The following is entirely a work of fiction. It was written purposely for the
entertainment of adult readers. This type of fiction should never be read by
minors. Readers of this type of fiction should never try to copy the actions
within, lest they look forward to a very long jail sentence, followed by a life
of forced poverty. 

This story contains graphic descriptions of sex between a preteen female and a
grown man. If this type of behavior offends you, read no further. If this type
of material is illegal where you live, please stop now and go away. 

This isn't a quick spank it story. It's an adventure wrapped in a love story.
I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I loved composing it. 

Summary: Mike is an ordinary guy, who in his private life is a pedophile.
Checking out modeling websites, he sees the face of a Goddess and becomes
besotted. He has no idea that once he joins the site, it will set forth a chain
of events that will change his life forever.  

It all started with a membership in a modeling website. The site was somewhat
exclusive-you had to be sponsored to get in. An acquaintance from another site
had asked me if I wanted in. 

I had seen the site talked about and I jumped at the invitation. 

Once in, I found the site to be more topic rich than any other site I had ever
seen. New members were required go over rules and regulations, and respond to
acknowledge that they had read the rules. Since the site was about preteen and
young teen models, I was surprised to find that all nudity and near nudity was
banned. The site was exclusive, which made me surprised to find the ban on
nudity. To be sure, I went over to the model section and spent hours going over
the pictures. I looked carefully, but there was no nip or lip slips. 

I quickly fell into the fraternity of the site. It felt good to among fellow
pedophiles and to discuss issues important to us. Some guys prattled on about
this model or that, but a dozen of us did talk about the tragedy of child
abuse, and our love of sweet little girls. But finally, I saw a model listed on
the site who really turned my head. 

She was a Goddess. Her face was that of an Angel, with pure innocence. Her
light brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her figure, with a slight bit of baby
fat, looked to be barely eleven years old. Her breasts were tiny buds, barely
noticeable in a tight top and damn near invisible in a loose top. Her
photographer rarely posed her in a risque pose. She always looked angelic, but
the thing that added to her charm was that she rarely wore shoes. I'm not a
foot fetishest, but she did look really divine in a white dress, or an outfit
with her bare feet.

Her site offered no information on her, save a name. The bio section, up for
the first year of the site, was always empty. Every week, a half dozen pics of
her would appear on the site. I was curious if there was more to be seen, so I
joined her site. Because I joined within the first six months of the site, I
was given a "Founder's Membership". It was nice to be given a title, but six
months down the line, I found the importance of having such a membership. 

The email announced an upgrade to the site. The email was sent out to all
"founders". The announcement was that for the first year anniversary of the
site all founders were invited to participate in the upgrade. For a one hundred
dollar donation, you would get one free month and a costume worn by Jean Model
during a shoot. For a five hundred dollar donation, you would get two months
free, and a special file of unseen pictures. A one thousand dollar donation
ensured three months free, the file, a costume, and an autographed picture. I
found that five hundred would dent my savings, but I could spare it, so I sent
it in.

Six very long days later, the zip file arrived. I nearly went into cardiac
arrest when I found that the file was filled with nip and lip slips. Evidently,
there was two or three oops moments in every photo shoot. I about wore myself
out pleasuring myself to her little body parts. A week later I finally noticed
the details in the pics. First, the pictures didn't have the Jean Model
watermark. Second, the pictures had a three digit number stamped in the middle
of each pic. The three numbers were the same for each pic, and they would be
difficult to remove-even with photoshop. This was to identify someone stupid
enough to post the slips on the net, not that I would want to. I had private
pics of my Angel that few or no one else had. 

Six months later, I had another offer from her site. Myself and two others
(according to the email) had achieved "Benefactor" status due to our reply to
their upgrade. We were given a choice of lingerie for a custom shoot, but we
were warned that there would be no nudity. The custom shoot would run two
hundred and fifty bucks. I picked a red babydoll negligee and sent in the
money. 

Eight days later, the custom set arrived. The first pic was her holding up a
sign announcing that this photoset was only for me. The rest of the pics were
her in the red negligee, but there was something different. These pics were a
lot more sexy than her usual pics. Six of the pics had her legs spread, and two
of the pics were her pulling on her panties so that just her slit was covered.
Some peachfuzz was available in her magic triangle. Five of the pictures, her
top was open. She held the top so that much of her chest was exposed, but her
nipples were covered. In the last three pics, her top was completely off. In
the first pic, you saw her bare back. Also, the waistband of her panties were
down and her bare ass was exposed. In the next pic, she was facing the camera,
but her hands covered her tiny boobs. In the last pic, two fingers covered each
nipple. 

I spanked myself sore from that set. A couple of months later, I received an
email offering another special file, exclusive to me for only one hundred
bucks. The email did thank me for my support. I sent in the money. Three days
later, the file arrived. 

Checking my email, I was surprised at the size of the file. I opened the file.
There was a picture section and a video section. I scanned the pictures first.
Like the first special file, it was a collection of nip and lip slips, except
for the last picture. In the last pic, she was facing the camera. She was
completely nude. She was holding a sign below her breasts that read "Thanks
Mike". In this pic, I could see how much she had grown in the last year, her
breasts now a firm A cup. Her nipples were light tan and puffy. Her peachfuzz
seemed to have become transparent, or else she was shaving her magic area. With
anticipation and racing heart, I went to the video section. 

The first two vids were short. In the vids, Jean was topless and climbing out
of a pool. The third vid, a little longer, she was also topless and laying on a
chaise lounge next to a pool. She smiled at the camera and waved. In the fourth
and final vid, the camera was in a bathroom. Jean walked in wearing a white
terry cloth robe. She turned her back to the camera and dropped the robe. She
then walked in the shower, and it was obvious that she wasn't alone. The camera
person  walked over and taped her taking a shower. Unfortunately, the camera
only panned down when her back was to the camera. I got two minutes of her bare
boobs and ass. 

Four long months rolled by before I heard from the site again. The email
stated that in a week's time, an announcement was going to be made on the site
about another upgrade. To Benefactors only, an offer was being made. For a one
thousand dollar contribution to the site, Benefactors would be able to actually
meet Jean Model. The paragraph below the offer, which looked like it was
written in broken English by a lawyer, whose command of English was shameful,
stated that I was responsible for my own traveling expenses, hotel, and
restaurant fees. 

I did the math in my head, figuring in my donation, airfare to somewhere-most
likely Russia, plus hotel and food. I would have to do some budgeting, but I
would also to do some planning. I considered that this might all be a ruse, and
that there might be some dark motives at play. I thought about the possibility
of blackmail. Since I was single, and just a face in the crowd at my company,
this was a no go. As for the possibility of kidnapping, my family was just
wacky enough, that they would go on the morning network shows and cause a huge
international uproar. This would backfire greatly, if tried. Finally, there was
the possibility of murder-with robbery as a motive. To that end, I would take
some cash and one credit card. If they planned to reap a harvest off of me,
they would find the bounty less than bountiful. 

I sent in the cash, and waited. Three days later, an email arrived from a
travel agency in New York City. The travel agency had a Russian name and
announced that it was working for Jean's site. The email needed my name, date
of birth, and address. I had identity protection in case this was a phishing
scam. Two days after this, I saw the upgrade announcement on Jean's site. For
certain donations, T shirts and autographed pictures were offered. A
personalized picture was offered for one hundred bucks. 

I guess the upgrade response was less than tantalizing to the customers. Ten
days later, for two hundred bucks, an offer was made for a personalized picture
of Jean wearing an outfit, if it was sent in and was her size. A disclaimer
added that no see through clothing would be acceptable. Her site, so far, had
been non nude. To my knowledge, myself, and perhaps a few others, had nude pics
of her. None of her nudes or slips had surfaced. 

A week later, I received an email from the site. I had been approved to meet
Jean on a certain day. I was free to use the Russian travel agency, or manage
my own arrangements to Sevastopol (in the Ukraine). I called the contact number
for the travel agency. The woman who answered had an accent, but not a thick
one. She sounded like she knew what she was doing. She gave me a quoted price
on the airfare, which was as steep as I expected. She also looked at several
airlines. We finally settled on a plane from my hometown to New York City, then
on to Paris, and change planes one more time there for a flight to Sevastopol. 

Because the flight schedule would be so harried, I decided to take a sleeping
pill on the flight to Paris, and a nap on the flight to Sevastapol. The
strategy worked great, that and keeping to one carry on bag. I arrived in
Sevastopol, in late afternoon, only slightly jet lagged. A woman of average
looks, looking thirtiesh, greeted me at the airport. She told me that she would
provide my ride to see Jean. 

She led me out to the parking lot. We got into an older Volvo. We went through
a part of the city, then left out on a road leading north. I noticed that we
had a tail. I wondered if that was for her security, mine, or to make sure I
wasn't some kind of law enforcement Officer. Finally, a little over an hour
later, we arrived in a small town. 

The town looked like one of those master plan Soviet Villages. On our left was
a shuttered factory. On our right was a long row of houses, practically
identical in configuration. The houses looked to be at least forty years old,
and perhaps were older. A little past the factory, we took a right onto what
might have been a main drag. There were some shops, a gas station, and a newer
store of some sort. There were also some shuttered buildings that might have
been shops. We crossed a bridge over a creek into a much newer part of town.
The houses looked newer and cleaner. There was a modern looking school, and
close to the school, our destination.

The building must have been a social center of some kind. There were several
dozen cars on one side of the two story building. I noticed that we went to the
far side of the building, where there were several Mercedes, and a relatively
new Volvo Station Wagon parked. 

As we entered  the building, I smelled chlorine. There must be a swimming pool
in the building, most likely in the basement. The woman went to a desk that had
a receptionist. The woman said something in Russian. The receptionist answered
her, then we went to the right, through the lobby, and into a hallway, where
the woman told me to wait. The woman then disappeared into a doorway. A moment
later, three men came out, all of them in business suits. 

The man in the center of the trio was small in stature and quite thin. The
other two men, a lot larger and heavier, were obviously hired muscle. The small
man extended a hand, "You must be Mike McCay" he said in perfect English. 

"Hello", I replied as I shook his hand.   

"You can call me Marky, if you need to", he volunteered. "You've traveled a
long way to meet a sweet girl, and she is quite sweet."

His wink at the end of that last sentence made me feel dirty. It's one thing
to be a pedo and have your own fantasies, but to suddenly realize that you're
meeting a man who is pimping a beautiful young girl can make you nauseous, if
you don't have a thick skin and a casual disregard for anything but your own
primal desires. He continued, "I manage Jean's site, as well as half a dozen
others. She is quite the money earner. Last year, I took in six figures. That's
a king's fortune in this part of the world."

I noticed that he said he made six figures, not her. Jean, probably not her
own name, probably came from the poor side of town that we went through.  

Changing gears, he went on, "Just wait until you see the new upgrade. You and
the other donors  have bought us a couple of new cameras, and the resolution is
beautiful. Wait until you see it."

He noticed that I wasn't into his "I am great" speech. I saw him change gears
through his eyes. 

"In a few minutes, you'll be meeting my crown jewel", he said, "and that's
what I wanted to talk to you about. You paid to meet her, and you'll get an
hour of her time, but if you want to spend the night with her, and I'm sure you
do, that will cost you another thousand, American."

I was prepared for this kind of eventuality. I fished one of two moneyclips
out of my pocket and handed it to him. He counted the bills and looked up, with
an ear to ear smile. 

"You'll find her in there", he said, motioning to a door at the end of the
hallway. 

I walked down the hall and through the door. It was a somewhat small room. At
the center of the room was a five foot by five stage with a raised bar next to
it. A row of chairs lined three walls of the room. There was a small table with
bottles of water and colas. I took a bottle of each and sat down at the bar
that ringed the stage. 

A moment later, Jean entered the room through a door at the back of the stage.
She was dressed in a thin see through piece of white fabric that went around
her neck and tied behind her back. She was also wearing a white thong. She was
carrying a boombox. She said "Hello", then plugged the boombox in. As Luther
Vandross came through the speakers, she started to dance. Actually, her dance
movements were the uncoordinated movements of a twelve year old girl untrained
in dance. Still, just feet from me, was a beautiful girl, that just days before
was only a computer fantasy. She was doing her best to try and entertain me and
Ilet her know that I appreciated her efforts with a smile. 

The first song ended. Seductively, with a smile, she reached behind her back
and untied the fabric. She then, slowly, pulled the fabric from her body and
let it drape across the boombox. Wearing only a couple of inches a fabric, she
started to dance again. During her dance, for a very brief moment, she sat on
the counter next to my drinks and leaned back. I could smell the pleasant aroma
of scented soap, and/or a nice shampoo.  

As the third song started, she slipped the thong off. Sitting back on the
corner farthest from me, she spread her legs to reveal a bald pussy. Her red
and inflamed pussy lips told me that she was sexually excited. She reached
between her legs and rubbed her pussy a couple of times, then she realized that
she was too far away. She came closer and resumed the pose, placing her tiny
feet up on the counter so that I could get a better look. I motioned her to
come closer. She looked confused, then eventually realized that I wanted her to
sit with me. Finally, she ended up in my lap. In a half hug, I could smell her
hair and feel the velvety softness of her skin as I caressed her thigh. In
halting English, she said "Thank you Mike."

I asked her if she spoke English. She held up a couple of fingers to indicate
just a little. Slowly, I asked her how old she was. With fingers and smidgen
English, she indicated that she was twelve, but would be thirteen in a few
months. Our conversation went on from there, with my finding out that she went
to school at the school I saw, that she had a younger sister, and she wanted to
go into fashion later. When she asked me about my home, I pulled out my iPhone
and showed her pictures of the New York skyline (to which she squealed
"America!!"), and pictures of my house and car. She looked in my eyes and in a
voice dripping in sadness, said "I like America." 

I think she was saying that she wanted to leave the squalor behind and live in
a land of opportunity. I hugged her and we shared a kiss. I knew her desire and
I felt a sadness in my heart. She laid her head on my shoulder. I leaned in and
held her.

I must have lost track of time. I sensed a door opening. The woman who had
brought me came in the room and had a short verbal exchange with Jean. Jean
indicated to me that she would be five minutes and she went through the door
she first came in. The woman smiled uncomfortably at me.

"You are to spend the night, yes ?" she asked.   

"Yes"

"I take you to hotel, and her" she replied.

I didn't like the way she said "and her". I realized that I was in an old
world country. In old world countries, men make the rules and strictly enforce
the rules. The woman didn't have a problem with me being a pedo, but she
regarded the much younger and cuter Jean as competition, and she despised her
for it. 

Jean reappeared in the room, fully dressed, carrying a tote bag. I picked  up
my carry bag. The three of us went out to the station wagon. The woman then
drove us to an old two story building at the edge of town. I quickly surmised
that it was a Soviet era hotel. The woman said something to a mousy and
disinterested desk clerk inside the front door. The clerk handed her the key.
The woman gave me a key and indicated upstairs. The woman then walked  out and
left us. 

Jean and I went upstairs to room 206. The room was more spartan than any
military room I ever saw while I was in service. The room had a bed and a
square table that looked like it functioned for a desk. Jean and I laid our
bags down. We sat on the bed. I stroked her hair for a moment. I was tired and
laid down. I reached up towards Jean. She took the clue and laid next to me. I
stroked her hair and smiled at her. She returned the smile and I saw curiousity
in her eyes. 

After a short while, I asked her if she was hungry. The puzzled look told me
she didn't understand. I gestured towards my mouth. She nodded and rubbed her
stomach. We got up and went downstairs. I asked the clerk for food. He gave me
a puzzled look. Jean jumped in and asked the clerk something in Russian while I
fished a twenty out of my pocket. After a discussion, Jean told me "Bring food
here", while she gestured to the floor. 

We waited upstairs. Forty minutes later, a man in his thirties brought food to
the room. I took the box from him and handed him the twenty. He looked at the
money and got a puzzled look. Jean said something to him. The man smiled and
left. 

Jean and I dug into the box. There was some kind of beef, some potatoes
wrapped in foil, boiled cabbage, a loaf of baked bread, and a pair of Coca
Colas. We were starved and we dove in stuffing our faces. 

After the feast, we felt a lot better. Side by side, we laid on the bed. We
smiled at each other as I ran my hand through her hair. Then, moving down, I
slid my hand down her arm until it passed her hand, then, on to her stomach. I
slid my hand under her top and started feeling her young firm flesh underneath.
Her top started impeding my hand. She sat up and pulled her top off. I also sat
up and started undressing. 

We were standing when we were fully nude. I took her head in my hands and
kissed her. I then lifted her off of her feet and laid her on the bed. Laying
next to her, I kissed her, then moved on to her neck, before finding her tiny
breasts. I spent several minutes on each nipple, suckling on her tiny puffy
nipples. Jean was breathing deep and grunting softly. I reached between her
legs and found her sopping wet. She spread her legs as I fingered her slit. I
moved down and started licking her little slit. She let out a girlish
"Oooooooh" and gripped my hair as she arced her back. I could feel pre cum
oozing out of me and running down my dick. I couldn't take it any more. 

I moved in to mount her. Her opening was small, and it took a couple of
pushes, but I got the head and maybe an inch in. She started moving her hips,
matching my thrusts. After several minutes, I was little more than halfway in.
We were totally into it. She was panting and holding my arms. Occasionally, I
could feel her little heels digging into the back of my thighs. She would smile
at me, but clearly, she was in a zone. I felt the thrill in my lower abdomen. I
sped up my pace. As I came in her, she let out a little shriek. 

I collapsed, spent, on the bed. Jean was in better shape. She smiled, draped
the lower half of her body across me, and kissed me gently on my chin and
chest. In afterglow, we held each other, then drifted off to sleep. 

Dawn's light coming through the window awakened me. Jean had an arm draped
across me. My bladder was screaming in agony. I tried pulling off of her
without waking her, but I was unsuccessful. As she stirred awake, I indicted to
her that I had to pee. She also had to pee. Our room didn't have a toilet-we
had to go down the hall. We covered ourselves, then found the bathroom.
Afterwards, we agreed that we were hungry. Jean dressed, then went downstairs
and arranged for food to be delivered. 

We had to wait for the food. Although it started with an innocent hug, we
ended up making love again. We had finished and were about fifteen minutes into
afterglow when the knock came at the door. I slipped on pants and overpaid,
again, for a meal. Jean and I ate, then dressed. Shortly afterwards, the clerk
downstairs gave us a message-that my ride was coming. Jean went into a funk.
While I packed, Jean sat on the edge of the bed and sulked. As I finished, I
held Jean's head and kissed her. Her half kiss told me that she hated that I
was leaving, that and her glassy eyes. I had no idea who she was going to be
prostituted to next. I think she knew who and that was what prompted her
sadness. 

It tore me up inside that I had to leave. I did some counting in my head. I
had enough left in the bank to make another round trip to the Ukraine, but not
enough for her, and certainly she wanted to bring her family. That would take
bucks and I didn't have it. Then there was the matter of her manager/pimp.
Surely he'd want a payoff to release her from a contract, if there was one. In
any case, he wasn't about to let a golden goose just get away. He had hired
muscle-did he also have underworld ties ? It would take a miracle to free my
Goddess from the hell that she was living.  

Our ride arrived at the hotel. As we followed her from the hotel room Jean's
mood became even darker. As we got in the car, Jean sat with a truly pissed off
look, her arms crossed. Silence ruled the car as we left the hotel and made our
way through the village. Our escort then made a gigantic mistake as she stopped
off in front of Jean's house. 

I caught Jean's hand as she slid out of the car. We still had a gigantic
language gap, but I knew enough body language to convey my meaning. Standing
outside the car and facing Jean, I held her hands. Using my left hand, I gently
touched her between her eyes. I then directed my finger to my chest-over my
heart. I then poked myself in the chest and brought the same finger to her
chest, over her heart. She understood, and tears streamed down her cheeks. I
then kissed her forehead, and then her lips. Jean broke the kiss and ran in the
house crying hysterically. I got in the car and couldn't help but notice that
my driver had a satisfied smirk. She would regret that smug feeling, I would
see to it. 

The plan came together in my head over the Atlantic. As soon as I got home, I
accessed a website that links actors, or their representatives, and paying
members of the site. I accessed the manager of an actor that I knew. In college
we had been roomates. Senior year, he left to become a movie star. I became
rank and file, still, because of a drunken night, he owed me a favor (because
of my silence). I sent the manager an email stating a cheating scandal was
brewing at ESU and it would behoove Stu to contact Mike from room 210. 

The reply email wanted details on the B.S. that I was manufacturing. I replied
that I was Stu's roomate in college and he should contact me right away to
straighten up a misunderstanding. I included my cellphone number. 

The next afternoon, my cellphone rang. Stu's voice came over the phone, but he
advised me that his manager was listening. I then confessed that the cheating
scandal was total crap, but I desperately needed a favor and I reminded Stu
that he owed me one. Stu told me that he was going to call me right back, and
he hung up. Five minutes later, when Stu called me back, I told him the story
of my recent trip, glossing over certain details. I let him know that a
beautiful twelve year old girl was being prostituted. I let him know I was low
on funds, then I threw him a bone, letting him know that he could get one hell
of an exclusive story to make a movie about, and the publicity would do him a
lot of good. He just needed to provide some funds and lend some star power.
Five days later, Stu and I were on a private jet, enroute to the Ukraine.  

When we arrived at Sevastopol airport, two limo's and some large guards were
awaiting us. I rode in the lead limo and provided directions. A little over an
hour later, we arrived at Jean's house. One of the guards, working as
translator, went to the door with me. Jean's mother answered the door. The
guard let Jean's mother know that we had come to take Jean and her family to
the United States. Her mother had a disbelieving look, until she saw Stu. Her
Soviet style stoicism suddenly evaporated. Stu, seeing what was going on,
walked up to the door. Jean's mom quickly confessed that Jean was at a
relative's house and she sent Jean's younger sister in search of her. At her
insistence, we then came in the house so that she could make tea for all of us.

While she made the tea, the translator tried to impress upon her that time was
of the essence. Jean's mom, instead made the tea and babbled on about how
impressed she was to have a movie star in the house. The tea was hot, thick,
and way too sweet for me. The translator continued to work on her, but Jean's
mom was besotted and she tried to flirt with Stu. Stu, to his credit, played
along, although he tapped his wrist watch a couple of times. The entire
atmosphere in the room changed when Jean arrived. Jean took one look at me,
screamed, and ran into my arms.    

The hug was intense and heartfelt. Jean said something in her language. 

"She was worried", the translator said, "that you would never return."

"Let her know that we have come for her and her family and time is of the
essence."

The translator did his job. There was a quick and heated verbal exchange
between Jean and her family. The translator jumped in, aiding Jean. The
translator then asked me, on Jean's behalf, if this was forever. 

"It is for as long as she wishes."

When he translated, Jean grabbed me and kissed me long on the lips. Jean then
barked an order at her family. The three females then went to work. Two of the
guards, anticipating a need, brought boxes from one of the limos. 

Two hours later, with just necessities, Jean and her family said goodbye to
their house. Jean cuddled next to me on the ride to the airport. It was only
then that I addressed an ugky bruise on her face. It turned out that our escort
had told everything to Jean's manager. With her manager present, Jean was then
"disciplined" by the escort, and she assued us that there were more marks-from
a belt-across her backside. Upon hearing this, Stu shook his head in a
disapproving way. 

Eighteen hours later, we arrived in the United States. In New York, Stu and I
parted ways after agreeing to meet again in California in a week's time. Jean
and her family then went with me to my home state of Texas. I didn't take them
to my home, but rather to the country home of a friend. He had a friend, a
translator, present when we arrived. I then explained to Jean and her family
that the arrangement was just for a short time. In less than a week, I would
come for them again. I then went home for some much needed rest, I would need
it. 

Sure enough, three days later, Jean's manager fell right into my trap. He had
made the trip and brought his muscle with him. He was on my turf, and he was
going to regret it. My condo has security precautions, and I saw the unworthy
trio long before they realized it. Tucking a gun into a shoulder holster, I
went outside and talked to them through the security fence. I expected the
threat I received, and I pretended to submit. I told the slimy son of a bitch
that he would have to follow me to where she was at. I then texted my friend to
let him know that we were on the way. I then drove, with slimy and his muscle
following, to a nearby rural airport.    

I turned off of the highway onto a country lane with fence on both sides.
Suddenly, two Constable cars came shooting out of a barn and towards us. Six
Constable cars shot off of the highway and came up from behind. In a minute,
fifteen shotguns were trained on the slimy trio. I then got out of my car and
played my trump card.

I walked up to slimy. 

"Listen", I told him, "I don't know if you know how deep the shit is that you
are in. You are in the wrong fucking place to think that you matter. A trial
would put you away forever and ever, but it would be painful for me and Jean,
and her family. Therefore, I'm going to give you a 'get out of jail free' card
and I suggest that you take it. I'm going to give you a check for fifty
thousand dollars, and you're going to go away, forever. The check will more
than reimburse you for lost revenue. In return, you will never bother Jean, or
any member of her family, ever again. Just one fucking threat", I gritted my
teeth, "and the Texas Rangers will gladly send Interpol after you. You won't
have any place on the planet to hide, and you'll either die in a jail cell or a
slum apartment. Do we read each other fuckwad ?" 

Slimy nodded.

"These nice Constables will now escort you to the airport. I suggest you take
the first plane out of Dodge, and you never return."

I then handed him the envelope with the check. I got in my car and I saw the
Constables motion to slimy and company. It took ten minutes to unravel our
little traffic jam.  

I immediately drove over to my friend's house. Jean's mom was outside hanging
laundry on a laundry line. She smiled and waved. I ran inside and looked
around. I found Jean, her younger sister, and a young female friend of my
friend gathered around a piano. Jean and her sister were playing on the piano.
They all looked up as I entered the room. Jean's face lit up and she squealed
in delight as she jumped up from the bench. She ran over and squeezed me in a
bear hug. My friend's wife, upon hearing the noise, entered the room. I saw her
and tried to tell her the news.

"It's over, he___"

"I got the call, I know", she said. "She might not understand the news. We set
up a way to communicate. Do you see the laptop in the corner ?" she asked,
pointing to my left. 

I made eye contact with Jean. We both went to the corner. I typed in what
happened on a pre-set website. I hit enter. Jean then read the translation. Her
face lit up again and she squealed, again, in delight. 

Less than two hours later, I had three new roomates in my condo. Less than a
fortnight later, I had Jean's mother and sister in their own condo nearby. It
was the trip to California that was the most poignant and emotional part of the
entire event. In California, we were to meet with Stu, his manager, a
translator, and three people from the studio to take Jean's story, in the hopes
that a movie could be made of her life. As we walked in the studio conference
room, Jean's eyes immediately fixated on an upright piano neatly tucked in the
corner. The piano probably had a purpose in pitches made for movies, but Jean
saw an opportunity to bare her soul. 

"Can I ?" she asked, pointing at the piano. 

"Yeah", Stu said.

I looked at Stu and he shrugged his shoulders. Jean went to the piano and
lifted the cover above the keys. Looking at Stu, she said "For you, in English,
I learn." She then began to play the piano and sing in a mezzo Soprano voice:


"Some say love, it is a river that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it
is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, an
endless aching need. I say love, it is a flower, and you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream
afraid of waking that never takes the chance. It's the one who won't be taken,
who cannot seem to give, and the soul afraid of dyin' that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long, and you
think that love is only, for the lucky and the strong. Just remember, in the
winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed, that with the sun's love,
in the spring, becomes the rose."

As she finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Deeply moved, I walked
over to hug her. Seeing the moisture on my face, she got a look of curiousity
and concern. She wiped the tears from my cheeks. I returned a gentle caress to
her face, to which she leaned into. Stu stood up. Deeply moved, he offered,
"That is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I was going to rankle you on
all the money I spent on this, but now I see it was well spent. Well done Mike.
Let's sit down and make a movie."

The End.

Epilogue: Jean learned English within a year, as did her sister. Both
flourished in their new surroundings, as both discovered a world of things not
previously available to them. With practice, my love life with Jean attained a
level of greatness. I had her on the pill to prevent any oops from happening.
The hormones agreed with her, not only making her more beautiful, but desired
by teen boys at achool. By then, I had her wearing aring, which only slightly
helped. I still had to warn boys that called, to tell them that she wasn't
available. 

The movie was only a mild success. The movie included the scene that unfolded
in the conference room. A few movie critics found the moment either maudlin or
contrived. Jean sparkled in the flashbulbs that popped during the movie
premier. I made sure that she wore an understated blue dress. Of course, offers
poured in after the movie premiered. We turned them all down as we were trying
to have a normal life, which we ended up doing. Jean will be starting high
school in a local private school soon. She modeled the school uniform for me,
which led to several nights of naughtiness on the part of the naughty student,
and her teacher, or principal, or school counselor. All is well with the world. 

If you like this, there's more at my site :
/~dude/PTandTeen.html


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