Chapter 3: Missy Pushes My Buttons

The second weekend started okay. When I showed up Friday evening, Missy didn’t mention our disagreement. She was back to being a goofy, smiling bundle of energy. Her motormouth started running as soon as I came in the door. The only unusual thing was how she was dressed. She had shorts on, normal for August, but these were very short and tight. I had seen a few girls wearing hot pants lately, a new fashion trend, but none were as young as Missy. A glance was all it took for me to see a hint of her still developing camel toe outlined inside the satiny material, and glimpses of butt cheek poking out when she turned around,

“Does your mother know what you’re wearing?”

She giggled. “Nope, I changed after she left. Do you like it?”

“You look like you’re ready to go to work on Mission Street.” That was a well-known spot for streetwalkers in our town.

“Do you think I would be popular there?” she asked, twirling around again to show me her ass.

“My advice, stay in school.”

Pam had made a casserole for us. Missy heated it and we shared it. I told Missy I would help her clean up. While I carried the dishes into the kitchen, she disappeared for a moment. When she came back, her t-shirt was gone, and she was wearing a tank top, a garment that displayed the shape of her small breasts and left her belly bare. Again, I was sure that Pam would not have approved. I didn’t know if Missy was trying to embarrass me or seduce me, but I decided the best thing I could do was act like this was normal. She seemed disappointed that I didn’t respond but didn’t say anything.

Instead of playing cards after we cleaned up, something I was growing tired of, I asked the half-naked girl if she knew how to play chess. When she said no, I asked if she wanted to learn. She said yes, so I got the board and chessmen I had stuffed into my backpack out, hoping that was what she would say. It was difficult to concentrate, with her barely covered little titties staring at me as she leaned over the board, but I stayed cool. I still couldn’t figure out what she was trying to do, but I stuck with my strategy of ignoring her skimpy outfit.

After an hour or so of chess lessons, I could see her attention waning, so I told her we could pick it up another night. Missy seemed relieved. She said she was getting chilly and headed down the hall toward her room. When she returned, the tank top was gone, and she wore a regular t-shirt again. Pam did like to keep the a/c low, but I’m also sure it was just Missy admitting defeat in her effort to elicit a reaction from me.

We took our usual places on the sofa, me at one end and Missy at the other. She may have changed out of the tank top, but I could tell she was still trying to tempt me. Instead of sitting like she usually would have, facing the TV, she leaned back against the arm of the couch, with her body turned toward me. This meant she had to turn her head to watch her show, which seemed like an odd position. Then I noticed that by sitting like that, with her knees raised, she was displaying almost everything she could of her legs and rear end, from the back of her well-formed thighs to that tempting hint of butt cheek, even the outline of her sex.

Concentrating on the book I was trying to read was difficult, but I tried not to show just how much she was getting to me. While she watched some stupid situation comedy, I kept pretending to read, stealing quick glimpses of the tempting sight just a couple of feet away from me.

After a few minutes, she seemed tired of trying to get my attention. “Whatcha reading?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t like it. It’s kinda scary.”

That didn’t stop her. She leaned toward me and grabbed the book out of my hands. “‘Carrie’. I’ve heard of this. It’s about a high school girl who gets bullied, right? What’s scary about that? That’s just the way it is in school.”

“It’s what happens after she’s picked on that’s scary,” I told her. “ I guess it’s not that bad, no vampires or zombies, or things going bump in the night.”

“So, can I read it after you finish?”

“I guess so, but I should check with your mom first.”

She sighed. “Sometimes you’re too strict. Can’t you let me have fun occasionally?”

“You’re kinda spoiled, aren’t you?” I said.

“What? I am not. I just thought that having you as my ... bodyguard ... would be more fun.”

“I’m not here to entertain you, even though I think I’m doing a good job of that anyway. What kind of fun were you expecting?”

She thought for a second, staring at me, with a sly smile. It was like watching a tiger looking for the weakest gazelle in the herd. “How about playing truth or dare?”

“Nope. That sounds like something girls do when they are having a sleepover. I’ll pass.”

“Two truths and a lie?” she suggested.

“I’m still not a teenage girl,” I said.

“Are you ticklish? I bet I can make you laugh in thirty seconds, or you can tickle me first.” She planted her bare feet in my lap as if daring me.

Imagining Missy collapsing in a fit of giggles, begging me for mercy as my fingers probed her body, touching her in places that would otherwise be off limits, was tempting, but it was way too dangerous. “Somebody could get hurt. We’re not five.”

She sighed, scooted back to her end of the sofa, and went back to watching TV. I thought she had given up, but I should have known better. When the show was over, she told me she was going to take a shower and get ready for bed. “Sounds like a plan,” I told her. “We can have some ice cream after you’re done.”

“Gee, Dad, that sounds great,” she said, her sarcasm mode fully displayed.

I went back to my book. The hard part of my night was almost over. Soon, she would be in bed, and things would be quiet until morning. A few minutes later my sense of calm was shattered when I heard her yelling from the bathroom. “Tim, help!”

She didn’t sound like she was in any big trouble, but I wouldn’t have been a responsible bodyguard if I hadn’t responded. I went to the bathroom door and asked, “What’s the problem?”

“I forgot my nightgown and robe. They’re on my bed. Can you get it for me, please?”

“Why don’t you just wrap yourself in a towel and get it yourself.”

“I’ll get cold,” she whined. “Come on Tim, just do it.”

I had the feeling I was being conned by a teenage grifter, but I decided doing what she wanted was easier than having a long discussion through the bathroom door. I went to her room and found her robe, nightgown, and white panties piled neatly on her bed. There was something about the site of her white cotton panties that stirred something inside me. It’s just clothes, I told myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what part of Missy would soon be inside it. Yeah, my maturity level was, in some ways, still underdeveloped.