Lynette (Part Two)

"Take me home," she pleaded.

"Where do you live?"

"Not my home, yours." This was serious, not an idle fantasy. A young girl not much past his daughter's age, in need of what? Certainly, in need of something. The girl sensed his hesitation and said, "I just need a place to be right now. Just a place to be. You won't be sorry."

David finished his pint with a few hard swallows and led her out into the sunlight. "My name's David."

"Lynette," she replied and that was the sum total of the conversation not only on the short walk to his car, where she followed two paces behind but also on the drive, where she had spread a carrier bag under herself on the passenger seat. Both acts served to make him a little less uneasy about the whole thing. "She cares," he thought as he opened both widows to help alleviate the smell.

Questions ran though his mind as he drove. "Who is she? How did she know that I was single and most importantly how the fuck did she end up smelling of piss?" The frightened stare out of the window and occasional glance shot in his direction gave little away. Only her breathing, which seemed calmer, made David think that she trusted him, although the same could not be said for his heart rate or his stress level.

The car was parked on the drive. Leaving the two windows cracked open and the bag disposed of in the wheelie bin, David took his vodka and led her into his ground floor flat. "Drink?"

"Shower."

He pointed to the bathroom and as he did, she peeled off her clothes, throwing them on the floor.

"Shall I wash these?"

"Bin them."

David tentatively picked them up and put them in the washer anyway, whilst watching her slim, young backside disappear though the bathroom door.

"What next?" he mused. That part was easy as he took two glasses from the cupboard and, as an after thought, the carton of Just Juice from the fridge. Switching on the stereo, he opened his Smirnoff and poured the two drinks out. "I will start the machine when she's out of the shower. Better put it on hot wash," thought David. Thankful to have the mundane to occupy his mind, he was already on his second when she came out.

This girl knew how to make an entrance. Wrapped in his black, Boss towel, she walked over to him, took hold of the vodka, and let the towel fall. Her full beauty was outstanding, breathtaking, overwhelming: from her sparkling green eyes down along the young, clear skin, pert petite breasts and pink areolas, and down further, to the ever so slightly curved belly, delicate feet, painted nails and those athletic limbs, up to her shaven pelvis and lips. David drank it all in, the centerfold model standing so close he could feel her body heat!

"Wanna fuck?" she said with bravado as she placed her hand on hip, foot on his crotch, and drink in her mouth. David, being David, could not resist what happened next. A thousand men would have given a year's pay to be right where he was, to take her in their arms and embrace her. Not David — like the kindhearted schmuck he was, came out the line, "Well, I didn't 'til now! You smooth talkin' bastard."

The convulsion of laughter that followed was explosive and projectile. As vodka spewed out of her mouth and she folded to her haunches, each breath that she struggled to take in only added more fuel to the fire. Tears ran down her face, snot came from her nose, and it was then that David became aware the the spasms of laughter had turned to sobs of tears. The fem fatal had left the room and all that was left was a broken little girl, huddled at his feet.

Placing the towel back around her shoulders, David leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead. The girl in turn lunged forward, too, grabbing him by the waist and sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

The towel fell to the floor once more.

He could not, dared not move. The most that was on offer was to hold her in his arms and stare at this vision from her shoulders to her buttocks. How long this went on for was, at best, a guess, although gradually the sobs subsided and she raised her head to look at him. There were two green pools that a man could drown in. Then the laughter began again, not at the joke itself but at the remembrance of the joke, the nostalgia for it's mirth. It was gentler, a reflection of before, a duet this time. Her naked breasts still pressed tightly into is chest, heaving with his. "You need a shower too, stinky."

David was just about to retort when the frightened animal returned with. "Don't ask. Promise me you won't ask. I will do anything you want to but you must promise. PROMISE ME!"

"Okay, I promise."

"Swear."

"Okay, I swear I won't ask."

The frightened look was assuaged and the girl returned.

"Put some music on and get a shower. I want to dance."

"What would you like?"

"You choose."

"What the hell do kids listen to now?" he thought as he went over his collection. "Bob Marley okay for you?"

"Great," she said and began dancing around his living room. He stopped and admired the young form as she bounced, twirled, and swayed ("is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I`m feelin"): the way her breasts bobbled oh-so-slightly, the way her lip curled but mostly, the unashamed way she just danced naked in this (to her) stranger's home, the sudden mood changes and swings. Then she caught his eye, walked over, stroked his face, and said, "This record is scratchy, like your chin. Now go and have a shower, yer perv. I wanna suck that cock and I want it clean!"

She smiled, looking straight at him, and he melted. His heart raced and pounded. She could have all that he possessed for that smile. Then just as quickly she closed her eyes and began dancing again, lost to the music ("is this love, is this love that I'm feelin")...