I rushed back into the house. I had forever been forgetting things and today seemed to be no different. I had left the pictures behind several times already and I couldn't get by with putting them off another day. So when I remembered I had left them, even though I was nearly a half hour away from home I rushed back.

The house was empty and the rush of cool air from the air conditioner felt good against my face after riding in the car who's air conditioner had quit working last week. Of course it had waited til the hottest week of the year to do so.

I fumbled through the papers on the counter, and then hurriedly checked the coffee table. Where on earth could I have put them? Then I remembered I had stuck them in the shorts pocket that were hanging in the closet.

I opened the closet door, nothing would remind me more than this search how desperately I needed to clean this closet out. Clothes were tossed everywhere. Some were half on hangars, others were hanging on pegs. Shoes lay at the bottom all crumpled together. No, I wasn't one for neatness. I found the shorts and was digging into the pocket when I heard the sounds of voices in the outer room.

Who could it be? Jeff had already gone to work, hours before me. But it was his distinctive laugh that I heard and I knew it was him. The other voice was young. A young girl or boy, it was hard to tell. I wanted to rush right out and find out what was going on but for some reason, staying hidden had its allure. I waited for short minutes then heard their shoes on the hard wood floors as they headed right to the room I was in. I grabbed the closet door and pulled it mostly shut. My curiosity wouldn't allow me to close it all the way.

The adrenaline started pumping. I was once again that kid playing hide and seek, trying not to get caught. My bladder all of a sudden became full and shouting for release. I was sure of discovery if it were only because my heart was pounding at immeasurable decibels.

I could see fairly easily as Jeff came into the room, holding the hand of a young girl, maybe 13 years old. He had told me several times of his fantasies about girls this age. I didn't understand it but never felt the need to judge him for it. But now, faced with it because I knew this was no innocent walk into my room, I was so uncertain.

She was just as he had described in his fantasy, just beginning to blossom into womanhood. Her face was round with a smattering of freckles across her nose and her eyes were wide with wonderment. Her long uncut hair reached to her waist and lay in waves. I could see her young breasts that were unfettered beneath a tank shirt. The nipples were pressed against the cloth and stood firm. Whatever had brought her to this place had excited her, probably more than she realized. Her bottom was covered in short shorts that allowed her legs to look twice their length. I could even make out the soft down of hair that remained on her thighs.

His voice was soft, whispery, the same voice he used with me when he was aroused. I felt my body's reaction to it. "Are you sure this is what you want?" I heard him say, and my brain yelled out "No!"

She nodded and reached a small hand to his face. That handsome face with that electric smile that could just look at me and make me melt. I briefly thought the girl had no choice against those odds.

He kept talking, soft and low telling her that making love was suppose to be a beautiful thing. That he wanted to show her just how beautiful. His hand was caressing her arms up and down, rhythmically with the sound of his voice. She was hypnotized. So was I.

I had rational thoughts, how could I let him do this to her, this couldn't be right. But his gentleness said what was wrong with it. So what if he deflowered her. Should her first time be like mine, grappling in the backseat of a car, hurried and over before it started and then left with the feeling of "Is that all there is?" But this wasn't right was it?

There were no feelings of jealousy as one might expect. He and I had an understanding of sexuality. One that most people wouldn't dare adapt. The ultimate was us sharing with one another, completely. Our time together had been marked with the fulfilling of every fantasy that each of us had with the exception of this one. And now I stood hidden watching it unfold before me. I was alternately excited for him and cloaked with my own misgivings of impropriety.

My excitement won out and I stood outwardly quiet, inwardly shouting. I sat mesmerized by his slow art of seduction. He stroked her hair, her shoulders and ran his fingertips along her collarbone, carefully inching his way lower and lower. He told her how pretty she was. He traced along her lips and she innocently licked them, unaware of the potent picture she presented with bottom lip pouting out and slightly moist. I licked my own!

His motions were excruciatingly slow and tender. Every movement and sound of his voice like a lull-a-bye.

She reached and placed an untutored kiss to his lips. He put his hands on the sides of her face and said, "No, like this..." and I watched as his lips brushed across hers, sliding back and forth, then heard her little gasp as her mouth opened and his tongue slipped in. Her eyes remained opened then fluttered shut as the tutelage began. When the kiss was finished, he pulled back, she remained. Eyes closed, mouth open and breathing a bit faster. Her hand grabbed her stomach as she slowly opened her glazed eyes and spoke one word "More!"