I always thought I was pretty, at least my dad always told me that I was. It was a long time before I realized that a daddy's only real reason for being on the planet was to think, or at least tell, his daughter that she is pretty. I can't look so bad though; I mean, I still get the occasional young butthead that says, "Nice azz baby!" Of course you know how much that turns me on. The best thing about a remark like that is the look on his face when you don't swoon, fall on your back and open your thighs for him. There are those polite guys that look down my top when they think I don't know and look away all innocent. There's some point here ... umm ... oh yes, I may not be so pretty, but guys still look. Jeez, I'm only 25. I could lose a few pounds, but 120 isn't so bad for 5'5". My hair is brown and I even brush it. I've been told that I have pretty eyes (well, Daddy told me they are). I swear that after I weaned the Rug Rat I lost some boobs, but a good B cup still fits. The nipples used to stick up better too, but even the pervs that look down my top will never know.

I have a really great job too. My family and friends all say that I do and they don't even have a clue of what I do, so they are experts. My title is Special Administrative Assistant To The Mayor. Too bad my pay isn't as big as the title. Basically my main function is email. I open all of the Mayor's email. The nice people get a sweet note from the mayor with his electronic signature, the buttholes get forwarded to the Deputy Mayor (who comes in peeks down my top and bitches about all of the email he gets), and a few stray emails from the Mayor's boyfriends that were sent to the wrong addy. The Mayor's wife always gives me a nice smile when she comes in, but the Mayor never makes eye contact with me or peeks down my top.

Asshole (my soon to be ex) and I had to rent a house because, even though my parents gave us a ton of money for a down payment, the bank took our home from us. Asshole could never keep a job fixing transmissions, soon ran out of places that fix transmissions, and was mostly out of work. He always seemed to find the money to buy me stuff. He brought me home a puppy named, well, Puppy. He never understood that I really loved to give him blowjobs, so he brought me stuff. Pretty soon he ran off with a young girl that he claims was 18 and, because the cops haven't dragged him off, she must've been. Apparently he liked her because she'd give him blowjobs without needing him to buy her all of that stuff.

You know, I didn't even cry when he left. I've never cried about it or even really felt bad. My only act of rebellion was to gather all 17 pairs of thongs that Asshole insisted that I wear, put them in a little plastic bag, tie them up, and put them in the Goodwill bin. Can you imagine the look on the person's face that I opened the bag? Well, they were clean. God I hate thongs. I went out and bought three Bag O' Bikinis (okay, I made that up, but they do come three to a bag) and sorted out nine unique string bikini panties while the sales lady wasn't looking. They know that you do that; they just pretend that they aren't looking. Cotton? I don't care, they're comfy. Besides, no one will ever see me in them except Rug Rat. I've stuffed twenty bucks aside for some satin ones from Victoria's Secret at the mall. Just in the off chance that I ever get lucky again.

Thunder thighs (my sister) moved in to help pay for renting the house. Her husband is serving in Iraq and she cries a lot about missing him. She doesn't seem to miss out on the sex though. She has a variety of Just-A-Friends to stop by and make her moan when I need my sleep for work. Maybe I'm just jealous because she has some cock and I have my fingers. It's a pretty nice house though. It's a sort of log cabin affair overlooking a golf course that we can't play because it's for people that can afford to have prime rib every night and not folks like us that are trying to find new ways to make rice without puking.

So here I am, a pretty young thing with a great azz, nice tits, and pretty brown eyes. I'm stuck with Thunder Thighs, a four year old (almost five) Rug Rat that thinks she's a princess, and a puppy named, well, Puppy.

There's a story here somewhere ... I tend to babble ... bear with me here ... oh yes...

We live on a cul-de-sac (spell check please). There's a mean guy sort of across the street named Grumpus. Grumpus gives me a dirty look every time I come home and into the driveway. I call it stink eye. I wait to get the mail until I'm sure that he's gone so I don't meet him at the mailbox. Seems he's always working in his yard though. Just standing with a hose and watering it. Grumpus has a beautiful lawn. Nasty guy, but a pretty lawn.

One evening I picked up the Rug Rat from day care and came home. There's a little gate that opens from the steps to a small deck. I'll be fucked (I wish) if Rug Rat didn't let Puppy out. Shit! Where did Puppy head first thing? You guessed it, straight for Grumpus. Across the cul-de-sac, up the little slope to Grumpus. Rug Rat was beating her feet right after him too. Shit!

So here I come after the pair of idiots and stop dead just inches from the start of his beautiful green lawn. Puppy's body is all bent around and his skinny tail is wagging so fast that I was afraid it would break its poor back. Rug Rat is standing looking up at Grumpus, her hands clasped against her chest, staring up at him like her Savior stepped down from heaven.

I think, 'Okay, he's going to squash Puppy in a single stomp of his foot and then practice standing free kicks with Rug Rat, but there is no way that I'm putting a foot on his grass.' And then, 'He is one handsome guy though.'

Gumpus didn't smash Puppy. He got down on one knee, looked at the Rug Rat and smiled; he picked up Puppy and cradled him in his arms and scritched him behind his ear. Puppy was smiling, Rug Rat was smiling and I was still terrified, but he reached up and gave Rug Rat a little scritch too. When he stood up with Puppy, Rug Rats eyes followed him and I could nearly hear her heart beat from where I was. I imagined an old cartoon where little hearts popped out of her chest and sailed into the wind.

Grumpus started toward me and I just stood there. When he got right up next to me, his arm touched mine and I knew to take Puppy in my arms. It was like an electric shock ran through me when he touched me. I wasn't sure if I was going to pee my panties or cream them. I started to stutter something like ... she ... I ... the puppy ... the gate ... and ... and...

Grumpus looked me right in the eye (not at my tits or azz) with those big crystal blue eyes and said, "It's okay." I walked back to the house with an armful of Puppy, a Rug Rat by the hand, and muttering, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

When I got home, I went to the fridge and got out the vintage box of red wine and poured a full glass (never more than one glass or it gets pretty ugly). Just as I sat down and got comfortable, Rug Rat boosted herself up on my lap and announced, "He's not a Grumpus."

"I know."

"He's nice."

"I know."

"He likes you."

"How do you know?" I have the audacity to ask a princess that knows everything.

"I just do." Then she backed away from me, put a finger on the side of my eyes and said, "He has pretty blue eyes and he crinkles right there when he smiles."

"I know." Then thinking a minute, I said, "But he's old."

"So are you, but I still like you anyway."

I removed her from my lap, patted her butt and said, "Go change now so I can wash clothes." I pulled up my skirt, pushed off my pantyhose and started for the washing machine. Instead, I gave them the fate of the thongs, except I threw them in the garbage. Goodwill might not like used pantyhose. Then I sat back down to finish my vintage boxed wine and pondered the things that one might learn from a four (almost five) year old princess.

That night, while Thunder Thighs was upstairs getting her insatiable cunt pounded by another Just-A-Friend and moaning, I was in bed trying to think about how I was going to be able to afford a new bikini for summer. But my fingers were concentrating on Blue Eyes for some reason and I soon gave in to the fingers and managed the best orgasm that I'd had in a very long time.

We saw him most days after that. I slowed down as we drove by so that Rug Rat could wave to her savior. I even had the mailbox timed so that I might just happen to be there when he was out. Once in awhile, as I was pulling in, a white Honda with a bleach blonde driving it was pulling out. Hmmm.

Then one night while Rug Rat was sifting through her Spaghetti 'O's to pick out those that are not suitable for a princess, she said, "Cowen Akana."

"What?"

"That's his name."

"Who told you that?" I knew she was close, because his mailbox said O'Connell.

"Ray Me said."

Ramma is the round little lady that lives between Blue Eyes and us. She sits on her step smoking cigarettes because her husband of 45 years says she shouldn't smoke in the house anymore. Ramma doesn't argue with him because he's been sick and besides, she needs the fresh air when she smokes. Anyway, it's time to visit Ray Me again. Not because I'm snoopy of course, but because she's so nice to Rug Rat when she visits.

Friday was a vacation day because the deputy mayor said that I have to start using some vacation or lose it. I had a lot of errands to run, papers to sign and I just needed to. So when Rug Rat headed to Ray Me's house, I gave it a few minutes and followed her. Ray Me was sitting on the step smoking as usual and when I approached, she said, "Hi Rebecca," Which was right because that is my name, by the way. "Want a cigarette?" I said okay, even though I don't smoke. It seemed a good pastime for somebody that wasn't getting any sex. Rug Rat was chasing some unfortunate creature around the gravel in her driveway saying, "You have to stop when I say because I'm a princess."

The mail was early and Blue Eyes was walking up his driveway sorting his mail and Ray Me said, "He has the cutest butt doesn't he?"

"Who?"

"Who? How many guys are out here right now? Nice eyes too. Did you ever see his eyes?"

"Yes and Yes. Beautiful eyes and I've never noticed his butt before."

"Yeah, sure you haven't. If I swore I might say bullshit even." She laughed.

Just then Bleached Blonde pulls in, opens her door to get out and gives all of us a view. I'm thinking that she either has on yellow panties or she wasn't bleached. She heads toward Blue Eyes with a big grin, her huge titties jiggling (I can't tell if she has big tits or if they jiggle from here, but I'm sure they are and that they do). Blue Eyes waves at us and they go around back to go inside. I've never seen anybody use the front door at that house. Well, maybe those bible people (bet they don't sell any bibles there either).

"She is a student at the college and she interns for him. She does software testing for him and he pays her under the table. He trains her too."

"I'll just bet he does," I said.

"Why Rebecca, you couldn't be jealous could you?"

"I hardly know him, how could I be jealous?"

"Because I've raised three daughters. I know this stuff," She answered blowing smoke in a fine stream.

I took a puff of my cigarette. It made me dizzy even though I didn't inhale it. "I'm not jealous."

"Would it help if I told you she is his niece? He and his wife nearly raised her. She helped take care of his sick wife before she died almost two years ago."

"Okay, now I feel like shit."

Ramma patted my bare knee and said, "It's okay, He's asked about you too. By the way, you and your friends need to slow down coming in and out of the cul-de-sac. He always growls at me and he gets real grouchy when I speed. He thinks people with kids and grandkids should have better sense than that."

"I see." And I did see. "What did he ask about me?"

"Not much really. I told him that you were divorcing your husband. I hope that's okay. He said that you were incredibly pretty and that if he were 30 years younger, he would take a chance and invite you to dinner."

Once I coughed my heart back down from my throat, I asked, "How old is he?"

"63."

"No way!"

"Yes. When they first moved in, I made his wife show me his driver's license to prove it."

"Damn."

"Too old?"

"No. Amazing though. God he does have beautiful eyes."

"Cute butt too."

"Yes, that too."

A few days later, I got home and took Rug Rat out of her car seat and gathered my groceries while she scrambled up the steps to the gate. She opened the gate for me and I stuck my key in the door. With one twist, the key broke off in the lock. "Shit!"

Being a princess, of course Rug Rat knew exactly what to do. She headed back down the steps and across Blue Eye's beautiful lawn, around the corner and, I assume, to his back door. I take off after her yelling "Stop! Stop!" Which, of course, she did not. In a minute she came out with Blue Eyes in tow and I met them in the middle of the cul-de-sac. I clearly explained the problem, "I ... I ... the door ... the lock ... Puppy was left inside ... shit!" I yelled after him, "Why do I always stammer when I talk to you? Huh? Why is that?"

"It's okay."

"It's okay," I mumbled under my breath.

So I followed the two of them back to the house and up the stairs. When I got there, he'd carefully picked up my groceries and put them aside. He looked at the door and then jiggled the kitchen window up about a foot or so. "I can't fit in there, you'll have to go."

"Let's just stuff the Rug Rat through the window."

"There's a sink there and a long fall from the counter and she'll get hurt. I'll have to boost you up."

"I can't go through there, I have a skirt on."

"Then take it off."

Okay, like an idiot, I reached back to unzip my skirt. I came to my senses enough to ball my hands in a fist and say, "Would you not tease me and just boost me up please!" What I was really thinking was, 'Would you not tease me and just fuck me please?'

He made a cup of his hands and as I grabbed the window and put my foot in, he said, "I won't peek."

"Sure."

"I won't."

When I was halfway through the window I said, "You're peeking!"

"Not."

Almost through and I turned back to look. He had his head turned over his left shoulder so that he wouldn't accidentally peek. Of course, in doing that, I went in suddenly and bounced off of the counter and on to the floor. Pretty sight. I got up, straightened myself and my skirt and went to unlock the door. I jiggled it, swore, jiggled some more and it would not open.

Blue Eyes put his hand up, palm out, in a hold it motion and reached into his pocket. Out came something that looked like a pocketknife and he opened a little wire thingy. He put that in the lock and the end of the key clinked out and down between the boards of the deck. He folded that thingy up and opened another that he put into the lock. With some twisting, jiggling, and a lot of tongue just right in his mouth, the lock clunked and he opened the door.

"Now why didn't you just do that in the first place?"

"Then how could I have looked up your skirt?" He said with an evil grin and crinkles around those crystal blue eyes.

I shook my head and seriously laughed. It had been awhile. Sticking out my hand I said, "Rebecca."

He took my hand firmly in his and said, "Colin. Like the general or punctuation mark. I've lived long enough to have heard the ones about interior body parts.

"Is Becky okay""

I hate the name Becky and intended to tell him right up front of my feelings about being called Becky. "Becky is fine."

He apparently had a sharp sense about feelings because he said, "Rebecca is a beautiful name ... it just sounds so..."

"Sunnybrook Farmish?" I finished.

He laughed again and said, "That too, but I was thinking more like formal."

"There was one person in my life that called me Becca."

"I would be undeserving of the honor, but accept it anyway. Did he tell you that you had pretty eyes?"

Looking down and shuffling my feet like a ten year old, I whispered, "Yes."

About that time Puppy was finishing peeing against the deck post and Colin kneeled down in front of Rug Rat so that his eyes were level with hers and said, "Do you have a name that a commoner like me may use Your Highness or do I just call you Princess?" Puppy was trying frantically to crawl on to his lap.

The Princess did a little curtsy, stuck out her hand with the palm down and said. "Teri ... I'm almost five."

Colin kissed her hand, stood up, looked me in the eyes and said, "Her name is Teri. Pretty name for a pretty princess."

Puppy was terribly disappointed and sat on his tail. Teri was gushing love all over the kitchen floor and I was duly scolded. "Yes it is; Teri."

As he turned to leave. "Thank you for not peeking," I lied.

He opened the gate and started to step down and answered, "White with red stripes. I'm betting cotton." When he got to the bottom I heard him say, "God, I love cotton."

Then I remembered being all splayed out on the kitchen floor like I was giving birth. I smiled. I don't recall when I stopped smiling. Teri was dancing across the floor twirling around and singing, "Mommy loves Colin, Mommy loves Colin..." Listening to a four (almost five) year old princess that knows everything. That night I let my fingers have their way and didn't fight it. I thought of how wonderful it would be when he penetrated me. Did I say "when"? Oops, I meant "if".

The next Saturday afternoon, Asshole picked up Teri for the last time. He had his girlfriend with him and, I guess, wanted to demonstrate what a wonderful father he really was. Thunder Thighs was going to be home all day with another Just-A-Friend (mostly in bed) and I had a plan.

I had no idea if Colin would be home all day. But he didn't go far or stay long anyplace on Saturday that I could tell (not that I really paid much attention). I decided to make him dinner. I couldn't let it look like I made him dinner; I had to make it look like he was getting leftovers. I dug into my Victoria's Secret panty money hiding spot and, with a few other money morsels I could find, went to the store and bought pork chops, potatoes, salad in a bag stuff, and some salad dressing. Having about twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents left, I had an idea and stopped at Penny's in the mall. I rushed in and saw the counter. 'Yes! they're still on sale!' Rummaging around in the mass of panties, I found the perfect ones; lightly polished white cotton with very pale pink lace around the legs. A matching pink open heart was embroidered on the right front of the little string bikinis. 'Thin too. Yes, I like.'

I baked and then fried the pork chops, slit them in half, put some stuffing mix in the center and put them in the oven. Then I went to take a quick shower. I put on my best bra; light lace and thin enough to see some nipples sometimes. The panties looked perfect on me and when I put on the white shorts, a red tank and turned around, there was just a hint of panty lines. The tank wasn't too short, but would show a bit of tummy if I stretched or bent over.

I put the potatoes in the boiling water, finished the rest of the dinner and made some gravy. I put his dinner on a plate with a flower that I ripped off from Ramma's flowerbed, and covered it with a towel. Proud of how sly I was, I went across the street and up his driveway to the back door. He saw me coming and opened the screen for me to come in. I took note that his feet were bare, shoes were lined up in the little mud room and then kicked off my sandals.

"Jeez, it smells wonderful."

"Just some leftovers, I thought you might like a homemade dinner." I was so nervous I was afraid that I'd break out in hives.

"You eat early."

"Yes. This is Teri's and my way of saying thank you for being so nice to us." He took the plate and set it at the table. He said that he was hungry and would eat it right away. I turned to leave and said that I'd be back later to get the plate.

"You could stay and have a glass of wine with me while I eat."

"Oh no, you eat in peace. I'll be back later." Before I left, I stood with my back to him while I put my sandals back on. I didn't shake my butt at him or anything, I just wanted him to have a good look. I left and walked across the street still wondering why I would leave. 'Get a grip Becca, it's just a guy.' Just a sweet guy with beautiful eyes, a cute butt and who loves cotton panties. Life might be good if...

Sitting at the kitchen table drumming my nails and listening to Thunder Thighs begging for more and deeper, I visualized Colin standing in his kitchen. Nice tight jeans, and yellow tee shirt that had some sort of black designs on it. A bit of a tummy, but I didn't think it is was from beer. More like a guy that has worked out a lot. He has two tattoos; one looks like his name and the other is some sort of ceremonial band I think.

Not being able to sit any longer, I went back across the street to retrieve my precious plate. He was standing at the kitchen window and waved me to come in. As I slipped my sandals off, he laughed and said, "I don't normally steal dinnerware." And he continued washing it.

"A girl can't take any chances you know." Pretty lame actually.

"Come sit down. That glass of wine?" And didn't wait for my answer as he got two glasses out and went to the fridge. "I have a pretty nice Beaujolais. It isn't expensive, but very good. I hope cold is okay."

'Cold red wine. What's next?' I thought. "Cold is great. Maybe we are the only two people on earth that like cold red wine." Colin poured the wine and sat down. He held his glass for me to take a sip. It was nice.