Jacynta? pretty name, reminds me of a fairy for some reason. Not that I have been privy to that many fairies over the years, least not those with shimmery wings and a bra-full of fairy dust.

Jacynta Thomas was no fairy but probably the next best thing – a Brownie. Now I know one is not supposed to think of a fifteen-year old girl in any sexual sense. But hey, when you open your front door and find yourself face to face with maybe four foot ten of cute blonde innocence standing on your porch shuffling about nervously, hands behind her in close proximity to rearward curves that you would give both your Rolex and BMW drop-top to have seated on your lap for the duration of “So you think you can dance?” What the hell are you supposed to be thinking about?

“Hi, I’m Jacynta,” she enunciated breathlessly. “Are there any household jobs I could do for you?”

The cute brown uniform with gold edging highlighted her youthful appeal. She had a small name badge pinned at the precise spot on her chest, where the most attractive of swellings suggested that Mother Nature was on her case for the duration.

Casting my mind into hyper-drive, I stood there thinking desperately what I could find that might take the girl at least a month to finish.

“Who’s at the door?’ My wife called from the recesses of the kitchen.

“Just a fairy ... I mean a Brownie hun,” I called out to her. When I looked back at Jacynta, she was giggling quietly.

“Sorry sweetheart,” I apologised, “I’m for ever getting fairies and brownies confused.” My words of explanation did little to restrict her mirth.

I was still racking my brain in desperation, when my wife put in an appearance.

“Well she could start by hanging out the washing I guess,” Cathy volunteered, glancing across at the doorway.

“Sure,” said the girl, “I’d be happy too.”

Cathy took her out the back and through to the laundry. Moments later she was beside me again.

“Pretty little thing isn’t she?” she muttered, looking out the window.

“Hadn’t really noticed,” I replied, managing to keep a straight face somehow.

“Yeah right,” she grinned, “That’s why your eyes are glued to her backside, watching her peg stuff out? God, you men are all the same! She returned to her kitchen duties.

My wife’s observation of course had been spot-on! Watching that shapely little bottom jiggling about, the material of her dress riding up her hips slightly as she reached up on tip-toes with another peg, was exquisite torture. Fate obviously wanted me dead I decided, when a moment later she bent over to retrieve the next item from the wash-basket. Presented momentarily was the mother of all rear up-skirt vistas, topped off by a witheringly hot flash of the girl’s light-bkue knickers, I felt a sudden ‘solidarity’ shall we say, in a fully inappropriate area.

Jacynta finished her outdoor task in a few minutes and stood before me once more.

“Anything more I can do?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence. How close I came to suggesting she go clean my car in just her panties ... full wax and polish!

“Do we have something else for her to do hun?” I called out to Cathy.

“I guess she could clean up the spare room – it’s a mess,” came the reply.

“Cool,” I thought, at least that’s a good excuse to get her upstairs in a more “accommodating” part of the house as it were!

Leading her up the flight of stairs, after all there was no way I could get her to walk ahead of me, I entered the guest room. Cathy was right – it really was a mess. Clothes, suitcases and all manner of junk lay on the un-made bed. Several half-open boxes were strewn across the floor and the mantel looked to be thick with dust.

“You’ve got yourself a challenge there kid,” I told her. “Hang whatever clothes you come across in the walk-in robe over there.” I indicated the far wall. “The boxes can all go in there too ... smaller stuff just shove under the twin. Then make the bed, give the room a dust and I’d say you’re done sweetie.”

Nothing fazed this girl. “Ok,” she beamed, “I can do that!”

Feeling vaguely ‘dismissed,’ I could hardly demand to stay and watch her performance, hoping naturally for some gratuitous up-skirt replays. Regretfully, I made my way downstairs.

Barely five minutes later, Cathy announced she was going to her a friend’s place.

“Can I trust you to be alone with her?” she teased, picking her keys off the rack.

“C’mon hun,” I handed her a pained expression. “She told me she’s fifteen years old!”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me,” she laughed, heading to the front door.

Remembering suddenly I had no cash on me, I called out to her. “Oh, Cathy, do you have a few bucks I can give the girl when she’s finished?”

My wife fussed around in her clutch-bag for a few moments. “Just give her this twenty – she’ll have earned it by the time she’s finished upstairs.” So saying, she pulled a bill from her wallet and placed it in the bowl of loose change we keep on the small bookcase.

Walking to the den that I used as an office, I sat down at the computer. My mind was set to roam ... not anywhere it had any rights to be, admittedly. Hitting the ‘sleep’ button I headed back upstairs.

Still in the process of stowing all those boxes, she emerged from the walk-in. “Ohh you startled me,” she giggled. Her hand strayed to her chest as she spoke. If only mine could have followed its lead, I was thinking.

“Would you like a drink sweetie?” I asked. “Doing all that hard work and all.”

“Umm, do you have any Coke or Sprite?” she said, those blue eyes of hers all but freeing-up the Neanderthal urges I was striving to control.

“We have both,” I replied.

She pondered her options momentarily. “Could I have a Sprite then please?’

“Sure,” I answered, turning on my heel and retracing my steps to the refrigerator.

“For God’s sake, get a grip Matthew,” I muttered, retrieving a can of Sprite from the shelf.

“Here,” I said, handing it to her across the threshold, “Just come down when you’ve finished love.”

Bequeathing me a breezy “Thanks,” she took the drink then sat down on the edge of the bed to make a start on it. I didn’t figure this was really the time to pursue any further conversation, so I headed back to my computer where a couple of client-based projects awaited my further involvement. For a while I was absorbed in algorithms and html coding.

Distracted suddenly by the sound of that fourth stair from the bottom, creaking as it always does, I realized that Jacynta must have finished and was back downstairs. Crossing the hallway, I could see her across the far side of the lounge. She spun around as I walked into the room.

“Ohh, I didn’t hear you come in.” She looked worried almost!

“You finished upstairs?” I asked.

“Yep,” she replied quietly, “I er, have to go now.”

“Of course sweetie,” I told her. “Let’s just see what sort of a job you did upstairs first huh?”

She seemed reluctant to move initially. A couple of moments later I could see why. Even at the distance I was, I could make out quite clearly that our coin-bowl was missing a recent donation – a certain twenty-dollar bill to be precise. I decided on a course of non-disclosure for the moment, whilst I figured out my options – and hers!

This time I was able to propel her ahead of me as we ascended the stairs and without placing too much emphasis on detail, let us just say the view was quite spectacular.

She may have been a thief, but damn, she could clean a room up.

“That’s quite an improvement Jacynta,” I muttered, “You really did a great job here.”

“Thanks,” she answered, quite obviously keen to limit the conversation. “I really should be going now,” she added, turning towards me.

“Yeah, I guess you do have a few things to pick-up at the Mall with that twenty dollar bill. Don’t let me keep you sweetheart.”

Her face turned ashen. “W-what twenty dollars?” she asked.

“The one you have there in that zipped-up pocket of your dress sweetheart, the bill you took from just near the front door ... remember?”

“I did NOT,” she glared at me.

“Ok, show me what’s inside that pocket then. If I’m wrong it won’t be there will it?” I stood there calmly, watching her wriggle uncomfortably.

“You can’t make me empty my pockets,” she insisted, “and besides, I’ll scream if you come near me.”

“I don’t have to Jacynta,” I told her, “Unfortunately for you, we have security cameras installed downstairs – I watched you take it.” It was a bluff I figured she wouldn’t try calling – not at fifteen years old.

How wrong can you be?

“I don’t believe you,” she smiled cheesily, and anyway, “I didn’t take your stupid money.” She had her hands clasped behind her as she spoke, which merely had the effect of better delineating those sexy little breasts. I had to think quickly.

Making no reply I simply stepped out of the room and picked up the hands-free on the small table. I made like I was calling someone.

“Who are you ringing?” she asked cautiously.

“Well who do you think Jacynta?” I responded. “The Police quite obviously. You might not be too interested in our home movies but I’m pretty sure they will be most attentive when it comes to watching your performance just now.” I deliberately turned away from her.

“No PLEASE ... wait.” she cried out. I turned back to her, still holding the handset to my ear.

“You can’t call the Police ... please,” the tears kicked-in right on time, probably genuine too! “My dad would kill me,” she sniffled.

Hesitating a moment, I returned the handset to its cradle.

“Here, I’ll give it back,” she offered. “Please don’t tell anyone. I would be kicked out of the Brownies immediately.” She began unzipping the pocket and reaching inside for the bill, offered it to me.”

For a moment I wondered just how much money she had gotten away with the last year or so. It may well have been quite a nice little earner for her. There were however other options I needed to be thinking about.

“Jacynta,” I said, frowning at her big time. “You’re missing the point here. Handing me the money back doesn’t fix the problem. You stole it. That makes you a thief ... you understand that?” She inclined her head, as fresh tears cascaded down her pretty cheeks.

“You want a free ride outta here right?” Again she nodded. “Well then sweetheart, if you expect something from me, you’re gonna have to give something back – other than that twenty dollar bill.”

I could see a puzzled expression flitting across her face. “I don’t understand,” she replied. “What do I have to give you?”

“Well I was sorta hoping you might give me a look up that cute little dress of yours for starters missy.”

Her cry of shocked indignation preceded her attempts to flounce past me.

“You’re disgusting,” she yelled, “I’m not letting you see up my dress ... and let me go - now.” I freed her arm.

“Suit yourself,” I said quietly, retrieving the hands-free. She got as far as the top stair.

“Noo,” she yelped. “Please don’t call them.” She hung her head momentarily. “Alright, I’ll do what you want,” she muttered, beginning to pull her dress up slowly.

“No, not like that,” I said to her. “Go and sit on the edge of the bed please.”

She did as she was told.

“Now, part your legs for me Jacynta,” I instructed.

Watching as the up-skirt view changed from ‘interesting’ to ‘diabolically arousing,’ I found it hard to conceive such good fortune could befall me in so short a time, that a fifteen-year old girl would be sitting on a bed in our guest room, spreading her legs and exposing her panties to my unhindered gaze.

“Pull your dress right up to your hips sweetie,” I said, “I want to see all of your panties.” I could be wrong, but it seemed to me she wasn’t all that reluctant as she wriggled that gold-edged hem higher, until the material was bunched up at her waist. Certainly she kept those slim legs of hers at a commendably acute angle.

Words cannot do full justice to the moment. Walking towards her I knelt on the floor, not three feet from her parted young thighs. I could see clearly that sexy indentation between her legs. Never has a pair of light blue knickers been displayed to better advantage. Whether she was wriggling her hips slightly for effect or just out of discomfort I couldn’t say. I raised my hand between her legs.