Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Wet

   - a romantic story by WTSman

   George is a widower and he is home alone in the cold Danish autumn.  Out
of the blue, or out of the creek more like, Melissa - his oldest daughter
Emma's friend - shows up.  Melissa has been invited to spend the week
studying with Emma while her parents are out of the country.  Only Emma
isn't there - she's on holidays with her siblings visiting relatives.  What
is George to do?

   ____________________________

   Chapter 1

   It was autumn.  Definitely so.  The October holidays can be lovely in
Denmark - a bit like Canada's 'Indian Summers'.  This year it looked none
too good.

   It was Saturday early afternoon and I was home alone.  I had just
returned from dropping my daughters and their little brother off at the
station (a train ride was an added excitement for my son) to go on holidays
at my brother's place on the mainland.  I had to work.

   Had to?  Well, let's just say I worked.  Since the shocking and
unexpected loss of my wife a year ago, that was what I did - work - when I
wasn't looking after my kids.  My daughters - 18 and nearly 16 - had been
urging me to start dating, but I just couldn't get my heart behind it.  I
reckoned you only get what I'd had once.  I mean, do you known of anyone
that kept playing Lotto after winning the big one?

   So I had thrown myself into more work and been remarkably successful,
even though it brought me little joy.  Right now we were on the verge of
closing a very big deal, which is why the 'had to work' bit wasn't
completely off the mark.  It involved a few more meetings here and a final
meeting in London, followed by a party to celebrate the deal.  I dreaded
that one - there was this predatory woman in the consortium.  She had been
actively pursuing me for a while.  Some prize idiot at work had let on that
I was single and she had made crude and very direct overtures on several
occasions.  It could turn embarrassing quickly, and I had no idea what to
do.

   I realized my eyes were straining to see the keyboard - 2 PM, and it was
pitch dark.  Now that's unusual even for here - I got up to switch on the
light.  The rain was pelting down and suddenly there was a flash of
lightning.  Lightning in October??  I don't think it could get any nastier.
I did a hasty backup of my documents and was about to make a cup of tea
when the door bell rang.

   I opened the door and was rewarded with a gust of icy cold rain laden
wind.  Outside was a young person whom I knew very well - a rather timid
girl called Melissa.  She is a friend and class mate of my oldest daughter
Emma - they'd known each other since they started school, although they had
only been in the same class for the first year and again now for senior
high.  But I had known her for 12 years and liked her a lot.  She was
bright, if not shining, one of those pretty girls whose shyness and lack of
confidence had somehow left her behind in the dating game.  Emma said
Melissa had never had a serious boyfriend and that she felt it very
acutely. It was strange that she and Emma should be such good friends; Emma
was very comfortable in her own skin, had found a great boyfriend at 15 and
was still with him.  But she was also a very good and loyal friend to the
girls she knew and liked.

   Saying that Melissa was merely 'wet' would be an understatement.  I
frankly don't think she could have wetter, had she fallen into the creek.
She was holding a small handbag in one hand and a larger soft sided
'weekend' bag in the other.  Her bike helmet was still on her head, holding
her soaked hair in place.  She was a sorry sight.  "Melissa!" I exclaimed.
"Do come in!"

   I stepped aside to let her in and darted to the bathroom for a towel
while she took the helmet off.  She grabbed the towel gratefully and dried
her face.  Or tried to.  At least she stopped dripping, but she was
thoroughly soaked.  "Better get that wet coat off," I said.  "There will be
tea in a moment.  What brings you here?"

   She had nodded at my suggestion and brightened up a bit at the prospect
of something warm, but now she looked at me confused.  "Em' didn't tell
you?" she asked.

   "Tell me what?" Now it was my turn to be confused.  Emma had told me
nothing.

   "Where is Em'?" Melissa asked.

   "Why, Emma and Lydia and Ryan have just left for a week in Jutland," I
said.

   Melissa's face fell.  "You're kidding!" She looked really worried now.
"Em' didn't tell you that I was coming to stay?"

   "Stay?" I asked - this was strange.

   "Yes, stay.  Mom and Dad and my brother have just flown off to Crete.  I
really needed to work on my Final Year Project, so I couldn't go.  Em'
invited me to stay the week."

   After a brief uncomfortable silence, I recovered.  "So you stay." This
was so unlike Emma, and I was - for once - sure it wasn't just me that had
things wrong.  OK, I could easily have said 'yeah, whatever' if one of the
kids wanted a friend to stay over and promptly forgotten, but this was
different, I mean, they were on holidays and I was alone.  "Simple as that,
you stay," I repeated.

   "Are you sure?" Melissa asked, sounding uncertain "I mean, won't I be in
your way?  I could try to phone Gran."

   "I don't know what Emma was thinking of, but you are always welcome -
you know that," I said warmly.  "It won't be much fun with Emma not here,
but you were going to work anyway, and feeding you and housing you is not a
problem.  You can even have a choice of beds now!"

   Melissa nodded agreement and resumed getting her coat and boots off.  It
became obvious that she was soaked to the skin.  "Better find something
dry," I said.

   Again Melissa nodded and opened her large bag.  It was full of clothes.
Damp clothes; the torrential rain had gone through everything.  She looked
up at me hopelessly.

   "Cheer up," I said.  "We'll raid Emma's and Lydia's wardrobes presently,
and get your stuff in the drier.  And you yourself must be chilled to the
bone.  We don't want you to catch a cold, do we?  Can I suggest you have a
warm bath?"

   "That would be nice," she said.

   I went back to bathroom, plugged the tub and started filling it.  "Like
lavender?" I asked.

   "Huh?"

   "Shall I add some lavender to your bath?" I asked.

   "Yes, please.  That will be nice.  We don't have a tub at home." She
blushed.  I wondered why, but added the stuff.

   "You stay here while I get you some fresh towels - I'll be right back."

   She had started to undress when I returned with the towels, but she was
still in tee-shirt and panties.  She blushed profusely.

   "Sorry," I said, trying not to look her over too overtly.  But the
tee-shirt certainly was wet.  "I grabbed a dry tee-shirt and a pair of
panties from Emma's room.  Feel free to look for other clothes once you're
done.  Use my dressing gown if you like." I nodded in its direction.

   "Thanks," she said.  "I will."

   "Enjoy your bath.  There will be tea and scones when you're ready." I
left, closing the door behind me.

   I took Melissa's bag down to the laundry and emptied it out.  Nothing
was really soaked, but everything was either wet or damp apart from a
plastic bag full of school books and notes - they were perfectly dry; thank
God for that.  I threw more or less all of the clothes in the drier and
activated the automatic program.  Her bras and panties were plain and
un-alluring.  'Oh, well - it's what you put in them that counts,' I thought
to myself.  Her bras were small B-cups.  She had looked bigger through her
wet tee-shirt a moment ago.  Possibly she was just one of those countless
women that go through life with the wrong bra size.  Strange.  I shook
myself back to the present.  'Not your business', I chided myself.

   On the way back up the stairs I heard the phone and just exactly made
it. It was Melissa's mother Helen on her cell phone with airport noises in
the background.  "We're at the gate and will leave in a few moments.  I
just wanted to make sure Melissa made it safely out to your place.  The
weather didn't look very nice."

   "You can say that again," I replied.  "She was drenched.  So were her
spare clothes.  Right now she is having a warm bath to thaw out, and she
will wear some of Emma's clothes until her own are dry."

   "That's sweet of you.  It was a pity she had to stay behind, but Senior
Year is so tough, isn't it?  I really appreciate she can stay with you. 
Obviously she is old enough to look after herself, but she can get so much
more done on her project when she doesn't have to run a household at the
same time and..." Helen went on.  I like her and her husband Steve a lot.
Steve is very quiet.  For a reason.  Helen sure can talk!

   Before I got a chance to tell her that the arrangements were somewhat
different from what Melissa had thought, Helen cut herself off.  "Oh, we're
being called to board now.  Gotta go.  Give Melissa my love.  Bye"

   "Bye," I said into the silent telephone.

   Melissa came out of the bathroom wearing my dressing gown and with a
towel around her hair.  "Have you got a hair drier?" she called.

   "Sure, there is one in our bedroom," I replied automatically, and then
corrected myself with a sigh "That is to say, my bedroom."

   A look of compassion came over Melissa's face.  "You still haven't
gotten used to it, have you?" she asked softly and then suddenly blushed
again realising perhaps that she might have gotten too close or betrayed
something Emma had told her.

   "No, sweetheart," I said heavily.  "It takes time."

   The master bedroom is also on the ground floor.  Melissa fled there and
I heard her busy herself with the hair drier while I got the tea and scones
ready.  She came out of the bedroom a few minutes later.  Her dark blond
hair was softly hugging her face making her look absolutely gorgeous "I
feel much more human now," she said.

   I smiled.  "Do you want to have the tea now, or shall we explore Emma's
and Lydia's wardrobes first?"

   She hesitated.  "Tea would be nice.  You're sure you don't mind?"
indicating the dressing gown with a gesture.  I shook my head and hunger
won the argument.

   Mind?  I sure didn't.  She looked very very nice just in my dressing
gown.  Particularly when she sat down opposite me at the dining table and
the gown started to open at the top.  Perhaps she was only a B, but then it
was a large and very firm B.

   We enjoyed the tea and scones, chatting freely about this and that and
gradually moving towards more personal subjects.  "Do you think you will
ever remarry?" she asked, this time not blushing or looking awkward - the
rapport between us having established her leave to ask.

   "I don't know.  I don't rule it out.  I just haven't found anyone I
fancied.  Not until now, anyway," I replied - formulating for the first
time what I had been thinking about over the last half year or so, and not
finding it strange at all that I was telling this to someone I had known
from a child.  "And what about you?" I countered.  "How come there's no one
special in your life?"

   "Dunno," she said.  "Two years ago I was really desperate about finding
a boyfriend - I envied Em' so much." She smiled and carried on.  "But Em'
is special, and she's been so incredibly lucky with Mark.  That's not the
norm - I've seen so many of my girl friends having absolute awful times
with their boyfriends, so I decided to go for quality or not go at all."

   I found that amazingly mature for a high school girl and was just about
to say something along those lines when her face softened and she continued
"I'm just like you, really.  I haven't found anyone I fancy.  Until now."
There was a slight emphasis on the last two words and the blush returned
faintly.

   For the first time since sitting down for afternoon tea, there was a
slightly tense pause in the conversation.  Was I reading too much into
those last words?  In a determined effort to direct my thoughts away from
the fact that I was not only baring my soul but also getting seriously
turned on by this scantly dressed girl, I decided to change the subject for
now.

   "Your mother called while you were in the bath," I said.  "She wanted to
know if you had gotten here safely."

   She made a grimace.  "Did you tell her about Em's stuff-up?"

   "Never got a chance.  Do you mind?" I asked.

   "Nope - I'm a big girl now," she replied.

   She sure was.  At 18 you're legally an adult, even if you still live at
home, but that is not what I was thinking about.  Perhaps this was not such
a good idea after all.  Or perhaps it was.  I felt happy and giddy and
suddenly a lot younger.  I made some neutral reply and the conversation
continued.

   She was chatty again and I really did enjoy her company.  The moment had
passed and she seemed unaware of the effect she was having on me until she
leaned over to reach for the jam, demonstrating just how big a girl she
was. Her firm gravity-defying breasts may not have been overly large, but
they were topped with remarkably large and dark areolas and her nipples did
not resemble the pencil erasers writers of erotica want you to believe. 
They were dark, large and begging to be played with.  I was staring
transfixed.  She noted my gaze, looked down and made a very girlish squeal.

   "Sorry!" she yelped, turning bright red and frantically closing the
dressing gown around her.  "I forgot I didn't have the tee-shirt on.  I
didn't want it to get wet, so I wasn't going to put it on until I had dried
my hair, and I never..."

   I held up a hand to stop her.  "No need for you to apologize," I said.
"It was rude of me to ogle you like that.  I don't want to make you feel
uncomfortable in my company."

   "Never!" she said.  "And I did practically flash my boobs at you."

   "I wouldn't put it like that," I said, "but I certainly got an eyeful."
I should have stopped there, but some impulse made me take the plunge "You
are drop-dead gorgeous.  I find your company very stimulating."

   "Oh," she said, looking down, but then somehow finding courage to seek
eye contact, she looked up again.

   "I haven't felt like that around a woman for a long time," I continued,
meeting her gaze.  'I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb,' I
thought.

   I studied her face intensely.  It might be slightly too wide and her
nose a bit too pointed for classical beauty, but she was pretty.  Very
pretty.  At that moment I really did think she was the most gorgeous being
on earth.  A little drop of sweat was forming on her lip.  Her breathing
seemed laboured.  She studied me back.

   The moment dragged on.  Neither of us wanted it to end.  I so wanted
this to go further, but I knew it had to be her making the next move. 
After what seemed like ages, she did.  Without breaking eye contact, she
got up slowly and walked around to my side of the table.  I turned my chair
to the side and held out my arms.  She sat down on my lap, facing me.  We
only broke eye contact when our faces were so close that it became
impossible to look at each others eyes.  Our lips met.  Seconds later we
were frantically kissing, tongues darting in and out of each other's
mouths. My hands were all over her - and hers over me.  When we finally
broke for air she looked at me with a hungry expression - part lust, part
love.  "So you like my little boobs, do you?" she asked huskily and opened
the dressing gown.

   "And how!" I exclaimed and attacked them with my mouth.  She was making
little mewing sounds and ground herself against my crotch.

   "I can tell!" she said, making a most suggestive movement.  "I can
tell." All her virginal timidness seemed to have evaporated.

   I stood up, lifting her in the process and supporting her light weight
by cupping her delicious firm bottom.  Never stopping the kissing, I
carried her to the bedroom and lowered her to the bed.  She shrugged out of
the dressing gown revealing all the charms of her slender body with the
exception of her crotch which was covered by her, that is to say, Emma's,
now soaked panties.

   I undressed quickly.  I wouldn't say I am proud of my body - I have been
a bit overweight for most of my life, but in the last year I had slimmed
down and toned up and I didn't feel there was anything to be ashamed of. 
Melissa was following my undressing with flattering interest.  When I
stripped my underwear off, revealing my average sized but very erect cock,
she made moves to reciprocate.  "Wait," I said.  "We have all day!"

   I lay down on top of her kissing her mouth, her face, her throat, her
neck.  I then paid serious homage to her breasts, rolling one stiff nipple
with my hand while sucking hard on the other.  She seemed to enjoy that
very much, making excited noises.  I switched over, feasting on the other
breast and wondering what it would be like nursing from her for real.  I
worked my way further down, trailing my tongue over her skin and eliciting
a giggle when it darted into her belly button.  The scent from her crotch
was intoxicating - the combination of the lavender from her bath and turned
on girl sent even more blood to my engorged cock.

   "Please," she said, lifting her hips.  I pulled her panties off and took
in the beauty of her pussy.  No doubt she was a genuine blonde.  Her sparse
pubic hair was only slightly darker than her milky-white skin.  I set to
work giving her pussy a serious tongue treatment.  Her reaction was
electric.  Within a few moments her moans turned to loud whimpers and when
my tongue started circling her clit, they turned to a drawn out low scream
of pleasure.  One orgasm followed the other.  She was calling out my name,
then just yelling "yes yes yes," then losing language altogether.

   Her secretions were plentiful and very stringy - I guessed she was
mid-cycle and close to the peak of her fertility.  I moved back up kissing
her gently on the mouth then making eye contact.  The question was
unspoken, but she answered anyway.

   "Yes, only I have never done this before," she said.

   "I haven't done this for a long long time," I replied.  "And never with
someone who hadn't done it before."

   "That's nice," she said.  "We're like two virgins." She smiled.  I
smiled back.

   "I don't think I have any condoms," I said.

   "I don't think I care," she replied.

   "You mean 'graduate in June and become a mother in July'?" I asked
lightly.

   "I think I want that," she said gravely.  "I think that is exactly what
I want."

   Who was I to argue?  I slid into her easily.  If she had a hymen to
break, I didn't feel it and she made no sounds of discomfort over my
penetration.  On the contrary.  12" dicks are found only in bad erotica,
not on ordinary men.  I established a slow steady rhythm and her response
was most gratifying.  While I hadn't had sex for a year, I had relieved
myself on a regular basis, so I wasn't exactly on a hair trigger.  But I
could still feel that I would come relatively fast.  Luckily so did
Melissa. Within a few minutes she started getting very loud again.  I could
also feel my point of no return approaching fast and said "Last chance - do
you want me to pull out, or do you want a baby?"

   "I want a babyyyyyyyyy," she wailed as her final orgasm started.

   "My pleasure," I grunted as my release started.  In bad erotica, the
male produces 'ropes and ropes of sticky cum'.  I didn't, but I certainly
felt a long series of ripples through my dick and had little doubt that I
was doing my best to fulfil Melissa's wish.

   In the afterglow we were lying closely together looking into each
other's eyes.

   "I have wanted this for the longest time," she said.  "I have loved you
like forever."

   "Oh, I have loved you for years too," I confessed.  "But I swear my
feelings weren't sexual until a couple of hours ago."

   "What made you want me?" she asked with a mature certainty that what we
had just shared was not a one-off momentary lapse of reason.

   "It's hard to pin point," I said.  "I mean, I really have loved you for
a long time, but feeling so totally at ease with you this afternoon made me
realize that I could truly be happy again.  Provided I was with you."

   Her smile could have melted a glacier.  She was quiet for a little
while. "After today, nothing will ever be the same," she said finally with
wonder in her voice.  "A few hours ago I was a virgin going out to spend a
week with a good friend.  Now I find myself in bed with my friend's dad -
and I have his seed in my pussy."

   "You're not worried?" I asked.

   "Oh, there's a lot to worry about," she said with a matter of fact air.
"Like the reaction from your kids and my parents and everyone else, for
that matter."

   "Yes, I suppose that is going to be interesting, but as you pointed out
you're a big girl - and I'm a big boy, and we have no other obligations," I
said with a lightness I knew was overly optimistic.  I mean, the shit was
going to hit the fan big time, no doubt about that.

   And yet, she was calm - even coy.  "You know, my main worry is that I
may not be pregnant yet - big boy," she said and she started to play with
my flaccid penis.

   I am in my mid forties, certainly no spring chicken with the instant
recovery of a teenager, but when she replaced her hands with her lips and
tongue, my erection returned with a vengeance.  Round two was with her on
top so I could play with her nipples.  It was a long slow ride that
gradually got more and more intense.  In the beginning it was completely
silent apart from little gasps until she suddenly said "It's happening
again!" and she became completely wild and loud once more.  I didn't think
I was anywhere near coming myself, but her reaction was so erotic that I
came with her, depositing yet another helping of sperm deep inside her.

   She collapsed on top of me, her tits mashed against my chest and her
mouth mashed against mine.  After a little while she said "I never want to
stop doing this, ever!"

   "Why should we?" I asked.



   Chapter 2

   We drifted off to sleep.  When we finally woke up again it was after 7
and completely dark.  "I'm starving," she said when her mouth was finally
available for other things than kissing.

   "Well, let's whip up some food," I replied and got out of bed.  I
started to get dressed

   "Don't go through all that trouble just for me," she cooed.

   "Well, someone else has pinched my dressing gown and I don't think this
'naked chef' business is such a great idea," I replied.

   "Do you mind?" she asked getting up and putting aforementioned garment
on.

   "Considering what happened because of it, I don't think so," I chuckled.

   The conversation over dinner was free flowing with no hints of
reservation or embarrassment.  It turned to very practical matters.  "We're
fine for breakfast and lunch stuff, but I suggest we dine out tomorrow
night.  We can shop Monday.  I have a couple of meetings Monday and one on
Tuesday too, but only for a few hours.  You should be able to get some work
done on your project."

   "Sure," she said.  "Provided my books and notes are dry," she added,
suddenly remembering the original purpose of her visit and the state she
and her stuff had been in on arrival.

   "No sweat," I reassured her.  "All your school stuff in the plastic bag
was quite dry."

   "That's a relief.  Em' said I could borrow a computer from you?"

   "I think that can be arranged," I replied drily.  I work in IT and the
house has way too many computers.  "Shit!" I suddenly exclaimed.

   "What's wrong?" Melissa asked looking startled.

   "I almost forgot.  I also have a business meeting Wednesday," I said,
remembering the bug-bear.

   "Why is that a problem?" she asked.

   "It isn't.  Only it is in London.  Listen, I really really want you to
come.  Have you got a passport?"

   "In London?  Wow.  And yes, I have a passport at home, but why is it so
important for you that I come with you?"

   "For starters, I don't want to be away from you." The glacier-melting
smile returned.  "But also, this is a meeting where a big deal is being
finalised.  Afterwards there's a dinner party, and there is this woman who
has been pursuing me for months..."

   Melissa laughed "Oh and you want me to shield you from her?"

   "Precisely, I think your presence would finally make her give up," I
said.

   "Sounds like fun.  You want me to 'dress to kill' then?"

   "Got it in one.  We fly over very early Wednesday morning.  You can
spend the day shopping for a killer outfit and have your hair done and so
on, and then we will meet up for the dinner."

   "Sounds like fun," she repeated.  "But won't you have to tell them I'm
coming?"

   "Exactly," I replied, grabbed my cell phone and dialled the UK project
manager.

   "John?  It's George.  About this thing Wednesday.  I don't think I've
told you that I'm bringing my partner Melissa with me.  Will that be OK
with the hotel and restaurant?" I said, knowing full well that they
obviously could have no idea about Melissa.

   "Oh hi George, no I didn't know anything about that.  Jennifer has been
making all the arrangements.  I even think she will be staying at the same
hotel as you.  She would like to be able to have drink and not worry about
driving.  Or so she said..." Even on a poor cell phone connection, the
unspoken message came over loud and clear.  "Anyway, the hotel is no
problem, obviously - all their rooms are at least doubles, as you know. 
And I'll just make sure that the restaurant knows.  The restaurant is at
the hotel, by the way.  It is supposed to be very good."

   "I am sure it is," I said.  "Well, that's all splendid then.  See you
Wednesday morning at your office.  Cheers."

   I gave Melissa the thumbs up and I fired up a PC.  With that short
notice, getting another seat on an early flight to London could be
difficult.  It was outright impossible, so I got us seats for Tuesday
night. "Sorry," I said.  "I seem to be taking more and more of your work
time from you." Melissa grimaced.

   Next I phoned the hotel.  Certainly, I could come a day early. 
Certainly, it was a double room; it was a suite in fact.  Certainly they
could arrange for a hair dresser's appointment for my partner.  No problem
at all.  Happy to be of assistance.

   "Wow!" said Melissa.  "This is all happening so fast.  Now, tell me
about my 'rival'."

   It was my turn to pull a face, but she got the story.  "And how old is
this woman?" she asked when I had finished with all the sordid details.

   "Don't know really.  Late thirties, I think, but trying to look 29.  She
is married too, to boot.  But she assures me that she lives in an 'open'
marriage which I take to mean that hubby doesn't shag her any more, so she
seeks her fun elsewhere."

   "That's gross!" said Melissa, reverting to age.

   "Well, I don't care - as long as I am not the one designated to provide
her fun," I replied.

   "You'd better not be," Melissa said and dragged me off to the bedroom.

   Waking up Sunday morning with Melissa in the bed was a revelation.  I
hadn't realised just how much I missed that - waking up with another
person. I was looking at Melissa, feasting on her beauty and determined not
to wake her up, but after a few minutes she stirred and opened her eyes.  I
have to admit I was a little nervous about her reaction, but her smile was
warm and happy.  "Oh goody," she said.  "It was not a dream."

   I was immensely relived and happy about that reaction.  But after a few
moments her face clouded over a bit and she pressed both hands to her
abdomen just below the rib cage and those gorgeous tits of hers. 
"Ovulation pain?" I asked.

   "Yup," she replied.  "I think you might be getting more than you
bargained for!"

   "Both sides?" I asked.  She nodded.

   "Well, that's cool.  Twins will be fine.  Given my age it's good if we
have the kids in pairs and in quick succession," I said dead-pan.

   She gulped.  "How many were you planning for?"

   "I wasn't," I replied, "only I don't hold with only children, so twins
are really a blessing.  If we feel up to it once you've completed whatever
education you want to do then we can have a third perhaps, but let's just
see if you can put up with this old geezer for that long!"

   "I've never slept will an 'old geezer', and I have no intention of doing
so!" she replied archly but continued with a wicked grin "I do however like
my man to be mature." And once more set to work on my cock.

   I have always loved morning sex but have had precious little of it, what
with the risk of children barging in ridiculously early.  There where no
such distractions now, of course, and the next 20 or 25 minutes were spent
in the best way possible.  Melissa was certainly getting to know the
possibilities her lovely body held for providing pleasure both to herself
and me.  She seemed to prefer being on top, which suited me fine - I have
always been a tit man, and Melissa's were mesmerising.  We maintained our
amazing unbroken sequence of simultaneous orgasms and drifted off once
more.

   True to established form, she was starving when we woke up again.  "You
go have a shower while I fix breakfast," I said.  "If we shower together I
doubt if we will ever get to have breakfast." She laughed.

   "All your clothes are still in the drier.  They should be dry if a
little crumpled," I continued.

   She nodded and went to get them.

   Over breakfast we made plans for the day.  A couple of hours work would
be good for both of us and then we could go out for dinner somewhere. 
Somehow it all just felt so right and natural.  I tried to say so and
Melissa immediately understood what I meant and agreed completely.

   "I've dreamt about you and being with you," she admitted, "but I had no
idea it would be this wonderful!"

   She came over and sat on me again, and my hands - almost as by
themselves - drifted towards her breasts.

   "I know a naughty girl who forgot her bra!" I said in a teasing tone.

   "Busted!" she said and we both laughed.

   Our lips met and who knows what it would have led to if the phone hadn't
started ringing.  I could see on the caller-ID display that it was Emma's
mobile phone, so I motioned Melissa to pick it up.

   "The Smith residence, Melissa speaking!" she said in an almost singing
voice.

   I had pressed the loudspeaker button and could hear Emma's voice too.

   "Melissa!  What are you doing there?"

   Somehow the surprise didn't sound genuine.  And she didn't sound like
she had realised her forgetfulness and tried to cover for it either.

   "Well, you invited me to stay for the week while my parents and Mike are
on holidays, remember?" Melissa said.  Before Emma could reply, she
continued.  "No, I guess you don't.  But your dad was home, thank God, and
he's been looking after me soooo well."

   That statement was thick with innuendo and I nearly choked with
suppressed laughter.  It was not quite the way I had been planning to break
this to Emma and her siblings, but the entertainment value was very high.

   "Has he indeed," Emma said in a voice the immediately raised my
suspicions further.  "That's good.  I hope you look after him too."

   "I believe I do," Melissa said.  "I believe I do."

   There was a brief silence, and then Melissa continued "Did you want to
speak to him?"

   "No, not really.  I just wanted to let him know that we had arrived
safely.  I should have called last night but forgot," Emma replied.

   That's right; we usually always 'touch base' when either of us is
travelling, but somehow it had escaped my notice that Emma hadn't called.

   "That's good - my love to everyone," I said loud enough for the
microphone to pick it up.

   "Oh, Dad's there?  Fine.  Hi Dad.  See you next Saturday at the train
station."

   "Sure thing," I said.  "Be good."

   "Always am," she said cheerfully.  "As I understand it, so are you..."
she muttered in continuation, said goodbye and hung up.

   Melissa and I looked at each other.  "Do you get the feeling that we've
been set up?" she asked.

   "Distinctly!" I replied with a chuckle.  "But I can't really say that I
mind!"

   "Exactly!" Melissa said, pressed me back onto the chair, mounted me,
grabbed my hands and moved them to her breast and said "Now, where were
we?"

   "Right here, I think," I said and started squeezing her nipples lightly.

   The day was spent with a pleasant mix of work, quiet talking and steamy
sex.  By the end of the day I felt like we'd been together 'always' and I
told Melissa so.

   "Yes!" she concurred.  "That's just how I feel too."

   We went out to an Italian restaurant Sunday night.  I received one or
two nasty stares from women, but chose to ignore them.  I mean, that had
also happened frequently when I took Emma or Lydia out to dinner, and it
was nobody's business whom I chose to be with.  Melissa didn't seem to
notice and she enjoyed herself immensely.

   Monday morning I was almost late for my first meeting owing to, shall we
say, pleasant distractions.  I did a massive shop on the way home.  Melissa
had been effective and very focused on her project.  She had stayed in PJs
and dressing gown all day and the result was inevitable.  "I think I can
more or less wrap up the project tomorrow," she said after we had finished
a glorious romp in bed and were basking in the afterglow "provided I get an
hour or two in this evening."

   "In that case you had better get dressed, or I may not let you do any
work," I said with a grin.

   Tuesday morning was less rushed since my one meeting started later. 
When I got home just after lunch Melissa had completed her project and was
busy packing for the London trip.  "I may need one or two things from
home," she said.  "In addition to my passport."

   "Speaking of home," I said looking intensely into her eyes, "where
exactly is that?"

   "I've been thinking about that too," she replied.  "Perhaps things would
be a lot easier if we present your kids and my parents with a fait
accompli?"

   "Agreed," I said.  "We can move your stuff in on Friday and get all the
paperwork done."

   So we drove over to get her things and surveyed her room.  "I don't want
to bring any of the furniture apart from the antique chest of drawers," she
said, but I have a fair number of books."

   "Not to mention clothes," I chuckled looking at her overstuffed
wardrobe. "But, no, I don't think we need to call in assistance."

   On Tuesday night we drove to the airport, got through check-in and
security and had a good hour and a half to kill before the flight.  We
roamed the shops and spent quite a while in a jeweller's shop looking at
their wares.  My eyes fell on a particularly beautiful ring with a large
solitaire diamond.

   "I think that ring would look very nice on your finger," I said
casually.

   "That sounded like a proposal, Mr.  Smith!" Melissa said with a glint of
mischief in her eyes.

   I didn't hesitate for a second.  "It was indeed.  Melissa Jones, will
you marry me?"

   "Yes!" she exclaimed.

   The starry eyed salesgirl was all a flutter over this romantic
interlude. "I take it you won't need a box or wrapping?" she said with a
deep sigh after I had slid the ring onto Melissa's finger.

   "No, that won't be necessary.  It is not coming off anytime soon,"
Melissa replied while I handed the girl my credit card.

   The flight was uneventful.  Heathrow was hell, as usual, but we got our
bags, caught the Express to Paddington and found a taxi reasonably quickly.
Melissa was very impressed with the hotel.  "I could get used to this!" she
sighed as we sprawled out on the bed, surveying the suite after a quick
supper in the hotel restaurant.

   "We'd better get you to bed," I said in a mock paternal voice.  "You
have a big day tomorrow of clothes shopping and going to the hairdressers
and what not..."

   "It's such a hard life," she sighed moving close to me.  "Oops, it's not
only life that is hard!" she giggled rubbing my erection through my pants.
"Why don't we follow your excellent suggestion and go to bed," she cooed.
We did, and I hope the suite was sufficiently sound insulated, or the other
guests would have been disturbed for a long time.

   In the morning just before I headed off to the final meeting, I
discretely handed Melissa a wad of cash.  "Make me proud!" I said.

   Melissa's eyes flew open when she saw the stash, but she quickly put it
away in her handbag.  "Oh goody," she said.  "This is going to be so much
fun!"



   Chapter 3

   As I had more or less expected, John - the chicken - hadn't said
anything to Jennifer who was all over me during the meetings.  "We're
staying at the same hotel," she breathed at me during lunch, leaning over
to entice me to view her considerable cleavage, made easy by the fact that
she had undone the top three buttons in her shirt.

   "Yes, so I understand," I replied in a noncommittal voice, pointedly
looking elsewhere.

   "And the dinner is at the hotel restaurant," Jennifer continued, "so we
can roll directly up to bed afterwards." She crossed her pantyhose-clad
legs in the short business skirt and licked her bright red lips.

   "Yes, so we found out," I replied.

   Before Jennifer could investigate who 'we' were, the final meeting was
called.  This lasted most of the afternoon and was very intense.  At the
end - at 5 o'clock - the contracts were signed, and the project officially
underway.  "Ladies and Gentlemen," John said - the relief audible in his
voice.  "It's time to celebrate.  Let's reconvene at the restaurant in 2
hours." To murmurs of agreement we rose to leave.

   "George..." I heard Jennifer call on my way out "Do you need a lift to
the hotel?"

   "No thanks," I replied politely.  "I have an errand on the way." That
wasn't true, but I didn't fancy a drive with Jennifer.

   "But what about your luggage?" she pressed on.

   "Already there!" I replied cheerfully.  "We arrived last night.  Thanks
all the same," I added and hastened out the door.  Out of the corner of my
eye I saw John putting a restraining hand on her arm, talking to her
urgently in low tones.  That conversation would be interesting!

   I rushed out of the building to the nearest taxi rank and got driven
back to the hotel.  On the way up to our suite I felt giddy like a school
boy going on his first serious date.  I had no doubt that Melissa had risen
to the task, but I was excited to see just what she was up to all the same.
I entered the key card, opened the door while knocking loudly on it and
yelled "Honey, I'm back!"

   Melissa came out of the bathroom in a dressing gown with a make-up brush
in her hand.  She was obviously busy putting the finishing touches to a
very restrained but stunning piece of work.  Her hair sat beautifully and
as she twirled to let me see it, the dressing gown came undone, revealing
the sexiest underwear I had ever seen.  I was gob-smacked.  "Sweetheart,
you're catching flies!" Melissa said in her singing voice.  I hastily
closed my gaping mouth.  Her eyes moved downwards to my rapidly swelling
crotch.  "Ooh, I see you like it!" she teased.

   I finally regained my voice.  "Oh yes, I like it!" I croaked.  "Sweet
Jesus, I like it!"

   "Well, we can't have you going to a formal dinner with that nasty boner,
can we?" she asked, dropped to her knees and in one fluid motion, she
unzipped my suit pants, liberated my straining cock and before I even knew
what she was up to, engulfed it in her mouth.

   Her tongue work was astonishing, and before long I felt the tingling in
my balls announcing an imminent orgasm.  "Melissa, I'm close to coming," I
managed.  She looked up at me coyly and enhanced her efforts and within
seconds I erupted in her mouth.  When I was done and Melissa fabulous
tongue had ensured I was quite clean, she got up, brushing her barely
contained tits against me and leaning in to kiss me.

   "That's better, isn't it?" she asked.

   Some understatement!  "Where did that come from?" I asked in amazement.

   "Oh, I've been wanting to try that ever since finding out what my mouth
could do to you!" she said.  "Anyway, run along now and have your shower,"
and she playfully swatted by backside.

   "Yes ma'am," I managed and started to undress.

   When I got out of the bathroom, Melissa was standing with her back to
me, getting in to a midnight blue dress.  "Zip me up, please?" she said.

   I happily complied.  She turned around, and once more any fly that might
have blundered in to our suite was in danger.  She was an absolute stunner.
The dress was restrained, yet very sexy and accentuated her body.  On a
bustier woman it would have been vampy.  On Melissa it was simply perfect.
She stepped into a pair of semi-high shoes in the exact same colour as the
dress, put on a necklace of large pearls and twirled for me once mode.  "Ta
da!" she said.  "The pearls are fakes but they look like a million bucks.
Will I do?"

   "And how!" I exclaimed.  "You're stunning.  And, if you don't mind me
saying so, you look at least 25."

   "Goody!" she replied.  "That was the idea."

   I was still feasting on her beauty when Melissa cleared her throat. 
"Ahem, Mr.  Smith, unless you want to take me to dinner dressed in a damp
hotel towel, you had better get a move on!"

   I came out of my reverie.  "Sure, sorry.  Got distracted."

   "I can see that!" she cooed, looking at the tent forming near my crotch.
"You are incorrigible.  But I think we will have to wait doing anything
about that until later, or I shall ruin my makeup for the second time this
afternoon.

   Reluctantly I agreed and started getting dressed.  When I got to tying
my tie, she grabbed it out of my hand and conjured, as by magic, another -
a sheer silk tie in the same colour as her dress.  "Nice!" I exclaimed.

   "Just wanted to show everyone that we belong together," Melissa said. 
"I'm staking my claim!"

   No doubt, she was putting both intelligence and style into this.  We
waited till the last minute to go down to the restaurant, arriving on the
dot of 7.

   John and his wife Elizabeth were there to receive us and introductions
were made.  "This is Melissa Jones," I said

   "I'm delighted to meet you Melissa," John said, and went on to introduce
her to Mr.  Rutherford, his managing director - a white haired gentleman I
like very much, and the two representatives from the other firm in the
partnership - a man, Eric, and a woman, Jill, whose relationship I have
never quite worked out.  "We are still waiting for Jennifer," John said
with slight exasperation in his voice.

   "Oh, well at least she is not far away," I joked and John shot me a
knowing glance.  John's wife and Mr.  Rutherford made pleasant small-talk
with Melissa while we waited.

   Exactly 12 minutes late, Jennifer arrived, heavily made up and wearing a
red cocktail dress that someone half her age (Melissa, for instance) would
have found it hard to carry off with dignity.  Jennifer certainly didn't,
nor was there any dignity in her greeting to Melissa.  "So, are you
George's daughter?" she asked bluntly.

   John looked scandalised.  I am sure he had told Jennifer about Melissa
only a few hours earlier, but Jennifer assumed we didn't know that.  "No,
I'm George's fiancée," Melissa replied sweetly - flashing her ring.  "But I
am in fact a close friend of George's elder daughter, so the
misunderstanding is perhaps understandable."

   Oh glorious.  She did that well.  Old Mr.  Rutherford stepped in
"Fiancée, eh?"

   "Yes," Melissa beamed at him.  "George proposed yesterday."

   "That's lovely my dear!" John's wife chirped in.  "Congratulations to
both of you."

   "Indeed," John added.  "That gives us extra cause for celebrations. 
Shall we?" and he pointed towards our table.

   The table was round.  Old Mr.  Rutherford claimed Melissa, but I was
graciously allowed to sit on her other side 'since you are so recently
engaged' as he put it.  Jennifer cut in in front of John's wife and sat
herself down next to me.  I shrugged.  John, obviously wanting to control
Jennifer, if that was indeed possible, sat on her other side which left no
socially acceptable seating combinations for the rest of the company. 
Jennifer either didn't notice or didn't care.

   The waiter arrived and inquired about pre-dinner drinks.  "I don't drink
alcohol at all," I said, "but mineral water will be fine."

   Jennifer snorted.  "I don't suppose you're old enough to have a drink,"
she said unpleasantly to Melissa.  Now, that jibe is even worse over here
than in the US, as the legal drinking age in both Denmark and the UK is 18.
I wondered how Melissa would handle that one.

   I needn't have worried.  She laughed her sweet silvery laugh and simply
stated "I am," and then continued, with just a hint of mischief in her
voice.  "But I'd better not drink and will have mineral water too.  You
see, we're trying for a baby."

   Genius, pure genius.  "Game, set and match," I heard John's wife mutter.
I think Mr.  Rutherford heard it too, because there was a deep chuckle, but
everyone else just heard Jennifer in loud tones demanding a large double
scotch.

   Jennifer's double scotch was gulped down quickly, and when food and
drink arrived, she got stuck into the wine - evidently hell-bent on getting
drunk.  "Soh, 'ow long 'ave you two, you know, known each other?" she
slurred out of the blue in the middle of a conversation, interrupting a
reply from John's wife to Eric.

   Most of the company looked outraged, but I am not easily shaken.  "It
depends on how you define 'know'.  Melissa and I have known each other for
well over 12 years," I replied.  "But not in a Biblical sense obviously," I
added as an afterthought.  Old Mr.  Rutherford's deep chuckle returned,
this time quite audible to everyone.

   "And 'ow long would that be then?" Jennifer demanded.  This time I must
confess I was slightly shaken and our fellow diners definitely were.  I
could see John taking breath to beat his subordinate into submission, but
Mr.  Rutherford lifted a hand to stop him

   Melissa's eyes met mine.  She nodded imperceptibly, and I decided for a
dose of shock therapy.  "Just over 4 days, to be exact," I said in clipped
tones.  John looked up sharply.  "I s'pose I was still slightly out of
breath when I rang you, old man."

   Old Mr.  Rutherford laughed so loud and hard that other guests in the
restaurant took notice.  Whether our fellow diners thought I was joking or
took the statement at face value I wasn't quite sure, but they joined in
the mirth.  Defeated, Jennifer got up and headed unsteadily towards the
restrooms with an inaudible "''Scuse me..." She never returned.

   "I am really sorry about this," John started.

   "Don't be," Melissa replied.  "I am aware I must have come as a serious
shock to Jennifer.  George told me all about her, so I was, in a sense,
prepared.  And I am sure this is just a precursor to what we will have to
deal with for years to come.  Society is not very tolerant of big age
differences."

   Jill, who had otherwise been fairly silent, chipped in.  "You're not
wrong there, dear.  My husband was 30 years my senior, and we had serious
flack from both our families, and neighbours, and everyone." She fell
silent, then added "But it was worth it.  We had 15 lovely years together."

   "What happened?" Melissa asked softly - obviously suddenly confronted
with a possibility she hadn't envisaged.

   "He was run over by a car while training for a marathon," Jill replied.
And then, because she obviously had understood Melissa's concern, added. 
"It had nothing to do with his age."

   Melissa nodded.  John, to my surprise, was next so speak.  "You know,
Elizabeth is 12 years my junior.  Even that wasn't all that popular with
the families, but they've come round, seeing how happy we are." His wife
simply beamed.  While I'm sure their marriage is a happy one, a so public
expression of emotion was probably rare.

   Thus encouraged, Melissa spoke up.  "Well, in our case it's 28 years.  I
am only just 18 and in fact not out of school yet.  But I'm damned sure
George is the man for me."

   "And what will you do after you've finished school?" Mr.  Rutherford
asked kindly.

   "Well, I always intended to have a gap-year before studying Economics. I
honestly hope it will be spent looking after a baby," she replied.

   "Good luck to you both," John's wife said.  "18?  I would have put you
in your mid twenties - not only from your looks but from your maturity.  I
am sure you will be fine."

   The rest of the dinner was very pleasant.  While we were waiting for
desert, Melissa and Jill excused themselves to the restrooms.  "What a
honey!" John's wife exclaimed when they were out of earshot.  "She handled
that really well.  No anger, no malice, only style and intelligence.  What
was Jennifer thinking?"

   "Jennifer is on the prowl and doesn't like competition!" Eric
unexpectedly said with more edge than I would have expected from him.  "She
was hunting me until George showed up.  I must confess I was relieved.  I'm
just sorry that this sweet young thing should be caught up in it too!" I
noted John and Mr.  Rutherford exchanging significant glances.  I think
Jennifer would be having a 'friendly chat' with her superiors once she had
sobered up.

   Eric hadn't noted and carried on "But as Elizabeth said, she handled it
really really well.  You're onto something really good here George, and I
am happy for both of you."

   Who says the English are emotionally restrained?  Before more could be
said, Melissa and Jill returned and the rest of the dinner conversation was
unremarkable.

   Everyone was tired and we broke up early.  Mr.  Rutherford gallantly
kissed Melissa's hand.  "You know, our project with George is very
important for our company.  It is great to know that he has so much
happiness in his private life.  That bodes well for the project, if you
will forgive me this rather mercenary attitude."

   Melissa put her arms around the old man and kissed him resoundingly. 
"You are anything but.  Thank you for making me feel so welcome."

   Walking back up to the suite, Melissa turned to me.  "Did I do you
proud?"

   "Oh yes," I replied.  "Oh yes.  In every possible way."

   She smiled and we walked on in companionable silence.  Back in our suite
I reviewed the last few days.  I could hardly believe the turn my life had
taken, or my unbelievable luck.  Five days ago I was a greying widower with
nothing better to hope for than for my kids to feel I had done alright by
them.  Suddenly here I was with this gorgeous girl who wanted to be with me
rather than anyone else.  In fact, she wanted me so much that she even
wanted to have my babies.

   Sure, it meant starting over, and obviously I hadn't gotten 20 years
younger all of a sudden, but it didn't scare me - at least not nearly as
much as I'm sure it ought to; it only made me happy.  These thoughts and
emotions must have reflected on my face somehow, because I realised with a
start that Melissa was looking at me with a curious expression.  "What?"
she said, although it was fairly obvious from her Mona Lisa smile that she
had a pretty good idea.

   "I was just trying to update my sense of self," I said.  "So much has
happened that I will have to revise who I really am and what to expect from
life." God - that sounded lame and stuffy.  Problem only was I had no idea
of how to put it into better words.

   As it turned out, I didn't have to.  Melissa's smile softened even
further.  "I think I know what you mean, because I feel something similar
and it must be even more complex for you - having 'been there and done
that' before." She hesitated.  "There is actually only one question that
interests me.  Have you got any regrets?"

   "Hell no!" I exclaimed, almost startling her.  "I am constantly
petrified that it will turn out to have been only a dream and that I will
wake up alone in my house on a rainy Saturday afternoon."

   Melissa laughed out loud.  "Me too, me too." She kicked her shoes off,
turned her back to me and looked at me over her shoulder.  "However I know
a way of making us feel just how real it is.  Undo my zip?"

   I did.  No words were spoken and not many other noises uttered for the
next little while.  There was no need to make loud exclamations - I am
fairly certain my eyes said everything there was to say when I saw her in
the new underwear.  If my eyes didn't, my cock certainly did.  It was
straining so much against my dress suit pants that it was almost painful.
Slowly, infinitely slowly, Melissa undressed me.  She let herself fall
backwards onto the bed, bringing her legs up so high that her feet were
above her shoulders.  I remembered fleetingly that she had been quite a
gymnast, but then my eyes roamed her crotchless panties, and my thoughts
were suddenly much more focused.

   I dived in and offered her pussy and clit every possible oral attention
for the next 20 minutes or so.  I lost count of her climaxes, but one thing
was certain: We weren't silent anymore.  She almost dragged me up to her
face, kissing me forcefully and, as if of one mind, we rolled around with
her ending on top of me and with my cock buried in her pussy.  She rode me
fast and hard whimpering when I squeezed her straining nipples and much
faster than I had expected we both exploded in glorious orgasms.

   We must have fallen asleep almost immediately.  I woke up sometime after
midnight, cold and answering the call of nature.  That woke up Melissa too.
Sleepily we brushed our teeth and Melissa removed her makeup before we
snuggled back into bed lying in spoons and drifting off again.  The last
thing I remember before falling asleep was Melissa asking "Did that feel
real to you?"

   "Mmmmmm," I think I might have said.  Or something similarly
intelligent.



   Chapter 4

   Thursday morning we slept in, had breakfast in bed - after a long slow
morning fuck - and after highly overdue showers, we got dressed, packed and
checked out of the hotel.  We left our luggage there as our flight home was
not until the evening.  I introduced Melissa to that Booklover's Temple
called Hatchard's.  Just as we had left it and were walking up Piccadilly
hand in hand, my phone rang.  It was Lydia.  "Daaad!" she said in that
voice that means she wants something.  "You're in London, riiight?" I
confirmed that.  "There is this dress in Dorothy Perkins I want.  I have
checked that they have it in Oxford Street.  Could you get it for me?"

   Argh, that sounded complicated with endless possibilities for stuff-ups.
"I don't think so," I said, and hastily drowned out her protests by adding
"but I know someone who might," and I handed the phone to Melissa mouthing
'Lydia'.

   "Hello Lydia!" Melissa said.  Apart from a very loud 'Melissa!' I
obviously only heard Melissa's side of the conversation, but I could guess
the questions because Melissa said "Of course I am here too.  He couldn't
leave me all alone, could he?" followed by a "The hotel suite was great. 
Out of this world, I tell you!" and a hasty "We can talk about that later!"
Melissa got Lydia's instructions and they didn't seem to daunt her.  The
fact that Dorothy Perkins has two shops in Oxford Street and one in New
Oxford Street didn't make the task any easier, but we managed and were
pleased with ourselves.

   We retrieved our bags from the hotel, headed out to Heathrow in time for
the endless queuing and had an uneventful flight home.

   Friday morning we headed out and bought a few removal boxes, then went
to Melissa's parents place and collected the things she wanted to bring
with her.  We then spent a few hours doing a lot of paperwork in connection
with Melissa's official relocation to my, or as I insisted on saying now,
our house - post office, municipal offices, bank and so on.  We had lunch
in town and then dropped in on my solicitors - a husband and wife who are
also exceedingly close friends.  To say that they were surprised would be a
massive understatement, but they handled it well.  There are a lot of legal
hoops to go through when a widowed person with children remarries and it
would take some work to get everything in order.

   Sara, the wife, saw us out.  "Congratulations once more, and good luck
to you!" She meant with picking up my children the following day and
weathering the storm of their reactions.  "Anna will be deadly jealous, you
know!" Anna is their 15 year old daughter.  I was shocked.  "Oh, she's been
planning to score you as soon as she turned 18 herself," Sara continued.  I
must have looked stricken, but Sara just laughed.

   Melissa did too.  "I'm glad I bagged him in time!  Will she hate me?"

   "Not a chance," Sara said and embraced Melissa.  "She'll love you!"

   On the way home we went past one of those places that engrave name signs
and got one for the house and one for the letter box with Melissa's and my
names on it.  "You don't do anything by half, do you?" she asked.

   "Well, as you said yourself, the more we present this as an established
fact, the easier it will be." I replied.  "I hope," I added to myself, but
so low that Melissa missed it.

   We spent the Friday afternoon incorporating Melissa's stuff into the
house.  The chest of drawers was easily placed, and there was plenty of
wardrobe space - my daughters having cleared out my late wife's clothes
over summer, sparing me the ordeal.  Finding room for more books has always
been a challenge.  Melissa had a large number and we'd also brought a bunch
home from London, but around dinner time we were satisfied.

   After dinner we were even more so - Melissa decided she wanted to go to
bed early - "and not to sleep," as she put it.  I happily complied and when
we finally did fall a sleep I was pleasantly exhausted.  Saturday morning
we again enjoyed being alone in the house on a weekend morning and for a
glorious while Melissa made me forget my worries.  But afterwards I was
nervous and Melissa could sense it.  "Are you worried George?" she asked. I
nodded.  "About your kids or my parents?"

   "Both!" I replied.  "I mean, the past week has been a fabulous dream.  I
dread having to wake up to realities.  I know I shouldn't but I do!"

   In the end, my kids handled it better than I'd expected - better and
very different from what I'd expected, I should say.  They all looked
rather surprised when they saw both of us at the train station, but then
Lydia spotted Melissa's ring and she let out a piercing squeal "You're
engaged!" and leapt in Melissa's arms to hug her.  Well, that was a nice
reaction.

   Ryan didn't understand the commotion so he asked what 'engaged' meant.
"It means Daddy and Melissa are going to get married and that Melissa will
be living with us always," Lydia said - as always the perfect communicator
and explainer of the world to her little brother.  I have no doubt he got
through the loss of his mother so well thanks to Lydia.

   "Does that mean she will be my Mummy now?" he asked - a pretty sharp
question for a 7 year old.

   I squatted in front of him.  "That's for you and Melissa to work out," I
said.  "No one can replace Mummy for you and the girls, but Melissa may
well become the mother of your little brothers and sisters." He nodded -
apparently satisfied with the answer and clearly neither shocked by, nor
adverse to, the idea of younger siblings.

   The reactions from the three young women were rather diverse.  Melissa
blushed prettily, Lydia simply beamed - but Emma, who had remained very
silent, looked positively pained.  When she noticed I looked at her she
lowered her gaze and would not let me get eye contact.  This was going to
be difficult.

   Driving home we chatted about their trip to Jutland and our trip to
London.  Lydia was obviously dying to get details, but I had to put her
off. We are most certainly not prudes in this family, but a lot of the
information was unsuitable for her younger brother - and apparently also
for her big sister!

   To my immense relief, Emma didn't stew for very long.  Once we were home
- the name plates were discovered (by Lydia, of course), and Ryan had gone
to play in his room, Emma blurted out: "I only wanted you to get laid, not
to get engaged!"

   I - wisely - suppressed an urge to laugh.  "Feeling a bit like the
Sorcerer's Apprentice, are we?" I asked lightly.  Before she could answer
that, I continued in a much more serious voice.  "Listen Emma, I appreciate
the original sentiment, but I think you are overestimating the significance
of your match-making effort.  For starters, there was every risk that I
wouldn't even be here when Melissa arrived - I might have gone shopping or
something and that would have left her high and dry.  No, make that wet," I
added as an afterthought.  Melissa laughed out loud.  My daughters looked
puzzled, but I decided that part of the story could wait for another time.

   "Anyway, the point is this: Melissa did not end up in my bed, and she
did not get my ring on her finger, nor did she get my baby in her belly -
which she might very well have by now" - both girls gasped - "because you
set us up, but because we love each other.  Sure, we ended up together last
Saturday thanks to your devious little scheme - and for that we are
eternally grateful, but that was the cause - not the reason."

   Emma had no difficulty accepting that, but there was still something
bugging her.  I looked at her in a parental 'out with it' way and she
complied.  "Just how am I going to explain that I have a step-mother that
is four months younger than me or that that I get half-siblings that could
easily be my own children?" she demanded.  "What are people going to
think?"

   "Frankly I don't give a damn about the latter," I said in my best Rhett
Butler voice.  "And as to explaining, well the truth is simple: Your
widowed father fell in love with one of your friends.  End of story.  Of
course Melissa will not be your 'stepmother' - she might possibly be that
for Ryan.  Possibly mind.  But not for you two."

   "Actually, I was hoping I would still be your friend," Melissa said
quietly.  Lydia flashed her a huge smile, but then it was already obvious
that she had no problems with the new developments.  The comment was
squarely directed at Emma.

   Emma relented.  "Of course we're friends.  It just takes a little time
to get used to it all."

   "Don't I know it!" Melissa said - both looking and sounding much
happier. "And just how do you think my parents will take it?"

   "Ohmygod," Lydia burst out, echoed by the same sentiment if expressed
differently from Emma.  "What will they say?"

   The first instalment of the answer came later in the evening as we were
just finishing supper.  The phone rang and it was the Jones home number in
the caller ID display.  Melissa picked it up, pressed the speaker-button
and said "The Smith residence.  It's Melissa."

   It was Helen.  "Melissa!  It's Mum.  I can't get you on your mobile
phone."

   "Sorry Mum, it ran out of power," Melissa replied somewhat sheepishly.

   That obviously satisfied Helen.  "Not to worry.  Glad to have found you.
Only I thought you would have been home by now."

   "I am," Melissa replied calmly.  Before her mother could say anything
she continued.  "I am living here officially now."

   "What?!  I mean, why, with whom," - Helen was confused.  I could hear
Melissa's father in the background saying 'What?  What?' obviously alerted
by the tone of Helen's voice.

   "Is Dad there too?" Melissa asked.  "Fine.  Listen, I am engaged. 
George has asked me to marry him and I said yes.  I have moved in with him
permanently.  We did all the paperwork yesterday."

   The silence was almost repressive.  "Say something!" Melissa said after
a few moments.  I could see in her face that she was balancing precariously
between conflicting emotions, but an infectious giggle from Lydia tipped
the scales and she smiled broadly.

   "It comes rather suddenly," a very subdued Helen eventually started, but
then trailed off.  We could hear some heavy duty discussion going on in the
background, but it sounded like Helen had put her hand over the microphone.

   There was another mechanical noise, and then Steve's voice came on. 
"Congratulations, sweetheart!" He was calm as always.  "We are happy for
both of you.  When your mother has recovered from the shock, I'm sure she
will say so too.  But as she said, it is a little sudden."

   "We know!" Melissa replied.  "It was for us too."

   I took over the phone.  "It's George here.  Welcome home.  Sorry to
spring this on you, but life is full of surprises and I hope everyone will
think this was a good one eventually." - I looked pointedly at Emma.  "You
are only just home from Crete, and my kids came home from holidays this
afternoon too.  Shall we allow everyone to sleep their beauty sleep and
meet up here at 1PM tomorrow for a meal and a lot of talking?"

   That arranged, everyone went to bed.  I failed to warn Melissa that Ryan
gets up early, regardless of weekends or holidays.  She found out when he
snuck into the bed with us just after 6.30!  I let it pass, but at 7½ he
would be getting too old for this soon.  A pity, really, but such is life.
And anyway, I was delighted with his response to Melissa.  I had expected
him to be fine with it - he has known Melissa practically all his life, but
it was still wonderful to see him take to her in that way.  I am sure
Melissa liked it too.  One way or another - at all of 18 years, she would
become a mother substitute for him, and the sooner they bonded the better.

   Breakfast was a scattered affair, but everyone got into preparing the
midday meal.  My daughters love to cook, and the mood was excellent. 
Melissa's parents showed up just before 1, and by and large it went fine.
The tiny little detail of the name signs actually had a big psychological
effect.  And Steve's complete acceptance - apparently Melissa had let on
earlier that she liked me a lot, so he wasn't completely surprised - helped
us handling Helen's opposition.

   Or perhaps 'reluctance' is a better word.  A rather patronising attempt
of hers at smoothing things over with comments like 'let's see how it goes'
and 'obviously, you will start university in the autumn' backfired
spectacularly.  There was no waver in Melissa's reply: "I didn't accept
George's proposal to 'try things out', and as for next year, you know
perfectly well that I always wanted a gap-year.  I hope to spend it looking
after your first grand child - or children." Before her mother got a chance
to blurt much about 'being so young', Melissa brutally rolled her over. 
"Rubbish.  I am young, yes, but George isn't.  If we are to have children -
and I want that, we both do - then it has to be now."

   If anyone ever again calls Melissa 'timid' I will laugh out loud.

   And as to having those children, it seems we'll get our wish fulfilled.
Exactly four weeks after that fateful Saturday, Melissa's morning coffee
didn't agree with her.  After a hasty retreat to the bathroom, she came
back and said that perhaps tea in the morning wasn't such a bad idea after
all.  A home pregnancy kit confirmed our suspicions and in a few weeks she
will be scanned to determine if she is carrying one or two.

   Apart from us, only Lydia and Melissa's father knows.  Ryan is too young
to understand the fragile nature of early pregnancies, and we frankly want
to put off dealing with Emma and Helen until we are sure we have a 'going
concern'.  They haven't been nasty in any way - far from it, but they
haven't shown that easy-going and complete acceptance that Steve and Lydia
delighted us with.  And while I'm sure they will come round once the baby
(or babies) is an undeniable reality, I suspect that there will always be
some opposition.  I guess that Emma is planning on moving in with her
boyfriend as soon as they graduate, which is fine and completely natural.
Mark, by the way, was as calm and accepting as Lydia, so I do not expect a
major rift in family relegations.

   On the contrary.  I expect a lot of happiness.

   THE END.