Chapter 10

Still Dave's turn:

I called the office and talked to the boss. "Got a domestic issue that needs my attention," I said.

"Aw, just take off. Not like you don't have the comp time," he said.

"Thanks."

Next call. Carlita. She's liking her iPhone. I got a picture yesterday from her with Carlie's kids' kitten. I thought it was a picture with TWO adorable kittens in it.

"Hi, Dave. Did you get that package?"

"Yes. Are you at home?"

"Yes, I am at home. No plans today."

"Stay right there. I am coming home."

"Is it bad?"

"No, I am surprised, but I think it is good."

"Drive carefully, my Dave," she said. The phone clicked.

'My Dave'. I only hoped it was more than mere words. The little pixie was inside my head and inside my heart as well.

I cannot ever remember a slower, more aggravating drive home. It seemed like they ran all the idiots out of the asylum and put them in cars in front of me. I finally arrived and pulled into the driveway.

I was walking towards the door when it flew open and Lita bounded out.

"Dave. What is it? You did not sound like Dave."

"Come inside, Carlita."

She followed me, closing the door, turning the deadbolt as I'd told her early on.

I sat on the sofa. She sat beside me. I reached inside the package and retrieved her passport. "Here," I said. "Lita is a legal visitor to the United States. Here is the visa in your passport."

She squeaked, "I am very happy. What other thing?"

"A birth certificate."

"Good. I am a person."

"It needs to be studied." I handed it to her. "Look at the birth date. The year."

"!996."

"Were you born in 1996, Lita?"

She smiled at me. Strange smile. "This document says so. Dave, there is no other to say I am not..." she squealed. "Eighteen. Not only am I legally in America, but I am eighteen in America." She looked closely. "I am no longer Carlita Ortiz de Guererra. I am now Carlita Sanchez de Luna. I shall be Carlita Luna. " She put the certificate and the passport down.

"Dave, do you know the difference between fourteen year old Lita and eighteen year old Carlita?"

"I cannot see a difference."

She shifted up onto her knees beside me. Her arms looped around my neck, hauling me in, and her lips met mine. She kissed me. Hard. Long. Not –definitely not – a 'little girl' or a 'young teen' kiss.

"That is the difference."

"Oh, god, Lita ... I can't..."

"Dave, Dave ... My Dave ... I am eighteen. You can..."

"Carlita Otiz! This morning when I left the house you were fourteen and I could not think of touching you."

She fixed me in her gaze. "David Johnson, you cannot prove that I am Carlita Ortiz-Guerrera, fourteen years old. Here is an official passport and a birth certificate that say I am Carlita Sanchez de Luna and I am eighteen. Nobody. Nobody can say other things. I have papers."

"Then why are you kissing me?"

"Because I am your Carlita and you are my Dave. We have been together every day and every night for almost three weeks. You smile when you see me in the morning. You smile when you see me in the evening. The last words at night are 'Good night, Carlita'." She paused, keeping our eyes connected. "Am I not correct?"

"You're correct. But..."

"But what, my Dave?"

She did it again. I try to build a fence and she batters it down. Those brown eyes... "I am trying to be honorable..."

"You have been honorable, Dave. That is one thing..."

"One thing?"

"Am I not presentable? You said I was cute."

"You are."

"Perhaps you do not wish a brown-eyed, dark haired girl with this skin..."

"No, Carlita. You are adorable."

"Then adore me."

"I already do."

"Then why is there a problem, Dave?"

"You have not known me for three weeks."

"I know you. I know what your sister says of you. What Carlie says of you. I know how you have treated Carlita. Even when you knew it was trouble, you allow me to sleep in your bed. You did not do bad things. Did not even try..."

"Because Lita is fourteen and has had enough bad things."

She held onto me. "Now Carlita is eighteen. Some things are bad when Carlita is fourteen. They are not so bad when Carlita is eighteen."

"Carlita..." I was losing the battle.

She kissed me again. Artless, but serious. "I do not ... have never kissed a man ... a boy my age, like I wish to kiss you."

"Carlita..."

"Kiss me, Dave. Kiss your Carlita."

She won. I lost. I put my arms around her and kissed her, feeling her soft lips move and mold to mine. I opened mine slightly and brushed hers with my tongue. Her mouth opened and she sucked on my tongue then met it with hers. I backed away.

"That is how to do it? I did not know." I was stroking the back of her head. Yes, it was short hair, but it was Lita and what else did I want for perfection?

She inched closer, her lips moist, slightly open. I met hers with mine. A little moan from her filled my being.

Keeping our kiss going, she twisted around into my lap.

"Oh, god, Carlita..."

"My Dave..."

"Carlita, this is too much..."

"No, it is not."

"You don't realize..."

"Perhaps I do," she said. "We sleep together. I know what happens to you when I am close in the night."

"You said you were sleeping with me because..."

"Because I felt safe. It felt good. That is truth..."

"But there is more to the story..."

She looked flustered. "Is not a story. It is the truth."

"'More to the story' is a figure of speech. I did not mean you are telling me a lie."

"I am not thinking. I know what it means. At first I wanted to be safe. Now I find it more than just safe. I feel things that I have not felt in myself from a man near me."

"We cannot do that, Lita."

"What?"

"Sleep together."

"All we do is sleep."

"You have kissed me..."

"Like this?" and her lips met mine. Carlita is a fast learner.

"Yes. But it is no longer Dave taking care of his Lita..."

"You will not take care of me?"

"I will take care of you. But this ... you, close, at night..."

"You did nothing before."

"You did not kiss me like this."

"I am kissing you now, so I cannot sleep in our bed? That does not make sense..."

"It's different, Lita..."

"It is not different. You did not do things that I did not want to do before. Would you do those things now?"

"No. You're my precious Carlita. I will protect you. Even from me."

"Dave," she said softly.

"Yes, Lita."

"I like kissing you, Dave..."

"I like kissing you, Lita."

"Then..."

Oh, hell, just give up, Dave. Let HER set the limits. A couple more of those kisses and she wiggled and looked into my eyes. She HAD to feel it. My erection.

"You cannot tell, Dave. About me. How good I feel. I can tell about you."

"I know, Lita. I am afraid..."

"Do not fear, Dave." Another kiss. So not only did she KNOW what was happening, but she was not worried about it.

"I did not know it would feel this good. You hold me. It is so very good." Her small hands clasped my face. She put her forehead against mine. "This means something, Dave."

"What does it mean?"

"I am eighteen."

Okay, Dave. Try one more time to slow the train down. "Yes. I need to train you to drive."

She saw what I was doing. "Pat will be surprised, as will Carlie and Gary."

"Yes, they will."

"Dave?"

"Yes?"

"Do you love me, Dave?"

Gongs went off in my head. I looked at her face. My mind ran through conversations of the past weeks, the images of her running around the house, sitting there reading, Lita on the boat, in her swimsuit. Did I? Of course I did. "Yes, Carlita, I do."

"That is good," she said. "I think I love you also."

"Makes things awkward, Carlita. Two people who love each other, living together..."

"Two people who love each other should live apart?"

Why is it that when she says it, I sound like an idiot?

"Do not be silly," she said. "We will live together as Dave and Carlita, just as we have done. The difference is that I am eighteen. That is ... legal. I looked. I know what is legal for eighteen here."

"Okay, Carlita, you win."

She smiled broadly. "I am glad I win. One day you get a Carlita. One day Carlita gets Dave. I have won." She wiggled. "Does it hurt you that I sit on you?"

"I ... uh, yeah, kinda..."

"Why? What hurts?"

"My ... uh..."

"Verga? Pene?"

"It was pointed the wrong way when it got very happy about Carlita," I said.

"Can it be fixed?"

"Yes."

"Fix it. I like sitting there."

"Turn your head."

"Why? Are you going to show it?"

"No."

She smirked. "Then I am not turning my head."

"Okay. You win." I slid my hand into my pants and straightened up my straining erection. "You're not supposed to watch."

Giggle. "I saw it the other day," she laughed. "Today I did not see it. I saw you touch something, though. Is it fixed now?"

"Yes."

"So I can sit there."

"Yes."

Giggle. "I like hugging and kissing, Dave. No, that is wrong. I like hugging and kissing Dave." She smiled, sliding back into my lap, molding herself against me for a kiss.

"This is dangerous."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"It feels too good. Makes me want more..."

"We are not dangerous, Dave. I know it feels good. Mi cuchara... kitty? It feels good."

"That is dangerous. Your kitty..."

"Is that the proper word?"

"The proper word is vagina, but that is what doctors use. Many use 'pussy'. 'Kitty' works. I think it is cuter ... more suitable for sweet Carlita."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"If we forget ourselves ... Carlita does not need a baby..."

"That means that yours and mine ... Inside me..."

"Or close..."

"We will not do that. Do you know about... métodos anticonceptivos?"

"Birth control. Lita, if we do not ... we do not need it."

"Dave, I am going to be in our bed."

"Our bed."

"You want it to be our bed? It has been 'our bed' to me."

For the first time, I initiated the kiss, followed it by a shower of little ones on that precious face, bringing a higher level of sparkle to her glow. "It is our bed. What does that have to do with..."

"Everything. Maybe not. Maybe. I shall go to bed like we have been going to bed, but if we kiss..." She held my face, imitating my shower of kisses. She pulled back smiling. "Now, Dave, today you promised to bring me to the library."

"That's a good idea, Carlita. If we keep this up..."

Another kiss. "Maybe I want to keep it up."

"Eighteen year old Carlita is much more bold than fourteen year old Carlita."

She smiled as she stood. "Fourteen year old Carlita wanted to... " She took my hand. "Come on."

She's right. Getting out of the house was in some fashion a relief from things that I didn't want to stop but was afraid to continue. We hit the library. Between Carlita's passport and my underwriting, she came away with a library account.

In the car, she grinned. "Books. So many books."

Next thing, we headed out to the suburbs.

"Where are we going?"

"To give Carlita her first driving lesson."

She squeaked, "You mean it? Serious?"

"Of course. Eighteen year old girls drive in America."

The goal was the large, empty parking lot of a business long ago closed. There were still lines on the pavement, though, and I put Lita in the driver's seat.

"Now, carefully..."

Forty-five minutes later, she'd had enough. "Too much at one time. Maybe again tomorrow?"

"Yes." My phone rang. "Pat," I said to Lita. "Hi, Sis."