Chapter 3

My wife wasn’t happy about me spending a night away from home but always appreciated the extra money I’d bring in from a photo gig. In this case, I’d have to fake the money but take her out to dinner with the alleged income.

“You’re only home from work for the weekend, and then you leave without me.”

Keys, camera and laptop bag in hand, I kissed her on top of her head and moved towards the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow night and make it up to you. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

The Hilton was booked up, naturally, but I was able to get a room at the Garden Inn which was only a couple hundred yards down the same road. Maybe a two-minute walk.

It was a two-hour drive on Friday, four-lanes or interstates nearly the whole way. I got settled in about an hour before Emma’s game. They’d be playing at a couple intramural fields in the same complex as the football and baseball stadiums and the arena. Those were a little over a mile, but I gathered my stuff and set off on foot.

They were the green team. I’d spotted Emma during warm-ups. Number five. I spent the game wandering around the field and up onto the small bleachers, trying to get at least a hundred shots to justify my alleged income. Emma didn’t get in until later in the second half when they were trailing by a couple goals.

When the game was over, I made my way towards the group of players and coaches as well as a handful of parents. Emma spotted me and walked over. “I see you made it. Brought your stuff too?”

“Hey, I promised. Tough loss, but glad I got to see you play.”

“Freshmen don’t get much playing time unless they’re really good. Get some nice ones of me?”

“Oh, of course.”

“Well, I want to see them.”

“How about in the morning? You guys don’t play until noon?”

“That should work. We have breakfast at seven-thirty and have to be on the bus at ten forty-five. Should be enough time - but where are you gonna be?”

“I have a room at the Garden Inn. It’s second building down the road from the Hilton, opposite direction from here. Two hundred yards or so.”

“Room?”

“Oh yeah. Two-ten.”

There was a light rap on the door. The wall clock read eight-oh-five. After I saw her in the peep hole I open the door. “Good morning. How was breakfast?”

“Nothing special, one those Continental buffets.” She looked up. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

She stepped in and scanned the room. A single queen bed, desk with an office chair, a glass table with two wooden chairs and a big screen tv on the wall.

“I told the coach I was going for a walk.” She had on white tennis, blue jeans that she was just poured into, a dark blue hoodie and aviator glasses, while carrying a small handbag.

She sat down the bag, grabbed the hoodie at the back of her neck then stopped. “Do you mind if I take this off? Probably gonna be too hot in here.”

“No problem, fine with me” which elicited a smirk.

Having discarded the heavier garment onto the counter, she was then clad in a t-shirt from an event the youth had recently attended. “Did you borrow that shirt from Tina?”

“Huh?”

“She had on the same thing in church a couple weeks ago.”

“And you remembered?”

“Uh, yeah ... it looked good on her too.”

“Nice save - you got the pics?”

“Yeah, the laptop’s over there on the table.”

I walked over with her, hand lightly touching the middle of her back. I pulled out a wooden chair for her then sat myself just to her right. I took the USB drive out of my shirt pocket and plugged it into the cable attached to the laptop. When the drive was recognized, I took hold of the mouse and navigated through the folders. There were many unsorted images but over twenty labeled with just a set of two or three initials.

“Here’s where I keep my personal files. Pretty much any pic I have of each person. Many are duplicates of those in the public folders, but these also have the ‘naughty’ pics I don’t share with anyone.”

“Until now.”

“Right.”

She leaned forward and squinted at the small screen. “I take it that ‘em’ is me.”

“You are correct.”

“Okay. Um, let me start someplace else. How about ‘jf’?”

“Double click on the thumbnail to bring up the viewer.”

“Yeah, I know how it works.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, you were just trying to be helpful ... she’s pretty. Nice legs but not much boobs. Are these from Facebook?”

“Yes. Usually it’s someone who knows someone who knows me, but I’m friends with her dad. She looked nice so I went through her pictures and saved the ones I liked.”

She clicked through more of ‘jf’. “These friends of hers look pretty young.”

“The first four characters of the filename are the age in months and years, if I know. In that one ‘1109’ means she’s eleven years and nine months.”

“No way! With those legs? And this one, in the gowns, they’re still twelve?”

“Almost thirteen. In the cheerleading pic she’s thirteen and five months.”

“Okay. How about ‘kd’? Oh, I know her, she was on that show with Tim Allen.”

“Yep. At fourteen she was stunning. I love that one where she’s stretched out on the bed with her dress still on. Then where she’s in the wooden chair wearing shorts, with her foot propped up showing so much thigh.”

“Hmm, you sure got a lot of this one cheerleader ‘ew’. Definitely pretty, but again ... kind of young!”

“Hey, she had boobies! And she’s sixteen ... now.”

“Now? Please don’t tell me you’re a pedo! All these girls are younger than me.”

“Check out ‘sa’, that’s Shiri Appleby. She’s an actress and was nineteen in those pics.”

“She’s gorgeous but has teeny boobies and looks like she’s thirteen.”

“And that’s what gets me.”

“So, what would you say is your type?”

“Not too tall, firm thighs & butt, small boobs and a gorgeous face.”

She turned towards me until I felt her knee against my thigh. “Sounds familiar.”