KALEY

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She emerged from the edge of the forest like a goddess descending from Olympus to mingle with her minions. The bright winter sun cast an aura about her, and made the faux-ermine coat she wore shimmer with a heavenly sheen confirming her divine perfection. Her hood, rimmed with pale gray fur, encircled her precious face like a pewter framed Victorian portrait.

All about her was white and untainted. Only the grayness of the trees and the trim on her coat and boots hinted at a possible risk of purity.

I trudged through the snow to meet her half way between the woods and the cabin.

As we met she looked up, her dark brown eyes filled with tears; from the biting cold or nervousness, I could not determine. �I�m ready, Uncle Ray,� she murmured softly, and the voice of an angel filled my heart to near bursting.

I tried to keep concern out of my voice when I asked, �Are you sure?� but I don�t know how successful I was.

Eye contact was broken and she looked down at the snow, as if reconsidering her decision, then up again with a confident nod.

We walked in silence, hand in hand, hers gloved in white, mine bare. Even the blue jays ceased their racket in solemn respect. Up the wooden steps we tramped to the porch where we stomped off the excess snow before entering.

The inside was warmed by a blazing fireplace set against the opposite wall, logs crackled and popped, and threw a dry, comfortable heat as well as providing the only source of light in the dark room. The front part of the cabin was open to the ceiling with stairways on the left and right, connected by a balcony, leading to bedrooms and bath on the second floor.

I helped Kaley out of her coat and hung it beside mine on a peg near the door. She was dressed in a blue polka dot dress with a red plastic belt which seemed to me an odd choice. It tended to highlight her youth, and made me wonder if it was a subliminal message to remind me just how young she was and how traumatic this occasion would be.

There was no need for such warnings. For days and nights on end I had played this meeting over in my mind, not thinking of the sexuality of it, but of the importance of the step she was taking and how my part in it could affect her for years to come.

She sat on a log bench and I pulled off her boots. Her feet were cold. I tugged her socks off then scooped her up in my arms, swinging her around, and ran with her to the bear rug in front of the hearth. She laughed, and I think it eased tensions in both of us.

I lay her on the rug with her head resting on its head; a place she had occupied numerous times before; a place of comfort, a place known to her, a place of security.

As she lay basking in the warmth, I went to fetch a cup of hot chocolate, still steaming on the stove, and garnished it with a huge dollop of mallow, just the way she liked it. While she sipped I chafed her feet with my hands, restoring circulation.

She seemed less nervous now as she wiped a mallow mustache off her lips with a flick of her tongue, perhaps not thinking about how this visit was to be different than any of the others.

I began to massage her feet and she closed her eyes in appreciation, a small smile gracing her face. Even a small smile was a joyous thing.

For such a long time after her father, my younger brother John, was killed in a car accident I thought I might never see her smile again.

Her mother, who was so deeply in love with him that his passing literally broke her - her heart, her nerves, her spirit � withdrew into herself for weeks, talking to few, constantly in tears, unable to handle the loss. When she finally emerged, she threw herself into her work as a way of coping. She was an executive consultant to a fashion concern (hence Kaley�s access to haut-couture).

She made a terrific living at her job, frequently on the go to meetings, conferences, and buying sessions. It allowed her to tune out the hurt, the memories; but, unfortunately, it also somewhat tuned out Kaley.

At ten years old she was left to deal with the issues of loss and death that even her adult mother couldn�t face. At a time when she needed love and support, her mother wasn�t there for her.

That�s when I suggested she come and spend time with me at the cabin. It let Amy, her mother, have time alone to sort through her problems. Later it became a place for her to dump Kaley on the weekends when she was out of town.

I tried my best to help Kaley deal with the mourning and ultimate recovery from her terrible loss of not just one parent, but two. I tried to become a father figure to her, but I was never cut out to be a father. I am an artist, by trade, Bohemian by nature, the requisite black sheep of any family.

Instead I just allowed myself to be accessible, for whatever she wanted. Her visits eventually turned into long gab sessions about everything from astronomy to zoology. We gardened, cooked, took hikes, rode the horses, piled wood for the winter.

At first though, things were entirely different. Kaley would come to the cabin, flop down on the sofa and mope; quiet, withdrawn, just like her mother.

I don�t really know what prompted me to do it, but one day I picked up my sketch pad and started drawing. When I was done I entitled it �Pretty Girl in Pain� and tossed it on the coffee table.

She glanced at it, sat up, and picked it up. She studied it for some time before asking, �Why in pain? She isn�t crying or making a face like she hurts.�

I squatted in front of her and answered, �Sometimes pain isn�t visible on the outside. Sometimes it happens deep inside and we don�t know how to get it out, but it hurts just as much. Maybe more.�

She tossed the sketch back on the table. �Then why doesn�t she get it out?� she asked.

Looking into those sad brown eyes made me want to cry, but I knew I had to be the strong one at this particular time.

�She might think it will hurt more to let it out, to acknowledge it. And it will hurt, but not as much as keeping it inside. When it�s inside her it keeps growing and hurts all the more,� I told her.

The room was quiet, except for the ticking of the old mantle clock.

Her voice, even quieter than before barely broke the stillness. �But HOW does she get it out?�

�She just lets it come,� I almost whispered.

Her eyes left mine for a few moments as she pondered this. When she once again met my gaze they were filled with unshed tears. Not more than a second later she flung herself into my arms, hers wrapped around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder sobbing. And, now, I wept with her.

She held on to me for maybe twenty minutes before the tears stopped and she regained composure.

�I�m sorry,� she said, between sniffs.

�For what?� I asked.

�For crying like a baby,� she replied.

�You needed to let it out,� I told her. �Anyone could see how miserable you were; �Pretty Girl in Pain�,� I said. �Besides,� I said with a sheepish grin, �I cried like a baby, too, and I�m �da man�. I�m not supposed to cry.�

�I�m glad you did. It made it easier for me to.�

A few moments of awkward silence ended when she said, �Can I ask you a question?�

�Of course.�

A reddish hue brightened her cheeks even more than all the tears had. �Do you really think I�m pretty?�

�I think you're Beautiful,� I said, my words getting louder and faster suddenly tickling her unmercifully until tears of a different type filled her eyes.

It was so wonderful to hear her laugh and giggle. She was so overdue.

That night we made root beer floats, an epicurean delicacy that I introduced her to. Then we lay on the bear rug before the fire and I told her stories of her father growing up. About eleven o�clock we were ready to call it a night.

We climbed the stairs, she went to the guest bedroom and I continued on to my bedroom. I got myself ready for bed, brushed my teeth, and climbed beneath the covers, about to turn out the light when there was a small knock on the door.

�Come in,� I said.

Kaley entered, dressed in pjs, with a sheepish look on her face.

�What�s the matter, hon?� I asked.

She stood in the doorway, �I�m lonely. I mean, I don�t want to be alone. Can I sleep with you?�

For all the hundreds of reasons why I should have answered no, none seemed all that important on that night.

�On one condition,� I said.

�What?� she asked meekly, her eyes growing large with concern that it might be something she would be unable to commit to.

�You can never tell anyone about this.�

A smile appeared on her face as she said, �Deal!�

I pulled the blanket back and she scampered over, hopping onto bed with me. We cuddled up and she fell asleep in my arms.

Sex was never a question, or an issue. This was my brother�s kid. She was lonely, frightened, and hurting. Whatever I could do to help alleviate those problems, even allowing her to share my bed, I would gladly do.

After that night, whenever she stayed with me we slept in the same bed.

Kaley seemed to need attention. Maybe attention is not the right word. That sounds too spoiled, too brat-like, and she was definitely not that. She needed someone to care for her, and someone for her to take care of.

She certainly didn�t get that at home. Amy probably went through the motions of being a mother; feeding Kaley, buying her clothes, doing laundry; but I doubt there was a parental connection; closeness, tenderness, sharing.

It became apparent to me just how neglected Kaley was one day when she was visiting. She was eleven then. She had run upstairs to use the bathroom, when, after a few minutes I heard her screaming in terror.

�Uncle Ray! Uncle Ray!� followed by pitiful sobbing.

The fear in that voice turned my blood to ice.

Throwing down the book I was reading I dashed to the stairs, taking them two at a time. I burst into the room to see Kaley on the toilet, white as the porcelain she sat upon. Her legs were spread just a bit and in her hand was a wad of toilet paper, stained with red.

Her arms were pressed close to her body and she shook as if she had been out in the cold for hours.

�Uncle Ray,� she whimpered, �I�m bleeding. Down there,� and her head bent toward the area between her legs. Then she began to sob all over again. �What�s wrong with me?� she cried.

I went to her side, kneeling, I embraced her and said, �Kaley, it's okay. There�s nothing wrong with you. Hasn�t your mother told you about getting your period?� I asked, trying to keep the disgust I felt for Amy at that moment out of my voice.

�What�s that?� she asked.

I went on to explain to her what I knew of the occurrence, and explained it was what happened when young girls started their journey to become young ladies. I tried to make her understand it was all normal, and all girls about her age would start having periods, sooner or later.

She asked a lot of questions which I answered to the best of my ability. I wasn�t really prepared for a discussion of that kind, but I think I handled it fairly well.

As unprepared for the discussion as I was, I was even less prepared for the event. She finished wiping and I cleansed the area with warm water and a soft wash cloth. It was the first time I ever saw her pussy, and, try as I would not to look at it in any other respect than giving her aid, there were lascivious thoughts in the back of my mind, battling my conscience, and winning.

The little lips were swollen and red, like tender flesh, though I don�t think she was hurting at all. A small patch of silky fine hair graced the area above. Coincidentally, at the same time I noticed it she asked �Is that why I am getting hair there, too?�

For a moment I felt caught, doing what I shouldn�t be doing; looking at her in a sexual way, which I was, but then I realized it was just an innocent question, since I obviously could see it.

I nodded. �You�re becoming a woman.�

Getting a big wad of bandage cotton from the medicine cabinet I formed it into a temporary napkin and placed in her panties. It probably wasn�t the most comfortable thing, but it would suffice until we made the trek into town to purchase the actual article.

That night when Amy picked her up, as they were leaving, I said, �You might want to have the discussion with Kaley about periods. You know? The one you already should have had?�

Amy looked at me with eyes widened, then hung her head and nodded. Maybe, I thought, this would be enough of a jolt to her conscience that she would start behaving more like a mother and less like a housemate. Later, however, I would discover it wasn�t.

And, as I said before, I was anything but a good �father-figure�. It was no secret I was a womanizer. On the weekends Kaley didn�t stay with me, I was always out partying, getting drunk, and ending up in some bimbo�s bed.

But Kaley and I had our own type of relationship. The romanticism associated with being an artist, unburdened by the normal bounds of a five day, forty hour week, free spirited, and successful; very successful, caused her to view me in an idealized way. I became what the only other male figure in a young girl�s life, besides her father, could be; a love interest.

She idolized me, put me on a pedestal and worshiped the ground I walked on. I saw it for what it really was, a crush, puppy love, and knew it would someday pass for a movie star, rock star, or local high school football star, and allowed it to develop unchecked, hardly realizing what it would lead to.

We were curled up on the sofa one day watching the fire and having a usual gab session about the world in general, when, out of the blue she asks, �When a woman loses her virginity, how bad does it hurt?�

There had never been any rules between us about what we could or couldn�t discuss, but I have to admit, this took me by surprise. Juggling answers around in my mind for a few seconds I finally answered.

�Of course, I really can�t say for sure, but I imagine it�s somewhat painful. Probably more so,� I added, �if the boy is not experienced, either.�

The last part was in case she had some boy at school in mind to take her cherry. On top of everything else, she didn�t need that pressure.

Musing that answer over in her mind she nodded, �That�s what I kinda thought, too.�

There were a couple of minutes of silence before she added, �That�s why I want you to be the first one.�

A coughing fit resulted from having just taken a swig of soda when she dropped that bomb. When I finally got myself under control, I squeaked out the question I wasn�t sure I wanted to know the answer to, �The first what one what?�

�To have sex with me.�

Sitting up, I turned to face her. �Baby, I�m your Uncle. I can�t have sex with you.�

I specifically used the term �baby� to psychologically make her feel the difference in our ages and to underscore the fact that she might not be old enough to enter into that area of growing up quite yet, but she saw through my strategy with a keen awareness beyond her years that always amazed me.

�I�m not a baby,� she snapped. �I�m twelve years old. That�s almost a teenager. That�s almost grown up.�

I sat dumbfounded.

The words flew from her mouth in a flurry of preteen reasoning that I had a hard time keeping up with. �And it doesn�t matter if you�re my Uncle. It�s not like we would ever get married or anything. You are the kindest person in my life. I know you would hurt me less than anybody else would. And if it has to hurt the first time, I want it to be you cuz I won�t feel so stupid if I cry. And this is something special and I want to share it with the specialist person in my life.� There was a pause before she added, almost at a whisper, �You.�

I was speechless, sitting in silence for a long moment.

�You have to give me time to think about this,� I told her, quietly.

�Okay,� she murmured.

We went out in the cold and pulled hay down for the horses, had a quiet meal, and just before Amy came to pick her up I told Kaley, �Next weekend we will do what you want.�

Immediately her arms flew about my neck, a big smile exploded on her face, and she planted a kiss on my cheek.

�Of course, no one can know about this, right?� I warned.

�Right,� she agreed solemnly.

And, now, she lay on the bear rug and I rubbed her no-longer-cold feet. She opened her eyes, setting the mug on the hearth and asked, �What do we do now?�

I stood and offered her my hand. Pulling her to her feet I led her up the stairs and across the balcony to my room. I sat on the edge of the bed.

�Are you positive?� I asked.

She nodded. �What do we do now, get naked?�

I smiled. �Why don�t you go in the bathroom and get ready. There�s a surprise for you in there.�

She scampered into the bathroom, the idea of a surprise taking the edge off her nerves for the moment.

Earlier in the week I had purchased a negligee for her. I wanted it to be something special; not a gaudy pink, or an immoral red, or a even a sullen black. The only color it could be; white.

When the door opened and she stepped through it my breath was taken away. Her long black hair was pushed behind her shoulders. Thin, lacey straps extended from her shoulders to a square cut bodice, also lace covered. Her small breasts were covered, but showed through the nearly transparent material. Below that the top opened, pulling back around her hips. A creamy pink patch of skin was visible to where the lacey white panties began. They rode low on her hips, and the same material gave promise to a small dark patch just above where her legs came together.

Her nervousness was easy to read.

�Do I� look okay?� her voice trembling ever so slightly.

�Sweetheart, you are probably the most beautiful thing I have ever set eyes on,� I honestly told her.

She smiled, and a tear ran down her cheek. �Really?�

�Really.�

Pulling the corner of the blankets back I beckoned her over. She darted to the bed and hopped in.

�I don�t know what to do,� she admitted, nervously.

�Don�t worry. You�ll be fine.�

I was already hard. It would have been impossible not to be.

�Let�s get this off,� I said starting to lift the top. She raised up and I slipped it off. Her breasts were still small, but before long she would be wearing a bra. The nipples were erect in the center of pink aureoles. I ran my fingers over one. The muscles of her body tensed and she inhaled deeply.

When I placed my lips over it and began to lick and suck I heard a tiny moan escape her lips. After a while I removed her panties.

As I placed my fingers between her legs I could feel she was already wet. I took her hand and directed it to my cock, wrapping her fingers around the stiff shaft and starting the jerking motion. Her eyes grew wide, then she gave a nervous giggle and continued on her own.

While she busied herself with that, I returned to her cleft. My finger found the sensitive tissue of her labia and eased its way to the even more sensitive clitoris.

She exhaled an �Oh�, and shifted in a pleasurable way.

I took my time and tender care massaging the region. I was quite sure she wouldn�t achieve an orgasm this time, but, I wanted her to know how good it felt to have special attention given to the area. Who knew, with the partners she might choose to have in the future how long it would be before it was ever properly administered to again.

Nuzzling her neck and giving her a kiss I whispered in her ear, �Ready?�

�Yes, I think so,� she whispered back, breathlessly.

I spread her legs and eased myself between them. Supporting my weight with one hand I guided the head of my dick to her virgin hole.

�If it hurts too much, let me know and I�ll stop, okay?�

�Mm Hmm,� she replied as she wrapped her legs around me.

I began to press my dick against her opening. Immediately I could feel her tense. I pushed harder and it started to move inward.

�Ow!� she cried, and I started to pull away, but she used the leverage of her legs around my hips and thrust herself against me in one rapid motion.

Kaley cried out in pain and I felt horrible for a second until she said, �No. Stay in me. Please!�

We lay surrounded by each other�s arms. I waited until her shudders ceased and began a slow rhythmic pumping of my hips, my dick sliding in and almost out again and again, the rising tide of cum building inside me.

She was so tight. Her movements matching mine in antipathy. I wanted her so badly. Despite the relationship, despite the difference in ages, I wanted her more than anything. I came with a vengeance.

She was exhausted. I was exhausted. I rolled off onto the bed beside her.

Once we had recovered our composure we inspected the damage. There was a little blood on the sheets, but not what I expected.

When she saw a trickle of cum running out of her pussy she momentarily panicked. �Oh, no! You did it in me. What if I get pregnant?�

I smiled and told her about my vasectomy. �But, that is something you should always consider ahead of time.�

We cuddled and talked, and Friday night passed into Saturday.

Saturday evening found us in bed early again, she rode atop me like a pony, a position she particularly enjoyed, even climaxing once that way.

From the open bedroom doorway came the words, �Anybody here? I got done early so� what the hell? What the HELL!�

We turned to find Amy standing there looking confused, then irate.

�Mommy!!!� Kaley screamed then leaped off me and scampered to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her.

I pulled the covers over my rapidly flagging dick as Amy stormed into the room. �What the fuck, Ray! You�re screwing my daughter!?�

Amy�s face was a bright shade of red rage. �You fucking pervert. She�s your niece for Christ�s sakes; your brother�s daughter!�

I had lain quietly allowing her to vent her anger before I tried to defend myself, keeping my tone quiet and not rising to her fury. �That�s one of the reasons I agreed to it.�

�Oh, you AGREED to it. I see. It was all Kaley�s idea,� her voice thick with mockery.

�Actually, it was, but that is not a defense. I could have said no,� I replied.

�Yeah, but a virgin piece of ass was too tempting.�

Now I began to get upset. �Not true at all. I asked myself that question over and over this past week, and that is not why I did it.�

Amy either didn�t hear what I had said, or chose to ignore it. �You KNOW she worships the ground you walk on and you took advantage of it.�

�NO!� I countered. �I do know that and I determined that I would rather have her lose her virginity to someone who loved her, and who she loved than to let some pimple faced oaf with overabundance of sex hormones coursing through his body ruin it for her for years to come.�

�Bull shit!� she screamed. �What would your brother have said?�

Lowering my voice again I admitted, �He would have been upset. But if he was alive I wouldn�t have done it.�

She sneered as she said, vehemently, �Oh, but since it�s only Amy, it's okay.�

Now I tried to make a pertinent point. �It isn�t only Amy. It�s only Ray. It hasn�t been Amy for a long time.�

�What the fuck are you talking about?�

�When my brother died you drew yourself into a cocoon for months, and when you finally emerged you absorbed yourself in your work. I have been more of a mother to Kaley than you have.� She didn�t bite back so I tried pushing a little farther. �Christ, I bought her first sanitary napkins!�

�Fuck you!� she snarled, but it didn�t contain quite the same amount of vitreous acid that she had been spewing.

Quieting even more I told her, �I think you suffered terribly at the loss of someone who meant the world to you, taken in an instant, with no chance to prepare. I think you feel you couldn�t bear to have that happen again, so you�ve distanced yourself from the only other person who means as much; Kaley.�

Amy was silent a moment before replying, �Thank you Dr. Phil for trying to turn the tables by psychoanalyzing me. But that still doesn�t change the fact that you fucked my eleven year old daughter!� she yelled, her voice growing in volume as she spoke.

�Twelve.�

�What?� she asked, as if she really didn�t understand what I had just said.

�Twelve. Kaley is twelve,� I repeated.

Amy had been standing right next to the bed, looming over me in her fury. Now she turned and flopped down on the edge, sitting with her head lowered.

Through a sniff she said, ending in tears, �Lord I miss him SO much.�

It was a wail of sorrow so real it was all I could do not to cry as well when I said, �We ALL do�.

About that time the bathroom door opened and Kaley took a couple of tentative steps into the room. She was dressed in the clothes she had arrived in, knitting her fingers together nervously.

�Mommy,� she asked in a voice so quiet she could barely be heard, �Is Uncle Ray in trouble?�

Her mother, who hadn�t looked up from her gaze at the floor after a moment�s thought shook her head almost imperceptibly and whispered, �No.�

�Am I?�

I couldn�t keep my tears back any longer. The fact that her first concern was for me, rather than herself was enough to turn the tide.

Amy looked up, pained with guilt and sorrow, �Oh, no, baby,� she said stretching out her arms beckoning Kaley to her.

The little girl ran to the bedside, strategically placing herself between her mother and me. After a couple of minutes Amy took Kaley�s arm, saying, �I think we�d better be going. Don�t want to get stuck in Uncle Ray�s poor excuse for a driveway.�

They walked to the still open doorway and Amy stopped. Looking at her daughter she said, �Next weekend I have to be in Portland for a buyer�s show. Is it okay if Kaley stays here?�

I wanted to be careful in the way I worded it, so it couldn�t be misconstrued in a carnal way, but the best I could come up with was, �Of course.�

Kaley looked at me and smiled.

Then Amy added, �The week after, I have to fly to LA for what should be a very quick meeting, and I�d like to take Kaley with me. Kind of a girl�s weekend, you know, pedicures, shopping, fancy restaurants, looking for movie stars. That is if she wants to go?� she said uncertainly.

Kaley�s face lit up in excitement. �Really? LA? Los Angeles LA?� she beamed.

�It�s the only one I know,� Amy replied.

At that, Kaley threw her arms around her mother, hugging her and repeating, �Oh, yes! Oh, yes!�

Amy indecisively wrapped her arms around her daughter as if she was unsure she deserved the privilege.

As the two stood embracing each other in profile to me I could see Amy�s chin quiver and tears flowed down her cheek.

�You guys will have a great time,� I said.

They separated when Amy told her, �We�d better get going.�

As they left the room and walked along the balcony and down the steps I could hear them chattering back and forth, but I couldn�t make out about what. I got up and threw on my flannel robe and went to stand overlooking the living area where they were busy donning coats and boots.

Amy asked Kaley, �Did it hurt a lot?�

Kaley nodded slightly and said, �He was very careful, but it did hurt the first time.�

�The first time?� Amy asked. �More than once?�

�Yeah, the second and third time, not as much. After that it was dreamy,� she giggled like the school girl she was. �I even had a orgasm," she stated proudly.

�I see,� Amy replied in nervous astonishment.

By now they were dressed, with the front door open, facing each other.

�I am a little sore, though. Uncle Ray is quite big,� Kaley said with the innocence of a child.

�Okaaayy,� Amy laughed, uncertain what reaction she should make. �Right at the present time this might fall under the heading of TMI, too much information.�

Kaley turned toward me and waved, �Bye, Uncle Ray,� she chimed.

�Bye, sweetheart. See you next week.�

Kaley left and Amy turned toward me. We looked at each other for a long moment, then, she falteringly raised her hand in a good bye. I smiled and returned the wave. And as the door closed I knew Kaley would be beginning a new chapter in her life. She would still have me, for as long and whenever she wanted or needed, but now she would have her mother back.

For the rest of the night I sat with a sketch pad drawing out the last sight I had of them, standing in the door, gazing into each other�s eyes. It was a good sketch, capturing the joy, the tenderness, as well as the underlying sorrow and guilt of one, and the unwavering love and forgiveness of the other. It was worthy of my signature; a priceless work, but one that would never be for sale. And I entitled it, �Two pretty girls, happy at last.�

THE END