Chapter 1

Preface

You must understand, as I write this now, that I have experience and understanding that I didn't have when the events took place. I have learned a lot and thought about stuff I was hardly aware of at the time. I will try not to let this later gained knowledge interfere too much with my story so you can understand what I was thinking and feeling when it happened. In some cases I have to draw on that understanding because otherwise I would not have the words to describe it and that would seriously impede the telling of the tale.

I noticed the ad for the Arts and Crafts show in the local Saturday paper. My best friend's fourteenth birthday was only two weeks away and I thought I might find something she'd like there. Lucia was from an Italian background, short, at least shorter than me, with long beautiful dark hair. We spent most of our time together except Saturdays. On Saturday Lucie had to work at her family's fruit and vegetable market. I was hoping to find some nice jewelry or maybe something for her hair. She is a very artistic craft-sy person, always doing paintings and making things.

It was a beautiful sunny spring day. I took the bus to the park where the canvas gazebos were all arranged in a circle around a demonstration area in the center. I was disappointed as I reached the last of the displays and hadn't found anything I liked. The last booth was a collection of beautifully framed photographs. There wasn't anything there that I was going to buy but since it was the last booth I decided to just enjoy the art. A lot of the pictures were of animals; puppies, kittens, bunnies. They were all very cute. There was another section with pictures of children playing. The kids were all fairly young, six or seven at the most.

"I take all the pictures myself" a voice behind me said. I turned around to see a woman dressed in a tie-dyed tee shirt and shorts looking over my shoulder. "I also make the frames" she added.

"They're beautiful" I said in sincere admiration turning back toward the display.

"Thank you" the artist responded. I turned back to look at her. She wasn't very tall, just three or four inches taller than me. I'm four foot eight. Her very pretty face was framed with amazing royal blue hair. She was slender but not skinny and smiled so nicely. The hair was the startling part because I judged her to be close to my mother's age. Mom is thirty eight. "My name is Carly what's yours?"

"Tracy" I replied.

"Well Tracy if you like the photos you should stop by my studio sometime I'd love to show you more of my work" she said handing me a business card. There was something in the way she looked at me that made me feel strange. Not uncomfortable, just like she was some how sizing me up; for what I had no idea. I took the card and stuck it in my pocket. I thanked her and made my way back across the park to the bus.

The next Saturday was dull and rainy. I was so bored I decided to clean up my room, which my mother was after me about constantly. I came across the business card that I'd forgotten about; 'Carly LaRoche, Photography and Custom Framing, 210 Maple Ave. She'd invited me to see her studio and that sounded like more fun than cleaning my room. It wasn't far, about a fifteen minute walk. When I arrived I was a little confused because there was no business sign. The house looked similar to all the others on the street. I double checked the address and decided to take a chance. The door opened and I was sure I was in the wrong place. This woman looked almost nothing like the artist I'd met in the park. Not only was her hair not blue, she had very little hair of any color. What there was of it was a dark brown with blonde almost white tufts. The relatively short lady was wearing a green men's work shirt and dark green cargo pants. I was about to apologize for disturbing her when she said "Tracy! It's good to see you come on in."

"Carly?" I know I sounded incredulous.

"It's the hair" she informed me. "I often wear that blue wig at shows. It seems to get peoples' attention." I looked into the kind hazel eyes and recognized the friendly smile.

"Wow!" was all I could say.

"I'm so glad you decided to stop by" she said with enthusiasm, and then put her arm around my shoulders guiding me toward the back of the house. I was sort of surprised by the familiarity of her actions. She pulled me quite close as we walked. So close that I could fell her apparently unrestrained breast under her shirt bumping and pressing against my arm.

We arrived in her studio which was a large open area at the back of the house. There were lots of screens and those umbrella things photographers use to diffuse light. One corner of the open area was set up like a living room, with a couch and a coffee table sitting on a Persian area rug. Behind the couch there was a shelving unit with a lot of books and knick-knacks as well as some things that looked like trophies. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable" she said directing me toward the little sitting area. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thanks." I responded still looking around the cluttered room.

"I'm going to have some wine" she announced as she opened a full sized refrigerator set off in the corner. I took a seat on the sofa while she opened the green bottle and set it on the coffee table. Going over to the shelf she opened some glass doors and selected a goblet. She turned back to me and asked again "Are you sure you wouldn't like some?" I was taken a back by the offer. When she'd asked me if I wanted something to drink, I had assumed she meant soda or juice. The thought of having wine with the talented photographer, just like a grown up, thrilled me.

"OK maybe I will join you" I agreed. 'Maybe she doesn't realize I'm only fourteen' I thought. I quickly rejected the theory. I was much more likely to be mistaken for being younger than older. In fact the only thing that kept me from looking like a twelve year old was my boobies. The fleshy mounds had sort of just appeared one day about two years ago and had been growing steadily ever since. They weren't large by grown up standards but they were evident no matter what I wore. Thinking about my boobs I couldn't help noticing the jiggle and sway of Carly's as she handed me the glass of deep red liquid. My host set her wine on the table and extracted three books from the wall unit before sitting down beside me. Handing me one of the volumes she said,

"These are kind of similar to the ones I took to the show last week." I opened the book, and sure enough there were pictures of baby animals of all descriptions, all very cute. About half way through the collection of eight by ten and five by seven photos humans began appearing in the pictures. Mostly they were young children but some were older, maybe not quite teenagers. The kids were interacting with the lambs and kittens adorably. When I came to the end of the first book I set it down and took a swig of my wine. The burning sensation continued all the way down to my tummy where it blossomed and mushroomed into a wave of warmth that quickly spread over my whole body. When the wave arrived at my head I felt the dizziness over take me. I had been allowed to drink alcohol on special occasions usually about a thimble full so I could participate in toasts. This was my first mouthful and I cleared my throat hard to stop the cough that threatened to eject the intoxicating liquid. "It's good isn't it?" Carly asked as I set the glass back down. I was determined to appear grown up and sophisticated.

"Uh huh" I managed to croak clearing my throat even harder and wishing I had a glass of water. I didn't so I took another sip of the potent fluid; more carefully this time. The burn was much less but the wonderful spreading warmth seemed just the same; as did the spinning feeling in my head at the finish. I set the glass down again and picked up the second book my host had chosen. The first page was more of the same, cuddly animals and kids. The next couple of pages the kids seemed to be getting older. Some of them were clearly teenagers. About half way through the second book I realized two things, all the humans were female and the animals had ceased to be the primary subject. Near the end of the current volume the animals disappeared altogether. The young women were engaged in various activities. Some were playing sports while others appeared to be just lounging around. I could feel my host's breath on my ear through my brown chin length hair. She was very close. I could also feel how her warm breast was molding itself around my upper arm. I was conscious of a growing heat between my legs that I was attributing to the alcohol.

Without raising my eyes I glanced sideways at my artist friend. From this angle I couldn't see her face. I could only see her from the chest down. My vision was not perfectly clear but I thought her breasts had a sort of teardrop shape to them the plump part that presented itself against the work shirt was topped by a smaller lump which I surmised were my host's nipples. When I turned to the last pages in the album I think I gasped. Pictured in living color were two teenaged girls in their underwear. In the first photo they were embracing in the second they were kissing. The heat in my crotch rose and I felt the beginnings of a throb. "Isn't that beautiful?" Carly asked "I call it welcome to the sisterhood." Suddenly my throat was very dry. My hand went toward my wine but my host beat me to it. She leaned forward to pick up my glass and in doing so her breast came into contact with my thigh below the hem of my shorts. I was shocked at how hard her nipple felt on my leg. She seemed to linger longer than necessary to retrieve the wine glass but finally sat back and handed it to me. I finished the last swallow from the goblet like a pro. Carly took the book off my lap and handed me the last of the three volumes we'd started with. I opened the new book and felt a shudder go through me. There were two different teenagers pictured once again in bras and panties, once again embracing and kissing. I had begun touching myself about a year and a half ago. So I was familiar with what the needy feeling in my pussy was all about, but I had never experienced it with someone else around. Well maybe just once.

A month before when we were getting ready for gym class the senior girls' field hockey team had invaded our dressing room. They burst in laughing and joking ignoring us sophomores as if we didn't exist. The older girls stripped as unselfconsciously as if they were brushing their hair. Most of them had very impressive busts. Changing for gym class, most of my class mates kept their eyes down, almost looking at the floor, to avoid any suspicion of checking out the other girls in the class. We were all doing it secretly of course; checking each other out. We had to compare our development with that of our peers. Who had the biggest boobs, who had the most pubic hair, etcetera. When the senior girls stormed in most of my classmates hustled out into the gym. A couple of us hung back, including my best friend Lucie, fussing unnecessarily with our street clothes in order to watch the older girls get naked. A side from the big boobs the other remarkable revelation was that the seniors had very little pubic hair, in fact a lot of them had none at all. This acquainted us with the myriad in styles of labia since they were all quite visible without their natural mask. During that brief excursion into voyeurism I did get a pretty good tingle going, but up until looking at Carly's pictures the memory of the locker room lechery was buried. Now it all came back.