It was a few days before Christmas and I was in my usual mood for the time of year - foul. I hate Christmas and all the falseness that comes with it. Let's face it, this once pagan festival of midwinter, turned into a Christian one by zealous fanatics keen to destroy the old ways, is now nothing more than a licence to print money for the multinational retail and manufacturing chains. Consumerism is the new religion of this country. Anyway, this was the mood I was in when, early in the evening, my doorbell chimed.

I opened the door to see a young girl standing there. She wore a short skirt, which displayed a nice pair of legs on one so young, and a tight denim jacket. Ideal attire for the sun that was shining, at least it would have been had the temperature not being below freezing.

'Can I sing you a Christmas Carol mister?' She asked in a voice shivering from the cold.

My normal reply to Carol singers is, 'no!' followed by a random moan about beggars and Christmastime in general. This time, all I could see was a poor kid shivering to death, so against my better judgement I said yes, but told her to step into the hall, which fortunately for her had a radiator right by the door.

I was expecting some resistance; after all, to her I was an unknown man asking her into his house. I would have thought, wrongly as it turned out, that her mother might have warned her about such likelihood. As if smelling the heat, the youngster almost ran through the door. I told her to stand by the radiator and asked if she would like a warm drink.

She gratefully moved to the warmth but declined the drink, somewhat reluctantly I thought.

'Haven't got time for a drink.' She said apologetically, 'I have a lot more money to make before I can go home.'

I thought her last words a little odd, but for the time being ignored them. She asked if I had a favourite Carol. I haven't, but 'Silent Night' was the first one I thought of, so it was a beautiful rendition of that I heard. She really did have a good voice.

When she was finished, I told her how good she was, at which she blushed. I then asked her why she was dressed so inappropriately for the weather.

She looked down at her feet and mumbled, 'my mother reckons I'll get more money dressed like this, especially as it's the men who usually answer the door.' I couldn't fault the logic, but found the idea of a mother sending her young daughter out deliberately dressed to attract men a little disturbing. I told her so.

'She's right though, ' the youngster replied, 'but I don't know why.'

'How much have you made then?' I asked.

'Almost six pounds.' She looked up at me and smiled for the first time, obviously pleased with her evening so far.

I returned her smile. 'And what do you intend to buy with your hard earned cash?' I enquired.

Immediately her gaze returned to her shoes. 'Nothing!' She mumbled.

It was obvious that something was not right so I decided to be a little more probing. After a short while I discovered that the money wasn't for her but for her mother. She'd been sent out with the instructions not to return until she had at least twenty pounds. It took a few more questions to find out that this was to buy her mother two bottles of gin. When I failed to hide my anger at this, the girl tried loyally to defend her mother's actions, citing all the hardships she was enduring. I listened and thought most of them were self-inflicted.

'Right!' I stated suddenly, 'go into there, ' I pointed to my living room where I had a lovely coal fire blazing, 'and get some heat into your bones.'

'I can't! I still have to get a lot more money yet.'

'I'll give you enough to stop your mother complaining.' I said, coming to terms with what I was doing. I did not like the idea of feeding an alcoholic's addiction, but liked the idea of this poor young thing out in the cold, a lot less.

'Thank you!' she said meekly, too cold, I think to argue, especially as she didn't want to go out again.

'I'll make you that hot drink now, shall I?'

She nodded her answer.

By the time I returned with two mugs of drinking chocolate the girl was thawing out and I could see colour returning to her legs. She had taken her jacket off, revealing a plain white blouse beneath which I could discern a bra cupping two small breasts. I felt a stirring in my loins and was immediately annoyed at myself for responding the way her wily mother had predicted men would.

She watched my appraisal of her before asking, 'why do men like looking at my legs?'

It was an easy question to answer honestly, a difficult one to respond to otherwise. After a moments hesitation I answered honestly.

'Men like to look at pretty girls' legs.'

'But why? I can understand men looking at a woman's boobs because they don't have any, but men have legs so what's so special about them?'

I hadn't thought that deeply about the why, I just knew that I, along with millions of other men, appreciated a nice pair of 'pins'. Without think properly about whom I was talking to I answered as best I could. 'It's probably more to do with what's at the top of a woman's legs than the legs themselves.'

She blushed but still had her question to follow. 'OK I think I understand that with a woman, but why my legs?'

'In many cultures, even ours just a couple of centuries ago, you would be classed as a woman and probably married by now. Plus there is something about innocence that attracts men.'

Determined to leave this dangerous topic I asked her where she had learned to sing so well. That led onto discussions about music, then TV and other such mundane topics.

About ninety minutes later I decided it was time for Sarah, for I now knew her name, to go home. I gave her twenty pounds in loose change; I had originally gone to give her a twenty-pound note but thought that even a drunken mother might have found that a bit too suspicious.

Apart from the initial topic I had enjoyed our talk and so invited her to come around as often as she wanted, but she needn't wear such a short skirt.

Christmas Day.

I got out of bed about 9:00 on Christmas day. I wrapped my dressing gown around my naked body and headed downstairs. My winter routine was to put the kettle on, light the coal fire in the living room before making enough coffee to wake me up and drinking it as I watched the fire come to life. Then I would trundle back upstairs for my shower after which I would dress and begin whatever the day had in store for me.

Just because it was December 25th didn't mean I had anything special planned.

I had just started my second coffee, with the fire blazing but not yet chucking out a lot of heat when the doorbell chimed. My first thought was that it was my parents and I immediately thought of not answering. I love my parents but prefer to do it from a distance. Whenever they visited it seemed it was only to criticise, whether it was my home, my private life or my job. Whatever I did was never going to meet the hopes they had for their only child.

I opened the door to find Sarah standing there once again.

'Hi!' She said with a nervous smile. Seeing little enthusiasm in my face, she immediately went meekly defensive. 'You did say to come anytime.' She said in way of an explanation.

'Sorry! I don't become human until after my second coffee and I've only just started that.' I offered equally meekly. 'Come on in.'

Her face lit up, and is if it was contagious I felt my own brighten.

Sarah headed straight for the fire. The weather was still extremely cold and even a few minutes outside were enough to chill anyone. At least she seemed more suitably dressed this time. Her coat was thicker and longer and she was wearing the ubiquitous blue denims.

Trying to keep any judgemental tone from my voice, I asked her, 'What brings you out so early this morning.' I smiled as I spoke to show that I was not objecting, just asking.

'Mum only got in half an hour ago and she's got some bloke with her. They're both pissed out their heads.'

I raised my eyebrows at the language but Sarah defended herself with, 'well they are!'

I laughed at her attempt to justify herself, and after an initial scowl at me; Sarah broke into a giggle before repeating herself.

'They are though!' she laughed.

The laughter removed any feelings of discomfort between us and we both became more relaxed with each other. She went on to explain that her mother rarely went out, preferring to get drunk at home, where it was cheaper and less embarrassing, drinking on average a bottle of gin a night. No wonder gin is known as 'Mother's Ruin' I thought, wondering what effects it had on her twelve-year-old daughter. I had discovered her age the same time I found out her name.

Last night, being Christmas Eve, she'd disappeared about nine o'clock and only resurfaced some twelve hours later with a strange man in tow. Maybe I was being harsh but it came as a surprise when Sarah said her mother rarely brought men back with her. The one this morning had looked at Sarah in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She did not know why, all he had done was look and there was a smile, of sorts, on his face, but she felt that she should get out and away from him. As soon as they were in her mother's bedroom, Sarah had got changed and run out the house. It was only when she was outside in the freezing cold wind did she realise that she had nowhere to go. Then she remembered my invitation and came to my house.

'I even covered my legs up for you, ' she said facing me with her back to the fire.

I laughed and answered, 'for me? I thought you didn't think about me until you were outside.'

She huffed and blustered an answer to my half question. 'Anyway, as you said you didn't like them, they're covered.'

I smiled. 'I didn't say I didn't like them, I just suggested you cover them in something more appropriate to the time of year.'

It took a few seconds before Sarah responded. 'So you do like looking at my legs?'

Feeling a little trapped I answered honestly but with a sting in the tail. 'Yes I did enjoy looking at them. You have very nice legs... for a twelve-year-old. Now can I get you a drink?'

She asked for a glass of hot milk, which I went to the kitchen to fetch. A few seconds in the microwave and chilled milk became hot milk, how wonderful technology can be.

I took the drink into the living room and was astonished to see Sarah, standing as before in front of the fire, but this time she'd not only removed her coat revealing the same or similar blouse as before but also without her jeans on. I quickly realised that one, I was focused on the white cotton panties that were covering her pubic region and two, that I was getting an erection which was not a good idea when I was standing in full view of a twelve-year-old girl wearing nothing below my silk dressing gown. I didn't need to look down to know my cock was displaying its interest if not itself.

'Sarah!' I spluttered, 'what on earth are you doing?'

The smile on her face evaporated instantly at my tone and her eyes once more found the floor. 'I'm sorry. I thought I would give you a treat for being nice to me.'

At that she started to cry.

'Don't be silly. You don't need to do anything for me. Now stop crying and come and have a hug.' I said, trying not to upset her any more.

I took a couple of steps towards her and she came into my arms, putting her head against my chest. She sobbed for a good ten minutes and I felt she was releasing the tension of more than just today. I just held her and stroked her long dark hair until the sobs subsided and she looked up at me. Slowly a tiny smile spread across her face. She moved her hands from behind me to my chest, parted my dressing gown and placed her head and hands on my bare skin. There she stayed for a long time, not moving apart from an occasional squeeze of a hand against my chest. Neither of us spoke, me because apart from platitudes, I couldn't think what to say.

When she finally moved, it was her right hand that moved across my nipple. It swiftly became engorged at her touch, which she obviously noticed and reacted to by touching it with her fingertips whilst her other hand rummaged further inside my gown.

Although the situation had been none sexual, my initial erection had not disappeared, just subsided a little. Now, her playing with my nipple had reminded me that she was half naked. My erection came back with a vengeance and within seconds I was fully aroused. Sarah could not help but feel it pressed against her. It didn't take her long to realise what had caused my reaction and began to caress my chest a lot more, pushing the top half of my robe ever wider. Although my body knew how to respond to her my mind didn't. I had never seen young teenage girls as sexual beings let alone one yet to reach that age, but there was no denying the responses my body was giving. I even realised that the hand that a few moments ago was just holding her was now caressing her back, even becoming aware of the bra strap below her blouse.

I forced myself to stop and step away from Sarah.

I heard a huge gasp from her and looking at her I could see that she was shocked and also that she was looking at my crotch. I looked down to see that Sarah's hands had pushed my dressing gown so far open that my fully erect cock was standing to attention in clear view of Sarah.

I very quickly covered myself and apologised to Sarah. She said nothing but her eyes were focused on my still obvious hard on. My eyes were then drawn to Sarah's panties and I perceived a darker patch just at her pussy entrance. My cock jumped involuntary bringing another gasp from Sarah.

I was truly embarrassed and did not know what to say other than to tell her to put her jeans back on. As I was struggling to get the words out Sarah said.

'Wow! Did I do that?' her face shone with excitement.

I didn't need to ask what 'that' was. 'Yes!' I answered simply, not knowing what else to say.

Sarah was on a roll now and kept asking questions without bothering to wait for any answers.

'I thought I saw it when you first looked at my legs. Was it big then? Why did it go big again? Was it because I touched your nipple? Why did that go big as well?'

I tried, when I could get a word in, to answer everything in one go. 'Yes Sarah it was you that got me aroused, first by looking at your legs and your barely concealed pussy.' I heard an intake of breath at my description of her sex but continued, 'then when you cried the protective instinct overrode the lustful one. Once you'd stopped crying and started to caress my chest my body reacted the way it's programmed to do. Remember when I said that physically you are of mating age and that's what my body responded to. However in our society you are still a child and what I did was wrong and may even be construed as illegal.'