Chapter 1

I have to say that the odds on something like this happening were pretty close to a billion to one. I couldn't have imagined myself being in this situation in a million years. But as I tamped the earth arouned the roots of the tree I had planted I didn't regret it one bit. Well, I regretted the necessity, but not the act itself.

I met Shantella Brady when she moved down the street from my house. I was ten years old, the same as she, and at first I didn't really pay any attention-I mean, it was just another neighbor. The first I heard about it was when I was rudely woken up by the rumble of the moving van. I had stayed up late the night before with my buddies Stan Dorf and Ralph Kaufman telling ghost stories in the back yard and I was beat. I got out of bed and peered blearily out the window. Just a damn van, I thought, still half asleep, and staggered back to bed for another hour or two, or at least until my mother hollered at me to get my lazy ass outa bed and have some breakfast before lunch.

My parents thought it would be a good idea to throw a neighborhood barbecue to welcome the new family to the area, so me and my two brothers were drafted over the next couple of days to clean up the yard. It was summer vacation and, as ten-, eleven-, and twelve-year-old boys, we could find much better things to do with our time, but we sucked it up and got the job done.

The next weekend the new family turned up. At first I wasn't all that interested in attending the barbecue-there was a new horror movie on at the theater in town that me and my buddies really wanted to see-but as soon as I got my first glimpse of the girls in the family I decided to hang around.

Normally I couldn't care less about girls-I was still only ten years old, but Shantella was different. She was the only ten-year-old girl I'd ever seen who already had breasts, and she was an object of somewhat morbid curiosity. Looking at her mother Kathleen and her older sister Rose, I could see where she got them from. Those two were bursting out of their tank tops.

So I hung around and did my best to stare inconspicuously at Shantella. I mean, real boobs on a girl my age? Who wouldn't stare? They were probably only A cups this early, but still, they were real.

The Brady family consisted of Michael and Kathleen, Rose and Shantella. Michael Brady was a small man who sounded like, and somewhat resembled, Barry Fitzgerald. He was wearing a raggedy t-shirt that looked as though it had spent too much time in with the dark wash; and suit pants that looked as though he'd had, and worn, them for the past five years. Rose, Kathleen and Shantella were all wearing shorts and tank tops and sandals, and all four of them were carrot tops, though the girls were more fiery than Michael, who was graying.

"So, where are you from, Michael?" I heard my mother asking from my perch behind a shrub, where I continued to stare at Shantella, who was lounging against a tree eating a slice of watermelon. The main meal was over and the scent of grilled burgers wafted on the air.

"Oh, don't stand on such formalities. Just call me Mike. And we're from New York, don't you know."

"Really? What brings you way out here?"

Brady took a pull on his beer and smiled, blue eyes twinkling beneath his Barry Fitzgerald eyebrows. "We're just being after a change of scenery. I work for the university. Archivist, which is just a fancy term for a librarian, and they offered me a posting out here."

"Interesting. Well, our college isn't all that much, but i'm sure they'll have plenty of work for you."

"Yes, they're real," said a voice from my right.

I jumped a bit and turned to see Shantella standing there, leaning hipshod against the tree I was sort of hiding behind. She idly licked her fingers clean of watermelon juice and stared at me with big blue eyes.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My boobs. They're real. I saw you staring at them."

I turned redder than her hair and stared at the ground.

"Don't worry about it," she said matter of factly. "It doesn't bother me." And, it seemed it didn't. She continued licking her fingers and watching me with cool amusement.

"Sorry," I managed to sputter out. "It's just-"

"-You've never seen a fourth grader with boobs, I know," she said. "Like I said, don't worry about it."

She pulled a napkin out of her pocket, wiped her hands and stuck one out. "Shantella Brady, and don't you dare call me Shanny."

Still a little bemused, I shook her soft little hand. "Rob. Rob Darson."

"Nice to meet you Rob Darson. I'd better get back to my family, my mama's making that face. See you around."

That was the start of it. I should've known, from her reaction to me staring at her, what was to come, but of course I had no clue.

Over the next couple of months until fifth grade started I didn't run across Shantella that often. At most we waved to each other in passing on the street. She quickly found a crowd of girls to run with and I had my buddies.

Our next meaningful encounter happened shortly before Halloween in fifth grade. I was heading for home after school when I heard a scream from around the corner.

Four guys had Shantella pinned against the wall of the school building. She was trying to get by them and Frank Shepard and his buddies were blocking her way. Frank was grabbing at her breasts and making mooing noises, while his buddies laughed. Billy Richards was pulling her pigtails at the same time.

I had had some run-ins with Frank and his gang, once earlier this summer at the swimming pool and another time last year in the cafeteria, and he knew that I wouldn't take any of his shit. Shantella was at least a nodding acquaintance of mine and a neighbor, but that wasn't the reason I was going to intervene. The real reason was I hated bullies.

"Leave her alone Frank," I said as I came up to them.

Frank sneered at me, but let go of Shantella, who backed away. "You gonna fight me, Darson?" Frank snarled. "You sweet on cowgirl here or something?"

I asked Shantella if she would hold my backpack and she nodded, still looking a bit scared. "Yes Frank, if I have to I will," I said, not giving an inch. "Now get your ass out of here."

It was four on one odds, but it was on school property and there were teachers still around, so if we did get in a knockdown drag out fight it was likely Frank and his buddies would get expelled. So could I for that matter, but I figured I'd get points for trying to help Shantella.

It seemed that Frank's buddies realized this too, because they left. I saw Frank staring at me, both of his brain cells working overtime, before he realized what I had. He gave me a nasty look and then left, trying to walk like James Dean and looking constipated instead.

Shantella stared at me. It was that same rather amused gaze she had given me at the barbecue, but tempered with a bit of residual fear of the situation she had just escaped. Aside from that sharp scream I had heard, probably when Frank had yanked on her, she hadn't said a word. Now she looked up at me, smiled and said: "You weren't really going to fight him, were you?"

"Only way to deal with guys like that is to stomp them," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Got to show them that you won't take any of their crap."

She kept those coolly amused eyes on me for a moment, smiled and said, "Thanks for stepping in. Be seeing you around?"

"Yeah, guess so," I said, shuffling my feet. I guess I was expecting a big hero speech or something, but that was all I got.

That was the second time.

Things rolled along pretty smooth for the next couple of years. Shantella continued to bloom and I continued to be a nerd. Yeah, I was one of the class nerds, complete with pocket protector and preppy clothes. We went on to junior high and it was right about then that things changed.

In a storybook, after I saved her from the bullies, Shantella would've attached herself to me, we would've been inseparable all through the rest of school and college and married to live happily ever after. It didn't happen that way, though. Shantella would sit with me at lunch every so often, stop to chat with me on the street where we lived, maybe walk home with me once or twice. It was like I was her brother or something.

I, however, didn't feel that way. From the first time I saw her, that morbid curiosity about her breasts morphed into something else. By the time we entered junior high, I had a full blown crush on her. She was something special, with that cool air about her and the sense that she was kind of walking around laughing at the world on the inside, not taking anything terribly seriously.

When we entered junior high things were different. Boys began to take notice of her. Unlike a lot of girls with big early-developing breasts she didn't try to hide them. She knew what she had and she dressed to show off. I don't mean she was slutty, it was more like she was supremely confident in who she was, and guys picke dup on it. She flitted from boy to boy like a butterfly in a flower bed. She was the quintessential Miss Good Time Girl. I don't think she lost her virginity to any of them, at the most she was good for only a kiss and a cuddle, but I'd bet more than a few hands got into her sweaters. I was jealous of course, but I had no claim on her time and couldn't really do anything about it.

Things kept up that way all the way through junior high and the first year of high school. Shantella got on event planning committees, the debating team and had a real active social life. Her dance card was always full, and guys sniffed around her like eager puppies. She lapped it up, but it never seemed to go to her head; she always seemed to be a girl with her feet firmly on the ground. But still, it was another warning sign I should've paid attention to.

I, meanwhile, did my homework, did the typical nerdy things like the Chess Club and the Honors Society and the Classical Music Club. I joined the track team and ran cross country. I watched Shantella from afar and awaited my chance to have her myself. Hell, I was a red blooded male, you bet I was interested.

When I turned sixteen I suddenly had a lot more responsibility on my plate. My parents ran the local grocery chain, and I was expected to start working there when I turned sixteen. To give me incentive my father sat me down one day shortly after starting tenth grade.

"Well Rob, it's time for you to step up and start earning some money. Now, I'm not going to be a jerk about it. To give you some motivation me and your mom are going to buy you a car. We'll carry your insurance until you turn eighteen, but everything else will be up to you. Consider this an early Christmas present. When you turn eighteen we'll give you a share in the company stock and you can have a vote on the way things are run."

"Wow, Dad," I said. I knew I was expected to work in the store and I wasn't going to pitch a fit about it since I sure as hell didn't have much of a social life, but this was more than I had expected. "Sounds like a good deal to me."

"Great. We knew you weren't going to give us problems over this, but we thought you'd enjoy having a car and we trust you to not abuse the privilege. We'll hit the used car lots this weekend and get you started."

So that is what we did, and by the next Friday I was the proud owner of a 1967 Dodge Dart.

Of course, the first thing I thought of doing with my new car was taking Shantella on a date. I knew that she was in between boyfriends just then and so, on the Saturday after work I went down the street to the Brady house and knocked on the door.

Michael Brady opened up and grinned his leprechaun's grin at me. "Why if it isn't Rob Darson," he said, ushering me inside. "What can we do for you today, young Mr. Darson?"

"I was wondering if I could see Shantella," I said, stepping into their chocolate-smelling foyer. Kathleen was always baking something it seemed.

"Of course, lad. I'll just go get her for you."

Brady ambled off on his leprechaun legs and I waited, leaning on the stair rail.

"Rob," Shantella said, bouncing into view from the kitchen. "How are things?"

"Not bad and you?"

"Oh, so so," she said, leaning against the wall and giving me that amused look of hers. I think she knew what I was there for.

"Listen, I got a car this week."

"Uh huh."

I shuffled my feet. "doyawanna gooutwithme?" I muttered to my sneakers.

"I beg your pardon?" I could hear the laughter in her voice, but it wasn't really directed at me.

I took a deep breath and raised my gaze to Shantella's face. Laughter danced in her eyes, but it wasn't mean laughter. "Do you want to go out with me?" I got out, my voice jumping a bit with my heartbeat.

"Why yes, I'd be delighted," she said, and then couldn't hold it anymore. She laughed. "Oh Rob, that was so cute."

I was mortified-no straight guy in the world likes being called cute, but I had to admit it was kind of funny. I mean, I'd known her for years and I was nervous as though I had met her for the first time. We laughed together, and it felt good.

"So Nancy Albrite is throwing a party next Saturday, would you like to go to that with me? I'm sure I can get an invite."

Nancy was head cheerleader and a stuckup bitch, but I was going with Shantella and I didn't care so I said yes.

Shantella coming down the walk when I drove over to pick her up took my breath away. That glorious mane of fiery red curls spilling down her back, big sky blue eyes and full lips. And of course, she was about bursting out of her stretchy shirt. She gave me another one of those megawatt smiles as I held the car door open for her.

"I have a whole ten dollars," I said as I got in behind the wheel. "The evening fairly glitters before us."

"Oh my gawd," Shantella mock-swooned. "I always knew if I kept myself pure I'd meet a sugar daddy someday."

"That's me, baby," I said, doffing an invisible hat. "I figure we can get a bite to eat after the party since our curfews are midnight."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

I turned on the radio and got the new song by Foreigner, Dirty White Boy. Shantella bounced to the music and I was hard pressed to pay attention to the road.

The party was a typical boisterous high school affair. Nancy had just turned eighteen, and the drinking age had not yet been raised, so her parents sprung for a keg and left the house, getting a promise that nothing that would bring the cops would occur. There were probably fifty people there, most of them upperclassmen. Shantella looked eighteen and fit right in, but I looked like what I was, a dumb Sophomore.

When we got there Shantella asked me to get a drink. I said I would and left her to go find the refreshments. This was my first mistake. I should've kept her with me.

By the time I got her a coke and returned she was out on the floor with some meathead basketball player dancing to what was playing on the reel. I waited until the song was over then headed across the floor with her coke. She was standing there looking at me coming when another meathead came up and started dancing with her. His hand slipped down to her ass and she did nothing about it. What the fuck!

I headed across the floor and tapped the guy on the shoulder. "Scuse me, man, cutting in," I said.

"Beat it," the guy said, ignoring me.

"She's my date and I'm cutting in," I said, grabbing the guy's arm.

"Fuck off asshole," he said and swung at me.

I grabbed his wrist as it came at me, yanked and kicked the back of his knee lightly (no need to put him in the hospital.) He crashed to the floor and I dumped Shantella's coke on him. Shantella was hollering at me about being a jerk. I may have been hung up on Shantella for years, but I was no damn door mat, so I gave her a nasty look and left the party and used a few of my dollars to go to a movie and get a burger and fries.

The next Monday at school Nancy came up to me and said: "I should be pissed at you for making a scene at my party, but I'll thank you instead. That asshole Freddy wasn't even invited anyway."

"Well, I still apologize. That wasn't very mannerly of me."

"No matter. Your date is a little pissed at you though for abandoning her."

I just shrugged, wished Nancy a good morning and she flounced off.

Later at lunch I was sitting in the cafeteria off to one side picking over a wilted salad and going over my notes for Civics when Shantella sat down across from me. I looked up at her for about thirty seconds, and she didn't say anything (although if looks could kill I'd be decaying already) so I went back to my notes.

"Well Rob? I'm waiting."

I looked up from my notes again. "Waiting for what, Shantella?"

"I'm waiting for an apology for your behavior the other night."

"You will be waiting for a very long time if you're expecting an apology for what your behavior caused me to do," I said.

"My behavior? You act like a total ass and it's my fault?" The cool amusement was gone and I guess she was showing the fabled Irish temper, because her eyes flashed blue sparks and her cheeks were red. I could practically see the smoke coming out her ears.

"Yeah, your behavior. You send me to get a drink and then while I'm doing it you hook up with a guy to dance. NO big deal, but when you see me coming across the floor with your drink, you hook up with another guy and let him paw your ass. When I cut in to try and remind you who's date you are, the guy gets mouthy and physical, and when I get physical back, it's my fault? So it'll be a cold day in hell before you get an apology from me. Now if you don't mind I need to finish up this chapter." And I went back to my book.

She stared at me before getting up, nearly knocking the chair over in her fit of high dudgeon and stormed off. I shrugged and kept reading. Did I want Shantella? Hell yes I did. I wanted her like nobody's business. She filled my head at night and was the subject of my more risqué fantasies. I could see us growing old together. But. None of that changed the fact that I wasn't going to be a god damn doormat for her. She was so damn hot that she was used to controlling the pace of the relationship, because the poor dufus would do and put up with anything to be in her presence. But I wasn't going to play that fucking game. She might've been the hottest thing on two legs, with those gorgeous eyes and curls and massive breasts, but if I gave into her now she would begin to get the idea that she could control me. I wasn't having any of that.

It came as no surprise to me that I didn't hear from her for the next week. I didn't call or seek her out either. My days were spent keeping up with my homework and doing my job in the store. I thought about her all the time and I missed her, but I stayed away.

I was again sitting at lunch a week later when Shantella came up and once again sat across from me. She wasn't mad any more, but she looked kind of upset still.

"Hi Rob."

"Hi Shantella," I said.

"How have you been?"

"Not bad and you?"

"Could be better."

"Oh?"

She waited a beat. "I'm sorry Rob. You are right in that I should've handled things better at the party last weekend. My only excuse was that I was caught up in the dancing and just kinda let things get out of control. SO I'm sorry."

"That's okay Shantella. I guess I could've handled things better too." I wanted to say, "See how easy that was?" But I kept my mouth shut and was just grateful she even bothered to apologize at all.

There was a beat of silence and then: "Shall we try again?"

"How about dinner and a movie on Sunday?"

"I'd like that. Give me a call." She smiled at me, got up and strolled off, with me watching her every movement, along with about every other guy in the vicinity.

I called and we went out to the drive-in. She sat next to me and leaned on my shoulder. My hand was a scant inch above the huge swell of her breast, and I wanted so badly to move it down that extra inch. Her fiery red hair smelled of the watermelon shampoo she used. Her skin smelled like wildflowers. I was conscious of her every movement, and I flashed hot and cold every time she shifted. It was like being in the grips of a tropical fever. And of course, my cock was an iron bar down my leg. I was resigned to a furious session with my right hand when I got home.

As hung up as I was on her, I don't think she felt the same way. I didn't get the feeling that she did anything different with me that she didn't do with any other of her dates. To her I was probably just the dorky kid down the street.

Nevertheless we sort of found ourselves going together without really talking about it. We never got much beyond hand holding and kissing, although I was often sent home so bowlegged I could barely walk. We sat together at lunch, I gave her rides home from school and we kept company on the weekends.

So things went through the rest of tenth grade and on into the eleventh, all the way up to about a month before that year's Christmas dance.

"We need to talk, Rob," Shantella said to me one night shortly after Halloween. We were sitting in Dixy's Café, a student hangout, with burgers and fries on a Saturday night, after having gone to a little carnival, the last of the season. I had gotten to kiss her at the top of the Ferris Wheel and, daringly, I put a hand on her right breast. It was so big and soft and warm I almost came in my underwear. And she just smiled at me, as though she knew what just about happened.

Now we were sitting here and I had just been given that dreaded phrase.

"About what?"

She took a deep breath and fiddled with a ketchup bottle.

"I think we need to see other people for a while. We've been together for a long time and we should really see what others are like."

I wasn't stupid. I had overheard Shantella say that Roger Brennan was dreamy and how Harry Fry was hot as hell, but I had really expected her to stick with me. I did the only thing I could think of just then, I got up, walked out and left her sitting there. Dixy's was only a couple blocks from the house. Let her walk home.

The next day I got a phone call from her. "Why did you do that?"

"You didn't want to be with me anymore, so I was just giving you what you wanted," I barked, and hung up the phone. Was I being an asshole? You bet, but I was still seventeen and I never met a seveteen year old male who wasn't one at times.

Shantella made an effort to get in touch with me, but I ignored her, and two weeks after that she was going steady with Harry. I skipped going to the Christmas dance, because I didn't think I could bear the sight of her in Harry's arms.

After that Shantella was seen once again sampling all the male delights in our school. I even heard that she went to a frat house party on Memorial Day weekend, although I didn't know if it was true or not. It wouldn't surprise me if she had; she looked twenty-five and not at all like a high school girl. Whether or not she pulled a train like I heard I wasn't sure and I also wasn't sure if I wanted to find out. I didn't think she had, she liked male attention but she wasn't a slut. She dressed to show off her assets, but like I said, as far as I knew she was still a virgin. We never got far enough in our dating career to discuss sex and the closest I got to first base was touching her breast on that Ferris Wheel.

I meanwhile began dating. What's good for the goose is good for the gander, right? I went to a couple of New Year's parties with Shelley Hawkins. Shantella gave me nasty looks all through the evening, which I found funny inasmuch as she was there with Blake Roberts and he seemed to be made of all hands.