The Proposition
Chapter 2

Copyright© George Watersmann. All rights reserved. Reposting prohibited.

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 2 - What does a middle-aged widowed business man do when propositioned by a desperate teenager? George didn't know, so he played it by heart.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Pregnancy   Slow  

"OK," I said. "Let's be practical. What clothes and stuff do you have, and where is it?" So far I had only seen a small handbag.

"My pack is in one of the free lockers downstairs," she said, "but there isn't much in it - mainly some clothes and they are all dirty. As are these," she said, indicating her clothes and shuddering.

"Well, that is not a problem," I replied cheerfully. "We're in a shopping center and the shops are open."

"But I don't have a cent," she cried.

"Duh, I know that," I countered. "Didn't I just tell you I was going to help you?" I continued and headed into one of those gigantic department stores that have absolutely everything.

The shopping expedition was memorable and brought happy memories of similar trips with my daughters years back. Unlike many other males, I don't mind shopping with teenagers and the change in Laura's demeanor was astounding. If you don't believe in 'shopping therapy', you should have been there! We started getting a complete set of toiletries. She headed for the cheap no-name generics, but I asked her what brands she liked and it was quality stuff. Not ultra-expensive, but certainly good respectable brands. Once more I was delighted with her care in picking products free of substances potentially dangerous to her baby. If only her parents could see her through my eyes - they ought to be proud. A few low-allergy cosmetics went into the cart last.

"That more or less completes the toiletries," I said. "You obviously won't need pads or tampons for the foreseeable future, but some panty liners would be a good idea."

Blushingly she grabbed a couple of packs.

"And don't forget a razor," I said. "Do you prefer a blade or an electric?"

She looked at me quizzically. "How come you know so much? My dad would have no idea that women shave their legs. And other places," she added more hesitantly.

"I was married for twenty years," I said. "I have two grown daughters. Besides, I'm sure your father knows - he just doesn't talk about such things. I do, but then I'm not American."

"Figures," she said and picked a cheap Philips Lady Shaver.

"Don't get that model," I said. "Get a cordless one. I don't want you to be electrocuted in the bath." This time she didn't protest.

"There is a decent hair drier in your bathroom and I have tons of towels, but you should get a nice dressing gown," I said.

"My bathroom?" she asked but getting no answer she selected an oversized fluffy white dressing gown.

"OK, clothes time!" I said with relish.

She stared at me. "Are you sure you're for real?"

"You'd better believe it. What's your size?" I said as we got to the underwear section.

"Um, small I think, but I am sort of growing." She blushed once more.

"Duh! We'll get a dozen undies in size medium then," I said.

"'Undies'?" she asked.

"Sorry. I guess you call them 'panties'." I corrected. "As I said, I am not native."

"Figures!" she replied. That seemed to be a favorite term of hers.

"Get half a dozen tee-shirts and half a dozen other tops," I said.

She complied and got socks, stockings and similar mysteries without my prompting.

"You don't exactly need maternity wear yet," I said, "but do get something comfortable. Stretchy jeans or pants and dresses and so on."

Again she looked like she was going to protest, but then shook her head and found some nice stuff which she went to try on. Her eye for size had been good and she didn't need to return any of it. "I am sure glad," she said. "The shop would be furious, I do stink."

"Easily fixed once we're home," I said unworried. "Have you got other shoes than those you're wearing?" I asked, eyeing her worn sneakers which seemed singularly unsuitable for the season.

"No," she said, looking pained again.

"Well, get some," I said with mock impatience. "What are you waiting for?"

She found a sturdy, but nice pair of shoes and at my insistence also a pair of winter boots.

"Get some slippers too," I urged. "I don't like outdoor shoes in our apartment and the floors can be cold."

"Our apartment?" she asked, but again she got no answer and picked a comfy pair of slippers.

"Let's see," I said, "we still have to find some jumpers, I mean sweaters, or sweatshirts or what not, and a winter coat than can actually close around both of you would be good."

She smiled and complied. Again I was pleased with her choices. The kid had style. "OK, what do you wear to bed?" I asked, "and don't say 'Channel No 5' - I have perfume allergy."

"Well, actually, I prefer an old fashioned flannel night gown in winter," she said archly. "Can I get one of those?"

"Better get two," I said. After some hunting we found them.

"Well, that more or less completes your immediate needs," I said, "with one exception."

She nodded assent to the first part of the statement, but looked questioningly at me over the last.

This was delicate. "I don't want you to think I am anything like your friend's father," I started, "but it is rather obvious that your bra is much too small for you."

I had expected a blush and got one, but in addition I got a look of pure wonder from those piercing blue eyes. "You're not anything like Joan's sleazy dad. And yes, I do need another bra. My boobs must have grown three cup-sizes in the past three months."

"Well, in that case they are likely to stay more or less the same until just before the baby comes," I said, drawing on past experience. She nodded. "Go over to the lingerie department and get them to help you with the fitting," I continued. "You should find a couple of practical and comfortable bras, but you should also get something frivolous. The months ahead will be difficult. We should work on strategies for making you feel good about yourself."

Her eyes filled with tears again. Being quick to tears is not unusual for any pregnant woman at the best of times. For Laura, her first trimester must have been the worst of times and there was a lot of pent up emotion bursting to come out. With a thick voice she said "OK" and headed over to the lingerie section.

I expected a long wait, but once more she was remarkably efficient and returned before long with three white full-cupped bras and something flimsy midnight blue. "The woman was really nice and helpful. She either had a bad cold or somehow managed to overlook my smell. Oh, and I, um, I got a set of the..." she trailed off, revealing that the flimsy blue was actually not one but two garments. "I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," I said deadpan. "Operation 'Being Good To Laura' starts this evening."

"And how!" she muttered.

The cart was more or less full now. In her absence I had found a good sturdy leather suitcase and swung it up on top.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"Well, if at any time you want to leave you should be able to take your clothes. So this is for you."

"And what if I never want to leave?" Laura asked in a very small voice.

"In that case you'll find the suitcase useful when we go travelling."

The tears started again.

She recovered while we queued up at the check-out, but once the final amount showed up on the display she broke down again. "Don't worry about that," I said and handed the check-out lady a credit card. "Don't worry about a thing."

"But it is such a lot of money," she cried.

"Don't worry about that. I can afford it, and you need it!"

That was true - I could afford it. I am an IT-security expert and run my own little business. Our clients are top corporations with extraordinary needs for security and thus not always known to the general public. We never advertise but are always busy. And the money is good. You know, the classic 'If you have to ask what we charge you can't afford it'.

Until that point there had been no physical contact between us. But now Laura stood close to me, her forehead against my shoulder. I was absentmindedly stroking her greasy hair with one hand while working the pin code with the other. The check-out lady smiled. She obviously took us for daughter and estranged father making up for lost time.

"OK," I said when we got out of the department store. "That was fun. We might possibly need a few more food stuffs too. At least some more milk. I have bought plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables already, but if there is anything you particularly like to eat then just let me know. Like breakfast stuff and so on."

She hesitated. "I don't know. What do you eat for breakfast yourself?" she asked.

"Oh, it varies," I replied. "Quite often just muesli and fruit, but I bake most weeks - I like bread with homemade jams too."

She stared in wonder. "You bake? And make jams?"

"Sure," I replied. "I prefer to know what I eat. I used to have a garden and grow my own fruit. Making jams is fun!"

She did some thinking. Evidently, I was way outside her experience. She was busy revising what to expect from adult males.

"I'm almost out of the pregnancy vitamins," she said.

"We can get more of those if you like, but now that you're entering your second trimester getting folic acid is not quite so critical - with lots of leafy green vegetables in your diet you should be fine."

She nodded. Getting a healthy diet on a regular basis had been a struggle for the last month. She seemed to need a little time to adjust to the idea that her immediate problems were over. Fair enough; she had no reason whatever to trust me or believe that I was going to do all those things for her.

We got the milk, some more fruit and more of those leafy greens. "I have fish and meat in the freezer," I said. "But I don't eat very much of that - I am a quasi-vegetarian."

"Sounds good," she said. "I was never too keen on meats myself, but I couldn't make my parents eat beans and pulses - no matter how Biblical such things are."

"Most people don't even know what pulses are," I laughed, "but you'll get plenty of those at my place."

We retrieved her bag, got to the car, loaded our purchases into the trunk and drove off. "Perhaps a few more personal details are in order," I said. "I'm George Bernhard Smith. I'm a forty nine year old widowed father of two grown daughters and an IT-security executive," I added with mock formality.

"I am Laura Elizabeth Jones," she replied in the same tone. "I'm a sixteen year old single mother-to-be and a high-school drop-out."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," I countered. "Let's get you settled in and then see what we can do about school."

"But I've been gone for a month, so they might not take me back at all - and surely they would ring my parents the second I turned up," she said in alarm.

"As I said, we need to sort out a lot of things. And that includes talking to your parents," I replied.

"No!" she exclaimed. "If they find me, they will want to give my baby away." She was tense and frightened again now.

I cursed myself for forcing the issue too quickly and so clumsily. "Laura, sweetheart. That is not going to happen. I promise. But I simply have to let your parents know where you are. It's the law. You are under age and keeping you from you natural guardians without their knowledge or consent is a felony. I can't help you if I'm in jail."

"What do you mean by 'it is not going to happen'? How can you be so sure? What if they demand that I am sent to that stupid farm for 'fallen women'?" she challenged. "You have no rights to block that!"

"I don't think it will come to that," I replied. "They wanted to send you away. Well, you will be away when you're living with me. As to school, well - I think it would be the easiest solution if you carried on at your present school until the summer break."

She was about to argue, so I hastened on. "But if that won't work - either because the school won't take you, or because your parents won't let you be there where your 'shameful condition' is plain for all to see" - that last bit said in a mock sanctimonious voice - "well, then there are other schools. Plenty of them where I live and you would be spared the commute."

She thought about that for a while. "What if they won't see it that way?" she asked.

"Let's cross that bridge when we get to it," I replied. "We can always resort to check-book diplomacy."

That was rewarded with a small smile. She was still too worried to relax, but once more she was starting to adapt to new possibilities.

"The other thing we need to see to rather urgently is pre-natal care," I said after a while. "Pregnancy is not an illness and you are young and fit and healthy, but you should still be checked over for blood pressure and hemoglobin count and all those other things."

"I suppose so," she said.

"And while it is still a long way off, we need to give some thoughts to where you want to give birth." A scary prospect for sure, but it had to be mentioned.

"I don't even know if I have a medical insurance..." she faltered.

"We'll have to find out," I said. "Once more, the formal and correct way is through your parent's health plan. As long as you are under age and unmarried it should cover you, even if you are living outside the home for school purposes. But the devil is in the details, so we need to find out."

"What if they won't cooperate, or have cancelled my coverage, or the plan doesn't cover pregnancy and birth?" she asked - all her worries were now coming up and out in the open.

"You mean if they have chosen a plan that is based on the principle that good girls don't get pregnant out of wedlock?" I asked lightly.

"I wouldn't put it past them," she replied, still tense.

"In that case I will work something else out," I said. "How many times do I have to tell you that I will help you?"

"But isn't pregnancy and childbirth extremely expensive in health care terms?" she asked. "I can't let you bankrupt yourself over me!"

I smiled. She was a good girl and very bright. And she had a point. Obviously even to me complications in connection with child-birth could prove ruinous. But she didn't have all the facts. "I have a solution to that too. I will simply hire you. The health plan in my company covers pre-existing conditions for new employees."

"Hire me?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes," I said with an ear-to-ear grin. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do in the first place?"

"Oh you!" she squealed and threw a pack of tissues at me. We laughed for the rest of the journey.

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