Chapter 1

My name is Lucky Smith. With a name like Smith, my mother must have figured I needed a first name that was a little different. Since my father was nowhere to be found, she wanted to give me a bit of an edge over the crowd. It must have worked. Except for my selection of my wife, I have become quite successful in life.

Mother also instilled in me a frugal nature. If I wanted something above the normal things like clothing, shelter, and food, I had to work and save for it. Instead of just giving me an allowance, she would pay me for small chores around the house. As I grew older, I began doing odd jobs for the neighbors. I started saving most of my income from those jobs right away. Thus, I have never been in debt and usually had the money to buy what I really wanted. I am not rich, but I do own some property and live rather comfortably.

By the time I was married at twenty years of age, I was six foot one inch and two hundred fifteen pounds of self-confidence. I owned a two story stone house that sat on fifteen acres of land. That land was located on the edge of a mid-sized southern town. There was a large pool behind the house and a hot tub in a room off the kitchen. After marrying, my wife and I raised a couple of steers a year for consumption, and had several German Shepherd dogs, a horse, and a pony. The dogs were more pets than security, but they knew who belonged on the property and who didn't, especially after dark.

My wife had been a beautiful, tall, blonde, eighteen-year-old bride. A little over a year after we were married, she gave birth to our equally beautiful blue eyed, blond, baby girl. The baby reminded us of a piece of fine jewelry, so we named her Tiffany.

A year later, my wife left us both. She had not lacked for anything she had needed. I just refused to allow her to spend money at the local malls like it grew on trees. I came in one day, and she told me she was leaving.

"I'm tired of being a wife of a cheap-skate. I'm also tired of being the mother of that whinny brat. I'm out of here!" With that, she picked up her bags and walked outthe door. She soon hooked up with some jerk with a shiny new sports car and they left town. After five years, I divorced her for abandonment. Neither I nor Tiffany have heard from her in the last fifteen years.

In the mean time, Tiffany has grown into a beautiful sixteen-year-old young lady. Like her mother, Tiffany is tall girl. She stands about five foot ten inches tall, has straight blond hair that reaches to the middle of her back, a slender torso, shapely legs, and is growing a nice set of C cup breasts. I know her breast size because, since I am both mother and father, we go clothes shopping together. I think she wants me along only because I have the checkbook. I've offered to let her have the cash, but he says she enjoys torturing me when we go shopping. She'll shop at what seems to be every store in the mall. She'll hold up the underwear she wants and loudly asks for my opinion. "Daddy, do you think this will look good on me?"

Though she is a beautiful girl, she is also my daughter, and I'm not thrilled when she does that. I want to dig a hole in the floor and crawl in it. Then, guess who gets to pay for the embarassment.

In addition to the house and the property it sits on, I also owned a dozen rental homes in my home county. My rentals are almost always rented out to dependable families. Once in a while, one of my renters will get a little behind due to some unforeseen problem. Usually, a brief rent reduction or forgiveness will get them over the hump and they get back on track. As a result of treating my renters with respect and care, I seldom have vacant or damaged properties.

The daughter of one of my long term renters has become Tiffany's best friend. Mitali Singh is also 16-years-old and lives with her parents about two miles down the road. She is a lovely young thing of Indian decent. Though she has lived in America all her life, her parents have instilled in her many of the values they brought with them from their homeland. This was good, except they had turned their daughter into an ultra shy girl. She seemed petrified of the any of the boys she would meet.

I have seen poor Mitali's reaction when a boy came up to her to say hello. She had gone with Tiffany and I to the mall. One of their male classmates came up to the girls and greeted them.

He politely said, "Hi Tiff! Hi Mit!"

Tiffany struck up a conversation with him about school stuff. Mitali practically hid behind Tiffany and me. Try as he might, he simply could not get Mitali to give him the time of day. She clung to my arm for the rest of the trip to the mall.

Tiffany had spoken to me several times about how she felt sorry for Mit. "Dad, poor Mit could be so popular if she'd just lighten up a little."

Like many teens do, Tiffany and their friends had shortened her friend's name from Mitali to Mit, and it had stuck.

She continued, "The boys we know are good guys, Dad. Most of them have come to our house." Tiffany said she couldn't remember how many times she had asked Mit to go with her to the mall, the local burger joint, or just come over and join a pool party. Her friend never wanted to join the crowd. In fact, Tiffany was surprised Mit had agreed to go along to the mall that day.

Mitali always seemed comfortable around me though. She was very respectful when she was in our home. She laughed and could be a delightful young lady. However, she practically froze up when she was at our home and boys her own age came by to visit. Mit was a pretty girl, but she had zero self-confidence.

I, like my daughter, felt sorry for Mitali. She was missing out on so much the average American teen should be enjoying during their high school years. It wasn't that her parents wouldn't let her do things. Mitali was simply too bashful to join her peers after school.

It was a cold and rainy Saturday afternoon in late September. Tiffany wasn't home with her normal house full of friends. She had gone with her cheerleading squad to a cheer competition about two hundred miles away. I didn't expect her home until late that night. I had come to enjoy the solitude on the rare occasions I had the house to my self.

Suddenly, my quiet afternoon was interrupted. There was a soft barely audible knock on the door. From the knock, I knew it was Mitali. When I opened the door, the rain was pouring down and poor Mitali looked as if she was about to drown. Her long shiny raven hair lay flat on her head and down her back. Her clothes were soaked through and rain dripped off her nose and chin. She was shivering like she was freezing to death.

Holding the door open for her, I told her, "Get in here, Mit, before you drown." As she stepped in, I asked her, "Honey, what are you doing out on a day like this?"

The shivering girl responded, I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Smith. I have been out of school for a few days. I was hoping Tif could give me our assignments so I can catch up."

"I'm sorry, Mit. Tiffany isn't here. She's out of town today with the cheerleaders. Didn't she tell you?"

"Oh yeah. I guess I forgot. I'm sorry to bother you." Mit then turned toward the door to leave.

"Hold it right there young lady. You can't go back out in the rain like that. You're already soaked and cold. Do you want to catch pneumonia or something? Why don't you go up to Tiffany's room and find your assignment papers. I'm sure Tiffany won't mind. While your up there, find a swimsuit to wear. Then go get in the hot tub and warm up. I'll call your mother and dry your clothes while you soak in the hot water. Then, I'll take you home later. OK?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother to you."

"It's no bother, Mit. Now get up stairs. You know where Tiff's room is." I insisted Tiffany's friends did what I told them when they were in my home. Otherwise, they would not be invited back. Mit was the only one who seemed to prefer being told what to do rather than make decisions on her own.

As Mit headed up the stairs toward Tiffany's room, I picked up the phone and called Mrs. Singh. She quickly agreed with my plan. "Mitali should stay there until she is dry. It will give me a chance to go to the store while she's out. Maybe Mr. Singh and I will have dinner out, if we have the time. Thank you so much for looking after Mitali, Mr. Smith."

"Mrs. Singh, if you'd like, I can have Mitali stay here the rest of the afternoon and evening. I'll feed her something and bring her home later tonight when you and Mr. Singh get home from your dinner. That way you and Mr. Singh can have a nice evening out. Just call me when you get home. Would that be alright with you?" I asked.

Mrs. Singh sounded excited. "Oh Mr. Smith, that would be wonderful. My husband and I have not had an evening alone in years. Are you sure Mitali won't be any trouble?"

"Of course she won't be any trouble. I usually have a house full of teens, and Mitali is the most polite teen that comes here. She is always welcome. Now, you and Mr. Singh have a nice evening and don't worry about a thing." I hung up and put on a pot to make some hot tea for my chilled guest.

Mit soon came down the stairs wearing one of Tiffany's long white fluffy robes. Mit was only about five foot three inches compared to Tiffany's five foot ten inches. Tif's robe nearly reached the floor on the smaller girl. She smiled as I told her of her mother's plans to go out with her father. Still shivering a little, she smiled and said, "Maybe I can stay until Tif gets home if you don't mind, Mr. Smith."

"That may be quite late Mit, but, you can stay for a while this evening." I handed her a cup of hot tea and added, "Here, drink this. It will warm your insides while the hottub warms the rest of you. Would you like burgers and fries for dinner?"

"That will be fine, Mr. Smith." She replied.

"Mit, will you do me a favor?"

She answered, "Yes, Mr. Smith. What is it?"

"Please stop calling me Mr. Smith. As long as you're polite, and you always are, please call me Lucky. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith, er ... I mean, Lucky."

"Thank you, Mit. Now, get your butt in the hot tub and soak a while. Don't get out until you are all warmed up."

"Yes, Mr. Smith. I mean Lucky. Thank you for being so nice to me." The teen then turned and headed to the hot tub room.

When she had gone to the hot tub, I gathered her wet clothes from Tiffany's room and tossed them in the dryer.

Mit soaked in the warm hot tub for nearly half an hour. When she got out, she went up to Tiffany's bathroom, removed her borrowed swimsuit, and dried herself off. She then came down into the kitchen still tightly wrapped in Tiffany's robe. She offer, "May I help fix dinner?"

"If you'd like to help, you may. Do you want a salad with your burger and fries?"

The teen asked, "Okay. Do you want me to make it?"

I smiled and nodded at her. "You'll find everything you need in the fridge or pantry."

As Mit made us a salad, the robe she had borrowed from Tiffany began to loosen a bit. A gap had developed down the front to the robe's belt at her waist. When she turned just the right way, I could get a brief look at her chest. It appeared Mit was developing a nice pair of breasts.

I couldn't help but look longingly at the teen's chest. I thought to myself. 'What a tasty looking young thing you are. My God, it has been far too long since I've ogled a nice set of tits.' I paused my thoughts then continued. 'What the hell are you doing? Are you some kind of pervert? She's your daughter's friend and only sixteen. Knock it off!' I forced myself to look away just before she turned to face me.

With a wide grin, she said, "Salad's ready."

I replied, "So are the burgers and fries. Let's eat!"

As we ate, we chatted about Tiffany's and Mit's school activities, and why Mit had come out on such a nasty day to come to my home. "Honey, if you had called before coming over, I could have called Tiffany, found out what you needed, and brought the school work to you. Of course, then I wouldn't have had the opportunity to have such a lovely young lady as my dinner guest." I glanced into the robe's opening between her breasts. I could see the inner curvature of her breasts. "Speaking of lovely, you sure do make that robe look nice."

Mit looked down and gasped. She quickly pulled the robe together. "I am so sorry Lucky. Please forgive me. I didn't know the robe was so open." The embarrassed teen was stammering as she stood. "I really am sorry. I should probably go now."

I stood as well and went around the table to Mit. The poor thing was shaking with embarrassment. I gently took the trembling teen into my arms and hugged her. "Mit, honey, it's alright. Please don't go. I'll take you home if you insist, but I'd really like you to stay for a while. I enjoy having you here. Please stay."

Mit buried her head in my chest and sobbed as she said, "I'll stay, but I am still sorry I exposed myself in front of you."

"Mit, you didn't expose yourself. The robe you are wearing covered you. All I saw was a little cleavage of a very pretty girl." I was trying to calm her.

With my arms still snugly hugging her to my chest, Mit looked up and asked, "You really think I'm pretty?"

Looking into her dark eyes, I told her, "Of course I do. You are a very pretty young lady. If I were younger, I would be proud to have such a pretty girl as my girlfriend. Why would you even ask such a silly question?" I asked.

Mit started to sob. Beginning softly, her sobs built to a full-blown cry. She buried her face in my chest again and sobbed as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

As I stroked her long silky black hair, I tried to console her. "It's OK, honey." As her crying ebbed, I asked, "Why all the tears, Mit? Gee, I didn't know telling you you're pretty was going to cause you to cry."

I hugged her tightly and gave her a light kiss on the top of her head. She seemed to relax a little.

After a few minutes, she spoke softly. Still sobbing a little, she said, "Lucky, I must confess something. I knew Tif was out of town today. I wanted to talk to you. I really want to be friends with the boys at school. My parents have told me to stay away from American boys because they all only want one thing, sex. I'd still like to have a boyfriend someday. I am just too shy and afraid to get close to them. Whenever I'm around a boy my age, I get super shy and can't say a word. I know all the kids at school think I'm weird. Besides, who would want a girlfriend like me? I don't even know what a boy wants from a girlfriend. Heck, I don't even know much about myself, let alone a boy."

Mit paused to sigh deeply and catch her breath. She then asked, "Do you really think I'm pretty? I know I'm not as pretty as Tif."

Releasing her from the hug, I took her hands in mine and held them between us. I spoke softly to the teary teen. "Mit, are you comfortable here alone with me?"

"Yes, Lucky. That's why I came to see you. I don't know why, but I feel good being here with you. Why?" She asked.

Squeezing both of her hands in mine, I told her. "If you're comfortable with me, come. I want to show you why I think you are a really pretty girl. Come with me." I put my right arm over her shoulder led her to my master bath. The master bath has a large mirror.

Standing fully clothed behind her, and holding her shoulders in my hands, I faced her toward the mirror. "Mit, what do you see?"

She responded, "I see a short, fat, plain, girl."

"I don't think your looking at the same person I am. I see a very lovely young lady that will be a desirable heart breaker when she comes out of her shell."

"No I'm not! No one will ever want me."

Placing my hands on either side of her jaw, I lifted her face so she had to look straight into the mirror. I firmly insisted, "Yes, you are! And, yes they will! You have a very pretty face. Your dark eyes are alluring and will captivate your admirers. Whether you know it or not, you do have admirers."

She was surprised and asked, "You really think I have a pretty face?" After a pause, she asked, "I have admirers?" She didn't seem to believe me.

"Yes, I do think you have a pretty face, and I know several of the boys in your school who think so too."