Chapter 8

Kristen grabbed her bag and headed into the house. "Can I take a shower real quick? I feel icky."

"Sure, love. Want company?"

"Um ... only if you want to. I mainly just want to get clean real quick cause I'm all sweaty."

He nodded. "That'd be nice, actually."

Kristen hesitated in the bedroom, finally setting her bag on the cedar chest under the window and pulling a smaller bag from it to take into the bathroom with her. She smiled nervously and followed him in.

In the small room, Kristen avoided Mark's eyes, removing her clothing slowly and folding each piece neatly on the counter, before grabbing a handful of little bottles from her back and joining him in the shower. A gentle glow still surrounded her, lending a soft gold light to the white-tiled enclosure.

Mark coaxed her into turning her back and carefully washed her hair, fascinated by the sparkling play of water over the luminescent curls. Kristen was quiet while he bathed her and himself, suddenly shy, never having experienced the pleasure of intimacy untinted with sexual tension.

He stepped out first, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. She smiled, holding the towel tight about her breasts. Sensing her need for space, he took his own towel into the bedroom and waited for her to emerge.

She came out several minutes later, her wet hair hanging loose down her back, wearing an oversized t-shirt that went down to her knees. She looked about 8 years old, and quite cute. Mark asked quietly, "So, what did you want to show me?"

Tucking her feet underneath her, she sat on the bed, holding a little cloth-wrapped bundle from her bag. She nibbled her lower lip, looking up at him shyly. "Sit down?" she asked, patting the bed beside her.

Mark sat next to her, close but not touching.

Kristen looked down at her hands, turning the little bundle around and around as she began to explain. "When I started kindergarten, I didn't know that there was anything unusual about just having a dad. I don't remember ever even thinking of my mother before that. Daddy never mentioned her, and of course a five year old doesn't know how babies are made. For all I knew he bought me at Sears." She smiled, shaking her head and peeking up at Mark briefly.

"Anyway," she went on, "Daddy had to work, so Vanessa ... his secretary ... took me to school the first day. A little girl asked me, 'Is that pretty lady your mommy?' and she looked so disgusted... 'Absolutely not.' That's what she said. Not just 'no', but absolutely not. And the teacher smiled at me, and took the little girl aside and I heard her tell her that Kristen didn't have a mommy, and that they mustn't talk about it because it would make her sad."

Kristen's eyes were back on her hands as continued, "And all the other kids were picked up at the end of the day by their moms. And they were all so exicted and so happy, and a mommy looked like such a wonderful thing to have, and I started to wonder why I didn't have one, and I kinda decided I must have been really bad or something, because Vanessa didn't want to be mine." She grinned impishly, "I figured out a lot later that Vanessa is horrified by the idea of being pregnant and losing her figure."

She fell silent for a long moment, and Mark wondered whether she actually would go on, but finally she swallowed hard, then spoke again, "So when Daddy got home, I told him that I would be really, really good forever and ever if I could have a mommy, too. And he got real quiet, and then he started crying."

Mark felt his own heart break at the catch in Kristen's voice, but sat quietly, listening, wanting to let her finish if she could.

"And he told me that I did have a mommy, but that she was so beautiful and kind that the angels had taken her to live in heaven and be one of them, but that she was still my mother, and always would be. And he gave me this picture, so that I would know she was real. And I could keep it by my bed always, to remind me."

Kristen was unwrapping the picture frame as she talked, and she handed it to him. "Anyway ... this is my mother. She died when I was six weeks old, and I've never shown anyone her picture. I don't talk about her, not even with Daddy, because it makes him cry."

The woman in the photo was exquisitely beautiful. Her features and Kristen's were close to identical, though the woman's were more mature and she was slightly more delicately boned. Her skin was the same creamy white as her daughters, but her eyes were a startling sapphire blue, and her long, thick hair was straight and gleaming black. She was smiling at the photographer as if he were the most wonderful, amazing thing in the world and holding a bouquet of white roses.

"Daddy took the picture, but he doesn't do photography anymore." Mark examined the photo closely, looking for any signs of the sort of glow that still surrounded Kristen, but with the woman's coloring and the lighting of the photo, it was impossible to tell. "She's beautiful. Just like you."

Kristen smiled, taking the picture back. "My teachers always wondered why, when I drew angels, I always drew them with black hair."

"I can see why."

"My dad started dating again a couple of months ago." She frowned. "He only dates blondes now."

"I can understand why," Mark said softly.

"Well, I can't. If he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, why does he date over-inflated, over-made-up, loud, blonde women? Why doesn't he try to find someone like her?"

"Because that would remind him too much of her, perhaps? He could never replace her, Kristen, and it sounds like he's being smart enough not to try."

Kristen stared at the picture for a moment. "I don't think she would like them. I don't like them, either."

"I'm sorry. Kristen, think about it for a second. If he loved your mother the way I think he did, for the last fourteen years it's been like a stab in the gut everytime he's seen a woman with straight black hair. How could he date a woman who did that to him whenever he looked at them?"

She shook her head. "It's not just their looks. They're just ... wrong. They're loud. And shallow. And they don't care about him at all."

Thoughtfully, Mark offered, "Maybe he's not looking to fall in love again."

Kristen sighed. "I think he's thinking of proposing to the last one, Mark, and she hated me."

He flinched. "Ouch. That's not good."

"And I don't know why. He never seemed to really care before. He never said he wanted to get married again, or anything."

"That's odd. Has anything else changed since a couple of months ago?"

"Not really. Well, he started spending more time in town and less at home, but that's probably because he's dating again."

"Huh. I don't know, love."

Shaking her head, she wrapped her picture back up and tucked it gently into her bag. "I don't either. I just thought a man might know why another man was being dumb." She returned to the bed, sitting beside him. "I wonder what life would have been like if my mother had lived. Do you think she'd like me?"

"Gods, yes, love. She'd love you."

"I'm not exactly an angel, you know." She grinned impishly at him. "You ought to, anyway."

He leaned close and kissed her foreheat. "You're enough of an angel for me, love."

She blushed, then nibbled her bottom lip again, something he'd come to realize was a sure sign of her nervousness. "Um ... I get to sleep with you, right? In the same bed?"

Mark looked at her confused. "Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

Kristen shrugged, blushing. "Just ... making sure it doesn't bother you or anything."

"Why would it?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

She shrugged again. "I guess a lot of guys can't sleep if there's someone with them."

Mark shook his head, even more confused. "Why do you think that?"

"Cause they always sent me home so they could sleep."

Mark sighed, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry, Kristen."

"You really don't mind?" she asked timidly, "I mean, it's your bed."

He drew away slightly to look down at her face. "Kristen, I WANT to sleep with you. I want to feel your body snuggled up to mine as I fall asleep."

She sighed happily and cuddled up to him.

He pulled her close, kissing her hair. "Ready for bed?"

"Mmhmm," she murmured, eyes already closed.

Mark tilted her chin up, kissing her tenderly. "Do you want to do ... anything, or would you rather sleep?"

"What would you like?"

"Well, I did mention licking your pussy ... would you like that?" He paused. "And, love, if you aren't interested, if you just want to sleep, that's fine too. Just tell me."

She hesitated before answering, "I don't need to, but I don't not want to, either. Does that make any sense?"

He nodded. "Yes. Would you like to? Would you enjoy it?"

Kristen seemed a bit at a loss. "I don't know. I've never tried it when I wasn't desperate for it."

Mark smiled. "Sounds like something worth exploring, don't you think?"

"Okay..." Kristen smiled curiously.

Mark nudged her over onto her back, and moved down to her feet, nibbling on her toes. She giggled as he made his way upwards, licking his way from feet to thighs.

Kristen sighed happily and let her legs fall apart as Mark's mouth found its target. He licked her gently, sucking her cunt lips into his mouth and carefully nipping them with his teeth, then lapping slowly across her clit. She arched her back, pressing hard against his mouth and he ran his tongue teasingly down the wet slit, dipping for just a second into her moist cunt, then sliding down to lick quickly across her ass.