Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: Missing Pieces
Author: Airimis (m_19yr_old@hotmail.com)
Keyword: Mf, cons, slow, seduction

   Missing Pieces By: Airimis Chapter 1

   "So are you going to do it tonight?" Marie asked as the two of them sat
on the sofa watching television.

   Mike didn't know what the fourteen-year-old was talking about as he
looked over at his new house guest.  "Do what?"

   "Sex," she said lowering her voice nervously as she looked down at her
lap.

   Mike was startled by this but had been warned by the adoption agency
that she did have a history of sexual abuse.  He hadn't brought it up in
the weeks before and for the week that she had been living with him, she
had been pretty normal.  "Why would you think that I was planning that?" he
asked but made sure to keep his distance from her.

   Marie looked at him finally, but he had seemed to put up an invisible
wall between them on the sofa on the middle cushion "Come on, Mike.  I
wasn't born yesterday," she said.  Marie hated when adults thought they
were so much smarter than her.  She had to grow up fast and learn from most
of the homes that she had been placed in.  Most of her sexual education had
been by experience, painful, and not by her choice.  "Why else would you
want to adopt me?"

   Mike looked at her and shook his head.  "Maybe because I thought you
could use a good home.  I knew that I could use someone here to liven up
the place.  Maybe I just wanted someone around who liked chocolate ice
cream as much as I do," he teased.

   His ice cream reference had made her smile briefly.  One of the first
things that he did after they got her stuff settled into her room was to go
grocery shopping.  Up until then, she had been careful about what she said
to him.  She finally smiled her first real smile when as they went down the
freezer isle of Wal-Mart and he made a game out of figuring out her
favorite ice cream.  He had made a spectacle of himself in front of
everyone until she finally gave in and said that dark chocolate was her
favorite.

   She didn't make friends easily, especially with adults.  Most of them
had betrayed her at some point.  Sure they would seem nice at first, but
always there was a catch.  Eventually, the men (and sometimes the women)
would want something from her.  It usually involved sex of some kind and
was mostly physically painful for her.  She learned quickly that was how
the world worked.

   Marie had been in the foster system for the last seven years, being
bounced from one home to another.  She barely remembered her mother who she
blamed for giving her up for adoption in exchange for drugs.  She never
knew her father.  Her pipe dream for a family had been dashed when her
foster father began sneaking into her room at night.  It had taken her a
week to call the hotline and three long nights before they removed her from
that home.  She found that in almost every place it was the same. 
Sometimes it wasn't the man of the house, sometimes boys in the house or an
uncle.  Fewer times it had been a girl or the foster mom of the house.  But
after ten homes in seven years, Marie had come to accept it was going to
happen.  In the later homes, she tried to bare it and make it work. 
Eventually something would happen or a teacher would say something.  As
soon as the investigation started, she was whisked away to a new home.

   They told her it was getting harder and harder to find her willing
foster parents for her because of her age.  She didn't like the foster
homes so far, but they were paradise compared to the state run building
that they would keep her in between foster homes.  That place was where
nightmares came from.  There, no one cared what happened and everyone was
mean.  She actually had to fight the other girls for her meals on several
occasions.

   Mike visited her a few times a week for "interviews" with her.  He
seemed like a nice guy.  When she heard that his wife and daughter had died
in car crash years ago, but he wanted to adopt as a single parent she knew
where it would go.  She didn't tell anyone because it had to be better than
the state home.  Besides, he wasn't bad looking in her opinion.  A lot
better kept than most of the men who she had been forced to be with before.
Maybe he would be easy with her like a few of the men had.  At the very
least it would be some time away from the state home.

   "I know how this works.  I've been here a week now and you haven't came
into my room, haven't came into the bathroom with me, and you haven't been
doing the creepy touching stuff.  So when is it going to happen?  I don't
like surprises," she told him very maturely.

   Mike had tried to keep it light before.  She knew that he must have
known of her past.  Some of the other foster parents had practically thrown
it in her face as soon as she walked through the door.  There was no way
the agency hid it from him.  So far, he didn't come into her room unless
invited.  He didn't touch her unless she initiated it and even then, he was
careful not to prolong the contact.

   He looked at her honestly.  "I'm not going to do that," he said
seriously as he muted the television.  "I wanted you to come here because I
thought you would be happier here than where you were.  I don't want you
for sex," he said looking into her eyes.

   "Even if I'm okay with it?" she tested.  She had others who said they
didn't want sex and as soon as they thought they got a green light from
her, they were all over her.  She didn't want to be played with.  She could
accept being used for sex, but really hated it when adults lied to her.

   "No, it's not okay for that.  So you don't have to worry about that
here," he said.

   "Oh," was all she could say.  She didn't really believe him.  But she
turned her attention back to the television as if the subject was at its
conclusion.

   He turned the volume back on the television and after a few minutes she
heard him say, "But if you ever need or want to talk about things, I'm
here." It was almost a whisper, but she heard it crystal clear.  He didn't
look at her when he said it or make a big production of it.

   The rest of the night went normally and she went to bed at her regular
time.  She closed her bedroom door but knew it, blankets, and no amount of
clothing could ever protect her when a man wanted to use her.



   The next day, when Marie got home from school, she found Mike working on
her door.

   "What's this?" she asked as she saw that he was replacing her door knob.


   "Well, I was thinking about what you told me last night and I thought
that it might help if you had a lock on your door," he said as he was using
an electric screwdriver to put the last two screws in.

   "So now you can lock me in my room when you don't want to deal with me?"
she asked pointedly.  It had happened to her before in other homes.  In one
she was locked in for days at a time.

   His gaze went through her tough defense and stayed soft.  "No.  This
lets you lock the door from the inside.  It can't be unlocked from the
outside.  Now, only people that you want in your room can be in there.  I
thought it might help," he said seriously, but there wasn't much warmth in
his voice.  He looked almost hurt, but went about his work quickly.

   She could see that her aggressive words hit him, but he didn't fire back
like she had been so use to.  He gathered his tools and then walked around
her toward the storage room.  She checked the door and sure enough, the
lock was set on the inside and there wasn't a key hole on the outside of
the door.  A twinge of guilt hit her for the way she accused him when she
first saw him working her bedroom door.

   Marie went about her day.  Mike still made no move to touch her at all.
They talked and he asked her about school and how she is settling in.  She
tried not to let her normal defensive attitude show.  So far he had endured
all of it from her and only showed her kindness in return.  Not once had he
raised his voice to her or been mean.  At first she thought it was a matter
of time, but after seven days of her pushing, he had never pushed back.

   And now there was the bedroom door...

   That night she had the most restful night sleep in years.  Even in the
state home, there was always a threat of something happening at night.

   After three months, Mike had kept to his routine.  He would work, come
home, talk to her and try to be her friend.  He still made no attempts for
the casual creepy touching that others had.  He had set guidelines down and
rules for the house.  She had some general chores, but they weren't much.
He had set her up an allowance, which was more than any of the other foster
parents had, but it was on the condition that she completed her work, too.
But mostly he was there if she needed but he didn't demand that she spend
any time with him.  There were days that she was around him long enough to
eat and retreated back to her room.  Mostly she was testing him.  She
wanted to know how he would react to different behaviors from her.  He was
surprisingly habitual.  He would go through his routine and if she was
there, he would talk to her and interact with her.  If she wasn't, he would
go through the same actions.  He would call out when meals were ready, but
if she didn't come in, there would always be a plate for her in the
microwave.  He would tell her when it was time for her shower and bedtime,
but if her door was closed (which it almost always was), he would knock
once on the door, say what he had to say, and then leave.  If she answered,
he would talk, but if not, he would just go about his business.  For the
most part, she found that she had almost an independent life for once.

   After six months of living with him and no incidents, she felt something
new stir inside her.  At first it just seemed like restlessness.  Then
after a week she started coming in whenever he would call for meals.  He
always ate at the table.  He never required her to eat with him.  She could
eat in the kitchen at the island counter and wasn't required to eat at any
certain time, but she wanted to eat with him.

   He really was a creature of habit.  On the weekends, he would stay up
and watch movies.  When she would join him, he would offer her first pick
of the movies.  A few times she tested him and picked chick flicks, but he
watched them and chatted with her normally.  She could tell he wasn't that
interested in the movie, but she thought it interesting that he still
stayed and watched the movie anyway.

   One Saturday night, they were on the couch watching an action flick, the
latest one that Jet Li was staring in.  Mike was on his side of the couch
and she on hers.  Marie had claimed the left cushion of the couch as hers
when she first got there.  Mike stayed on the right one.  The cushion in
the middle had been the demilitarized zone for over six months. 
Occasionally one of them would put their feet up on it, but neither would
sit there and get closer to the other.

   Marie had been restless all week.  She had started feeling lonely in her
room, so she started doing her homework at the table or in the living room.
She also had left her bedroom door open during the day time.  She could
hear when what Mike was up to in the house if she did that.  She had been
thankful that he put a lock on her door for nighttime, but still didn't
trust him enough to leave her door open or unlocked at night.

   Something came over her about mid movie.  She had looked over at him
every few minutes but he just stayed there and watched the movie.  They
both had separate small fleece blankets over them.

   "Mike?" she said nervously getting her courage up.  "Can I sit by you?"
It was one of the most out of character requests that she had made of him.
He had given her so much independence that she always thought she wanted.
He had given her security in her bedroom.  He hadn't touched her almost at
all.  He had never made the demand that she call him Dad or Daddy.  They
had very little physical contact, if any at all.  She thought it would
happen, as it did with all the other homes, but Mike had never tried to
touch her in any way.  They didn't hold hands or hug.  He would tell her
that he was proud of her for her accomplishments at school and getting her
work done at home, but never showed physical affection on her.  When she
first got there, she wouldn't have accepted it anyway.  Now for some
reason, she was holding her breath feeling a need to be closer to him.

   He looked at her with kind eyes.  "Sure," he said.

   Marie moved over beside him across the invisible wall that had divided
the couch for as long as she'd been in the house.  She sat close to him,
but there really wasn't any affection there.  She could feel the contact of
skin of his arm on her arm as they were side by side.  She sat right up
against him.  As she tried to watch more of the movie, she realized that
she had hoped for more.  She didn't just want to be close to him, she want
to feel the affectionate touch.  If he would only put his arm around her or
pull her close.

   As the movie was just about over, she silently admitted to herself that
she would even allow inappropriate contact with him rather than no contact
at all.  She never thought she would long for the days when a foster parent
wouldn't keep his hands off of her.  But being denied any physical
affection for six months had proved to her that somehow she needed it.

   By the time the credits were rolling, she was holding back tears.  She
didn't want to let him see them.  The ache in her heart for someone,
anyone, to give her some affection was almost too much.  She knew that if
he saw that something was wrong, that he would ask her about it.  She
didn't feel that she was ready to say it out loud, yet, to herself or
anyone else.

   That night, after he collected their empty popcorn bowls, she surprised
him by giving him a hug goodnight.  She wrapped her arms around him and
held him tight for a few moments.  She finally felt his hands fall on her
shoulders and then to her back as he hugged her back.  In that moment, a
few tears did leak out.  She said good night and hurried to her room before
he could ask her anything.

   She locked her door quickly, not out of fear that he might come in for
her body, but in fear that he would come in and want to talk.  She just
wanted to try it, but when he hugged her back, her emotions boiled over.

   She realized that after years of wishing for place that people wouldn't
touch her she had finally gotten her wish, and she was miserable.  Just the
small hug had sparked her heart.  Never in her wildest dreams could she
imagine her needing physical contact, but here she was.  She caught a
glimpse of herself in the mirror over her dresser.  Her eyes were red, face
streaked with tears, and her night shirt dotted with drops that she hadn't
even realized she had already cried.

   She didn't want to be like this anymore.  She decided that it was time
to change things in the house.  She knew that other boys her age would
never understand and couldn't give her what she craved.  She had only found
physical affection, even if it was accompanied with inappropriate touches,
from older boys or men (mostly foster parents).  Mike had already laid down
the rules about dating older boys.  He was very strict on only boys within
a year of her own age.  Besides, she never thought of herself as a slut. 
She didn't want to act like one just to find an older guy.  She knew they
were usually mean and rough with her.

   Mike was the easiest choice.  He was in the house.  He had treated her
well and respectfully.  Other than a few short disagreements, they had
gotten along.  Even though he avoided touching her like she had a skin
disease, he had still been nice and always taken her out for activities
when she wanted.

   She didn't get along with the girls at school very well.  She had one
friend, a mousy girl that she had a few classes with.  All the other girls
seemed immature and too shallow for her taste so she just stayed away from
them.  Marie preferred to read, listen to music, or play piano if she had
the time.  Mike had encouraged any hobby that she wanted except for dating
and spending time with guys.  T She knew this was linked to her past.  He
only slipped once making a reference to that she had a chance for a new
life here and could make it any life she wanted.  He didn't want any of her
past to affect the person that she would like to become.  Other than that,
he never brought up her past or what had happened to her.  After the
conversation the first week, she hadn't either.  It had been the elephant
in the room.  She didn't have much of a reason to want to talk about it and
he seemed uncomfortable the one time she did bring it up.  She didn't want
to mess things up.

   He was wrong, though.  Her past did affect her.  It had shaped her.  As
much as she hated it, it was a part of her.  It was a part that she kept
hidden from the world.  In past foster homes, it was the world she hid it
from, but at home she couldn't avoid it.  Now she found that living with
her past was harder.  She would see a couple making out in the park and
wonder if they were having sex at night or just in the back seat of a car.

   Mike had let her choose her own books to read, and she had picked up
several erotica books.  They weren't very rough and were nothing compared
to some of the torture that she had been through, but she had almost
memorized the sex scenes in the three books that she had.  She replayed the
images of passion over and over in her head during her masturbation
sessions that had started to become a nightly ritual.

   After two months of being there, she had started masturbating on a
regular basis.  At an early age, men had shown her how pleasurable it could
be.  Later, they made her perform them herself so she had a lot of
experience at it, but had never felt the need to do it on her own.  Here,
after being left alone for so long, the need had hit her hard.  About a
month ago, she found that they didn't quite satisfy her fully.  As the
weeks continued her pleasure from them continued to decline.  Now, only the
most depraved images and memories could make her orgasm as her fingers
furiously rubbed and abused her poor clit and swelling breasts.

   She wanted to talk to someone about it, but who?  Also, the only answer
that she could come up with scared her.  Her most powerful sexual orgasms
had always been at the hands of adults.  Her own attempts paled by
comparison.

   As she looked at her face in the mirror and wiped her eyes.  She knew
the answer.  Even if it meant giving up the safe life that she thought she
wanted, she needed Mike's physical affection.

   She lay down in her bed and tried to masturbate thinking of him.  It
didn't work so well.  She stripped and but only had the brief contact with
his warm arm and the hug that he hesitated to give her to work with.  To
add to it, she crept out of her bed and walked over to the door and
unlocked it.  It was late.  She was pretty sure that he had already went to
bed, but the chance that he could get to her if he wanted was enough to
give her a small orgasm as she rubbed her clit almost raw.  She didn't even
dress afterward.  She thought that maybe if she was lucky, he would take
the unlocked door as an invitation like so many other men that she had
known would.



   Chapter 2

   The next morning arrived and no, he never came to her.  He knocked on
her door to wake her, just as he did every day saying good morning on the
outside of the door.  He didn't try to open the door, just like he never
did.  She heard him move down the hall to the kitchen to start breakfast
for the both of them.  He was a creature of habit and she knew this.  She
also knew that would make it harder for her to seduce him.

   Marie got dressed and after a short stop by the bathroom, she headed to
the kitchen.  She sat down at the island and watched him busy himself
making pancakes.  "He was way too structured," she thought to herself. 
Every week, it's the same.  Monday waffles, Tuesday eggs and bacon,
Wednesday biscuits and gravy, Thursday eggs and ham, and Friday were
pancakes.  The weekends were wildcards, but they depended on what was going
on.  Most of the times, those were the days to sleep in or get cereal.  He
allowed her to cook her own breakfast if she liked, but she found that he
was a good cook.

   "Any plans for tonight?" he asked her as he flipped the first set of
pancakes.

   He always asked her if she had plans, even though she rarely did.  Most
of the time she found that this was her chance to have a say in what she
wanted their activity to be for the evening.  "I was wondering if we could
go out?" she asked.

   He got the chocolate carton of milk out and brought it to her with two
glasses.  He looked at her and nodded.  "Anywhere in particular?" he asked
going back to the stove.  His eyes didn't linger on her even though she was
watching him closely.

   "Can we go to the arcade at the Fun Center?" she asked as she poured two
cups of milk and then closed up the carton.

   "Sure," he said as he walked back over and took the carton back to the
refrigerator.  "I can drop you off there for a while if you want to play."

   She was fourteen, but since she had her cell phone, he had let her go
several places by herself.  She always checked in with him and never
strayed.  She knew what bad things could happen if she went out on her own.
"No," she said as he missed what she meant.  "I mean us.  You and me," she
pointed out hoping that he wouldn't decline her invitation.

   He gave her a puzzled look.  This was a first.  She had went with him to
many places, the zoo, museums, and the mall just because it was too big,
but for little places, the movies, the Family Fun Center, and the skating
ring, she had insisted that she was mature enough to handle them on her
own. After a while, he found that he could trust her and she had always
kept her word.  "You and me, huh?" he asked.

   "Yes," she said hoping not to be rejected.  She had spent so much time
gaining her independence and showing him that she could do things on her
own that this was unexpected.  She hadn't planned everything out.  She just
knew that she wanted to spend more time with him.

   He turned back to his cooking and started putting the fluffy pancakes on
a plate.  "Sure, I think I could make some time for that," he said has he
put the plate and syrup down in front of her.  He didn't really look at her
as he turned back and started making his own breakfast.

   She didn't know what to think.  He had always been like that.  He never
looked at her for too long.  He definitely didn't touch her without it
being necessary.  If he wouldn't talk so kind to her and take care of her,
she would have thought that he didn't like her, but he was so
contradictory. He never was mean or harsh to her, but he always seemed to
act hesitant of her.  She needed to get him over that.

   "Do you think they'll have Pole Position?" he asked.

   "What?" she asked and saw that he was smiling.  "What's that?"

   All through breakfast he told her about the antique video games that he
grew up with that she had never heard of.  The only one she remotely
recognized was Pac-man, but had never seen the "Ms.  Pac-man" that he
mentioned or all the arcade games that he said were "cool".  It was one of
the few times that he had opened up to her and let his guard down.

   She liked it.

   After school, she came home and changed quickly.  She locked her bedroom
door but only out of habit while she changed.  She figured she'd go for
nice casual look.  To keep her away from the boys, Mike had put her in an
all girl school, complete with the uniforms (that she hated).  The outfit
must have been designed by men because no woman would dress females like
that.  At the very least, the other girls couldn't make fun of her for the
stuff that she wore.  That had happened in more than one school.  It didn't
stop other girls from being mean, but it gave them one less thing that they
could pick on her for.

   It was a nice warm day so she dressed in white shorts and a light pink
shirt.  It screamed `good girl' just like most of her clothes did.  Mike
wasn't conservative, but he never let her out of the house looking cheap.
Even some of her more showy stuff was still tasteful.  Her shorts
accentuated her hips, but still left some space so that her ass wasn't on
display unless she bent way over as she checked in the mirror.  The shirt
had a v-neckline, but wasn't low.  Her chest that she was proud of only
showed a hint of cleavage.  When she raised her arms high above her head,
it barely showed a hint of her flat stomach.  She ran a brush through her
hair.  It wasn't the greatest outfit for getting a man's attention, but it
would do.  Besides, she wanted the innocent girl look.  Mike probably
wouldn't accept or let her out in anything else.  She had figured that out
her first months there.

   At first, she didn't think her idea to get him to interact and loosen up
was going to work.  The Family Fun Center in town was divided into
different sections.  There was inside miniature golf, bowling, a big arcade
with most of the popular games, a pizza/snack bar, pool tables, inside go
karts, and off to a separate area a small bar for adults that allowed
smoking.

   The bar was in another room completely, but looked relatively peaceful.
Marie had been around bars before.  One of her other foster parents use to
bring her to one but it never turned out well.  The men in them usually
were all hands, whether she knew them or not.  It was definitely an area
that she wanted to avoid.  The rest of the place was alcohol free, well
lit, with lots of kids and families having fun.

   Mike gave her some money and told her to have a good time.  She watched
him walk over to the snack bar and get a soda.  Not a good sign.  She
wanted him to notice her and spend time with her!

   She walked over to him and grabbed his hand, another first for her.  He
looked down at her hand in his like there was a spider sitting on the top
of his hand.  Then he looked at her.  Marie gave him her best innocent
smile.  "Will you play with me?" she asked in her best innocent voice even
though the double innuendo wasn't lost on her.

   He smiled nervously and said sure as she led him to one of the few empty
bowling lanes.  As she dragged him there, she felt a twinge of sexual
excitement inside her.  She could just imagine using that same line on him
sometime when they were alone privately.  It was her own private joke that
made her bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud.

   Mike seemed to relax a little when she finally let go of his hand.  Then
he explained the rules and how bowling was scored.  It was helpful that
they had electronic scoring and multiple screens at each lane with cute
animations to entertain as they went.  She actually had never bowled before
by the rules.  None of her other foster parents cared much for letting her
get out and have real fun.  They mostly had ideas of fun of their own than
were never fun for her.

   As the game went on, he seemed to relax more.  Mike let her pick the
toppings on a pizza and they shared one as they played several games.  She
didn't do very well.  He started off doing very well.  He made a few
strikes and for a while he would knock them all down for what she learned
was a spare.  As the game went on, he started doing worse.  By the second
game, she recognized a pattern.  When she would get a gutter ball, he would
on the next frame.  He continued to match or do just a little worse than
her the entire second game.  Her bad score of sixty-three beat his score of
forty-seven.  He congratulated her on her victory, even though she knew he
threw the game.  She could see the other scores on the lanes around her and
knew that their scores were nowhere near good, but he went on about her
like she had won a hot competition.

   He patted her on the shoulder, but that was the only physical contact
made.  Even that was quick and he did lightly.  They moved on to the go
karts.  When the attendant made the motion for two karts, she quickly
interjected.  "One, please."

   Mike looked at her questionably.  "Do I not get to go?"

   "Of course you do, but I need you to ride with me," she said.

   He didn't look convinced.

   "I don't have my license yet and you have to ride with me so I can
drive," she teased.  She didn't know if it went over as well as it had
sounded in her head, but he didn't argue.

   Mike sat passenger as she drove laps around the winding track.  She
started laughing and having real fun as they passed up other cars and took
the curvy track fast.  Most of the curves made them lean against each other
and just that felt good for her.  He finally broke a real smile on the
second lap.  She could see the excitement on him.  He started giving her
diving advice.  "Hug the corner here," and "Get on the inside so you can
pass that guy." She was having fun as well.  After eight laps, they were
both laughing and all smiles.

   When they got out of the car, she grabbed his hand again and started
leading him to the arcade.  She felt him stiffen up again at her touch and
his smile momentarily wavered.  Her smile did, too.  She didn't know
exactly what was wrong, but she could see it easily on him.  Every time she
touched him, he would get uncomfortable.  He made no move to grip her hand
or encourage her.

   When they got over to the token machine she had to let go of his hand to
use the token machine.  When she turned back to him, she tried to bend so
if he get a look at her backside.  When she glanced back, she grew
frustrated because he was looking out amongst the games with his hands in
his pockets.  Marie took this as another wall he was putting up, but tried
not to let it show.

   They walked through the maze of video games.  Mostly she played the
games and explained them to him.  Unlike bowling where he was the teacher,
with arcade games she was doing the mentoring to him.  She explained which
games were there just to get money and which games had the better pay off
of fun.  She especially liked the Dance Revolution game that two people had
to step on the arrows to the beat of music.  He watched her play it once
and then she convinced him to play the game with her as it was meant to be
played with two people.  He wasn't great at it, but he could keep up with
her.  She was impressed that he would try it at all.

   After the dance game, some ski ball, and a game of air hockey that she
suspected he had let her win, he was smiling a natural smile again.  She
liked seeing that on him.  Around the house, he was pleasant, but it didn't
seem like he had much fun.  It was nice to see that he could actually have
fun.

   Mike looked at his watch and announced that it was time to call it a
night.  Marie was a little disappointed.  She had wanted to try pool and
Mike had said that if they had time, he would teach her.

   "Can please play pool first?" she pleaded tilting her head and giving
him the puppy dog eyes.

   "Next time, we'll start with that if you like, but not tonight," he
said.

   Marie knew better than to keep asking.  Mike was nice about a lot, but
when he said something, he usually didn't change his mind.  It was okay. 
She had a lot of fun so far anyway.  "Okay, but I'm going to hold you to
that," she said.  She also had the hope that fun like this would be in
their future soon.

   As they walked toward the door, she quickly grabbed his hand once again.
She smiled to herself because she had seen him moving his hand to hide it
in his pocket again, but she had gotten to it first.  He didn't say
anything, but she could feel that he wasn't as nervous about it as he had
been earlier.

   He walked her to her side of the car and opened the passenger door for
her.  She thought it was a nice gesture.  The way home was quiet for a few
minutes.  She usually didn't mind silences, but lately with him, it felt
like she was wasting an opportunity.  She reached over to his free hand
that wasn't on the steering wheel.  He quickly moved it and put both hands
on the wheel.

   Marie pulled back from the rejected as if he had yelled at her.  In some
ways, she thought that might be better if he did.  At least that she could
understand.  She looked at him as he uncomfortably stared at the roa.  "Why
don't you like me?" This question had been weighing on her mind for a long
time, but she was afraid to bring it up.

   "I do like you," he said.  "I just..." he searched for words.  "I'm just
not comfortable with some things."

   More like anything, she thought to herself but this still didn't help
the ache in her heart.  "Aren't we supposed to do things like touch and
hold hands?" She paused for a moment and then added quieter, "I would even
let you do other things if you wanted."

   She was use to it.  In some of the places they had convinced her that
she had somehow wanted what happened to her.  After many times of men
forcing her to orgasm she couldn't deny the pleasure that came with it. 
Even after the doctors had told her that it wasn't her fault, she knew she
had gotten pleasure from it and still could.  That had to mean that part of
her wanted it, so it had to be partly her fault no matter what anyone said.
If not, she wouldn't have been able to enjoy it.

   She saw Mike tense at her last statement, but didn't say anything. 
Usually adults like to talk even when they should be listening.  Mike
wasn't like that.

   "Even if you did anything, I'm sure I would be okay with it.  I don't
think you will hurt me-" she continued to try to make him relax.

   "Stop," he said and she could hear how serious he was.  She didn't dare
finish by his tone.  "Marie," he said speaking slowly.  "You have been
wonderful.  You are a smart, polite, and very pretty young lady.  Don't
ever think that you are anything less." He paused.  "But the reason that I
pull back from you is not your fault or anything that happened to you.  I'm
not going to do bad things like that, okay?"

   She nodded as he glanced over at her in the dim lights of town.  "Okay,"
she said.  She wasn't use to him being this way.  It didn't scare her, but
she knew that he was telling her the truth.

   She was almost afraid to continue the conversation but figured if she
didn't now, then she might not be able to bring the subject up again. 
"Then why are you afraid to touch me?  You're supposed to act like my dad.
Don't they give hugs, and hold hands with their daughters, and sit beside
them?" She didn't know how it happened, but her loneness had somehow had
come into the mix now and she felt on the verge of crying.  Admitting this
to him was harder on her than she thought it would be.  "Isn't a dad
supposed to love his daughter?" She realized that the last statement had
slipped out.  She hoped that he would take it as emotional love, but to her
it meant the physical act as well.

   "Yes," he admitted.  "I'm sorry," he said as they pulled into the
driveway to their house.  "I'm sorry that I have kept those things from
you." He put the car in park and shut off the engine.  He looked at her as
tears crept down her cheeks.  She hadn't let him see her cry in all the
months of being here.  Now her tough image would probably never work with
him again.  He reached out carefully and wiped her cheeks with his thumb.
"I will try to be what you need," he said.  "I'm sorry that I've let you
down."

   She quickly unbuckled her seat belt and lunged at him wrapping her arms
around him.  It was the first time she had let him see this side of her and
she needed him not to reject her.  She didn't know what would happen to her
if he pulled away after admitting needing him.  She felt her heart warm as
she felt his big arms around her, holding her tight.

   "I'm so sorry," he whispered to her as she buried her face in his shirt
and quietly cried.

   She didn't feel alone for the first time in a while.  It was like he was
her life line in an ocean.  She held onto him hoping that somehow she could
will him to change.

   After a long hug, she seemed to compose herself and pulled back.

   "Do you feel better?" he asked as she looked at him in the dim light.

   "Only if you can be like this all the time," she said slightly
embarrassed over her emotional outburst.

   "I'll try," he said as he sat up straight.

   She smiled hoping that some of it got through.  On the way inside, she
grabbed his hand and she could feel him tense up, but now, he gripped her
hand back.  She thought, "It's a start at least."

   Chapter 3

   The next week was the start of a new relationship for her.  She could
tell it was hard for Mike, but didn't know why.  Before school on Monday,
he put one arm out to her and she immediately hugged him.  From then on, it
was routine for a hug in the morning before she left for the school bus and
a goodnight hug before bed.

   Through the week, Marie tried to spend the evenings with Mike.  Even if
he were watching television, cleaning, or reading, she would still stay
around him.  She felt him still tense when she would sit close to him on
the couch, but couldn't figure out why.

   On Friday night, she saw with him as they watched a scary movie.  Well,
it was scary for her.  She had seen scary movies before or at least thought
she had.  This one, "Insidious", really scared her and she found herself
cringing and holding onto Mike's arm for protection.  Finally, about
halfway through it, he put his arm around her.  She pulled the blanket up
to her eyes so that she could just see over it to the screen.  Mike asked
several times if she would rather watch something else and even started to
turn it off once, but she insisted that she was big enough to watch it.  At
several points during the movie she jumped and turned clung to him for dear
life.  She looked over at him and saw that he was relaxed, warm, and
comforting.  Something about him made her feel safe.  None of the ghosts or
monsters could get to her when he was there.  Only after her begging, did
he let her finish the movie.

   That night, he gave her a good night hug and started to his room as she
went into her bedroom like normal.  It was suddenly too quiet.  She dressed
for bed, but still had an eerie feeling.  She turned off her light, but
immediately turned it back on again.  The darkness was too much to take
after the scary movie.  She wanted to finish it to prove to Mike how brave
she was and now she was scared of her own shadow in her room.  She walked
over to her bed and debated on sleeping with the light on.  She hadn't been
scared like this in years.  Usually the real monsters were ones who wanted
to hurt her.  Her imagination ran wild for about a ten minute eternity
while she tried to stay in her bed under the covers, before her resolve
broke.

   "Mike," she opened the door to his bedroom.  "Mike?" she said nervously.
She heard him roll over and saw him move in his bed in the dark room.

   "What is it?  Are you okay?" he said sitting up.

   She could see him in the dim light from the hallway.  She didn't like
this and was about to get worse.  "I'm scared," she said and walked over by
his bed.

   "I knew you shouldn't have watched that movie.  What can I do to help?"
he added.  "Do you want me to check your room or the house again?"

   "Can I sleep in here with you?" she said meekly.

   His answer was a long sigh and a pause.  "Marie, I can't let you-"

   "Please.  I won't tell anyone.  Just let me stay in here.  Just
tonight," she said.  She was on the verge of tears.  He was the only one
who could make her feel safe.  Without him, she would be at the mercy of
her imagination and the ghost that haunted the guy in the movie.

   Mike shook his head, but moved over in the bed pulling the blanket and
sheet back.  "You better not snore," he added playfully.

   She carefully got into his bed.  It was warm and the sheets were really
soft.  "Thank you," she said gratefully.  She could feel the mattress move
behind her as he got comfortable.  Her stomach tightened wondering if he
was going to do what others had so many times before.  Even if he did, she
would take it over sleeping alone tonight.  Rarely had her imagination used
ghosts and scary monsters to scare her with.  Usually there were enough
real perverts in her world to be really scared of.

   "Comfy?" he asked her as she turned over so she could see him.

   "Yes," she said looking at him in the dim light.  "Thank you."

   "Good night, Marie.  Sweet dreams," he said.

   She noticed that there was a lot of bed between them, but figured with
Mike that was probably normal.  Being that close to him made her feel
better and definitely ensured no ghosts would get her.  She fell asleep
listening to him breath.



   During the night, she didn't sleep soundly.  She dreamt that she was
back with Daddy Paul.  He was horrible and one of the first of the foster
homes that she had been sent.  He had made her sleep with him every night.
And each night, got worse while she had been with him.

   In her dream, she was fourteen like now instead of eight, but she was
back in his bed.  He bound her wrists to the bed with leather cuffs.  She
watched as he pulled her panties off, letting her mound show.  In her dream
for some reason she didn't have any pubic hair.  She was bare like she was
back then.  She wanted to kick him, but couldn't get her legs or feet to
move.

   He slapped her bare pussy lips and mound several times like he use to
when she disobeyed him.  She heard each slap ring in her ears as the sharp
slaps made contact.  "You stupid cunt," Paul mocked her.  "That's all
you'll be good for so you better get use to it," he repeated to her with a
final smack to her bare mound.

   Marie tried to scream, but couldn't seem to make a sound.  With that she
saw him pull off his pants and his dick was an inhuman size.  It looked to
be the size of a soda bottle!  Surely it would split her open!

   He crawled on the bed as his face morphed into the red painted ghost
face from the movie earlier.  She couldn't bare to watch as he inched
closer to her.  "You're my slut now, Marie!" he laughed.  "Marie....Marie"



   "Marie!" Suddenly she was awake to Mike shaking her saying her name. 
She threw her arms around him and held him tight.  She started crying into
his t-shirt.  She had had nightmares before of the past, but none as
terrifying as this in a long time.

   "Shh.  It's alright.  You're safe," he whispered as he gently rocked her
back and forth.

   She cried and poured her heart out on him.  She had never really had
anyone to make her feel safe and now suddenly she did.  Mike had saved her,
from Daddy Paul, the scary ghost creature, and from being raped one more
time in her dreams.  She cried, but it was different than any other cry she
could remember having.  Now there was someone who cared about her and she
felt safe with.  She felt safe in his arms, safe enough to let out her
fears.

   "It's okay.  You're safe.  No one can hurt you here.  It was just a
dream," he said softly as her crying subsided.  When she finally calmed and
started hick-upping he asked her.  "Would you like to talk about it?"

   She didn't know why, but she did.  Never had she wanted to talk about
her encounters with counselors, doctors, or therapists, but with Mike, it
was different.  He really made her feel safe and she needed to share the
part of herself that she kept locked up.

   They sat up in the bed.  It was still dark out and in the room.  She
told him of her dream and then couldn't stop talking.  Mike held her hand
tenderly as she talked.

   "Paul was one of the firsts," she said as she hung her head shamefully.
"He wasn't the first one who touched.  There had been others, but was one
who made me orgasm for the first time.  He wouldn't stop.  He would rape me
and hurt me.  He put his....penis," she said hating the way the word
sounded so clinical for a thing that had caused her so much pain, "in me.
He would put in my ass," she continued.  "And would make me suck it and
swallow.  But the worst thing that he would do was he would tie me up," she
looked down at her hand in Mike's.  Somehow that little bit of physical
touch helped her talk.  "He would rub me and even use stuff on me, and make
me cum.  I didn't want to!" She said as a few more tears came out.  "I
didn't.  I tried not to, but I would cum anyway.  It was like the more I
fought against it, the harder I would cum.  He told me that's how he knew I
was a slut and that I wanted it.  That if I didn't want it, I wouldn't
orgasm for him."

   She looked at Mike and saw nothing but concern for her but he didn't say
anything to interrupt her.  "After a while, he would make me feel good
while he raped me.  He would put the vibrator against my clit as
he...fucked me." She looked away in shame.  "And I would be crying, but I
would still cum.  I didn't want to, but I would squeeze him inside of me.
He liked that and then he would tell me that made me his slut."

   Mike reached over and gently wiped her tears.  She could see that he was
crying, too.  "It's not true.  None of it," he said softly.  She looked
Mike in the eye finally as to see if he were telling the truth.  "You don't
belong to anyone.  You have never been a slut.  All the things that have
happened were done to you.  He did them.  Not you."

   She started crying more.  "But you don't understand.  After a while, I
didn't fight him." It hurt bring any of this up, but if he were going to
judge her, then she needed him to know the truth.  "I let him have me and I
stopped fighting him.  I even think I started..." she sobbed again in
shame, "started liking it after a while." She hung her head.  "By then end,
he didn't need to rape me because I was his slut." She broke into full
blown crying again, then.

   Mike carefully pulled her back to him.  She accepted his arms around her
and cried shamefully into his shoulder.  She had only told this to one
person before.  He, the psychologist that she had seen right after being
removed from Paul's care, had been cold and just watched her as she broke
down in his office.  He had offered her a tissue, but that was the limit of
his compassion.  She had never admitted to any of her own feelings about it
to anyone else afterward until today.

   "It's okay.  It's going to be okay.  No one is going to hurt you," Mike
whispered as he rocked her gently and let her cry.  After a few minutes of
her crying, Mike gently rubbing her back, holding her, she started to quiet
down and listen to the soft comforting sound of his voice.  "You did what
you had to do to survive.  Many others wouldn't have made it through what
you did.  He did that to you, not you.  You are who you choose to be.  You
are not anyone's property.  You are a rich, intelligent, resourceful,
vibrant young woman.  Let me ask you this.  Do you want to be a slut?"

   "No," she choked out leaning on his warm shoulder.

   "Then you're not and you never have to be," he said as he stroked her
long blonde hair.  "You are who you choose to be.  No one can choose it for
you."

   She wanted so much to believe him.  Her mind drifted shamefully over her
masturbation sessions that were almost part of her nightly ritual before
bed.  For months now, she thought those urges meant that she was a slut.

   "And just because he made you cum, doesn't mean that you wanted him to.
Hormones are weird.  Sometimes they don't do what we want them to.  They
can have a mind of their own.  He was using yours.  You couldn't control it
or help it.  That doesn't mean it was you doing it," Mike explained.

   A glimmer of hope sparked in her and she inhaled sharply at the
connection that Mike was unaware how close he was to her real issue.

   "Sex and liking sex isn't a bad thing.  When it is what you choose and
with someone you care it about, it is wonderful," he explained.  "Getting
enjoyment out of sex is not a bad thing and doesn't mean that you're a
slut. It means that you're normal like everyone else."

   Her heart welled up inside of her.  No one had explained it like that to
her before and somehow it made sense this time.  It filled her with hope.
"I'm not a slut for liking sex," she thought to herself.  "I'm not bad for
liking it." Maybe some others had said it, but now she believed it in her
heart.

   She hugged Mike tight again, this time for saving her from herself and
her own self loathing.  "Thank you," she whispered.

   After a few minutes of embracing, emotional weariness started to seep
in. She was emotionally drained, but felt better knowing that he still
cared about her even knowing one of her most dark secrets.  She let go of
him and asked.  "Can I still stay in here?" She didn't know if she should
or not, but she didn't want to go.

   "As long as you need," he said.

   She smiled and lay back down on her pillow.  She felt him move around
the bed to the other side.  "Good night, Marie," he said as she felt him
stop moving, presumably comfortable.

   "Good night," she said.  The words "I love you," where on the tip of her
tongue.  She didn't understand, but they were there.  She hadn't uttered
those words for years, much less felt it about anyone.  Now, she felt that
her heart was finally open to love once again, to the one who understood,
cared, and made her believe that she could be better than her past.

   After a while she heard him snoring lightly and she rolled to face him.
He looked so peaceful.  Before, she thought she just wanted him for a
sexual release and physical affection.  Now she believed that he really did
care about her and felt that she might love him.  She didn't understand
exactly what it changed, but now he wasn't just another foster parent or a
place to stay.  "I love you," she whispered in the dark to her sleeping
hero.

   Chapter 4

   The morning went well.  She thought it might be awkward or that Mike
would be different toward her, but he wasn't.  He was the same old Mike. 
Eggs and bacon with strawberry milk were almost ready after a short trip to
the bathroom.

   He didn't bring up anything that was said the night before.  He didn't
look at her with shame or disgust after knowing her past.  He was just
Mike.

   The next two weeks were good.  She started accepting herself and her
nightly urges for sex as normal.  She found that she could hold Mike's
hand, give him a hug, and sit beside him on the couch without him getting
nervous at all now.  He even put his arm around her several times.  It felt
good to have his touch.  Her affection for him grew as well.  She didn't
bring out anymore bad memories for him and the next night, she found that
her ghost fear had disappeared for the most part.  She just made sure to
stay clear of the scary movies for a while.  She didn't ask to sleep with
him anymore, but part of her wanted to be close to him.

   One Tuesday when she got home from school, he surprised her.  "Hey, I
talked to Jenny's parents and cleared it with them for you to stay at her
house Saturday night."

   Jenny was her best friend and they had alternated whose house to stay at
almost weekly.  Her parents and Mike seemed to get along and had even had a
barbeque or two when they weather nice.  "Okay.  What's the occasion?"

   "Nothing much.  I just thought you would have fun over there," he said
staring at his book on the couch.  She knew something was up, but after a
few questions of her getting nowhere, she gave up.  She checked the
calendar that he kept in the kitchen that he normally wrote down all
appointments and plans on.  It had Saturday's date underlined in red ink,
but it didn't say anything on it.  She didn't think too much about it.

   Saturday around noon, Mike dropped her off at Jenny's house.  He gave
her a hug and told her to have fun as she took her backpack filled with
clothes and a few items and headed inside.

   They had fun and went out for dinner and a movie.  That's when things
went bad for Jenny.  Before the end of the movie, she got sick and was
throwing up in the bathroom.  She apologized to Marie and told her that it
must have been something in the food.  In any case, her parents asked Marie
if she wanted to go home.  Marie, not wanting to cause issues used her cell
phone and tried to call Mike.  She was puzzled when it went to voice mail.
She tried to text him, but there was no answer.  She suggested to Jenny's
Mom that they swing by Mike's house.  She had a key and his cell phone may
have just died.

   Sure enough, there were a few lights on and his car was in the driveway.
She knocked but there was no answer so she used her key to let herself in.

   "Thanks," she said waving to her friend who looked pale from the
passenger seat.  "I hope you feel better," she said from her porch.

   "Sorry.  Bye," Jenny said as her mom pulled away.

   Marie closed and locked the door behind her as she came in.  She dropped
her pack in the hallway and heard music on in the living room.  As she
walked in, she instantly knew something was very wrong.

   Mike was sitting there in the dim light.  He had crying for a while by
the looks of it.  He held a framed picture in his hands.  He looked over at
Marie and she could see the sadness and heartbreak in his eyes.  She also
noted the bottle of alcohol half empty on the coffee table in front of him.

   He tried to straighten up.  "I thought you were staying with Jenny?" he
said softly.

   "Yeah, well she got sick so I came back," Marie said quietly not making
a move to come further into the room.  She could hear of alcohol on his
voice.  She knew very well what it could do to people.  She had even tried
it once or twice, but never liked it.  She also knew very bad things could
happen when it was around.

   "Okay," he said.  "I'm going to my room," he said as normal as he could
with tears still running down his face.  "You can get some food or soda,
but I want you to go to your room and lock the door.  Okay?  No matter what
you hear, I want you to stay in there for the night."

   She didn't know what to say.  He wasn't mean or mad.  It looked like he
was breaking in two.  Her first impulse when she saw the bottle was to
flee, but having him tell her to go hide was different.  What was wrong
that had him like this?  "Mike, what's wrong?"

   "Please.  Just go," he begged her.

   She went to the kitchen and grabbed water, retrieved her pack from the
hall, and went to her room.  She locked the door, but wondered why he would
insist on that?  She listened carefully, but in only moments, she heard him
pass by her door to his bedroom.  She heard his bedroom door close.

   After a few minutes, she could hear him talking or crying.  She quietly
crept out of her room to his door.  He was talking, drunk, but talking.

   "I'm so sorry," she heard him crying.  "I didn't mean for it to happen.
I would take it all back if I could.  I never would have touched her or
hurt her.  She was my baby."

   Marie didn't know what to think of this.

   "Why, Kayla?  Why wouldn't you believe me?"

   Kayla!  Marie recognized the name of his deceased wife.  She knew that
Kayla and Amy, his daughter, had died two years ago in a car crash.  He
rarely, if ever talked about them.  It always made him sad, and after just
a little probing she had stopped asking about them.  It broke her heart to
hear him in so much pain.  After listening to him cry a minute more, she
thought about her options.  He was drunk and told her to lock herself in
her room, or...

   She knocked on his bedroom door.  "Mike?"

   "Please, Marie.  Please go away," he pleaded.

   She opened his bedroom door to see him sitting in the dim light of a bed
lamp on the side of the bed that he didn't sleep on.  The framed picture
was clutched to his chest.  She walked carefully over to him.  She had
never seen him drink before.  Before tonight, she didn't even know that he
drank alcohol!  She knew that drunks had a way of lashing out, or at least
the ones that she had been around did.  It never ended well for her.  "Will
you talk about it?  You don't need to be alone like this," she said
carefully sitting down a few feet from him.

   He looked down.

   "I was honest with you.  You were there for me when I needed it.  Will
you be honest with me?" she chanced.

   He looked back at her and she could see the pain in his eyes.  "It was
my fault she died."

   "It was a car accident.  It was night and raining.  It couldn't have
been your fault," she said remembering the facts the best she could from
their talks.

   "Amy was twelve and she first started being interested in boys and sex.
She came to me and asked me to explain it to her, and I did.  A few weeks
later, Kayla told me that Amy had asked about sex again and what it was
like.  I didn't think it was much more than curiosity.  A few nights after
that, Kayla called me to her room," he paused frowning at the memory.  He
started choking through the words and sobbing.  "She was dressed her little
blue night gown.  She closed the door as I stepped into her room.  I just
figured she had a secret or surprise that she didn't want her mother to
know about.  She pulled the gown up.  She wanted to show me that she had
started growing pubic hair.  She pulled her panties down.  It was only for
a split second."

   Marie didn't like where this was going.  Alarms blared in her head.  She
quickly judged the distance to his bedroom door and how far it was to the
safety of her bedroom door that she could lock.  She tried to hide the
uneasiness.

   "Kayla opened the door right then.  She took one look at Amy with her
privates on display and me just standing there and began screaming at me. I
tried to explain, but Kayla assumed the worst.  She thought I was molesting
Amy."

   "But you weren't," Marie said uneasily.  "Why wouldn't she listen?"

   Mike looked at her.  His eyes still reflected his brokenness inside. 
Her heart broke for him, too, and her eyes started leaking tears as well.

   "Years before, I use to write stories.  Some had to do with young girls
and sex.  I had quit writing them, but Kayla knew about them."

   "She thought you were attracted to Amy," Marie said stating the logical
conclusion.  "And then?" she asked not knowing how this fit in.

   "Amy was crying saying that it was her fault.  I tried over and over to
talk to Kayla, but she wouldn't listen.  She dragged Amy out to the car. 
She said she was going to her mothers and not to follow her," he said
taking a deep breath.  "It was raining that night.  Her tires weren't the
best.  If she would have only stayed and talked to me about it..." he broke
down into sobs again.

   At that point, Marie noted the frame that was clutched to his chest. 
She knew what it would be, but still wanted to see it.  She slowly moved
closer to him and carefully reached over to pull the picture away from him
so she could see it.  It was a large picture of Kayla and Amy, one of those
from a portrait studio.  "It wasn't your fault," Marie chanced.

   Mike looked at her hard.  She suddenly knew that wasn't the right thing
to say.  "It was.  I'm the reason they're dead," he said with conviction.

   "How?  How could you have known what was going to happen?" Marie argued.

   "Because Kayla was right," he said and then he lay down on the bed, on
the side he didn't usually sleep on.

   "How was she right?" Marie couldn't stop her words.

   "I did find Amy attractive.  She was beautiful.  She was my Angel.  So
Kayla wasn't wrong in thinking that I was attracted to her.  She was right
to want to keep her away from me," he said letting the picture drop from
his hands to the floor.  "A father shouldn't look at his baby girl like
that."

   Marie was torn.  Could Mike be like all the others underneath?  "Did you
ever touch her?"

   "No," he said after a few seconds.

   After a few moments of silence, he started weeping again.  She crawled
up on the bed behind him.  "It's not your fault," she whispered.  Mike
turned his head into the pillow and cried silently.

   Marie stayed, but didn't know what to say or do.  She lay in the spot
that Mike usually slept and thought about everything while he cried himself
to sleep.

   Mike had seemed like the most normal guy on the planet.  He never gave
her the slightest impression that he could be interested in young girls. 
In fact he had given all the signals of the opposite.  It had taken him so
long to even do the simplest of physical gestures when it came to her.  She
quickly dismissed the thought that he could hurt her that way.  Chapter 5

   The next day, Mike apologized for his break down.  Marie noticed that he
went around the house and cleaned up any evidence of his drinking.  He
slept in and moved a little slower like he wasn't feeling well.  She knew a
little about hangovers and was careful around him.  She made breakfast and
thought hard about the night before.

   The day was rather normal, other than the fact that Mike seemed to be
avoiding much conversation with her.  That night as she lay in her bed, she
started rubbing herself.  Her thoughts spun around Mike, as the normally
did.  The thought of what might happen if he were like all the other men
she had known usually could keep her wet and help her reach her peak.  If
only he looked at her the way so many others did.

   A thought hit her and she stopped rubbing her small slit.  Mike admitted
that he was attracted to his daughter.  "He could like me," Marie thought
to herself.

   She got up and made her way to his room.  Mike was reading by a small
light by his bed.  He put his book down as she approached.  He had avoided
talking to her most of the day.  Now, he really couldn't.

   "Can we talk for a minute?" she asked carefully before taking more than
a few steps into his room.

   "Yeah," he said but didn't sound like he was looking forward to it.

   Marie sat on the side of his bed before she had the courage to speak. 
She figured that being direct was about the only way she would get some
answers.  "Are you attracted to me?" she asked softly.

   He looked at her for a few long seconds and then away.  "Marie, you are
a nice looking girl-"

   "No," she cut him off.  "I mean you.  Do you think I'm attractive?"

   He looked down.  "Yes," he admitted.  "But don't think that I'm like
that.  I'm not going to do anything to you."

   "What if it's something that I want?" Marie countered.  Then she leaned
down, taking him by surprise and brought her face to his.  She moved in
slowly the last inch between them and pressed her lips against his.  She
felt tingles go through her body as his warm lips reacted and kissed her
back for a moment.
   She only had a moment and then he pushed her back.