"Okay.  Thanks Randy.  Yes, Miss Fortam?"

"Are you gonna be okay with my big brother, Simone?  You can come
inside and be with your classmates if you feel even a little nervous
outside.  I promise I won't say anything to anyone if you don't want to
sit with Randy for a little while."

"Well, if you don't mind, Miss Fortam, I'd kind of like to stay out
here with Randy.  He's been very nice to me and I feel much better
talking to him than those silly boys MY age."

"Okay, then.  If you want to come back in or need anything, please
don't hesitate to call me or ask Randy to bring you back to the dance."

"Okay Miss Fortam.  I promise I don't mind."

"Alright then.  You two have a good time and be careful out there.  If
the weather begins to worsen, come inside so you can be safe."

"Thanks Miss Fortam."

"See you later, Simone.  Bye!"

"BYE!"

It was as if my mom had just given me permission to go parking with one
of my junior high or high school sweethearts.  Of course, she never
REALLY did!

"Are you really going to be okay, Simone?  REALLY"

"Uh huh!  I LIKE being with you, Randy.  You treat me nice and make me
feel special.  I guess what Miss Fortam . . . I mean, your sister . . .
GOSH, that sounds wierd.  What she said before kinda makes sense.  I DO
feel all special being with you, like I really WAS your own little
princess."

That's when I decided to make the rest of her evening.

"You ARE my little princess, Simone, for as long as you WANT to be."

She looked me straight in the eyes and froze, her heart hammering in
her chest and her breath deep and rapid.  I had just given her more to
think about than any of the boys her own age might have.  The fact that
I had already stumbled HUNDREDS of times and figured out what NOT to do
with a woman made anything I offered Simone look like a practiced art.

Neither of us heard the rain pounding on the roof of my truck or saw
the lightning flashes as they popped and sparked around the school at a
safe distance.  The only important thing at the moment was the intense
stare we were locked in, our eyes firmly held onto each other and
afraid to move, lest we break the magic spell and end it all too soon.

"Randy?"

"Mmm hmmm?"

"Will you hold my hand again, please?  You're not mad at me for asking,
are you?"

"No, I'm not mad, Angel, and YES, I'll hold your hand again."

We both looked down to her lap where her left hand was resting palm
down.  Knowing I was the one that was supposed to take the lead, I
insinuated my right hand under her left, my digits together, palm up
and pointed toward her right thigh.

It was the wrong thing to do, because where her left hand was sitting
was directly over the slit of her skirt, my fingers slipping
dangerously inside her skirt and running against the fabric of her
pantyhose instead of under her left hand.

For the briefest of moments, we both assumed that's where my hand was
supposed to go, a sharp gasp coming from Simone the instant she felt my
fingers against her left leg but her hands not pushing my right hand
away from under her skirt.

Rather than linger and enjoy the immoral sensation, I pulled my hand
back and captured her hand instead, the original intent of my journey
over her left thigh.  I think she was much more surprised than I was, a
nervous shaking smile forming on her mouth when she looked up into my
face.

For some obscure reason, I didn't push my hand under her skirt and feel
her up as other boys her age might, or I might have done if she was as
confident and horny as Jessica was.  All Simone could do was sit
quietly and smile at me, her hand gripping mine tenderly, small beads
of sweat forming on her forehead, even though she wasn't that warm.

We sat quietly holding hands for the next ten minutes, Simone growing
increasingly at ease as I caressed and fondled her left hand.  She
seemed to understand that I meant her no harm, a stolen caress under
her skirt quite an accident.

"Randy?"

"Mmm hmmm?"

"Would you be mad if . . . "

I thought I knew what she was going to ask before she finished.  Not
wanting to make it to easy for her, I waited patiently.

" . . . if I asked you some questions about growing up and stuff?"

Not what I thought, after all.

"No, I wouldn't mind at ALL, Simone.  It's important that you learn as
much as you can about growing up so you can do the right thing and not
make the same mistakes 'I' did."

She let it sink in for a few moments before saying anything, both of
her hands playing with my right.  It felt unusual for her to touch my
hand and fingers so freely, as if this was her first opportunity to
express her growing maturity without feeling bad or thinking that I
might consider her immature or foolish.

Her face then took on that same solumn expression I had seen inside the
school auditorium just after Cameron was told to leave her alone the
first time I noticed Simone.

"Why do boys always want to look at and touch my titties?"

Her question actually took me off guard.  I had anticipated hearing her
ask me to kiss her.  My thought process immediately adjusted to her
level of sexual awareness and maturity, a genuine request for
understanding making me feel humbled.

I instantly felt bad for her, a long held memory about ME doing
something stupid like that with a girl that was beginning to develop
sexually.  I felt embarrassed and ashamed, not for what I had done to
Simone, but for what I had done so very long ago to other nameless
little girls that were starting to grow up and become young women.

"Is that what Cameron was bothering you about earlier when HE tried to
look at or touch you before?  Was he trying to force you to let him or
his buddies do stuff that you didn't like or want to do?"

I knew the instant the words hit her ears that I had hit a nerve, a
single tear trying to compete with the rain outside.  Seconds later, a
second and then a third tear fell, my quiet and fearful guest about to
have a good cry.  I may not be the most sensitive or the smartest guy
in the world, but I could tell when somebody needed a nice, tight hug.

Simone was that person and right then was that time.

"Come here, Angel."

I withdrew my right hand from hers and wrapped both arms around her
chubby body, her arms immediately snaking their way around my sides and
gripping my body as far around as she could.  The moment we were fully
embracing, she burst out crying.

Simone didn't just cry, she SOBBED!  The poor thing must have been the
object of lots of curious boys' attention, her developing titties
considered fair game at her age.  Her heart poured out untold months of
anguish, the lovely preteen most likely having to endure the same
insensitive behavior from boys that I may have caused other girls in MY
time.  The longer I held her, the worse I felt, my heart heavy with
shame and feeling so badly, I cried along with her.  For the first time
in my life, I shared what might have been the closest thing to a
father-daughter moment ever.

Her sobs diminished rather quickly, maybe because she realized I was
crying right there with her.  In the end, it was Simone that comforted
ME.

"I'm sorry I made you cry, Randy."

Sniffing and wiping my tear streaked cheeks, I gathered my wits and
looked down into the eyes of a young woman falling in love.  It shook
me to my core to see that expression once again, no mistake about her
thoughts or intentions as she tried to wear down whatever intelligence
and resistance I had to her.

"YOU didn't make me cry, Sugar.  I felt bad because of what you're
having to go through with all the immature boys in your school.  You
see, when I was your age and even a little bit older, I was just as
stupid and mean as the boys you're worried about.  I was JUST as
curious about other little girls my age that were starting to grow up
into young women and didn't have the maturity to be polite about MY
curiosity.  I'm sure I made a few girls feel bad by doing or saying
things that were inappropriate and felt ashamed just now about what I
had done to them, just like what Cameron and his friends might have
been doing to you.  I hope that doesn't sound silly."

Simone immediately smiled behind tear streaked cheeks and salt sprayed
eyelashes, seeing just how special our relationship was becoming.
Without saying anything, she thrust her body into mine and hugged me a
second time, this time, whimpering softly.  My grip slowly tightened
until I heard her let out a soft moan.  For a moment, I thought I hurt
her, so I loosened my grasp and attempted to lean back.

"I'M SORRY, SIMONE!  I SHOULDN'T HAVE SQUEEZED YOU SO HARD!"

"NO!  NO!  NO!  You're not hurting me.  It feels NICE to be hugged like
that."

"You're sure you don't mind, Angel?"

"NUHHH uhhh!"

She remained locked to my chest, so I retightened my grip once again,
giving a sixth grader a truly memorable and amorous embrace.  We stayed
together for about a minute, my hands acting instinctively and
caressing her bare skin below her jacket and tubetop.

"It feels nice to be held like this, Randy.  I wish I had somebody to
give me hugs like this more often.  I especially like how you're
touching my back and sides so softly.  It's making me all tingly
inside."

I was ALSO beginning to feel something, but it wasn't tingly and it
wasn't inside.  Well, it WAS inside . . . my SLACKS!  That's when I
decided to break our embrace.  I actually heard Simone groan out of
disapproval.

"Noooooo, Randy!"

"I tell you what.  Why don't we just sit and talk for a few minutes so
I can help you understand more about us weird guys.  We ARE kind of
strange sometimes, aren't we?"

Her giggle made me feel so complete, I wanted to hear more.  Now for
some rather blunt admissions about why girls' bodies had held MY
interest for so many years.  I wasn't about to tell her they still did!

"What I'm about to tell you is the truth, Simone, so if I say something
that makes you feel a little uncomfortable, you need to tell me, okay?"

"Okay."

"There are lots of boys and even a whole bunch of men that find
beautiful young women like you extremely appealing.  You're at an age
where your body is beginning to develop in certain places, and that
development process is intriguing to us.  When young women start to
develop breasts, they are probably the most beautiful they're ever
going to be, partly because of their bodies but also because of their
innocence.  You see, it's not just the sexy shape your titties have as
they begin to fill out your blouses and tee shirts and bathing suits.
It's how soft and yet firm they are, and how they delicately shoot
forward on your chest, drawing our attention like a pair of natural
magnets."

Even in the darkness of the inside of my truck, I could tell Simone was
blushing.

"Part of the reason boys and men like to stare at your lovely breasts
is because there is a natural need for us to hold and suck on them,
like we did when we were little babies.  I know it might sound kinda
gross or nasty to say it like that, but you're not a baby girl anymore
and you need to understand that your body is developing like that for a
very specific reason.  You know why you HAVE breasts, don't you
Simone?"

"Well, of COURSE, silly!  It's so mommies can feed their babies after
they're born."

"That's right.  But the OTHER reason is so the woman can be attractive
to her man.  Men have an instinctive need to touch a woman, as if that
touch can satisfy an unspoken hunger that is NEVER truly satisfied.
Something ELSE that you need to know is that the size of your breasts
has little to do with how beautiful and sexy you look.  Small breasted
women are just as sexy and attractive as women with big old bazooms."

Simone's giggle made me stop and take note of just who I was talking
to.

"I'm sorry, Simone.  Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this stuff.
Would you like for me to take you inside so I don't embarrass you so
much?"

"NOOOO, Randy!  You're the first guy that was EVER honest with me like
this.  I NEED to know more, so can we stay and talk, please?"

"Are you SURE you don't mind, Angel?  I don't want to make you feel
uncomfortable."

"You're not making me feel uncomfortable, Randy!  It actually makes me
feel more grown up than I ever have before to be treated like a woman
and not some dumb little baby."

"Well, you ARE becoming a young woman, Angel.  Your body is the proof
of that."

"What PART of my titties do boys want to touch, Randy?"

I suspected I knew why she was asking me such a specific question, a
strong tingling sensation eminating from her nipples and filling her
body at this very moment.

"At first, they want to just feel how soft and tender your whole titty
is.  The sensation of your breast is only one of three places that have
a fullness and softness that are so terribly appealing to us."

"What are the OTHER two places?"

"Your bummy and between your legs."

I knew the moment I answered her that she hadn't anticipated me being
so direct.

"Once a guy becomes familiar with how soft and what size you are, the
next thing he wants to do is see how sensitive your nipples are.  Lots
of girls just LOVE to have their nipples played with, as long as the
guy is gentle and slow."

I saw her eyes roll up under her eyelids and heard her take in a long
slow breath.  She was much more aroused by all this intimate talk than
I suspected.  Then, the reality of what I'd been discussing was brought
smack into my face by a very worldly preteen.

"Do YOU like to touch a girl's nipples like that too, Randy?"

I wasn't sure how to answer her, the awareness that if I told her the
truth, she'd know that I was most likely the kind of pervert that
stalked little girls to the playground, and then peeked up under their
dresses so I could steal a glance at their panties.

But, if I didn't answer her honestly, then she might think me a
hypocrit, my attempt at deception callous and insensitive.  She'd be
able to see through my veil of subterfuge without any real effort, my
validity as confessor and decent adult lost forever.

The only way to answer was honestly, even if I didn't like the sound of
my own voice as I spilled forth words that might forever damage my
reputation.

"Well, of COURSE I do, Simone.  I'm a man and can still appreciate a
young woman beginning to grow up and develop into a lovely and sexy
beast."

Then, as if to dangle a thread of security before my potentially
troubled soul, I knew I could give her something to think about and
possibly recover from my blunder.

"If I wasn't careful, I might get careless and forget how old YOU are
and try to touch you too like Cameron tried.  That's why I have to be
careful, Honey."

"But, you don't even know how BIG my titties are yet."

"You're right, I don't.  But that doesn't always matter, remember?
When a young girl is beginning to turn into a young woman, her body
starts getting incredibly sensitive in certain places, and lots of guys
know how to make her feel good by touching her in those places just
right.  If her titties are beginning to develop and fill her blouses
like I said before, it just adds to the thrill both the girl and the
guy feel when he touches her body tenderly and lovingly."

Simone lowered her face and fumbled with her fingers on her lap, taking
on an expression that I recognized as 'fishing' for a compliment.

"If you saw MY titties, you'd probably just laugh."

"That's not fair NOR true, Simone.  I've seen women of ALL sizes and
shapes and have NEVER laughed at a woman because of what her breasts
looked like.  It's just as rude to laugh at how someone looks as it is
to poke someone in the titty.  Besides, why should I laugh?"

"Because my titties look funny."

"HOW do they look funny?"

"I dunno.  They just do."

"I know you've been looking at your friends' breasts, so I guess you're
using THAT as a comparison, aren't you?"

A single nod was the only response I got.

"Simone?  I've been honest and direct with you, so would you be willing
to be honest and direct with ME?  I promise I won't make you feel
embarrassed about anything we talk about at all.  I know how important
this is for you, because I remember feeling just as afraid when MY mom
talked to me about MY stuff."

She shrugged her shoulders up once while looking down at her hands in
her lap, the amount of fear slowly fading as time slipped by.  We
waited in the cab of my truck as her warmth was restored and we were
sitting without saying a word.  It felt a little uncomfortable to be
just looking at her stare at her hands, but I wasn't sure how far to
push this.

She then revealed more to me than any other male adult in her life.

Continued in Part 2 (TheDance_2.txt)

--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.


  
TheDance_1