Chapter 3

Saturday morning brought nothing but smiles from Tara. Helen teased her for sleeping late, but she brushed it off with a simple, "Guess I was tired." I feared she might do something to tip either Helen or my wife off, such as flirting or touching me, but she behaved.

We were not shuttling others to the game, so my wife and I sat up front with Tara and Helen in the back. I adjusted the rearview mirror to sneak glimpses at Tara sitting behind my wife, but she was busy chatting with Helen. In a way, I felt neglected.

My wife wasn't a sports fan so while I paced the sidelines watching every minute of the game, she sat with a few other mothers discussing whatever women talk about. The game was a blowout so the coach kept either Helen or Tara on the sidelines while giving another girl a chance to play forward with the hopes of scoring. At one of those times Tara stood next to me.

"Last night was great," she said. "Better than I thought it would be."

I looked around to make sure no one heard, but there wasn't anyone near us. I looked down at Tara and smiled.

In a lower, less certain voice, she asked, "Did I do it right?"

I brushed the side of her face with the back of my hand, but then dropped it to my side and looked around again. No one was looking at us.

"You were wonderful."

Just then the coach told Tara to go in for Helen and my daughter replaced her at my side.

"How's your knee?" I asked.

"Fine. Doesn't hurt a bit."

The game ended and we went back to my house where the girls showered and changed. When I entered the kitchen, Tara was on the telephone.

"But, Mom, why can't I?" she whined.

"What's going on?" I asked my wife.

"She wants to spend the night. I told her it was okay with us but her mother would have to give her permission."

"That's not fair," Tara continued. "I wanna--" There was a pause and then she said, "So what? Tomorrow's no school. It's just one more--"

Tara held the telephone away from her ear. Her mother was so loud I could hear her shouting. When she stopped, Tara grunted something into the telephone and hung up. She looked at us, me actually, with watery eyes.

"Mr. Starr, can you drive me home? I know it's not far, but I got my stuff and it's a lot to carry."

"Sure. When do you want to leave?"

"Now."

While Tara packed up her belongings, I changed into my jogging sweats. When I went back down, I found her in the kitchen saying goodbye to my wife, thanking her for dinner and allowing her to spend the night. I told my wife I was going to the park after I dropped Tara off to get a good run in. Tara handed me her overnight bag and we got into my car and drove off.

"Do we have to go right home?" she asked.

"Isn't your mother expecting you?"

"No. She just said I can't sleep over again."

"Then why did you leave so soon? I'm sure Helen would have loved for you to stay longer."

"I wanted to be with you."

I looked at Tara. She was sitting in the passenger seat wearing jeans and her maroon ASU sweatshirt. She looked like she had lost her best friend. I steered the car to the curb and, with my foot on the brake, twisted in my seat to face her.

"Tara, I told you I would be honest with you. I think you're unbelievably sexy and what we did last night was ... I liked it a lot. But it was a mistake."

"If we could undo it, you know, change it so it didn't happen, would you?"

I hesitated and then said, "Yes."

Her pout was back. "You said you wouldn't lie."

"I'm sorry, you're right. I wouldn't change a thing. It was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me."

"Then why don't you wanna do it again?"

"Because it's wrong."

"I don't believe that. It can't be wrong. Both you and me liked it so it can't be wrong."

Tara stared at her hands in her lap with her chin pressed to her chest. I almost told her that was a child talking, but knew it was the wrong thing to say. A tapping on the window startled me so I spun around. It was a neighbor; I rolled the window down.

With his hands resting on the car door, Jack looked through the window. "Tara, great game today. Thanks for letting Melissa play forward. All she's been talking about is her goal."

Tara looked up and smiled. Her eyes were watery. "I'm happy for her. Say hello for me."

Jack slapped my shoulder several times as if we, the parents, were the reason the team won. When he walked away, I rolled the window up and turned to Tara.

"We can't stay here. I need to take you home."

"Please don't. I wanna talk. Everything's fucked up."

"Tara!"

Her eyes dropped to her lap. "Sorry. I didn't mean to curse. I'm just mixed up, that's all."

She wiped a tear off her cheek and I knew I couldn't take her home. Her mother would want to know why she was crying. I drove off. After a few blocks, Tara lifted her head and looked around. I saw her glance at me with my peripheral vision, but we drove in silence until I pulled into the hospital parking lot.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"We need to talk and I didn't know where else to go."

I walked through the halls of my hospital with Tara a step behind. A few colleagues asked me if there was an emergency, but I said I needed to catch up on paperwork. Being the head of a department was more than seeing patients and performing surgery and it was not unusual for me to be there on a day off.

When we entered my office, Tara looked around. The desk was the first thing you saw. My office was on the third floor and the window behind the desk overlooked one of the parking lots. To the left was an overstuffed bookcase and to the right a couch with a small table next to it with a reading lamp. I sat behind my desk and expected Tara to use one of the two visitor chairs, but she walked to the couch and sat down.

"Tara--" I began.

"You think I'm a little girl," she said, interrupting me.

"Tara, you're fourteen."

"You told me I was becoming a woman. That's what you said."

"You are. A very lovely young woman."

"Then why are you treating me like a little girl?"

"I'm not. I'm trying to treat you like an adult."

"No you're not. You told me you liked me and think I'm sexy. That's what you said. You told me you liked what we did and you wouldn't change it if you could. And don't tell me you think of me like a daughter 'cause you don't. I make you hard and Helen doesn't."

I sighed. How could I explain? She was acting like a child, but I couldn't tell her that. She was right about one thing -- I did find her sexy and she did get me hard. I tried not to psychoanalyze myself, but I wondered if it had to do with my being a nerd at her age. While the football players were banging the cheerleaders, I was studying. I didn't even feel a girl's breast until college. Was I reliving my puberty with a fourteen-year-old girl?

I was going to bring up my wife again, but that argument already failed. She squashed the "like a daughter" argument. I thought about mentioning that it was illegal, but she'd simply say she wouldn't tell. I have a tendency to get caught up in my thoughts and lose track of my surroundings. It helps me concentrate. But when I ran out of arguments, I focused. Tara was staring at me. I guess she was waiting for me to get out of my trance-like state.

"After the time in the car I think 'bout you all the time," she said. "I play with myself all the time. I can't help it. I just get so excited that I have to. I know it's sick to do it all the time, but I do it anyway. I have to."

"Tara, you'll meet a boy--"

"Boys my age are jerks! And older boys aren't interested in me ... probably 'cause I don't have tits. Anyway, older boys scare me. And they brag. I don't want guys talking 'bout me like that. I couldn't go to school and face the kids."

Tara cupped her face in her hands and cried. I knew what was going to happen if I held her, but I truly loved her and it broke my heart to see her like that. I felt I was the cause of her problem. If my cock hadn't hardened in the car everything would have been the way it was.

I walked up to Tara and gently pulled her hands off her face. She yanked them away and re-covered her face. When I sat next to her, she leaned away from me, and when I put an arm across her shoulders she tensed. With my free hand, I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. She didn't move so I did it again. Then I kissed her ear.

Tara giggled and lifted her shoulder. At least I got her to stop crying. When I leaned forward and placed my lips on her ear she squirmed away and ended up lying on the couch's arm looking up at me. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes red.

I stroked her cheek and her expression changed. There was a longing there, but also fright. Not that she was afraid of me, but that I would reject her. I continued stroking her face and her expression softened.

I leaned forward; Tara's eyes widened. I hesitated. And then I pressed my lips to hers. She purred and grabbed the back of my neck. Her mouth opened before I even probed with my tongue, and soon we were passionately kissing like two middle school kids. Maybe I was re-living my teenage years the way I wished they had been.

I found the bottom of her sweatshirt and slid my hand underneath. Her tongue stopped moving as my fingers ran up the length of her belly. When my hand cupped her tit she sighed into my mouth. She had neglected to put on a bra, or had she planned for my hand to be there? I was glad she was bra-less as I fondled her little pointy tit. I had told her it was just right, and at that moment I thought it was perfect.

I climbed onto my knees. It's a good thing Tara was so petite because it wouldn't have worked otherwise, but she shifted a little to make room and I straddled her legs. My other hand went under her sweatshirt and, with both hands on her tits, I stared at her face. The fear was gone, but the longing remained.

I needed to see her breasts so I pushed her sweatshirt up to her neck. She arched her back to help. There they were, two little cones with tiny nipples. I leaned over and sucked one tit, and then moved to the other one. I didn't know which I wanted to suck so I kept going back and forth.

Tara squirmed under me so I looked up. She was trying to remove her sweatshirt, and when I lifted up she pulled it over her head and let it drop behind her. I attacked her jeans, unsnapping them and lowering the zipper. I jumped off the couch and flipped her sneakers off, and then I grabbed the bottom of her jeans and pulled. Tara slid towards me. She reached over her shoulder to hold the couch arm. I pulled again, and her jeans came off.

I stood up to admire the young girl lying on my couch in a pair of sky-blue panties with white trim around the leg openings and the waist. A little pink bow adorned the front at the waistband. One of her legs slid off the couch, opening her legs and causing the thin blue nylon to cling to her pussy, showing its shape and the slit that lay beneath. A few stray hairs protruded from the leg band. And then she shoved her hand inside, bulging out the panties.