+---------------------------------------------------------------+ | *** DISCLAIMER *** | | | | This is a story of pure fiction. Any resemblance to persons | | living or dead, incidents real or imagined, places real or | | imagined, is purely coincidental. | | | | IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ FURTHER. | | | | No part of this story may be reproduced on any media of any | | kind without the written permission of the author. | | | +---------------------------------------------------------------+ - 3 - The coffee was... okay. Just okay. The world's coffee makers had nothing to fear from Steven. But it was hot and the fire was getting down to business and the smoke had indeed cleared from the room. I hadn't even noticed. And Zoe was... gone. She was here a moment ago. I remember. She had swung her legs around when Steven came in with the tray. I turned to add some cream. And she was gone. Some papers blew onto the floor as the breeze from her departure drifted across the coffee table. The toilet flushed and the water from Peter's shower started and stopped and then it was just the crackling fire. "I used to do only black and white," as Steven broke the silence. "But with modern equipment, color is nearly as inexpensive." And Zoe pranced in. She had a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in one hand. Instead of just taking bites, she would lick part of it first to get it a little soft. Then she would eat only that spot. She repeated the process over and over again. It was strangely exciting to watch that little pink thing dart in and out of her mouth and all over the cookie. Lucky cookie. Steven hardly noticed. "I can correct the color with this box I have connected to my computer. I don't know how it works, but it works." Zoe twirled and flared her skirt. She stopped and looked at me, did her cookie thing, then twirled again. An impromptu game for my amusement perhaps. She repeated the process over and over, each time checking for my reaction. Steven poured himself more coffee. "Pretty soon we'll just have to toss the undeveloped film into a slot and pictures will come out the other end. Pretty slick, huh?" I was conscious of nodding. I think. Zoe had put her foot on the coffee table and pulled her dress up and started to lick her knee the same way she did when I first saw her at the mall. Except this time, she watched me. Was she looking for astonishment? Was she looking for my approval. She certainly didn't need that. Anything she did was all right with me. Anything. "Would you like to see my darkroom," Steven said? "Umm... Sure. Yes. Fine. I'll just finish my coffee here." And I started sipping as slowly as I could. I could see Zoe and see the bud of a smile forming. She kissed her knee as if it was the face of a passionate lover. I daydreamed my mouth to that spot. Could she tell? Little brown chocolate marks played hide-and-seek on either side of her mouth. Oh, how I wanted to lick them pink again. Suddenly, the padding of anxious bare feet on wooden stairs broke the magic. Peter, fresh from his shower, came bounding in. It was hard to tell before, but under all that soccer garb and dirt was a thin, handsome 12-year-old boy. His legs sported several small bruises, the visible results of a so far unsuccessful soccer season. All he wore was a pair of light blue Jockey briefs. And a frown. He pushed Zoe's leg off the table. "I thought you were coming up." "You thought wrong. I told you, I didn't want to now." "Uh uh. You said that then. This is later." "Well, I don't want to later, okay?" "Not okay. C'mon. I want to." I looked at Steven to see at what point he was going to intervene. Apparently he had no intention of doing anything. I was about to say something when Peter pushed Zoe hard. "I said no!" There was not a hint of doubt in her voice. "And I say, yes." I knew this was trouble, but I was a stranger. A guest. I was basically neutral. Powerless, at best. All I could do was watch as Peter pushed Zoe around the living room, all the while trying to steer her down the hall toward the stairs and his room. She just wasn't going to let him get the better of her. But Peter was strong. Thin, yes, but strong. Strong from playing soccer. Peter was used to pushing and being pushed. He grabbed Zoe's arms from behind her and forced her to bend over. "You give?" "Never," as she backed into Peter and pushed him against the wall. Possibly not the best thing to do under the circumstances. Peter winced from the impact and let go of Zoe's arms. Zoe recovered and started to run off but Peter was too quick. He stuck his foot out and tripped her. Zoe crashed to the floor. Her dress flew up and Peter was on top of her in a flash. Zoe sprawled out on her stomach. Peter pinned her arms to the rug while he moved his body against hers. His small but well-formed ass moved up and down rhythmically as he pushed hard against Zoe's tiny bottom. She struggled to get out from under him but he was just too powerful. I looked at Steven, but he just sat there sipping his coffee. Was this just a typical family afternoon at the Swift home? I looked at Zoe and Peter on the floor. I was worried about her. Peter was crazy. Was I really that horny when I was his age? Zoe's face was turned toward me and I could see that it was all wet from tears. She looked at me. Did she want me to help her? She looked away. She knew I was powerless here. Meanwhile, Peter had been trying to pull down his Jockeys. They were nearly off but they were hung up on his hard cock. He turned to one side, letting go of Zoe's arms for just a moment. It was long enough. Already off balance, it was nothing for Zoe to flip Peter off her and onto his back. He hit hard and Zoe stood up. She took one step but then Peter grabbed her ankle. He clawed his way up her leg until he could stand. He put his arm around her neck and bent her over in a headlock. I looked at Steven again, expecting him to do something now. But still he was silent, accepting. Peter dragged Zoe into the middle of the room. "Had enough yet?" "I'm not doing it!" "You don't have a choice anymore, pebble tits. Hear me, pebble tits?" "Yes I do!" And she started pounding on Peter's back and sides. This made Peter angry. He pulled Zoe down to the floor. Now she was on her back and Peter was on top of her. She continued to fight him. She started to roll over but Peter caught her leg. He slid his hand all the way up under her dress, then rolled her onto her stomach. Zoe reached way out and grabbed the leg of the sofa. She tried to pull away, but Peter lay across her back. I could see his hand working beneath her dress. He was palming and squeezing her. He pulled her dress up over her head. I could see his hand had made its way into her panties. Peter's hand moved back and forth and there was no doubt he was fingering her hard. Once again, Zoe was able to slip away and, once again, Peter caught her ankle. She tried to kick him with her free foot, but he grabbed that one and twisted her onto her back again. He pulled her toward him, bunching up the rug under her. Now he yanked her dress all the way up and straddled her, pinning her arms with his legs. "That's enough!" screamed Steven. Finally, I thought. What was it going to take? But I had to force myself to remember, they're kids, just kids. "He's not doing it." "Peter, get off your cousin. Get off Zoe." He didn't budge. "Didn't you hear me? Now!" An imaged flashed across my consciousness. I remembered the photograph. The one at the mall with Peter on top of the girl. Zoe. My Zoe. "Now, dammit!" "All right, all right!" yelled Peter as he rolled to one side. He stood up and straghtened his Jockeys. His face was flushed and I couldn't help but notice the substantial bulge under his briefs. "I'm gonna soak." And with that, he stomped out. I turned to Steven. "Soak?" "We have a spa. A hot tub. In the basement. It's one of those fiberglass things. It's great for..." And he turned to look where Peter had disappeared. "...relaxation. I'll make sure he's okay." And he hurried after Peter. Make sure he's okay! What about...? I turned to Zoe. She was already sitting up, crossleged. She straightened her dress, carefully delicately, like she was arranging a doll's clothes. She smoothed out the fabric. She picked up the hem and pulled it over her knees. She rubbed her shoulder where she had landed on the floor. She winced. I wanted to rub it for her. I wanted to kiss the hurt away. I closed my eyes and wished away the pain, the indignity. When at last I opened them, Zoe was looking up at me. Her face was still shiny from the tears. Her lips were parted slightly. Her face was so sad. She stretched out one of her slender legs. Now she stroked the smooth skin, all the while staring into my eyes. What was she telling me? She looked down at her leg. She twisted it, first one way, then the other. Her white sock was mashed down against her shoe. She bent her leg and reached down to her sock. She pulled at it halfheartedly, then let it go. She slid her palm along her leg, and when it reached her knee, she bent her leg and rested her chin on that precious knee. Her dress had slid down her leg, giving me a view of the warm creamy skin that my fingers had trembled across only a short while ago. Zoe turned her head and rested her ear on her knee. A tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffled and looked like she was about to burst into tears. But, amazingly, she regained her composure. She sighed deeply then turned her head toward me. Her head came up and she looked deep into my eyes and said, "Please stay here tonight." * * * ------------------------- (End of Chapter 3) ------------------------- ------------ (Comments, pro or con, are always welcome) --------------