It was a Saturday afternoon, just after lunch, and I was sitting back relaxing when Wendy, the young lass from next door came knocking on the door.
It's odd, but I'd always considered Wendy to be the kid next door. I was always friendly to her and spoke to her as though she was an adult but I'd never really moved from seeing her as the little girl, riding her bike, to the young woman she now was.
So it came as a bit of a shock when I answered her knock and found her standing there in tight shorts and a tight top and realised that not only was she no longer a child but she was hot. Casting my mind back I vaguely recalled her eighteenth birthday party and, hells bells, that was almost a year ago. Definitely not a child any longer.
"Hi, Mr Dee," she sang as she came waltzing in. "I was wondering if you had any jobs around the place that I could do to earn some extra money. I've got a date tonight and I'm short."
"Sorry, Wendy," I told her. "I don't really have anything I need doing right now."
A little history here. Wendy's father was a tight-fisted miser and controlled the family finances absolutely. If Wendy wanted pocket money when she was growing up she had to earn it, and earn it outside of the family home. Any chores she did for the family were just considered normal and she didn't get a brass razoo for them. I'd been a favourite target of hers for years when she required some pocket money for something special. And I will admit she always did a good job of whatever chores I gave her, with no complaining. Since she had started part-time work she had a steady income and no longer needed to do my chores and hadn't been over for a while.
"But you must have something you need done," Wendy wailed. "I have a date tonight and I need another fifty. Isn't there something I can do? I'm willing to do anything."
Rash words, I though, trying not to laugh. I couldn't help myself, though. My eyes deliberately ran over her nubile young figure and I smiled.
"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it," Wendy wailed, frantically waving her hands to scrub out what she'd said. "You're just being mean. Eww. You're old enough to be my father."
True. I was only in my early thirties so I'd have had to have started young, but it would have been possible. Now I was laughing at her.
"I'm not that old and it just means I'm experienced and could teach you things," I pointed out. "And one must remember, I'm not your father, so it's legal."
"You may not be my father but you're still old," grumbled Wendy. "You know I didn't mean anything like that. Stop teasing me."
"But I like teasing you," I told her, "and why should you rule out something like that. I'm assuming you're not a virgin, and it could be fun."
Wendy gave me a speaking look and changed the subject.
"Can't you think of any housework or gardening that I might be able to do?" she asked again. "I really want to have the extra money available when we go out tonight."
I'd turned on the kettle when Wendy had come in and it was now boiling. I made us both some coffee and considered my options while we drank it. While we drank and I considered, Wendy rhapsodized about her new boyfriend. Not actually a boyfriend yet, but she had hopes.
As far as I was concerned, if she had to scrounge up the money to pay their way he was a loser, right from the word go. Not that I told her this, of course. Criticism would just make him seem more attractive. I did drop a hint that he should be paying but it was very mildly expressed. Just a slight show of surprise.
Eventually I brought the discussion back to the subject I wanted.
"Getting back to the subject of scraping together the money you want, keeping in mind your refusal to allow me to broaden your experience by sleeping with me," I said with a bland smile, "let's see what we can come up with that will raise the money while keeping your virtue relatively intact."
It's amazing how suspicious young women can be. I consider it a fault and blame society.
"What do you mean, relatively intact?" asked Wendy.
"Well, as far as I can see you have bloomed into a very lovely young lady. The trouble is, I can't see enough. Why not take your top off and show me how nicely you've matured?"
"And you'd take that as a license to grope."
"For shame, Wendy. You wrong me. Eyes only, I assure you."
Wendy chewed on her lip, looking suspicious, but horribly tempted, I could tell. Most women don't mind showing of their breasts. It's amazing the number of times a man can be accidentally flashed.
Pride in her figure, familiarity with me and the thought of money for her date won. Wendy stood up and took off her top. I'd guessed correctly. No bra. Not that she needed one. Her breasts were so pale they almost seemed to glow white, and I was quite surprised to note that her nipples were almost cherry red. Suspiciously red, now that I thought of it.
I was acting before I even knew I was going to. I wet a finger and brushed it lightly across one nipple.
"Don't worry," I told her. "I'm not really touching. Just checking something."
Maybe I was only testing a theory but Wendy's nipple didn't care. It promptly puckered, asking for another touch. Regretfully, I passed up the chance and held my finger up, showing a red smear on the tip of it.
"Rouge?" I asked.
"They're too pale. I wanted them to be a little more prominent," said Wendy, blushing.
"You're not thinking it through," I softly chided her. "If you wanted them more prominent it's only because you expect the boyfriend to see them later. If he touches them and smears them, how will you feel? Go and wipe them clean."
Still blushing, Wendy beat a retreat to the bathroom, returning shortly afterwards with nipples that were a very pale pink. Pale pink and aroused, the pair of them. I supposed scrubbing them does that.
