Chapter 3: Betrayal and Desperation

In the bathroom, Roger paused to stare at the clothes lying on the counter next to the sink. Her cute little tee shirt, skirt, and stocking lay in a soaking wet pile. What drew his attention, however, were the articles next to it. He had already expected to find her underwear there, but seeing the lacy white bra and little tiny cotton panties was a different experience entirely. He hadn't expected to see sexy lingerie by any means, but somehow this innocent little underwear was even more thrilling. Rather than emphasize her sexual maturity, it emphasized her youth instead. Little Leslie probably wasn't old enough to understand what the sight of a girl's underwear could do to a man. He could hardly believe that he was sitting here looking at something that until recently had been in close contact with the most intimate parts of her body.

It also meant that under the robe, she was completely naked. It would take only a slight loosening of the bow, and then the whole thing would come undone. The only thing standing between him and the sight he had for years longed to see was a little friction on the sash.

It had been hard to keep from staring when she walked into the room like that. In all honesty he had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life. Somehow he had managed to keep his cool. If she even suspected the things going through his mind, she would have dashed out of the house and searched for the nearest police officer, clothes or no clothes.

Worse, that conversation had gone in the entirely wrong direction. What was he thinking, asking if she had a boyfriend? When she said she needed someone older and more experienced, he had just about broken down and pleaded with her to let him be the one. But when she mentioned that she wished her attitude would get her into trouble, he realized that she wasn't talking about him. She obviously meant a boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, who had had a girlfriend before and at the very least knew what not to do. Leslie wasn't talking about sex; not at that age. She probably just meant she wanted to feel close to someone, to have a good friend to spend time with, perhaps to hold hands or snuggle with a little. Her desires were completely innocent.

Not so with his own. When she had mentioned that she wasn't wearing any underwear, he had had to fight down the urge to start drooling. All things considered, he deserved an Oscar for his performance.

I'm going to touch her underwear! he noted with glee. It was just too bad that she wouldn't be wearing them at the time.

No, it was absolutely wrong of him to think that. That should be the furthest thing from his mind. It was just clothes after all. There was nothing magical or special about them just because they had recently been on her body.

He reached out toward her bra, surprised to see his hand trembling. What was the matter with him? It was just a piece of cloth after all. He quickly snatched it up and tossed it onto the pile with the rest of her clothes. Then he did the same with her panties, and bundled the whole thing up.

There. That was all there was to it. He almost laughed at his trepidation, as if the garments would bite him if he touched them. He picked up the bundle and carried it out of the room and down the hall to the washroom. There he tossed the whole thing in the dryer and set the timer. As soon as he heard the familiar hum of it starting up, he turned and exited, still thinking about those two sexy little articles of clothing.

When he returned to the living room, he found Leslie sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. She had left plenty of room for him next to her, but considering the way he had been thinking lately, he figured it was better to take a different chair. She glanced up at him as he crossed the room to his favorite chair in the corner.

"I don't mind you sitting by me," she smiled. "I don't bite."

He hesitated for a moment, considering. It shouldn't have been that difficult of a decision, but considering his growing lust, he knew he should try to stay away from her as much as possible. He might break down and do something he shouldn't, and then she would fear and hate him. She might even tell her parents, which would no doubt lead to him spending some time behind bars as a child molester, not a pleasant thought.

What was he thinking? He was stronger than that. Roger Gardner was no slave to his passions, or he would have made that mistake a long time ago. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to keep his lust under control.

As if to prove the point to himself, he sat down on the couch next to her, earning him another smile from Leslie. She had the cutest, most adorable smile he had ever seen, so warm and inviting. Did she not know what she was doing to him? He could lose himself in that smile easily, bewitched by her charm that she didn't even know she possessed.

She surprised him by wrapping her arm around his. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"No, it's all right," he replied.

"I just don't want you to think I'm being forward or anything."

He laughed. "No, that's fine. You're a really cute girl, you know that, Leslie?"

Where had that come from? He had meant to say that he understood it was just a girlish gesture, not to be taken as anything intimate or flirtatious. But somehow it hadn't come out the way he intended it.

Still, he had managed to keep his tone of voice from betraying his attraction to her. She could easily take it as just an innocent compliment.

"Thanks," she smiled, and he relaxed. So she still didn't suspect. It had turned out all right after all.

The two of them watched the TV, or more accurately, Leslie watched the TV and Roger stared at it without seeing it. His attention was fully occupied by the girl sitting next to him. If someone were to ask him what show was on, he wouldn't be able to answer them even while he looked directly at it.

Leslie looked absolutely adorable, and it felt so nice to sit next to her with her arm in his. After her shower she even smelled nice. There was a certain fragrance about her that really drew him to her. How was he supposed to keep resisting her when she was just so desirable?

Leslie yawned, and he took that opportunity to glance over at her. She flashed him another smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just getting a little drowsy."

"I must be boring you," he joked.

"No, it's not that. It just feels so peaceful and tranquil here. I'm surprised; usually I'm pretty nervous around strangers, but you make me feel so comfortable. I'm glad I came over."

"It's the cocoa," he grinned. "It's impossible to feel nervous when drinking cocoa."

She laughed. "Maybe. Whatever it is, I like you."

He smiled and turned his attention back to the television. She felt comfortable with him, she said. She trusted him, and that gave him the will to remain strong. He would never betray that trust.

She stretched then, arching her back, and he couldn't help but notice that the motion had the effect of pulling the two sides of her robe slightly apart. He had a good view of the valley between her breasts. There wasn't much there yet, no cleavage to speak of, but she was showing plenty of skin.

What should he do? Should he tell her to close her robe? Should he just ignore it? If he said anything, maybe it would embarrass her and she wouldn't feel comfortable any more. They would sit in an awkward silence the rest of the time, and then she would say goodbye and never come visit him again. That would be a great tragedy. He needed to be strong until she left, because then her first impression of him as a trustworthy, nice man would be solidified, and she would be willing to come see him again. If he gave her even the tiniest hint of what was going through his mind...

She lay her head back against the top of the couch, closing her eyes with a beautiful, serene expression on her face and just a trace of a smile. He tried to ignore her, but that image before him was just too compelling. Over the next few minutes, he stole glances at her every so often even as he tried to focus on the TV.

It wasn't long before he could hear her breathing growing deeper, and he realized that she had fallen asleep. That put his mind at ease. So far, everything she had done had been sexier than she could possibly imagine, but now she would just remain still for the rest of her time here. He would wake her gently when it was time to put her clothes back on, then everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Leslie was a restless sleeper, perhaps because she couldn't find a comfortable position. She moved around a lot as she slept, and each motion brought his attention back to her. It seemed that every time she moved, she put herself into a sexier position than the one before, and the gap between the two sides of her robe continued to widen. If she kept this up much longer, it was bound to come undone completely.

Then she did something that completely caught him off his guard. She slid her head down and lay it against his shoulder. He had no idea how to react to that. What did she mean by the gesture? Or did she mean anything at all? Maybe it was just an unconscious motion in her sleep, and she didn't even know what she was doing.

He wanted so much to just put his arm around her and hold her to him. He wanted to pick her up and set her on his lap, where she could press her warm body up against him and lay her head down on his chest. But that much at least was completely out of the question, because she would be sure to feel the bulge under his robe. He hadn't been this hard in ages. Fortunately, the robe was thick enough that it hid it from her eyes.

She moved again, and this time it put her off balance and her head began to slide down his arm. He reached out to catch her; the last thing he wanted was to have her end up with her head on his lap where she could feel him poking her in the cheek. He put one of his arms around her shoulder to steady her while he attempted to push her back upright with the other.

Suddenly her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him with the cutest, sexiest expression he had seen on her face yet. He could barely hold himself back. Her lips were just too inviting. He felt himself leaning forward, down toward the inevitable kiss...

Roger stood up, catching himself before it became obvious what he had planned to do. "Looks like someone needs to take a nap," he smiled. "Tell you what. You just lie down right there and I'll go get you a blanket."

"Thanks," she said. "You're really nice."

"Just trying to be neighborly," he replied, somehow keeping his tone friendly without betraying the burning lust behind it. He walked casually into the bedroom, where he immediately took several deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.

He had nearly done it. He had nearly taken advantage of this innocent young girl. Roger was so near the edge now that a single slip would throw him over, sending him tumbling down into the abyss. Were it only for his own sake, he would give in without a moment's hesitation. One afternoon of bliss with this girl was worth a lifetime of consequences. But he couldn't do that to her. She still had her whole life ahead of her, and this might ruin it for her. Girls that age could be so fragile, so precious, and once broken could never be made whole again.

He opened the closet and withdrew a blanket. He sniffed it once to make sure it didn't retain any of that musty closet smell, then returned to the living room, where he found Leslie lying on her back on the couch, her knees slightly spread and that gap in the robe so wide now that he could easily see the swell of her small breasts. It was a wonder the nipples weren't visible.

Then he gazed at her face, and he sucked in his breath. If he had thought she had looked sweet and kissable before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now. She had her eyes closed again, but this time, her lips were slightly puckered. It wasn't obvious, as if she were actually inviting him to kiss her, but a subtle, probably unconscious expression.

This lovely vision lying on his couch was a goddess. How was he supposed to keep his resolve when she looked so damn fine! Before he knew it, he found himself on his knees, leaning in once again. She had probably fallen back asleep, so now was his chance. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

One kiss. That was all he wanted. Just a taste of this magnificent beauty, with her soft skin, gentle curves, and sweet, luscious lips.

At the last moment he caught himself, remembering how much she trusted him.

Trust. She thought he would never do anything to hurt her. His passion and his honor fought within him, and somehow he came up with a compromise. He lowered his head and kissed her on the forehead.

Then he spread the blanket over her, making sure to cover the parts of her body that she shouldn't be showing him, and headed back into his own bedroom. He dropped backward onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort out his jumble of thoughts.

She trusted him, believing that he would never hurt her. She wasn't opposed to getting all cuddly with him, as evidenced by her laying her head against his shoulder and her complete lack of embarrassment when she woke up in his arms. That led to an obvious conclusion.

She saw him as a father figure. The more he thought of it, the more it made sense. Mrs. Weaver was divorced, so Leslie didn't have an adult man in her life. She was probably reaching out to him because she needed someone to fulfill that role.

If that were the case, he was glad. True, he still wanted to do all kinds of naughty things with her, but he could keep that much under control. Since he couldn't be her lover, he was content to be be a father figure in her life. Maybe an uncle. Uncle Roger. He liked the sound of that. It would give her an excuse to come visit him often. There was nothing wrong with it because he was a friend of the family, someone completely trustworthy and honorable who would take care of her.