Chapter 1

The Saturday morning sun filtered through the curtains and as usual, splashed across my face. Try as I might, I couldn't stay asleep with my eyes being subjected to the light through my closed lids. I shifted slightly, and smiled. Beneath the sheets, I could feel Kitty's warm skin against mine as she stirred towards her own consciousness. Her hand was light on my chest as a leg draped across mine. I could feel her breasts against my side as her eyes fluttered open. In a sleepy voice she whispered; "Good morning, Daddy."

A short time later, Kitty was stuffing some clothes into the washer before breakfast. We had several errands to run that day, and she wanted to get them hung on the line before we left. In the kitchen, I whistled along with the "oldies" station on the radio as I made the usual weekend brunch for us. Later, sitting at the table, I smiled once again at the nymph that had brought sunshine back into my life. "If you're a good girl," I chuckled, "we will stop and get you a toy. How does that sound?"

"A toy?" Kitty looked up. "What kind?"

"Any kind you wish," I answered.

A smile crept across Kitty's face. "Goodie! I can think of a few that might be fun. You go enjoy your morning shower. I'll clear the table then deal with the laundry."

"Hold it," I smiled. "You dripped some syrup."

Kitty looked down to see that indeed, some pancake syrup had dribbled onto her left breast. She lifted it slightly, and licked herself, paying careful attention to the areola that was a soft pink. Looking back up at me, I could see the playful glint in her eyes. "Next time, it'll be your turn."

I did my best to act disinterested. "Saucy wench!" How could I not be enticed? Kitty was a vision of what every man would ever want in a lover. She was just 5'1", and her breasts were just barely a 32-B. Her tiny frame was just 115 pounds, and if she took the time to braid her shoulder length brown hair, she looked like about the same age as when she first entered my life. Her face was that of a classic "dark Irish beauty", with a splash of freckles across her button nose that wrinkled so delightfully when she laughed. That same laughter would dimple her cheeks and crinkle her hazel eyes. As she turned, she wriggled her delicious rump at me.

As the hot water washed over me, I couldn't help but once again think about how lucky I was to have Kitty in my life.

Nearly eight years ago, my wife and I had decided that it didn't look like we would ever have children of our own. We decided to look into fostering one since there was such a need for foster parents. We went through three months of training, and at the end of the classes, we were asked if we would mind working with a girl on the verge of fifteen who had been taken from her home because the parents were involved with drugs and other illegal activities. We were ready for the challenge.

Kitty came to us, a frightened child who was certain that she would soon be once again be ripped out of yet another home and be shuttled from place to place as the foster parents would either sexually abuse her, or treat her as an indentured servant. We welcomed her onto our home with open arms and hearts. We did our best to give her as normal a life as possible, and made sure she had everything (within reason) that she wanted.

For her fifteenth birthday, I managed to get the names of several of her old friends, and we threw a surprise party for her at a park. She cried for hours, saying that nobody had ever thought to do that for her, before. Her actual name is Katheryn, but she always had a fondness for cats.

We had no pets, (due to my allergies) and I would often tease her that she could be my "kitty-cat" since she loved the animals so much. Often she would wander around the house wearing a headband with cat ears. We also had to remind her that when she did come out of her room, it was important that she be dressed. Even then, she liked the feeling of going naked. No, we weren't "prudes", but we wanted to maintain certain decorum.

We worked with Kitty in getting her up to speed with school, and in social situations, to the point that she didn't hide or cringe when new people were around. Over the next two years, we saw her start to blossom into a young woman who had a lot to offer the world.

Then, disaster. One afternoon, my wife was out doing errands. At an intersection, she was stopped at a light. Rumbling up from behind was a fully loaded cement truck. The driver was intoxicated, and my wife was crushed beneath the truck as it rolled over her car. I learned of the accident at work, and drove home to find the police and emergency workers waiting for me.

Kitty and I were devastated, but I vowed to be as best a provider for her as I could. The eventual legal settlement was more than enough to pay off my mortgage, keep me very comfortable for many years to come, without working, and set up a trust for Kitty.

However, the same social workers who had placed Kitty in my care and said that she was coming along so well were soon at my door, saying that they would have to take Kitty away and place her elsewhere. "With no mother or wife at home, there could be questions of propriety."

What the hell did that mean? "We feel that with nobody else here, 'things' might 'happen'." Kitty was given thirty minutes to pack. As she was dragged away to the waiting car, she was crying, and begging the social workers to let her stay. After all, she was seventeen! What was the trouble since in eight months she would be a legal adult? They were not listening.

Watching the car drive off, I felt my grief wash over me. In two weeks, I had lost my wife, and, the girl who I thought of as my daughter. It was a wonder I didn't commit suicide. I wasn't allowed to know where Kitty was, and she was not allowed to contact me. But about a month later, I got a postcard. On the cover was a picture of a cat. On the back, all it contained was an e-mail address; "kittyluvsdaddy@y..." I wrote her at once.

In reply, Kitty described to me that she was now in a group home on the other side of the state near the Blue Ridge Mountains with other teenage girls, and that her e-mail was monitored, so she couldn't tell me much. But, she told me that she loved me and would try to keep in touch as much as possible. Try as she might, she wasn't able to send me more than that. For nearly four years, I didn't hear a word from her.

One night, about two years ago, I was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. I groped for the headset and noticed the time; 3:45. "Hello?"

"Daddy?" The voice on the other end sounded frightened. "I'm sorry it's so late, and I'm sorry I haven't called before now. It's me, Kitty. I'm in trouble."

Kitty had gotten arrested in Jacksonville, Florida on a charge of vagrancy. With no home or money, she was being held. I spoke to the officer on duty, and learned that Kitty was set to go before a judge if there was nobody to take her and pay the fine. I informed him that I was on my way. Tossing some clothes and personal items in a duffle, I began the ten hour drive from Virginia Beach to Jacksonville.

"You her pimp?" the desk sergeant asked me when I showed up at the precinct to pay Kitty's fine and get her released. "No," I snarled, "I'm her father."

"DADDY!" Kitty came rushing up to me and wrapped me in a tight hug that I eagerly returned. With sobs of "thank you" from her, I ushered her outside to the car. She looked like a wreck.

From the grime and sour air about her, I could tell it had been some time since she had seen soap and hot water. I told her that since I was exhausted, we would spend the night in Jacksonville and return to Virginia the next day. Like it or not, I was taking her home with me so she could get her life sorted out. She agreed to my statement without any complaint.

Back in the hotel, I ordered her to get into the shower and scrub. As she washed up, I poked through the knapsack that she had brought. The clothes inside looked like rags and were not fit to be burnt. With a shout through the bathroom door, I told Kitty I would be back with some things in a short time. With that, I headed out to find a store.