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Subject: {ASSM} (Rev) Amy's Proposal by Rachael Ross 01/02 (M/g, Romance, First,  Oral, Safe Sex, Pedo)
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Amy's Proposal
By Rachael Ross

Copyright 2008 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. rache696@yahoo.com
www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm
Story Codes: M/g, Romance, First, Oral, Safe Sex, Pedo
Synopsis: A Jack Valentine Adventure! Excerpt: "...Women are the grand
mystery, despite death's big reputation. A man doesn't have to live
with death, it happens and it's over and you have your answer, but
girls...So I did what any other 18-year-old boy does when confronted
with his fantasy come to life. I started taking off my clothes."

NOTE: This is a MULTI-PART post to ASSM of a REVISED story (This is
PART 01 of 02)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Amy's Proposal
Fiction by Rachael Ross

A Jack Valentine Adventure!

"...a good marriage is based on the talent for friendship." - Friedriche
Nietzshe

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Prologue



J. Robison was cute, for being older like she was. I'd guess twenty-
seven, if I had to, and being very pretty, the doctor was obviously
used to getting some attention from her male patients. I gave her
mine, but only out of habit. She wasn't my type at all and that, in a
roundabout way, was the reason I was sitting in her office.

"Mr. Valentine..."

"Jack," I said and the doctor smiled back.

"Okay, Jack," she agreed pleasantly, crossing her long legs and she
was giving me some attention as well, although I was at least seven or
eight years her junior.

I'd grown used to that myself because, not to be immodest, I've always
been an attractive man of the tall and dark sort. Brown eyes and black
hair, a square jaw and handsome features to go with a trim, athletic
build. It comes from good genes, a reasonable diet, and plenty of
exercise, I suppose, but mostly it's just a lot of luck. I'm not
complaining though and more than looking good, I have a thing about
girls. A genuine affection for the other sex, maybe even empathy isn't
too strong of a word, and I believe they can sense that. I know the
younger ones can, and as much as anything else, that really is the
secret of my success.

"Are you sure you want this?" the doctor asked me, looking through my
patient folder, and it was a thin one. This wasn't the clinic my mom
used to bring me to as a child. It wasn't even in the same state.

"Absolutely," I nodded, not avoiding her green eyes and not trying to
stare the woman down either, just friendly honesty. "I've given it a
lot of thought, Doctor."

"But you're only, what? Eighteen? You have a lot of life ahead of
you," she said. "Do you have someone you're serious with? A girlfriend
or..."

"No, not at the moment," I admitted with a little smile. "But I think
it's reversible, right?"

"Vasectomy is reversible, yes," she cleared her throat softly. "But
not a hundred percent of the time, Jack. Whether you change your mind
at some point in the future or not, you may find yourself permanently
sterile."

"I guess I'll have to take that chance," I gave her an apologetic
shrug.

"May I ask why?" She kept her eyes on mine. Challenging me a bit,
wanting the whole truth, but I could only give her the obvious part of
it.

"I like sex, Doc," I chuckled softly. "Who doesn't, right? But, uh, I
just really can't see myself with children."

"Well, given your age," she said, "I'd almost worry more if you did
want to be a father; so many young men do."

"No. I've been thinking about it for years," I told her and when the
woman widened her eyes slightly, I smiled. "Seriously. I know who I am
and what I want."

"There are other methods of birth control..." she offered.

"I know," I agreed. "But most of them aren't up to me, you know? I'd
like to make the decision and not have to..."

"Trust a woman?" she asked, cocking her head slightly.

"Maybe," I admitted. "Something like that, or...depend on the girl, I
think. I don't want to rely on circumstance."

"I see," she smiled at that, tucking a bit of auburn hair behind her
left ear. "You don't think women are responsible then."

"No," I shook my head. "I'm not saying that. They're like anyone else,
you know? But things happen, we're having a nice time, and it's easy
to forget or rationalize. It's just human nature."

"Hmmm..." she shrugged with some agreement. "What about condoms? They're
easy, safe, effective..."

"Well, uh..." I nodded slowly and gave her my eyes, "...I like to feel it,
Doc. Don't you?"

"Are you sure you're eighteen?" she smiled and meant it to be a
genuine compliment. "You don't seem like it."

"I'm just me," I said, giving her my best smile in return; the one
that could get me in or out of trouble with equal chances.

"Well," she glanced down and the woman had turned a little pink, not
much, but just enough and it was a sexy look for her. "I can do the
procedure, of course, it's very quick and barring complications,
you'll be fully recovered within the week, probably sooner than that."

"Right," I said, having read quite a lot on the subject over the
years.

"All you have to do is sign here and...down here, Jack," she offered me
the necessary paperwork. "And I'll get a nurse to prep you."

"Great," I smiled, picking up a pen from her desk.

Twenty minutes later I was ready, sitting on an examination table in a
small, thin hospital gown.

"Do you want a nurse present?" Dr. Robison asked me, looking over the
surgical tray that had been prepared for us.

"Uh, do we need one?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm a woman, you're a man, sometimes that can be awkward..." she
said without humor and I shook my head.

"No, if I can't trust my doctor, who can I trust?" I asked and she did
smile at that.

"At the risk of offending you, Jack..." she said a few moments later,
after several stinging shots of local anesthesia.

"Hmmm?" I looked at her, laying flat on my back while we waited for me
to go numb.

"You have a very attractive penis," the woman said. "It's very...
healthy."

"Oh," I laughed. "Thanks, um, we're not going to need that nurse, are
we?"

"No!" she laughed as well. "I think I can control myself."

"Okay, Doc," I looked back to the ceiling.

"Can you feel this?" she asked and I shook my head. "How about this?
Here? No...Down here?"

"Oh, I feel that," I said as she'd pinched the inside of my left thigh
between her latex covered fingers.

"Good," she let me go. "I think we're ready now."

"Okay," I said, thinking about all those newspapers I'd delivered,
just for this. All those burgers I'd flipped and it seemed rather anti-
climatic, actually. I didn't feel a thing.

"All done," Robison said perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes later. "How
does it feel?"

"A little tingly maybe," I said. "I don't know."

"Well, you'll be a little sore later, I'm afraid. The anesthesia will
wear off soon," she said. "There will be a little bruising maybe."

"Okay," I nodded.

"Go ahead and get dressed," the doctor told me, peeling off her
gloves. "And stop by my office when you're ready."

By the time I'd dressed and sat down once more near Dr. Robison's
desk, I could feel it. Not really painful, but annoying is a good word
for the small discomfort I was feeling.

"We'll make an appointment for you in a week," she was saying, looking
through her calendar. "Next Monday at ten, how will that be?"

"Sure," I agreed.

"Great," she smiled. "You've got great sperm ducts..."

"I do?" I chuckled.

"...and I tied them off nice and tight, but there's still sperm in
there." she told me. "Enough for up to three months, okay? You're not
sterile yet, so be cautious."

"I know. Yeah," I said.

"If you notice any unusual swelling or discoloration in your scrotum,"
she said, "or unusual discharge, you need to call me right away.
Here's my card and, uh, let me put my home number on that."

"Okay. Thanks." I watched her write her private phone number down and
I got the impression it wasn't something she was used to doing for
anyone, let alone a patient.

"You can take Tylenol or aspirin for the pain, you don't need anything
special," she said handing me her card. "Stay off your feet for a day
or two, but as I said, three days is usually..."

"Pretty good, yeah." I looked at her card, turning it over to see
she'd written 'Janice' above her phone number and she was stalling for
something. "Well, thanks a lot, Doctor..."

"Hey, um...Jack?" She gave me those bright green eyes and licked her
lips.

"Yeah, doc?" I returned her gaze.

"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" she asked slowly. "I
mean, I don't usually ask patients, um..." she giggled self-consciously
and her cheeks took on a bit of pink once more.

The woman was beautiful, I decided, but it was just too bad...

"Oh," I looked suitably surprised, pleasantly of course, and I really
was flattered. "I'm not sure if we should, uh...I'd feel a little
strange knowing that you..."

"Right," she cleared her throat and looked away. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I
know better than that. No, it's no problem. I'll see you on Monday,
right?"

I suspected that Janice thought I declined more because of her age
than any excuse about being her patient. She imagined I felt her to be
too old for me and she was right, in a way, but not by only a few
years. The doctor was too old by at least a dozen years, easily.

"Yeah," I smiled warmly, wishing there was a way to make rejection
easier. I'd send her some flowers, I decided, nothing romantic, just a
'Thank You Bouquet' to her office. It wasn't a perfect solution, but
few things are in life.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Three months later, almost to the day, I was back at the hospital
where I'd been born nearly nineteen years before. It was the college
winter break and I was home for the holidays looking for some good
news.

"Mr. Valentine? Yes, your labwork is done," the nurse told me and she
glanced around, because this was rather confidential, I suppose.

"My sperm count?" I asked, just to let her know I wasn't overly
sensitive to the subject.

"Yes," she agreed. "Your sperm is less than .0025 percent viable."

"Is that good or bad?" I asked with a little smile, because I already
knew what the numbers meant. I just wanted to hear it.

"Ahhh, that depends on if you want children or not," she said
carefully. "Basically, your sperm count is practically zero. The
likelihood of fathering a child is...."

"Practically zero?" I suggested and she nodded. "That's good news
then."

"Okay," she was older and black and she blinked at me, probably
wondering why a very young man like myself would be happy to find out
he was sterile. She didn't know I'd had a vasectomy though.

"How small is the chance," I asked her. "That I could father a child,
like you said."

"Maybe...One in ten thousand," she told me. "Probably even less than
that, realistically. You would need a miracle, Mr. Valentine."

"Great," I smiled and she just didn't get it at all, but that was
okay.

"This is your copy of the lab report," she said and there was little
else for us to discuss. "Have a nice day, Mr. Valentine."

"I will." I picked up the paper and glanced at it, feeling satisfied
after too many months spent waiting.

Now all I needed was a girlfriend.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Chapter One


Little did I know that even as I stood there getting my good news, my
own mother was arranging a date for me. She was happily unaware of it,
of course, but fate or destiny, or just another instance of my good
fortune had intervened once more on my behalf.

Amy King was a girl I knew well, having grown up in the house next
door to mine her entire life. All twelve years of it. I'd paid her
little mind, actually, being quite busy growing up myself. Little
girls, prepubescent children like Amy, are generally not very
interesting to teenaged boys like myself. That's a fact. But I'd seen
her, obviously, spent a lot of time with the girl and her family over
summer barbecues and picnics and such. I'd even babysat for Amy on
occasion, although I was much better at mowing lawns than I was at
making sure seven or eight year old girls got to bed on time.

That had changed though, or I should say that Amy had changed. If
prepubescent girls held little fascination for me, adolescence lit a
fire in my gut like you wouldn't believe. Puberty was like magic and
I'd be hard pressed to explain why, but I know it's true. As soon as a
girl begins to grow outward, when her breasts begin to form and her
babyfat begins its delightful migration to give her real hips and a
nice round butt...

When a girl gets her first menstruation especially, which can happen
as early as 11 or even ten years old, or as late as fifteen or sixteen
for some girls...Oh my. That does something to me. And the best age
for such things to happen, in my opinion, is twelve or thirteen.
Eleven is just a bit too young and fourteen is nice, but fifteen is
pushing it for most girls. They're too mature in other ways, I
suppose. It really is difficult to try and quantify these things. It's
a feeling, an instinctive understanding on my part, rather than any
conscious, calculated decision. That's probably the best way to
explain it.

I have a nose for girls just entering puberty, as I'm sure many other
men do. Unlike most men, however, I'm not afraid to do something about
it. Whether that makes me a bad man or not, well, I guess we all have
our opinions.

"Jack!" Mom smiled and kissed my cheek as I entered through the
kitchen. She was a great mom and we'd missed each other over the
months I'd been at school.

"Hey Mom," I smiled. "What's cookin'?"

"Oh shush!" she laughed lightly and I'd been saying that since I'd
been four years old probably.

"Smells good anyway," I said truthfully. "Dad home yet?"

"Not yet," Mom said. "Say...Betty and Jake have a little thing tonight..."

"A thing?" I grinned at her.

"The Christmas party at the plant," she explained. "Christy was
supposed to stay with Amy, but..."

"Who's Christy?" I wondered, digging through the refrigerator for a
diet coke. It's all Mom had.

"Oh, she's...You don't know her," she shook her head. "Anyway, Christy
has a high school dance or something, so she can't make it tonight."

"Okay," I shrugged.

"And so I was thinking maybe you could go over and..." Mom smiled.

"And babysit like I used to?" I rolled my eyes, playing hard to get.
Not because I had any interest in Amy, I honestly didn't right at that
moment, but just because it was fun teasing my mom a little. I hadn't
seen Amy in six months, which doesn't sound like a long time, but for
a girl her age, a lot can change in a short time.

"Please, Jack?" she asked. "You always liked Amy."

"Like a little sister," I agreed and maybe that was stretching it, but
not too far. I did like her just fine.

"So you'll do it?" she insisted, trying to pretend she was doing
anything but.

"Yeah. Sure, Mom," I said. "I don't mind."

"Good!" she nodded, as if there'd been any doubt. "I'll call Betty
right now."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"So, Jack..." my dad looked over his plate at me, "...Meet any girls at
that big college of yours?"

"Uh, well...A few, Dad," I shrugged. "There's a bunch. Kinda hard to
avoid all of them, you know."

"Heh," he grinned at that. "Any one in particular we should know
about?"

"No, not really," I gave my mom an apologetic look. "I figured I'd get
good grades before I looked for a good woman."

"That's right, Jack," Mom reached over and patted my hand. "No need to
rush into anything."

"Seems a little peculiar to me," Dad said, meaning queer.

He'd never understood my reluctance to date girls my own age in high
school, which is to say, not date any girls at all. He didn't know
that I did in fact have a number of girlfriends, all of them probably
much too young for a high school boy in his opinion. Dating an eleven
year old when I was seventeen would hardly impress my dad, or any of
my friends for that matter, so I'd kept my social life as private as I
could, believe me. Unfortunately, it made my dad suspect that I was
gay.

"Nah, I know some girls, Dad," I assured him. "I have a good time, but
nothing serious. I'm not ready for that, you know?"

"Don't give Jack a hard time, dear," Mom said, coming to my defense
like she always did. "He's working hard and there will be a lot of
girls waiting when he's good and ready."

"Sure," he gruffed. "I'd just like to meet one sometime before I'm too
old to enjoy my grandchildren."

"You've got a long ways to go, Dad," I grinned at him.

"Well, I can wait for that," Mom decided. "I only have one son and the
idea of sharing him with another woman..."

"You spoil him," Dad shook his head. "That's the problem."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, giving him a little frown. "You
just don't want to go to the Christmas party. That's what it is."

"Hmmm..." he made a face and they liked to argue like that, or not
argue, but banter I guess. They'd been doing it for twenty-five years.

"You'll have a good time, Dad," I told him. "You always do."

"Long as they got beer," he snorted. He worked at the big auto plant
with Amy's dad, building American cars with Japanese parts. At least
he had a job though; things had looked tough for few years when I was
a kid.

"Jack's going to watch Amy tonight," Mom said. "Isn't that sweet of
him?"

"Hmph," Dad grunted. "Come all the way home from college to babysit,
did ya?"

"Ah, Dad," I laughed. "I'm just doing Mom a favor. You know she can't
go anyplace without Betty."

"Oh shush, you!" she gasped happily.

"Got that right," Dad smiled too.

"Besides, it isn't babysitting anyway," Mom informed us. "I don't
think Amy really needs anyone to watch her at all. That little girl
grew up in a hurry."

"She did?" I looked at her, not really understanding what she meant.

"I mean the way she acts," Mom nodded. "Amy's very mature for her age.
I can hardly believe she's twelve already, but..."

"I can," Dad grunted. "She keeps climbing our fence and I'll have her
painting it come spring."

"Be nice!" she waved her hand at him.

"Acts grown-up, huh?" I asked and Mom nodded.

"More than she should maybe," she said. "What's the word for that?"

"Word for what?" Dad wondered.

"Being too mature," Mom said. "I can never remember."

"Precocious?" I offered and she smiled.

"That's the one!" she said. "Amy's a precocious girl, you'll see."

"I can't wait," I said, trying to mask my enthusiasm behind the truth.
It works better than you might think.

"Too bad she's not six years older," Dad suggested. "She is a pretty
girl."

"Very pretty," Mom agreed. "It is too bad she's so young, isn't it?
Jack and Amy would make a lovely couple."

"Huh..." I had to hide my smile behind a long drink of water and now I
really was curious to see how much little blonde Amy had grown up.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Hi, Jack...Come on in! You look good, boy!" Mr. King took my hand in
his and he'd always liked me a lot.

He'd wanted a son of his own, but they'd just had the one girl, so he
tended to give me a lot of fatherly attention even if I was a little
older than a real son would have been for him. He was a big man, an
outdoorsy sort of guy and honest. I liked him just fine and though
he'd tried to get me to call him Jake once or twice, usually after
he'd had a few beers, I just couldn't see myself calling him by his
first name.

"Hey, Mr. King," I nodded. "Thanks. How's everything? You get your
buck this year?"

"Nah," he gestured for me to come in and closed the door against
December's chill. "Took a doe the day before the season ended, just to
use the tag. It was too damned dry this year, I think."

"Yeah, that's what I heard," I agreed, unzipping my jacket.

"Jack!" Amy's mother was coming down the stairs. "Look at you! Wow!
You're all grown up."

"Thanks, Mrs. King," I smiled at her. "You look like you're ready for
dancing tonight."

"You better call me Betty, Jack," she grinned. "I feel old enough
already and this old man..." she smiled at her husband, "...never takes me
dancing!"

"What? I took you dancing once, didn't I?" he chuckled. "Don't listen
to her, Jack."

We made small talk for several minutes, just catching up really, and I
was made to feel very welcome. It was nice coming home and nicer still
to have two homes, in a manner of speaking, because Mr. and Mrs. King
very much treated me like part of the family.

"Amy? Why are you hiding there?" Betty noticed her daughter before I
did and I followed her gaze.

Amy was hiding behind the archway leading to the dining room, peering
around it and smiling faintly as she watched us. I could only see a
bit more than half her face, but even that was enough to take my
breath away. Amy had indeed changed over the last half year and as she
reluctantly entered the living room I could see exactly how much.

"Hey Jack," she said softly, looking at me with her big blue eyes and
then looking away, coming back, looking away...What a flirt!

"Hi Amy," I smiled and her parents beamed, as well they should. Amy
was a beautiful girl and they were rightly proud of her.

"Hasn't she grown, Jack?" Betty asked me, holding out her hand to draw
the girl close.

"Yeah, you've really grown up, Amy," I said, meaning every word of it.
"Last summer you were just a little kid, but now..."

"I'm not little anymore, huh?" she giggled softly, letting Betty hug
the girl to her hip.

"No, you're not little at all," I smiled and looked at her dad.
"You're gonna have to find yourself a big stick pretty soon."

"Heh!" he nodded at me with a grin. "I keep the shotgun handy, Jack."

"That's not funny," Betty rolled her eyes and then noticed her watch.
"Oh, we're running late. You be a good girl for Jack, alright? Do
whatever he tells you to, understand me? Remember what we talked
about."

"Yeah Mom," Amy said, dropping her head slightly and I realized her
mom was actually embarrassing Amy a little.

"All the stuff's where it used to be, Jack," Mr. King told me. "I
locked the liquor cabinet too, so don't go looking for trouble..."

"Right," I laughed, knowing he was joking. I'd never been much of a
hellraiser growing up and he knew it.

"I left the phone numbers on the refrigerator and...hmmm..." Betty
looked around like all mom's do. "Amy needs to take a bath before she
goes to bed."

"Mom!" Amy sighed and she reddened slightly at that.

"What?" Betty frowned. "And bedtime tonight is ten o'clock, right?"

"Yeah," Amy agreed softly.

"We'll be back around midnight," Mr. King said. "Maybe a bit later,
we'll see what happens. You can conk out in the spare bedroom for the
night, it's no problem."

"Okay, right," I was nodding at both of them and I'd slept at their
house before because the Kings, unlike my parents, weren't very old at
all with Mr. King being thirty-one and his wife a year younger. They
liked to have a good time when they went out.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You wanna do something?" Amy asked me once her parents were gone.

She was standing barefoot in a pair of loose jeans that barely stayed
on her narrow hips. I thought she'd been keeping them up somehow, like
the way she'd hooked her thumbs in the pockets while her parents were
there, but now that Mom and Dad were gone, she didn't care. They were
falling low enough that I could the waistband of her pink panties and
it was making my heart beat quickly.

Amy's soft white tummy was exposed nearly completely beneath her t-
shirt, which wasn't an overly large one. It was pink, like her
underwear, with a picture of Barbie on it and I'd seen Amy wearing
that shirt to school the spring before. It still fit her okay and it
would have been innocent enough for most people, but for me? I
couldn't help but feel drawn to her. The girl's belly button was small
and cute and right there for me to admire. Her breasts were only bumps
and barely there at all, but I could see them. I could see the faint
protrusion of her nipples and the twelve year old probably didn't even
own a training bra yet. But it would be coming and soon, I supposed.

Her face was angelic, and that's the perfect word, believe me. As a
child it had been round with large cheeks, almost chubby in a way, but
no longer. Amy's face was more heart shaped now, her chin pointed and
her cheeks more pronounced and wonderfully shaped. She had dimples,
tiny ones when the girl would smile just right. A smallish mouth
blessed with a natural pout; a narrow, upturned nose, and those eyes.
Immaculate Blue would be the color if I had to name it, gazing at me
from beneath her straight blonde hair.

"Do I wanna do something?" I smiled at that, knowing exactly what I
wanted to do with her. "Like what?"

"I dunno," she shrugged and those pants fell a fraction lower. "We can
play some Wii if you want, it's kinda fun."

"What do you want to do?" I asked her.

"You wanna watch a movie?" she suggested, making that sound like her
choice without actually making it.

"Sure, yeah," I agreed. "Make some popcorn?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Like we did before."

"You remember that?" I asked, walking with her towards the kitchen.

"I remember everything," she giggled and I caught her biting her
bottom lip as she glanced up at me. The girl wasn't but 4'10" maybe
and couldn't have weighed anything, but she had a presence like you
wouldn't believe.

"I figured you'd forget all about me," I said with a theatrical sigh.

"Why?" she looked at me.

"Well, cause you're growing up," I explained, digging through the
lower cabinets for their Stir Crazy popcorn popper thing. It was a lot
better than microwave popcorn, but kind of a pain to clean up
afterwards.

"Am I?" she asked, teasing me because she just wanted to hear me say
it.

"Yeah," I turned my head and gave her a very deliberate look up and
down. "I bet you have a bunch of boyfriends already, huh?"

"No!" she gasped happily and her face was pink.

"Yeah, you do," I decided and sighed again. "I wish I hadn't moved
away."

"You do?" she smiled and plainly didn't believe me, but that was okay.
We were having fun.

"Yeah, college is boring," I said, standing up with the popcorn maker
in my hands.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked me, leaning on her elbow with
her small fist under chin, bumping her hip against the kitchen
counter.

"Nope."

"How come?"

"I haven't found a girl I like yet," I said, putting the popper next
to the stove.

"What kinda girl do you like?"

"Hmmm..." I shrugged, "...I don't know."

"Yeah you do!" Amy giggled. "Tell me!"

"What?" I made a face and reached for the cooking oil. "I like
different things, you know."

"I don't know, Jack!" she gave me a pout and it was world class,
considering her age. "Like, um...What does she look like?"

"What does who look like?"

"The girl you like!" she giggled.

"I told you I didn't find one yet."

"Yeah, but you lied!" Amy nodded like she knew a secret and I rolled
my eyes.

"How do you know?" I asked her, adding popcorn to the oil.

"I can tell," she said. "I'm not stupid."

"I know that," I told her seriously.

"So?" she stood up with a sigh. "Tell me then."

"Um, well..." I plugged in the popper and it started stirring the seeds.
"She's got blonde hair."

"Really?" Amy grinned at me. "What else?"

"Blue eyes," I nodded, "and um, she's really, really cute. Like if you
saw her? You'd think she was beautiful."

"Oh yeah?" Amy was biting her lip again and then she caught herself.
"Ummm...Is she really tall and stuff?"

"Hmmm," I shrugged. "Not really. She's about perfect, I think."

"But how tall is that?"

"I don't know," I laughed. "I never measured her."

"Come on!" Amy grinned at me. "Guess. How tall is she?"

"Why?"

"Cause! I wanna know!"

"I told you a lot already," I said. "And you didn't tell me anything
about your boyfriend yet."

"I don't have a boyfriend!" she frowned.

"There's a boy you like though, right?" I asked. "So tell me about
him."

"No!" She looked down and then her eyes came back up slowly, but I was
still watching her.

"You gotta tell me now."

"Why?"

"Cause I told you about the girl I like," I said as the first kernel
popped. "Besides, we're friends, right? So you don't have to be shy
about it."

"I'm not shy," she said shyly and I felt my stomach knotting up hard.

"So?" I spread my hands and smiled.

"Okay, um...You won't laugh right?" she looked at me.

"Of course not," I said. "Unless, you know, he's like a midget guy or
something."

"A midget!" Amy giggled and stuck out her tongue. "No way! He's really
tall. Way taller than me."

"Cool," I said. "He plays basketball and stuff?"

"No!" she pursed her lips. "He's just tall, not like weird."

"Basketball players aren't weird," I laughed.

"You want me to tell you or not?"

"Yeah, sorry," I said over the chaotic noise of the popcorn's lively
popping. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

"Okay, um..." Amy nodded. "He's, uh, got black hair and like brown eyes,
sorta with a little green in them, sometimes."

"Huh," I nodded. "Like when he's outside?"

"Yeah, like that," she told me, avoiding my eyes as I smiled at her.
"And, he's really cool. Like he's older sorta, but he doesn't act like
it. You know? He doesn't talk to me like a little kid or anything."

"Older?" I narrowed my eyes a bit. "How much older? Like fifteen?
Sixteen?"

"Um," Amy swallowed hard. "Kinda."

"Okay, that's cool," I decided and the popcorn was getting close to
being done. "Your dad doesn't know about him, I bet."

"Daddy?" Amy grinned and then sorta caught it and stopped. "Oh, well,
he knows him and stuff."

"Your dad knows the boy you like?"

"Yeah! I mean, he doesn't know I like him though," Amy said. "Nobody
knows."

"I see," I unplugged the popper and turned it over, so that the
plastic dome that covered it became the bowl. "You want some butter on
this?"

"Course I do!" she grinned. "I'll get it."

"Kay," I watched as Amy opened the refrigerator and bent over at the
waist, presenting me with a beautiful view of her small round butt.
Her jeans were drawn tight for just those few precious seconds and I
memorized every curve that little girl had.

"You want the real one?" she asked, looking over her shoulder suddenly
and I was caught red handed.

"Uh, yeah," I said, feeling a little warm, but it was alright. Amy
either didn't notice or didn't care that I'd been staring at her ass
and I was just trying to figure out which when she started rocking her
hips, rolling her butt from side to side while she found the real
butter. That was all the answer I needed and I was getting seriously
hooked on this girl.

"Here ya go," Amy said, turning around and smiling shyly. She wasn't a
full blown Lolita by any stretch, but there was a nymph inside just
dying to get out. She was teasing me and we both knew it.

"Thanks," I said, taking the butter and our fingers accidentally
touched. That was nice and there was a little jolt of electricity
there. "So...How long have you liked this boy?"

"Hmmm..." Amy thought about it for a second. "Since I was about ten, I
guess."

"Ten?" I grinned at her. "Two whole years?"

"Uh-huh. I mean, I liked him my whole life, except I sorta didn't know
I liked him," she explained. "Like...That way."

"Oh, so you liked him before then, but now you really like him."

"Zactly!" she nodded. "I didn't love him before."

"Love him?" That sort of froze me for a second.

"Uh..." Amy flushed all over and it was seriously sweet.

"That's okay," I shrugged. "Love is nice, right?"

"You think so?" she asked softly and I nodded.

"Sure," I said. "That girl I was telling you about? I love her, I
think. I didn't used to, I only liked her a lot before, but now..."

"But now...What?"

"Yeah," I said, looking into Amy's big blue eyes.  "I love her a lot."

"Oh," she swallowed hard and looked away.

"What movie do you want to watch?" I asked, thinking we'd probably
played this about as long as we should. It was obvious to me what we
were talking about and maybe Amy understood who I meant, but she
probably had some small doubts as well. Twelve year olds are like that
sometimes.

"King Kong!" Amy said and I laughed at that idea.

"It's almost eight and you gotta be in bed at ten, remember?" I said.
"That movie's like three hours long."

"Awww...Jack!"

"Plus you gotta take a bath," I shrugged. "You don't want to get me in
trouble, do you?"

"It won't be trouble if they don't know," she said. "King Kong,
please? We can watch it in my room anyways."

"You got a TV in your room now?" I looked at her and we were stopped
halfway to the family room.

"Yeah, cause Dad got one at a yard sale," Amy said. "All my friends
got one."

"Okay, well, I guess we can do that," I said. "But you still gotta
take a bath."

"I'll take one right now," she said.

"You shoulda taken one while I made the popcorn," I smiled at her.
"Alright, let's go upstairs. You take your bath and I'll put the movie
in."

"I'll be really quick!" Amy grinned at me. "Promise!"

"Just be really clean too," I said. "You're gonna get me fired."

"I am?" she looked at me and I laughed.

"That was a joke."

"Oh! Yeah," she giggled. "Mom and dad wouldn't fire you."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, following Amy up the stairs. "How would you know?"

"Cause, they like you a lot," Amy told me. "Mommy told me if I was
older, like you? She'd want you to be my boyfriend."

"She said that?" I smiled, remembering my own mother's similar
comments.

"Yeah!" Amy giggled. "Isn't that cool? I mean..." she tried to tone down
her enthusiasm suddenly, "...that she likes you and stuff."

"Yeah, that's pretty cool," I agreed and I really started wondering if
this wasn't some kind of setup arranged by our mothers. But that idea
was so far out there that I dismissed it immediately. What parent in
her right mind would try to bring an eighteen year old boy and a
twelve year old girl together? That wasn't just strange - it was
illegal in our neck of the woods.

Amy went into the hallway bathroom and I went into her bedroom, which
was nice and pretty and probably average for middle class America.
Amy's bed was small and made up with a lavender comforter with yellow
flowers embroidered on it. Her television was a small one too, with a
cheap DVD player next to it on a cheap stand. She had pictures of
horses and kittens on the wall, pictures of friends and family too.
Lace curtains and stuffed animals and dolls. I liked her room a lot
and I looked around without snooping, mostly I just relaxed on her bed
and waited patiently.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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