Chapter 1: The Feral Princess – Charles Fornau

“Charlie, could you take Sandy to her softball games tomorrow? I have a weekend training seminar at the office, and I can’t find her father. The girls have an all-day double elimination thing in Brookfield. We need to get her to school, then the bus will take them to the tournament, but I’d rather she wasn’t there alone.”

“Yeah, Sharon, if it’s okay with her, I’ll be happy to take her. Check with her and let me know. Nothing like spending the day with a bunch of teenaged girls that would rather you weren’t there.” I snickered, and she laughed.

“I already asked her, and she said if you don’t mind, she would actually like you to be there. Hopefully she won’t bother you with all those silly technical questions and such.”

“It’s not the questions about work and things I mind, Sharon. It’s just that I get the feeling she doesn’t really like me.”

“Trust me, Charlie, that is NOT the problem. She’s just a spoiled rotten little girl and doesn’t quite know what she wants in this world.”

I heard in the background, “Moooommmmm, stoooooppp. He already thinks I’m just a little girl. Don’t make it any worse.”

Oh, crap. I don’t think I was supposed to hear that. I didn’t let on.

Sharon continued, “Anyway, she would like you to be there, if you don’t mind. I certainly can’t make it,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “and butthead is nowhere to be found.” I heard her clear her throat, then continue normally, “In any case, I’ll give you money for gas. It’s quite a hike. You can sign her out of the bus ride home since the school has you down as an emergency contact after that car accident thing.”

Sandy was hit by a car while playing with some friends out in the street in front of my house after school one day. It was quite a long time ago, but still fresh in our memories, scaring the crap out of just about everyone. I called 911 and got her to the hospital, and she was OK, but we were all pretty frightened for a few hours. Little girls and cars don’t play well together in the street. I kept a closer eye on the street after that.

“Don’t worry about the gas money. I’ll take it out in another dinner someday. You are a pretty decent provider when it comes around mealtime, Sharon. Your daughter ain’t no slouch either. Anyway, don’t worry about it. What time do we need to leave?”

“Eight-ish. I’ll have her on your doorstep before that. The bus leaves school at eight-thirty. Thanks, Charlie, you’re a life saver.”

“No sweat, Sharon. It’s all good. We’ll talk later.”

Well, another wonderful weekend with a cute little tomboy redhead that I’d rather was a friend than a ... I didn’t know what she was, but before I heard what I heard, I thought she didn’t care for me. In fact, I thought she considered me a dirty old man and tried to avoid me, for the most part. I really wish she did like me. I certainly would’ve liked to like her. I guess I already liked her. I also really wish she had been a little older. But then, between what Sharon said, and what I heard Sandy pipe off in the background, maybe we could at least be friends. At least civil. Even though... ‘Stop, Charlie’, I told myself. ‘Get real.’ Maybe I really am a dirty old man. Speaking of civil, I hoped she wasn’t busy Sunday afternoon. The lawn needed mowing, and my leg was killing me.

My name is Charlie Carter. I’m an electronics engineer for a little aerospace firm and I deal mostly with projects no one talks about. I’m also ... I WAS also a Major in the Air Force Reserves and was shot recently on a deployment to an unmentionable place with unsafe airspace over an unforgiving land. Silly me, I thought it would be okay to fly a little fighter jet with a bomb on it across an area engulfed in civil war. During a low pinpoint bomb run, a very, very lucky shot came through a weak place in the hull of my aircraft, lodging a bullet into the thigh bone on my left leg. Talk about painful! Bruised bones are bad enough. Just prick your finger really deep with a needle sometime. But this was an AK-47 round, and it stopped once it hit the bone, breaking through just enough to split it, but not break out the other side. My doctors were amazed. So was General Dynamics. They were in awe of the path of the bullet. It had just enough energy to pierce the hull, my flight suit, my skin, my thigh muscle, and my thigh bone, each and every one at their thinnest and weakest points. The perfect shot. The aircraft cockpit wouldn’t stay pressurized, but that was the only damage, I mean other than the little third of an inch wide hole. I came very close to passing out from the pain, but my wingman was watching out for his squadron commander, namely me, and I had a three-aircraft escort watching me, talking to me, keeping me laughing while I got the plane back to base and on the ground.

I was told by our wing commander, after he found out what exactly had happened, that he wouldn’t have blamed me for punching out as soon we were over friendly territory. The doctors had explained what the pain was like each time my leg moved, let alone put pressure on it. I thanked him for his understanding but told him my savings account was just a tad shy of twenty-five million dollars, so I wouldn’t have been able to replace it, had I let it land nose first in the desert. Two generals, two colonels, and a cute nurse all laughed at that one. Damn, it hurt when I did. When I laughed, I mean. Ouch.

One Distinguished Flying Cross, One Purple Heart, another Oak Leaf Cluster on my Air Medal, and a Meritorious Service Medal for my work as commander of the unit, as well as the reality of a placement on active duty and a subsequent full retirement medical discharge, and I was on the way home. Charles Carter, Major, USAF, Retired. And bored. I love to fly, and the doctors say it could be another four to six months until I can start again. Putting pressure on the pedals would be killer for quite a long while.

I’ve lived here for about six or seven years. It was my parents’ house. Nice neighborhood. They moved here during my first year in the service, and after both of them became ill with some nasty virus they picked up doing mission work in Ghana, I left active duty, and went with the Reserves, so I could come home and be with them. They didn’t recover, and I didn’t move. The reserves gave me what I craved, and I was able to keep things going here with what my parents left me. That included our privately owned company where I worked, and played, as an engineer.

So, where were we? Oh, yeah. Sandy was a cute little redheaded high school junior living next door. She was quite a tomboy at heart and had been helping me take care of my yard and pool and such since I got home from “the incident”. I mentioned before that I didn’t think she liked me, but she did find time to pick up twenty or thirty bucks here and there that the neighbor guy might part with if she did a little yard work. Then, she’d hightail it out and I wouldn’t see her, unless I was invited over for dinner or something.

Sharon, her mother, had a tendency to baby me a bit, bringing me sweets, or meal fixings, or inviting me over for dinner to make sure I ate properly and all. She explained once that her father was a pilot in Vietnam, F-4 Phantoms, and didn’t make it home. We had known each other since my parents bought the place, them becoming friends, or friendly neighbors anyway. Their ages and activities precluded much more than that. Mom and Dad were older, and running our company, and Sharon was a real estate broker, always running here and there at odd hours. She was married to Sandy’s father when I first met her, but that relationship was on the downhill slide I heard later, and when I left the service and came home, she was alone with Sandy, and he was an ‘every other weekend’ visitor. Sharon is about ten or so years older than me but doesn’t look it. If I were anyone else, I’d probably have a thing for her, but she’s a bit too outgoing for me. A little over the top. Hard to explain, unless you know someone like that, but suffice to say, as well as she has treated me and tried to take care of me, I would never pursue a woman like her.

She was pretty, though. Very pretty. Auburn hair, very well built, and wore clothes that made her look even better. You know, high heels, stockings, mid-thigh length pencil and skater skirts, and blouses tailored to accent her figure. Elegant looking, always. It probably helps in real estate to look good and present well.

Sandy was kind of the opposite. She was what most would call the ultimate tomboy. Long beautiful copper colored red hair. She was the consummate feral princess. Her hair was unkempt, shorts or jeans frayed, tennis shoes dirty, just an active kid that didn’t give a damn what they looked like. It was refreshing, at least to me. I had to admit she cleaned up well for church now and again, on the off chance I was graced with a glimpse of them leaving for that activity. She kept her hair in a ponytail for school and ball games, but in no uncertain terms did she attempt to be the classic princess. Nope. Feral was a good description. Wild, untamed, unconstrained by society. That was her appearance. Her nature and her mental capacity were otherwise. She was polite, if not a bit withdrawn around me, but when she asked a question, she really did want a good answer, and they generally weren’t trivial questions. She was bright. Let’s put it that way.

I got up at six-thirty, made breakfast for myself, opening the door to a little softball urchin at about a quarter ‘til eight.

“You hungry, Sandy?”

“No, thank you. I had some toast.”

It took me only a couple of minutes to make her some breakfast. “Eat these.” I put two over medium eggs, two pieces of bacon I hadn’t yet eaten, and two more pieces of toast in front of her by the breakfast bar. “Don’t argue. You can’t play ball this morning on toast, and we’ll feed you after the first couple of games. You guys expect to win at least a couple today, don’t you?” She nodded and dug in. She knew that I knew she needed to eat and didn’t argue. Thankfully. When she gets stubborn, which is seldom, and so far never with me, she doesn’t back down.

“Thank you. I didn’t have time to eat more than that and was going to get something there.”

“You’re welcome, but you need that digested a bit before you start in with ball this morning. You ready?” Again, she nodded and out to the garage we went. “You want to drive? Still on your permit or do you have your license now?”

“Permit still, but soon. I will if you want me to.”

“Truck or car?”

“Truck, if it’s OK. I’m afraid of your car, Charlie. You know that. We had this discussion a month ago and a month before that.” This time I nodded and pitched her the keys to the truck. We went out to the garage where she threw her bag up in the back seat and climbed in. I was amazed she could see over the dash or reach the pedals, but she did. She’d driven it several times before when I was hurting so badly that I needed help. It’s my left leg, and I drive automatics, but still, I had issues.

The car she was worried about was a gull wing Mercedes SLS AMG, a 2010 model that my father had ordered and paid for. He didn’t live to see it delivered, but I figured ‘what the hell’, and kept it. It’s a wonderful ride. Reminds me of him. We were pretty close. The only thing we ever argued about was me going off and joining the Air Force, but he caved in on that subject, and we got along well afterwards. Anyway, Sandy had only driven it once. While that’s fine with me, it did need to be taken out occasionally and I thought she’d enjoy it. The truck was much easier on my leg, so no problem.

We got to the school where the bus was waiting. She was early, but she jumped down out of the cab and before she left to join her team, she turned and thanked me. “I do appreciate this. It’s more fun to play if Mom or you are watching. Thank you.” I nodded and mouthed ‘you’re welcome’ getting a smile. Maybe I was growing on her.

I followed the bus and since they have to park the buses so far away from the ball fields, I pulled up next to the bus, told all the girls to throw their gear in and tell me where to take it. Luckily, they were going to be warming up near the handicapped parking area, so I just pulled in there and waited. I was reaching for my blue tag to hang up on the mirror when a guy came over, knocked on the window and when I rolled it down, told me to move the truck. He was extremely rude.

“I’ll not be moving the truck. And please mind your manners, if not your own business. No one deserves to be talked to that way.” I hung the tag on the rearview mirror, and told him, “Move away from the truck.” He stepped back. I opened the door and carefully got down then walked around the truck. I tried not to limp, but it was impossible. I opened the tailgate, then the back door while he was standing there. The girls showed up and started grabbing their gear. Sandy was looking at him, then at me, a bit on the frightened side. I looked at him. “It’s for me. The tag. It’s probably temporary. I certainly hope so. It may not look like it, but I have a hole in my thigh bone the exact size of an AK-47 round. I’d love to show you what one feels like. I really would.”

He grunted an apology and walked away. “Sorry, Sandy. Rough morning. You wanna make a few bucks tomorrow?” I asked her. She nodded, hugged me, then grabbed her bag and walked away. Not a word. She’s rarely, if ever, seen me upset, and when they walked up, I’ll bet I looked like I was going to kill that guy. I thought then that the hug was a bit more than the cursory ‘see ya later’ hug I normally get from her but didn’t spend much time on it. Probably my dirty old man imagination.

The girls won. Four games straight and took first in the tournament. Nice trophy. That would look good in the school hallway. The high school has a long and storied past with sports. I graduated from there many, many moons, more like many, many summers past.

I signed Sandy out on the sheet the coach had, we bid our farewells, and off toward home we went. She was driving.

“Hungry?”

She nodded.

“What for?”

“Italian. Why were you so mad at that guy? I’ve never seen that look on your face before, Charlie. It scared me.”

“He assumed I didn’t belong there. He was rude. Very rude. Inhumanly rude. I wanted him to work on his people skills. I need to do that today, myself. My leg hurts like a big hippo booger.”

“Gross. Remind me not to ask again. Jeez, now all I’ll think of all night is large chunks of dried animal snot. Yuck!” She laughed, getting what she wanted. A smile from her next-door neighbor.

“I’m sorry for the terrible vision, my dear, and for being such a boor today. I’m not generally that way, but you already know that. Pain does strange things to people. I’m evidently not immune. Good playing today, by the way. Good enough that if you can help with my yard tomorrow, I’ll take you to the cages if you want.”

“If you’re sure you want to, I’d like that.”

“Sandy, can I be serious for a minute?” We were pulling into the Olive Garden parking lot.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you like me very much? You seem to want to get away from me as fast as you can. Help me and run, talk and run, just ... It seems like you don’t want to be around me much.”

She giggled. “Charlie, are you gay?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. Then you’re just stupid. Take me inside for dinner. We’ll talk later, all right?” She smiled at me. I could tell she didn’t mean it maliciously. I nodded, smiling in return. We dismounted and went in to eat. We were playing with our salads when she broke the silence. “Charlie, have you ever wanted something you couldn’t have?”

“Sure. I want my own plane, but I have to rent one, for now, if and when they let me fly again.”

“There is something I want, too. Very badly, but I can’t have it. I’m too young to have one, but I’m afraid if I wait, it won’t be there when I’m ready.” As she looked directly into my eyes, a tear fell from each of hers, and the heavens opened up and angels sang. In perfect 40-part harmony, I heard them singing, “You are so effing stupid, Charlie.” The sound was beautiful. The message was head on, brick wall, face first, detrimental to my wellbeing. I was a dolt.

“Sandy, me?” She nodded, then sat back, looked down and a few more tears fell. I changed sides of the booth we were in and sat next to her, putting my arm around her and just pulling her into me. She slumped toward me, so it worked. I held and rocked a bit and kissed the top of her head. No, it didn’t smell like strawberries and peaches. She’d been playing ball all day. It smelled like a girl. A woman. It smelled like Sandy. The first time I’d really smelled her. I prayed, right then, it wouldn’t be the last.

“Go. Eat. I’m fine. You didn’t shit your pants or run. I’m fine. Please don’t shit your pants or run, Charlie. Please? Not until we talk? Please? I’ll mow your damned lawn for free tomorrow if you’ll just listen and not push me away. That’s all I ask. Just talk to me.”

“I promise. We’ll talk. Wow.” Dinner was quiet after that, but I made a point to hold her hand on the way back out to the truck. She looked up at me and smiled when I took it. I helped her up on the driver’s side then went around and got in myself.

“Is your leg feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little. I think it needs some ice or heat or something.”

“Let’s go home and I’ll see if I can help. We’ll find something. Mom will know what to do. Did you know she was a nurse before she got interested in real estate?”

“No, doll, I had no idea.”

“Don’t use endearments unless you mean them, Charlie. I’m an impressionable little girl on the cusp of womanhood and you are flirting with danger.”

“I know, honey. I know.”

“If you’re not being a smart ass, I might as well get this out of the way. Charlie, I love you. I have for a year or so. When you came home hurt, I cried for weeks. Mom almost had me medicated. I’ve been dying inside. She told me you are retired now, so I assume you won’t be going off to war anymore. I almost lost the one thing in the world besides her that I care about. Dad is slipping in the rankings. The last few months have been absolute murder. Not being able to tell you how much it hurt me to find out that you were injured. I’m sorry. This isn’t about me. Entirely. It is somewhat, but not entirely. We’ll be home soon. Are you OK?”

“Yes, doll. I’m fine. I hurt, but I’m fine.”

“Please, at least think about this. Me. Us. If it can even be possible. I don’t know if you feel anywhere close about me like I do for you, but I’ve been enthralled, maybe more so enraptured, by you since you came home from the trip before the last one. Before that it was just infatuation with the cute guy next door who just happened to be a pilot and had a neat car. It got worse when I found out the difference between a girl and a woman and a boy and a man. When I found out you were leaving again, I wanted to say something, but I chickened out. I almost lost my chance. I almost lost you. I am so happy you asked me why I don’t like you. So happy. I guess maybe that explains it? Maybe? You can ask ... You can tell me to shut up anytime now.”

“No.”

“No? Already?” she managed, her voice faltering.

“No, don’t shut up.”

“Oh. You scared me.”

“I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I just need to know more about you. That look, though. I thought you were going to reach out and choke him dead.”

“No. Too much effort. I would probably just have screamed like a little girl that the man was raping me. After all, my girlfriend thinks I’m gay.” She laughed so hard she almost didn’t get the truck in the garage, but she made it. When asked her to, she ran inside for a couple cans of beer, then walked me over to her house.

“I didn’t really think you were gay. I’ve never seen you with a guy. I thought you were just asexual. None. You know, just doing without. I’ve never seen you with anyone, come to think of it.”

“I don’t spend much time thinking about it, sweetie.”

“That needs to change ... Now. You need to think and think and think, then tell me if I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Not because of me, doll. Not because of me.” As we walked in the door, Sharon looked at us holding hands and smiled.

“What’s going on, kids?”

Sandy opened up, telling her mom what was going on with my leg and handing her a to-go box of shrimp scampi. I know which side of the bread my butter is on. “Mom, Charlie said his leg has been bothering him for the last couple of days. He almost killed the grumpy old grounds keeper at the ballpark this morning. I really thought he was going to ... Never mind. Heat, ice, massage, or both.” She started laughing. “Or all three?” The laughing continued.

“Let me look at it.” Right there on their couch, in the family room, before I could protest, Sandy undid my belt, the button, the zipper, and making sure my boxers didn’t come with them, pulled my pants down. She sat me down and pulled off my shoes, then my jeans.

“Ummmmm.” I was about to protest.

“Hush. She just needs to see your leg. I’m not raping you, little gay boy. Or girl. Or whatever.” She giggled.

Sharon asked, “What? What was all that about?”

“Well, I thought Charlie might choke that guy, but he said it would be too much trouble and he might just squeal and holler rape since I thought he was gay.”

“But you don’t think he’s gay.”

“I know, Mom, it was part of a bigger conversation. The game is over, though. The conversation lasted quite a while. I told him tonight how I felt about him.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me that if I cried myself to sleep tonight, it wouldn’t be because of him. That was as specific as he’d get, though.”

Sharon dumped out the whole bucket of worms. “So, you two are done dancing around each other?”

“I am, Mom. I think he may need some time to digest the whole thing. Charlie, you can talk if you want.”

I had two women, yes, at this point, I was thinking of Sandy as a woman, holding my thigh, talking about me being a romantic interest of one of them. Talking was not one of the things I wanted to do right then. “My thigh hurts and I’m as much enamored with her as she is with me, by the sounds of it. Now, as the little girl asked, heat, ice, massage, or both?” Laughter ensued. Sharon left the room, coming back with a heating pad and a towel. She had Sandy plug the pad controller in, laid the towel across and under my thigh and sat me back so the pad could be placed over the affected area. It took a few minutes, but the warmth started to build and feel absolutely wonderful. Sandy sat next to me, still holding my hand. Letting go, she opened one of my beers, took a sip, and handed it to me.

“I’ll put this one in the fridge and get you a can cozy. Stay there.”

“I’m not going anywhere, dear.” She and Sharon both giggled at my response.

“You OK with this, Charlie? She’s pretty young.”

“She’s sixteen. I know. I’m not going to hurt her, Sharon. I’m worried more about her moving on and leaving me behind after I fall so hard and so much in love with her that I can’t do without her. At this rate, that will probably be tomorrow.”

“I heard that, Charlie. I won’t want to move on. I know where I am and what I want. I’m old enough to marry in most states, and with Mom’s permission in this one. I’m not asking you to marry me, though. I’m just asking you to try to love me like I love you and think about the future. I’m not going to trouble you, stalk you, follow you, or call you constantly. I just want you to think about loving me like I love you.”

“This warmth feels so good. Sandy, I’ll go ahead now, in front of your mother. I think she knows. You never see me with anyone. I don’t date. I don’t run around. I don’t do pub crawls. I don’t do lots of things, but as your mother knows, I ask about you and volunteer to help you whenever I can. I want to be around you. I wish I had known how you hurt over my injury. Sharon, can I date your daughter? Can I have the chance to grow with her and prove to her that I’m smitten by her as well?”

“Yes, and if she throws you back, let me know. I’ll come after you.” She giggled.

“Moooommm! Noooooo! God, you’re terrible!” Sandy wrapped her arms around one of mine and kissed my shoulder. “Charlie, so you’ll be my boyfriend? Oh, and stay away from my mother. Ackkkk!” She laughed as well.

“Thank you, Sharon. Yes, Sandy, I will. Right after you mow my lawn tomorrow. You told me you’d do it for free if I’d listen and try. Is that just a onetime thing, or...” This time I chuckled. I got a fake pounding on my shoulder for my insolence. Right in front of her mother, I leaned over and gave my new girlfriend our first kiss. She wrapped her arms around my head and hugged it, then disappeared down the hall for a bit. “Seriously. Thank you. It’ll be nice to have a relationship with your daughter knowing you are aware. I won’t, can’t, hide anything from you about this. You need to know. Not the grisly details, but you need to know.”

“Yes, I do. Thanks.” There was a knock on the door. ‘Butthead’, I was certain. She went to answer the door. She opened it a bit, but didn’t invite him in. Words were exchanged then finally he entered the room.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Not really any of your business, Pete. She’ll be out in a minute. You can tell her ‘HI’ and then take off, please.” I could tell her patience was running a bit thin, and it was pretty obvious he had been drinking, so ... No good could come of this if anyone pressed anything.

Sandy came down the hallway. “Hey, Dad. You missed a good tournament today. We won. Would have been nice to have you there. Mom had to work so the neighbor guy helped me out.”

“Yeah, I see. That’d be him over there with his pants off?”

Sharon laughed. “Yeah, with a heating pad on a bullet wound. Keep your nasty ideas to yourself, you silly, stupid man. Why don’t you take your father over to the living room and talk, honey? I don’t have time for his stupid jealousy anymore. Cheater, cheater, harlot eater. Just go and keep your trap shut, Pete.” She turned back to me. His eyes followed her and if looks could kill, I’d be dead, but Sandy pulled him into the other room, and they talked for a few minutes.

I heard the door open and close, then Sandy came back in. “He asked me if the asshole on the couch was dating my mother. I told him ‘No’.” She giggled. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth ... Yet. I will, though. Just a matter of time. This spring. Right after I turn seventeen. Then he can’t do anything about it. Mom, he’s getting on my nerves, too. I understand you try your hardest to get along, for me, but don’t try so hard. I’m old enough now to tell him to meet me away from here and not bother you.

“And yes, I know he’s been drinking. He asked more about you than he did my game today. He didn’t even apologize for missing it and had no reason at all why he didn’t answer the phone. I’ll bet you a dollar the new one dumped him and he’s lonely. I wouldn’t doubt it a bit. Oh, he wanted to know how long the neighbor guy had been here and how long he was staying. I can’t believe he forgot Charlie’s name. Anyway, I wanted you to know that. Why would he ask how long Charlie would be here, Mom? I didn’t answer him. Well, I said I don’t know, but that didn’t sound like a question he should be asking unless he was jealous or coming back tonight, or both. Yes, both. Two choices. I got it right this time!” Another giggle. So cute. “Speaking of drinking, let me have a sip of your beer.” She sipped on it. “You want the cold one? This one’s warm.” I nodded, and she finished off the one she was holding. All two or three ounces of it. She brought the other one out, put it in the cozy, and handed it to me.

“I can go home if you want,” I told them. “I’m sure it’s nothing, and I don’t want to cause a problem with the ex.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought it might make them feel better.

“No, on the contrary, Charlie. How would you like to sleep on the couch tonight? It’s really quite comfortable for a couch. I know a certain little teenaged girl that would probably volunteer to keep you company for a while. Charlie, while you were in wherever, flying over only God knows what, and I think once while you were in the hospital before you came home, Pete showed his ass a couple times. Once he came here drunk trying to get into the house to take me to dinner and the other time, he showed up late, and drunk, to visit with Sandy. He didn’t stop by for her. At least I don’t believe him. He was just checking on me,” Sharon said.

Sandy nodded at what her mother just said then told me, “Sorry, but it’s true. Dad is losing it. He needs help, but when I mention it, he tells me I’m just a child and to mind my own business. Stay here tonight, Charlie. If we’re wrong, we’re wrong, and I’ll make you breakfast. Win, win. Oh, Mom, should he change to ice? It’s been like thirty-five minutes.”

“Yes, honey. I’ll get it.” Sharon went into the kitchen.

Sandy straddled my right thigh in her shorts and tank top, placing her hands on my cheeks and kissed me a real, romantic, enticing kiss, ending with a lick, a swipe of her tongue across my lips. When her weight, centered with her crotch, settled on my thigh, I realized the situation. I had noticed, but not noted, that she had showered and changed. Now she did smell like strawberries or cucumbers, or something, but she smelled nice. Very nice.