Thursday, May 2006, U Penn Campus, Philly

She was on all fours as her hands worked the rich soil, and her rear end, clad in tight, green cotton chinos, seemed to be trying to wave at me as she inched her way down the flower bed directly across the lawn from my bench.

I was sitting in one of my favorite spots on campus, a small green space shoehorned between Brown Hall, home to the Philosophy Department and my book lined office, and the newer and more regal Kennedy Building, home of the now suddenly fashionable Mathematics & Computer Department.

It was one of many parks and gardens spread across our fifty acre campus, a campus set in the heart of our large, bustling city, but a tree lined campus that once entered seemed to transport you to a better place.

It was early May and I had just finished my 9-11 am Thursday morning, summer session philosophy seminar, and had strolled down to this little corner to read my paper in the warm spring sunlight. I hadn't noticed her at first, hadn't seen her arrival as I read, so that when I looked up all I saw was her perfectly formed derriere.

Over the next half hour I followed her progress even as a parade of students dropped by to say hello or to ask some question about something I'd taught that morning. My students knew I was often to be found here and over time they had learned I welcomed their visits.

She finally stood up and turned just as the last of my students had wandered off, and she quickly glanced over at me when she heard the gasp escape from my mouth.

Christ, she was just dressed in old boots, green chinos and soiled white t-shirt, but... I had known she had a great rear, hell, I'd been avidly watching it for a half hour, but this... a Madonna... a goddess...

She was carrying two flats of flowers, moving towards the little bed just to right of my bench, her full, firm, high, proud, luscious, perfect... breasssssts... dancing under the thin cotton, stretching the fibers in ways no designer could have planned for, a happy smile on her face...

"Hi," she seemed to sing, "You must be someone very important. They don't even leave you alone when you're sitting in the garden reading your newspaper."

"Not really," I finally stammered, my eyes flicking constantly over her perfection, amazed she had even noticed me.

"Are you a professor or something?"

"Guilty," I answered. "An old warhorse living out his last days in academia, trying to pass on a little of his..." I started pompously, but then stopped in mid sentence when she sat down next to me, unable to continue while under her frank stare, captivated by her beauty.

"You don't look that old," she teased, "I was watching you while all those pretty girls came up and talked to you."

"You were watching me," I stammered and then admitted, "I was watching you... but you kept your back to me"

"My big bum," she interrupted, a complaint in her voice. "Everyone says I have a big bum. You think so too?"

"Absolutely no criticism was implied young lady," I said as I thought to myself, 'are there really morons on this planet who've told this angel she has an overly large rear end?', and then added aloud, "Your derriere is perfection itself miss."

She couldn't be much more then eighteen I saw now, with an hourglass figure that even her drab gardening clothes couldn't hide. There was a ripeness to every curve of her body, a lush voluptuousness she could have only recently grown into. Her skin glowed with vitality, with a freshness that simply overwhelmed the viewer. And there was a musky sexiness to her that produced a cascade of testosterone flowing to every nerve end in my body.

"Is the University now hiring sixteen year old angels to tend her gardens," I asked innocently, "hoping perhaps that the flowers produced will reflect their planter's incredible beauty?"

"I'm eighteen!" she answered with a teen's outrage. "I work for Privano Brothers Landscaping; they have the contract for all the Universities parks and gardens. I just started with them last week," she added as she stood, her breasts suddenly arching toward me as she stretched her shoulders back languidly before bending to pick up one of the boxes of flowers and moving toward the bed.

"It's just a summer job, I'm a student," she began before noticing me pick up the other flat of flowers. "You don't have to do that sir."

"My pleasure Miss... ?"

"Miss Caravaggio... Rose Caravaggio," she said grinning.

"You're aptly named Miss Caravaggio. A gardener named Rose who is more alluring than any flower she'll ever plant. Would you like some help with the rest of them," I asked pointing to the piles of flats waiting across the lawn.

"No, I have only time for these before lunch."

She talked as she planted the immature shoots in the ground, explaining how she was attending the local community college, training to become a landscape architect. "Oh I know, it's not like here, it's not Penn, not a real University, but its hard Professor. You have to know botany, there's millions of different species you know. And soil, and fertilizers, and weather, and drainage and construction and... what? Don't you believe me?"

"I can't think of any better thing in the world to do with your life Rose," I said, and meant every word of it.

Suddenly serious, with the optimism that only the young possess, she went on, "Some day I want to design gardens Professor. Country gardens and city gardens. Flower gardens and vegetable gardens. Gardens in the south and gardens..."

She was beaming as she spoke, and there was a new glow showing on her already radiant skin. "What times lunch?" I interrupted.

"Oh, twelve," she answered as she quickly glanced at her watch. "Gosh, I better go. We only get forty-five minutes; the boss goes crazy if anyone's late."

"Would you have lunch with me?"

"I usually just get a pizza at the little place over there," she said pointing to a student hang out just across the street from the campus.

"Excellent! One large all dressed on me."

"But"

"I also have a proposition to make you."

"A what?"

"I have a garden," I started when we finally had got our pizza and drinks, and had settled at one of the outdoor tables next to the restaurant.

"A garden?"

"Yes, you know, one of those places you were talking about."

"Where? Here in the city?"

"Yes. Unfortunately it's been neglected; I've let it go for the last year and a half. It needs a lot of work, it needs someone like you. Someone to do a complete evaluation, someone able to redesign it for the future, bring it back to life."

She told me later she thought I was talking about some little backyard plot, that she thought I was looking for some cheap labor. "I quite busy now Professor," was her tepid response.

I didn't press, but instead gently probed, trying to find out as much about her as I could. I quickly realized she was hungry for talk, that once started...

"I'm from Peckville; it's a small town, just north of Scranton. I'm an only child...
"My parents wanted me to be a nurse. Or a teacher. But I always wanted to work with plants...
"Daddy's a landscaper... mows lawns really... fertilizes... moves snow in winter...
"The school here has the best program in the country...
"It's expensive but...
"I have to work nights, the tuition, the rent, food... Mom and Dad don't have a lot, they try to help but...
"I waitress nights, sometimes work as a barmaid...
"I've gotta find a new place to live before the end of the month, I can't afford my apartment in this area anymore. Rents are so high...
"I'm going to try to find a room in somebody's house... probably farther away but...
"My boss is a jerk, he treats me, Christ they all treat me like crap...
"Just because I'm a girl they think...
"They make crude jokes, touch me, pretend it was an accident. Golly, who do they think they're fooling Professor..."

Her conversation burst out staccato-like between bites of pizza. I finally interrupted and asked, "But who's the lucky guy Rose?"

"Who?"

"Your incredibly fortunate boyfriend."

"Haaaah! Guys!" she said with scorn. "Don't ask about men, I've had my fill. I thought he was a nice guy; we went out for three months this year. One of yours professor," she said sarcastically. "Penn. In 'PRE MED' he used to boast. What an asshole," she spat out, using a curse word for the first time since we'd been talking.

"Not good?" I ventured with a grimace.

"Not good Professor," she laughed, her bubbling personality impossible to keep down for long. "Are you married?"

"I was," I answered.

"Are you divorced?" But seeing my hesitation added, "Don't mind me, I'm nosy."

"No, no, it's okay. She died, last year... Cancer," I finally added.

"I'm sorry," she rushed to say, but then added, "So I guess we're both single."

Our time was soon up, but before I let her leave I gave her my card, insisted again I was serious about the garden, promised I'd visit her again when I saw her around the campus. She hesitantly said she'd call but...

Wednesday following

I didn't see or hear from her over the next six days, and unable to get her out of my mind had decided I'd have to do some detective work. I knew with her name, where she was going to school and with the name of her employer she'd be easy to find. But I'd hoped she'd call first.

Wednesday afternoon around five-thirty the phone finally rang.

"Professor Scouries?"

"Yes. Is that Miss Caravaggio? Rosie?"

"Yes."

"My prayers to the God of plant life have been answered then."

"What? Oh, hah, hah. But she happens to be a Goddess Professor."

"Yes, you are."

"Not me... are you making fun of me sir?" she giggled.

"Rose, I've been sitting next to my phone for six days, looking out at the ruin of my garden, praying you'd call, hoping..."

"I just finished work professor... I wondered, if you live close... I mean, if your not busy, maybe I could come over and at least look at the garden... I can't promise..."

"Do you like Chinese Miss Caravaggio?"

"What? Chinese people?"

"Food. Chinese food. I've decided I'd order Chinese in tonight. I'm alone, can I order for two?"

"I don't want to cause you"

"Are you planning on dinner tonight?"

"Yes," she snickered.

"Do you have any prior engagements or better prospects?"

"No and none," she said, laughing now.

"Hungry?" I teased.

"Yes sir."

"Good. I'm on Roosevelt, just two streets past the east gate. Number 34. On the corner. If you're still on campus its only five minutes away."

"I'm dirty, smelly. I've been working in the dirt all day. You won't want to eat with me like this."

"It's fine, don't worry," I insisted.

"I'll go home and change. I could get back by six-thirty, is that okay?"

"Perfect," I instantly agreed and then after hanging up rushed to my shower to clean myself up.

You old fool, I told myself as I fretted in front of the mirror, you're forty some years older than the girl. You could be her grandfather. But during the whole time I tried on various ensembles that I thought might please the lady my cock was standing erect, hard and high against my stomach.

You idiot, I muttered aloud when I was finally dressed and heard the front doorbell chime.

"IS THE 'LITTLE GARDEN' YOURS?" were the first words out of Rose's mouth when I opened the door on her radiant beauty.

I stood dumbstruck for what, although probably only seconds, seemed like minutes, mouth open as my eyes took in this angel on my doorstep. "Little garden?" I finally stammered.

It was only a simple summer dress. But no man would have been able to resist Rose while she was wearing it. Her golden Mediterranean coloring was set off perfectly by its pale ivory tint. The button up front ended in a modest vee, just décolleté enough to display the first rise of her lush hills and the deep hollow between them.

A thin pink bra strap peeked out from the dress, its color an erotic invitation to my hungry eyes.

"Yes, the 'little garden'. It's what I've called it to myself ever since I first saw it last year. It's so perfect sitting there. I always wondered who owned it and why the gate was always locked. It looked so forlorn last winter, I wondered why the owner wasn't doing anything about it," she said, her words hardly penetrating my worship.

"It was Mona's garden... my wife," I finally answered. "She loved to work in it... she always left the gate open, always welcomed everyone... I just couldn't do anything last summer," I stammered.

"I understand," she whispered as she moved closer as if to comfort me.

"C'mon, I'll give you the full tour," I promised as I took her hand in mine.

There was a physical ease between the two of us as we walked through the garden, our fingers stayed together long after we could have separated.

"Is it all yours professor?" she asked as we slowly moved along the path and deeper into the luxuriant but now wild growth.

"Uh huh. We bought the house in 1972, god, more than thirty years ago now," I sighed. "Mona started it right away, over there," I said pointing.

"And what about the rest?"

"The house behind us went up for sale in '75. We bought it, rented it out to students, it paid for itself. By 1982 we had bought two more on our side and one on the other."

"You owned five houses? You must be rich?"

"Mona's Dad helped. He ran a factory, had lots of money. He'd put up the down payment and our renters paid all the costs. Mona kept extending the garden until it filled all five yards."

"But it's even bigger now."

"We added the last five over the following fifteen years."

"So you have ten houses?"

"Yup, five on each side. All of them, except mine, have a small apartment in the basement and then large apartments on the first and second floor, and then another small apartment in the attics."

"You must make a fortune in rents," she gasped.

"Its funny, in '75 we rented those big apartments for only one-twenty a month. Now they're..."

"One hundred and twenty! Gosh, my little efficiency costs me six hundred and fifty and it's out way past Main."

We continued the tour, each turn bringing either a gasp or a complaint from Rose.

"Oh, look at the pond, its perfect there. But it has to cleaned up professor...
"The roses are beautiful, the bets so artful...
"The grass should be trimmed, you need to edge...
"We need to do something there..."
"A tree there..."

As she talked I knew I had captured the sweet girl, knew that it would be impossible for her to walk away from what she'd always wanted to do. "C'mon," I finally said, "I'm starving, let's go eat."

"But... I haven't seen over there," she said pointing, "I'll have to draw the layout, the positions of everything if I'm going to..."

"I have a shelf full of drawings, plans, everything Mona did over thirty years," I interrupted.

"Oh lets go see them."

"Later, let's eat now," I ordered.

We sat eating on my second floor balcony that overlooked the garden, and as we talked I saw her eyes continually dart left and right, taking in every aspect of the flora below even as she ate. As we slowly finished off the first bottle of wine our conversation became easier and more personal.

"Momma and poppa came from Italy. In 1987," she finally said.

"So you were born in America."

"Yes, but poppa says I was made in Italy," she said smiling, "the last thing they did before they left."

"And it was a very good thing they did," I answered, letting my eyes roam over her, letting her see my approval. "Magnifico!!" I said smiling as I kissed my fingers.

"Yeah right," she said as she blushed in pleasure.

The top button of her dress had come undone sometime during the meal and now each time she moved or bent over I had delightful view of her full breasts. The pink bra turned out to be a little lace demi-bra, a silk casement that did little more than lift and display the two gorgeous mounds.

And each time she bent toward me one of her dark nipples seemed to escape from the pink lace. Each of her large breasts, so much whiter than her arms or legs, had a dark, puffy areola capped by these fat, suckable nipples that continuously slipped into view. I had to restrain myself, my cock was raging in my pants, God, I wanted to throw her down and fuck her right on the patio table!

After dinner I took her on a tour of the house.

"You have a hot tub too!" she exclaimed after we had toured the whole house and ended on the patio behind the house.

"Yes, most nights I'll come out here for a half hour or so, sit in the tub, smell the flowers, think, relax... Do you want to try it?" I offered.

"But its late... you probably have things to do... you don't want me... I don't have a bathing suit"

It's up to you. I'm going to have one now or after you've left."

"I'd like to try it, but..."

"C'mon, I'll go get the rest of the wine. You can get in in all modesty while I'm gone. I'll bring you back a towel and a robe," I said and then turned and went into the house.

"But sir..." I heard as I walked away.

Rosie was in the water when I returned, her clothes, surprisingly including her bra and panties, piled neatly on a chair. It was dark outside, the only light a soft filtering from an upstairs window. "Don't look," I ordered as I walked towards the edge of the tub.

"It's dark, I can't see anything," she answered, but I could feel her eyes searching as I dropped the towel and quickly entered the pool.

"I've never done this with a man before," she giggled from across the circular pool. "Naked, I mean," she added.

"You're naked?... I'm surprised... I thought you'd keep your panties, your bra on."

"Did I do something wrong? It is a hot tub."

"No, no, its fine, in fact excellent," I answered, "you surprised me, that's all."

"Good!" she answered enigmatically.

We talked easily; it was strange how comfortable we both felt in each others company.

"Now remember," I lured, "as you lie here in this warm, caressing water; if you become my full time gardener you'll be able to use it any time you want."

"I never guessed when you talked last week about the garden... I mean, I thought maybe..."

"So, do you think you could do something here? It's a pretty big job."

"It's all I ever wanted to do sir, it's... it'll be a lot of work, it'll cost... gosh, I don't know, but an awful lot..."

"You'll have to draw up a plan."

"I know. I'll work on it the next few days. Maybe I can show it to you on the weekend."

Rose finally said she had to go home, but warned with a smile as she climbed out, "Don't look sir."

"You said it was too dark," I teased as I watched her slowly towel herself off.

"It's not that dark," she laughed but made no effort to cover herself.

"You're in good shape Professor. For an elderly man, I mean," she teased back when I climbed out, and I knew her eyes were seeking out the awaking python that was swinging proudly between my legs.

"I'll walk you home," I offered when we were both dressed.

"You don't have to sir," she demurred.

"C'mon!" I insisted as I took her hand. It was a delight to walk in Rose's company on a perfect spring evening, and I was disappointed in how fast we arrived at her street. I would have been content to walk for hours in the company of this sweet girl.

"I'll cook dinner for you Sunday, then we can go over my plans, see if you like them," she suddenly suggested as we turned onto her street.

"But Rose, you don't have to," I protested even while elation flooded through my body.

"It's here, apartment 11," she said as she pointed towards a window on the third floor. "Thank you, for dinner, everything... it was nice... I like talking to you." She hesitated for seconds on the first step. Almost as if expecting a kiss, a word, but then turned and rushed up the stairs blushing before I could move. "Seven o'clock Sunday, my mamma's favorite Italian meal," she promised just as she slipped through the door.

Ohhhhhh fuck! She's not for you, I kept telling myself as I floated home. You're too old... this could get complicated I thought...

Sunday Night at Rose's

"I saw you at the market today," she said, holding the two bottles of wine I'd just handed her, just seconds after I'd arrived in her small, but cozy efficiency apartment at seven twenty Sunday night.

"It's nice, you've done a great job with it," I replied as my hand swept around her apartment, delaying, knowing she'd seen Dani.

"And now I have to move," she complained. "Was she your daughter?"

"Who? No, my two daughters live in California. You look lovely tonight Rose," I added, trying to change the subject. And she did! Of course she'd always look beautiful, but tonight, dressed simply in a thin, white, tiered cotton skirt, her large, braless breasts free inside a maroon silk blouse that hung by two slim straps from her bare shoulders, she was mesmerizing.

"The tall blond. Looks like a model... the girl you were walking arm in arm with this afternoon."

She was watching me carefully as I felt a blush rush to my cheeks. "Dinner smells great Rosie," I delayed again, "and so do you I might add. Is that..."

"She's not your girlfriend sir, is she?" she countered, a broad grin now pasted across her face.

"So, how did you do with the garden; are you ready to be appointed head gardener of the famous 'Scourie Gardens'? Do you have plans to show me?"

"Dinners ready sir, lets eat while it's hot and then we can talk about the garden and maybe even the pretty blond," she added, letting me know she hadn't left that behind.

Angels, goddesses, they shouldn't be able to cook. It's not fair. They don't need to, it's a superfluous talent. But of course it was the best meal I'd eaten in months.

"So, who was she? Your blond friend. Do you prefer blonds' professor?" Rose asked as we sipped our wine after dinner.

"She's a professional, a friend," I finally answered.

"Gosh, she seemed pretty young. What profession?"

"I mean she's a dancer. I met her at a club... she's also a student at Penn... studying engineering."

"Is she your girlfriend? I thought with your wife... I mean..."

"Listen Rose, you're young, there are certain things you may not understand," I started gravely.

"I'm eighteen! What things, sex? I know quite a bit professor," she answered, clearly offended by my tone. "I'm not a virgin sir, I," she started to add but then I saw sudden understanding in her eyes. "She's a prostitute? You pay her?" she accused incredulously.

"But she's so young... and you... I mean, oh Christ... and she's a student?" she stammered.

"I met her at the Pink Pussycat, she was dancing," I said blushing liking a schoolboy.

"She was dancing nude? She looked like such a nice girl... she was dressed like a lady... What were you doing in a place like that anyway?" she demanded.

"I know, I know, I'm an old man. But still, even at my age, sometimes I need..."

"I didn't mean you were too old for... well, you know, but professor, a place like that?"

"She started dancing last summer, after her second year."

"But why? She looked so nice."

"Well, she was $25,000 in debt after two years at Penn, she still had another two or maybe three years to go, she needed the money. I only met her last fall, just after school started."

"What does she do there?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Well, basically, she walks around the club in a little, see through teddy... she talks to the customers... then when one asks her, she leads him to a little room where she gives him a lap dance."

"A what? How much does she charge?" the now obviously interested beauty asked me.

"Well the client sits on a couch while Dani dances naked on a stool she's placed between his legs. Dani is my friend's name, by the way, and she charges twenty dollars for each dance."

"That's disgusting! Why does she do it? Did she ever dance for you professor?"

"Well Rose, she worked six nights a week last summer, and at the end of thirteen weeks she had paid off all her school loans and had five thousand in the bank."

"How much?' she croaked. "You mean she made," she started and I could see her doing the calculations in her head, "$30,000 in thirteen weeks?"

"I think we better get back to gardening," I laughed.

"But how come you were walking with her hand in hand today?"

"We became friends."

"What kind of friends? You don't sleep with her do you?" she asked in a tone that didn't hide her amazement.

"Why is that so hard to believe young lady?"

"You're old... I mean... she's so very young," she stammered.

"Even a man as old as I," I started in a hurt tone.

"Do you pay her sir? Is that why you said she was a professional?"

"Danielle in fact tells me that I'm more than adequate, in fact she says that I'm exceptional, close to extraordinary," I boasted, "and we are both quite happy with the private arrangement we have."

"Is it because she's so tall, because she's a blond? Her long hair? Is that why you like her?" she asked. "You're tall too, and blond... she's like the same race or something. What are you anyway professor, your background, I mean?"

"I'm a Swedish/Scottish/Icelandic mix," I answered laughing. "And for your information Mona was a five foot, two inch Jewish, curly haired brunette with small breasts who kept me happy for thirty-eight years. Now can we discuss the garden?"

"I guess," she answered grudgingly but I knew she was hungry for more details.

"Here's the deal. Hey, are you listening?"

"Umm huh."

"Okay. Quit Privano Brothers tomorrow and come work full time for me. No, no, don't shake your head. Sixteen hundred a month, plus an apartment rent free, plus you can use the gym, the spa and hot tub, and"

"I'm not worth all that!"

"Listen. Its late, we've had too much to drink to discuss work. I've got to go. You sleep on it, come and see me tomorrow, we'll talk, I'll answer you questions..."

I could see suspicion suddenly appear in her eyes and she quickly asked, "You're not expecting me to sleep"

"I'm expecting you to make me the finest garden in Philadelphia young lady. And if you think it's too big a job for someone your age, then maybe you could give me the name of someone who'd be capable. One of your classmates or maybe one of your professors," I suggested.

"But I can"

"It was a wonderful dinner Rose, the best I've had in months. But old man that I am I better get home before I forget where I live," I said smiling.

Already recovered from my onslaught she shot back with a grin, "Don't forget your cane sir," and then gave me a quick kiss on my lips. And then asked just before the door closed behind me, "But what about full bodied Mediterranean types sir?"

Old men usually don't skip but that night I skipped all the way home, my feet barely touching the ground as visions of Rosie danced in my head.

The next morning

She arrived before nine, a sheaf of drawings under her arms, a broad smile on her lips. "I would've arrived earlier," she said saucily, "but I wasn't sure what time you elderly gentlemen usually rise."

"Coffee?"

"Yes please. But then I want to tell you my ideas, my plans... if you don't like them I'll go back to work this afternoon, I just told them I had an emergency this morning, that I'd..."

"I know my plans are expensive... I mean if you don't want to spend that much we could do it differently," she said after having talked nonstop for an hour, her breathless recital of her plans captivating me. "I want to do it sir, I really do. I don't need much for me, you don't have to pay me much, maybe five dollars an hour, I can always waitress on the side..."

"You're hired."

"What? Really? Oh sir, I'll show you, you won't regret it," she yelped as she threw herself into my arms, her softness enveloping me. Jumping back after a second, she apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"So, should we go look at apartments."

"Oh don't worry about that professor, I'll find something... I'll look again on the weekend."

"If you live here on the property, close by, you'll be able to work more hours, I'll get more bang for my buck," I countered seriously, "and I'll be able to find you if I have questions, if I don't like the way the job is going."

"But I can't afford"

"Miss Caravaggio, do you think I pay my employees so little they can't afford to rent an apartment?"

"No, but"

"No buts. C'mon, I'll show you some. I think I have four or five available now with all the students who graduated. The first I showed her, in a house two down from mine, was a large ground floor, two bedroom that faced the street.