Chapter One: The Incident

HER FATE WAS DECIDED thirty-one years ago, twenty-one years before she was born, in a U.S. Steel foundry in Pittsburgh. It was hairline weaknesses, slight imperfections, in three large bolts when they were cast, the result of an infinitesimal breeze unfelt by tired workers cooling the molten metal slightly too quickly. Three decades of harsh winters followed, assaulting the small flaws, freeze-thaw cycles alone weakening them. Huge compressive forces torqued and twisted them as hundreds of tons of iron and steel regularly passed overhead, each event lengthening the invisible fractures buried deep inside, invisible to all but an x-ray.

It was a relatively light load that finally broke them apart, a single heavy engine vibrating within a specific harmonic range that, when added to the vertical and lateral stresses, caused a catastrophic failure. Engineers had calculated a safety range, allowing for the unthinkable to happen while maintaining safety, but too many years of torsional twisting and heavy pounding took their toll.

On a Saturday, in mid afternoon, sunny and mild, with autumn reds, oranges and browns making a spectacular carpet of color, at a gentle curve, the hairline cracks finally spread in a sudden, total failure, three nine-inch cast steel bolts shearing as a locomotive engine approached at a hefty seventy miles an hour. The heavy steel rail slipped one and a half inches laterally to the right before the strain was taken up by the remaining bolts and rail clips. It was enough.

The four hundred thousand pound locomotive engine thundering into the bend slipped off the rail. A catastrophic crash occurred, the engine plowing into gravel and slewing across rails and ties, dragging everything with it. Like an accordion, passenger railcars piled up behind, the nearest crushed into half its size, thunderous screeching noises filling the air.

Unsuspecting passengers screamed as they were suddenly thrown from their seats like rag dolls and, as the leading rail cars turned on their sides and were crushed together, passengers were cruelly killed by seats meant to comfort, by safety glass meant to protect, and by heavy steel torn apart to become scything rapiers of death.

One miracle occurred that fateful afternoon, one incredible surprise. Out of the wreck, out of the second passenger car, walked a single survivor, a young girl, stunned and disoriented, confused, yet seemingly completely unharmed with only a slight scratch on her forehead. Rescue workers were at a loss as to how she survived. It was a miracle they decided. Crash investigators couldn't understand how she could come through the event without being killed. It was a miracle they decided. Neither found the ugly purple bruise hidden by her thick dark brown, almost raven hair.

Child services took the little girl into their impersonal embrace and started the long process of finding and notifying the next of kin. The child, in shock, spoke no words. It wasn't that she couldn't speak. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak. No. She was struggling.

That hidden bruise was the only sign of a much heavier trauma, an impact that changed something inside her brain. She was scared, hearing voices but unable to see who was talking. She was confused, voices contradicting themselves; the nice matronly lady telling her, "everything will be okay, sweetheart," yet immediately hearing her feeling sorry for the future she was going to experience; "It's going to be so rough for the poor dear."

She was scared. She didn't like hearing people speaking with closed mouths. There was something disturbing about it, unnatural, not right. She was confused by how, whenever they were near her, they contradicted themselves, saying one thing aloud, saying the opposite with closed mouths. She didn't understand. It confused and frightened her.

Scared, alone, and frightened by the chaos around her, she retreated into the recesses of her mind. She didn't speak, afraid of everyone, strangers all. What had happened? Where was Mom? Where was Dad?

It was a chubby lady looking at her with kindness who told her without opening her mouth, "Poor, dear. Both parents gone. No wonder she's not talking."

Curled up, hiding inside herself, tears slipping from tightly closed eyes, she wished desperately for the world to go away, the pain to go away. Mom! Dad!

A normally bright, outward-going girl descended into her personal Hell, retreating from a harsh world, seeking solace inside herself, alone, so alone.

Chapter Two: In Search of Harry

"Mrs. Kennedy?"

Mary glanced up from her desk. Jack, her supervisor and head of Child Services, was standing in front of her, weak sunlight flashing off his gold wire-framed glasses. "Yes?"

"Have we found out who the girl is?"

His voice was curt. Yet she knew he was a deeply caring man. Dealing with the onslaught of abused, lost, abandoned, orphaned, or rejected children took its toll on them all, a veneer of indifference developing as self-protection, the only way for caring people to survive. It was now two weeks after the train crash, progress coming too slowly.

"Julia Dempsy. Ten years old. Apparently she goes by the nickname Jules, at least according to neighbors," Mary told Jack.

Jack smiled. "Any surviving relatives?"

"Yes Sir. One uncle."

"Good. Have you contacted him?"

"That's proving to be a bit of a problem," Mary said, still feeling the frustration of trying to track the uncle down.

"Well get to it," he ordered. Placing children with relatives was the best of often terrible scenarios. When there was a relative available to care for a child, all the stops needed to be pulled out.

"Sir?" Mary waited for Jack to turn back, a frown on his face. "He won't be available for another two weeks."

"Why not?"

"The Government refused to say. Just that he was unreachable until a week next Tuesday."

Jack sighed. "Okay. Just make sure you pressure them every day, Mary. Government agencies have a tendency to forget," he said, adding with a wry smile, "so let's not, okay?"

"Yes Sir." She glanced down at the file folder on her cheap metal desk, pulled it closer, opening it. What exactly was Tactical Support Services? She'd never heard of it. They wouldn't even tell her where they were located. Eighteen calls! Eighteen calls bounced from person to person just to find them. Some days Mary felt like her job was hopeless.

Chapter Three: A Very Special Girl

"That's it, Harry. Get out of here. I don't want to see your ugly mug for another six weeks."

I GRINNED AT PETER Munk, my nominal boss and friend. He looked more tired than I felt, bags under his eyes, getting a bit jowly in his early fifties, grey-streaked hair thinning up top.

"When are you taking some time off?" I asked. "You look like a bag of dirt, Peter."

"Yeah. Fuck you very much. Get out of here. You deserve a rest. That was a good job." He rose from behind the expansive varnished oak desk, reaching out to shake my hand. "Oh. Forgot." Grabbing a pink message slip, he held it out. "You're to contact Mary Kennedy."

"Who's she?"

"How the hell would I know, Harry? Do you think we have time to investigate everyone that calls us? She's called every day for two weeks asking for you." He handed the message slip across. "Go."

I decided to stop by my office, even though I was tired, exhausted from forty-eight hours of debriefing. Syria had been brutal. Striding in, I noticed a pile of paper on the small battle-scarred metal desk. I compared it to the varnished empty expanse of Peter's desk. It wasn't the first time I noticed the difference in accommodations fifty feet and two floors down could make. Some things definitely flowed downhill, just not luxury.

"Could I speak to Mary Kennedy, please?" I asked, fiddling with the pink message slip after dialing; Georgia area code I noted. Idly I looked at the pile of pink message slips on my desk, more than usual after a mission. I'd leave them for when I returned.

"Speaking."

She had a pleasant, raspy voice, sort of sexy, maybe late forties? A smoker, I thought.

"This is Harry Dempsy. You called to speak to me?"

"Oh. Yes. Thank you for calling, Mr. Dempsy. Please accept my condolences for your brother and his wife. With the chaos of the train derailment we've . . ."

I felt the floor drop away, her voice fading. Condolences? As in dead? Mike dead? Mike? She must be mistaken. I'd have heard. Surely someone would have notified me. "Hold on, Mrs. Kennedy. Are you sure you've got the right person?" I asked, leaning over, suddenly unsteady, holding myself up with one hand on the desk. I saw the pile of pink message slips again and scrabbled through them reading names and phone numbers I didn't recognize. The train derailment had been international news. But no one had contacted me.

"Yes, Mr. Dempsy. I'm so sorry. Obviously you were not informed. Terrible. You should not have heard the news this way. I'm really very sorry. We did leave messages."

Lowering myself into the ratty old office chair, I took a deep breath, memories flooding back, Mike laughing at me as he dunked me in the pond when we were kids, Mike thrashing a bully after seeing my black eye, Mike grinning as he smoked one of Dad's purloined cigars, Mike at my side, his arm around me when we buried our parents, Mike grinning at his wedding, Mike puffed up, so proud of his baby daughter in his arms, Mike and I sipping beer reminiscing while Jules played with Kate in the back yard, a barbecue warming up, steaks waiting.

"Did you say Kate died, too?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

I heard the care in her voice. Then it hit. "Jules! What about Jules, Julie?"

"That's why I've been calling. She's fine. Well, not fine, but unharmed as best we can tell. She's in the State children's home here. I've been trying to get a hold of you for almost four weeks. We were . . ."

"I'll be right there. Wait. Where? Where is she?" I asked desperately.

It took three hours to get to Macon, Georgia. It was not what I'd consider the most scenic of American cities. And, like almost all government offices, Child Services was housed in a dreary four story rectangular office building. I was quite sure it had been designed to be purposely dreary, the architect an anally retentive miser unprepared to let the slightest flourish desecrate the angular perfection of his minimalist edifice, or, more likely, government bureaucrats limiting esthetic appeal on the grounds it would be a needless expense, the tax-payers money better off in their pockets.

Inside was no better. White walls had given up the ghost, fading to a dirty tired cream; linoleum was worn through in spots, its vague pattern no longer discernible. The depressing building smelled of body odor, futility, burnt coffee, and stale air; depressing.

I found Mary Kennedy on the third floor, in a small cubicle-of-an-office with a bare metal desk that I recognized immediately as coming from the same manufacturer as mine, probably the same vintage, too. Behind her the dirt and smog-stained window acted more efficiently than curtains at keeping sunlight out. She was motherly, rotund with a kind, if stressed face, bright blue eyes, and dark red lips of a smoker. She was right handed, the left hand fingertips stained yellow with nicotine. She looked harried and tired and probably was, judging by the piles of file folders on her desk. A small wilting African violet struggled for life on the corner of her desk.

"Mrs. Kennedy?" I inquired.

"Yes?" Her voice was raspy, sexy.

"Harry Dempsy," I informed her, holding out my hand.

"Oh. Yes." She stood, shaking my hand across the small desk. "Julie is here. We've put her in a meeting room while we waited for you. Please, have a seat." She motioned me to a hard wood chair. "Before I take you to her, I have some formalities to take care of. Could you give me some photo ID?" she asked as she rifled through a stack of folders, finding and pulling one out.

She opened it as I handed her my driver's license and continued.

"Julie is physically well. Can I ask, how long has it been since you last saw her?" Mary asked, handing the license back after jotting the number in her file.

"She was . . . four, I think." Had it really been five years since I'd last seen my brother?

"I see. I think I should prepare you. There's a chance Julie will not recognize you or remember you if it's been five years since she last saw you, especially if she was only four at the time." A soft worry entered Mary's eyes. "There's also another problem."

Worry hit me like a punch to my gut. Leaning forward I asked, somewhat forcefully, overly loudly, "What? I thought you said she wasn't injured."

"Yes. I did. She wasn't," Mary interjected quickly. "But, since the accident she hasn't said a word. In fact, she seems to shrink away from social contact. We've been unable to find out what's disturbing her; she hasn't responded to the department psychologist. It seems to me that . . ."

JULES SAT QUIETLY, THE room empty. She didn't fidget even though her bum was going numb. She liked the solitude, being alone. She liked the quiet. The nice lady had told her Uncle Harry was coming to pick her up. That was okay. But she really didn't remember her uncle that well.

The door opened and disrupted her thoughts.

Looking up, she saw the nice lady come in. Behind, she saw a man. Her heart lurched. Dad! No. Not Dad. Must be Uncle Harry. Tears prickled her eyes. He looked just like Dad, the same dark brown hair, the same lean face, straight nose, firm jaw. His dark brown eyes radiated the same intelligence, his soft smile so familiar. Just like Dad, only younger, thinner.

Her heart constricted. She swallowed, holding back tears and sorrow that threatened to swamp her.

I RECOGNIZED JULES IMMEDIATELY. She was a spitting image of her mother, shoulder-length thick dark brown, almost raven hair that wasn't curly as much as wavy, button nose, and almost classical lips on a wide mouth. But she also had the one feature her mother had had, the one that had stunned me the first time I'd met her; glittering emerald green eyes. Jesus, Jules was simply stunning. She was going to be as beautiful as her mother, I thought.

I watched a small, shy smile appear on her face. Yes, definitely pretty. When her smile grew, I found myself smiling, too.

"Hey," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Harry. I don't know if you remember me. I'm your uncle."

JULES LIKED HOW HE thought she was pretty. She liked that he thought Mom was beautiful. But what she really, really liked was his honesty. He meant what he was saying. In the home, over the last three weeks, she'd figured out what it was that disturbed her so. She was hearing people think; only when they were near her, though. She'd discovered adults lied, saying one thing and thinking another. It was disturbing, unsettling. How was she supposed to know what they meant? Some pretended to be nice and had ugly thoughts, others pretending to care.

She'd hidden away in her bed, avoiding people, unable to understand them or handle them. She'd discovered she didn't like people; they contradicted themselves too much. Did she do it, too? She didn't think so.

Staring into Uncle Harry's eyes, she heard exactly what he was saying mirrored in his thoughts. It made her smile. It was refreshing. She shook his hand carefully, not prepared to speak just yet.

I MANAGED TO GET us to the airport just in time for an early afternoon flight. Afternoon sun streamed through the oval airplane window on the right side as we jetted south towards the Merritt Island Airport, just outside of Cape Canaveral, Florida. The drone of the small commuter Bombardier CS300 airplane pulled at my eyelids, drowsiness hovering close. Why did I always want to sleep in planes? Jules had been silent the whole time, yet it didn't feel as if she was afraid, or traumatized. It felt like she just didn't want to talk. That was okay, I decided. She, more than anyone, was entitled.

I'd noticed her behave a bit oddly. Checking-in at the airport, I'd seen her wince once for no apparent reason, smile at a grandfatherly gentleman, and frown and shy away from the airport security guard before skittering through the body scanner. I didn't understand why she was reacting like that, but assumed eventually she'd tell me.

My thoughts turned to her house. I'd need to get her things collected and delivered. I couldn't let her go back and suffer all over again, see her home and all the now painful memories it contained. I couldn't let her hurt like that. It was too soon. I'd have to keep everything for her, though. Who were the lawyers handling the estate? Maybe I'd have someone send all her possessions and put everything else in storage until she could face looking at them.

"It's okay. I don't mind."

"Don't mind what?" I asked, distracted by how pleasant her voice was.

"I don't mind seeing Mom and Dad's stuff."

"Oh. All right then. If you're sure," I said. "Wait! Hold up! Did I say that out loud?" I was quite sure I had been silent, just thinking.

Jules giggled lightly. "No. You didn't."

"Okay then. No. Wait just a minute. If I didn't say it out loud what . . . how . . .?"

Jules glanced up at me and smiled. Jeez, that's a pretty smile, I decided. Her smile broadened.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome . . . Just a minute!" Confusion rained down on me. "What was the 'thanks' for?"

"For liking my smile," she answered calmly.

JULES SMILED AGAIN, LOVING his confusion, his warm eyes wide with intrigue. Uncle Harry was a really nice guy, she decided. He had a good heart. She decided she liked him, he was comfortable. She watched him as he thought about and replayed the last few comments. She smiled again wondering how long it would take him.

It was fascinating hearing him argue with himself. It was almost like there were two people inside him. She grinned when she heard his conclusion.

WELL I'LL BE A donkey's ass. She must be hearing me think. It must be. It couldn't be anything else. I could swear I didn't open my mouth. But, how? It wasn't possible, was it? But, wasn't it Sherlock Holmes that said 'eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'?

Oh crap! If she can hear me I'm royally fu . . . No! Don't even think it, Harry. Wait, that grin. She heard me. Damn! Bugger! Stop Harry!

I heard a giggle.

I looked at her, bright emeralds sparkling, a smile of pure amusement curling her lips. Can she really hear?

"Uh-huh," she nodded, her smile growing.

"You hear everyone?" I asked, still awed, still not really believing it.

"Only if they're close," Jules said.

"Close? As in a relative?"

She giggled. "No. Near close."

"Hmm. How close?"

"Dunno. Like to there," she answered pointing to a seat across the aisle.

"Six feet or so, huh?"

Jules nodded.

"Can you, um . . . turn it off?" I asked, suddenly feeling trepidation.

"Dunno. I've never tried."

Oh crap. This was going to be . . . Her giggle interrupted the thought. Bugger! She heard! Jesus Harry, stop thinking! And stop swearing!

JULES WAS FINDING IT funny for the first time since it had started. Uncle Harry trying to behave was hilarious. His language was funny and she still hadn't heard a nasty thought from him. He was nice, genuinely nice. Then she heard his question, but waited until he asked aloud. Sometimes it was like that, people thinking it before saying it.

"Jules, back at the airport, what made you frown? And that older man made you smile, why?"

She glanced up at him. "The old man decided I reminded him of his granddaughter. He thought I was pretty, too."

"Ah. Got it."

IN THE SILENCE THAT followed, I realized she'd answered only one question. What about the frown? Turning, she frowned at me and answered before I opened my mouth. Damn. This was going to take some getting used to.

"The security guy wished he could see inside my panties with the scanner. He thought I'd be a nice bit. I don't know what it meant, but, yuck!"

A flash of anger hit. I'd lodge a complaint. That shit! I'd go back and beat the living . . .

"Don't worry about it, Uncle Harry."

I damn well would! "Harry. Just Harry, okay?"

"Okay, Just Harry."

I chuckled.

We arrived at my home mid-afternoon, around three-fifteen. I had a small bungalow-style house backing onto a waterway. It wasn't much, but it fit me perfectly. Besides, my real pride and joy was tied up at the dock at the bottom of the lawn, a fifty-four-foot Hatteras GT54, equipped for sport fishing.

JULES WANDERED THROUGH HARRY'S small house studying it. "It's nice, Harry," she called out. "I like it." She liked how it backed onto a waterway, boats slowly passing. Grinning to herself, she remembered how, on the plane, he'd started humming in his mind. It was cute how he worried he'd think something bad. She'd tried to turn it off and found she could, with a huge effort, ignore the voices, make them sound like background noise. She didn't tell Harry, though. It was far too much fun listening to him. Besides, it was hard to do. It took a lot of effort.

Jules dumped her backpack in the small spare bedroom, inspecting the mirrored closet. She bounced her bum on the twin bed, satisfied it was soft, glanced out the window to see water, nice, and studied the small desk, bare wood, rather stark. The floor needed a rug. The white walls needed something. All-in-all, it was smaller than her room at home, but okay.

Sadness flowed in as she remembered her own room; her posters and desk and stuffed animals - Lucy the bunny, especially. She shook herself and went on inspecting the rest of the house.

I BENT, SLIPPING THE primed vacuum hose into the skimmer inlet and stood, ready to vacuum up a month's worth of accumulated dirt in the pool. Somehow dirt got in even with a pool cover. At least the automatic chemical dispenser worked. I'd rather a dirty pool than a green one any day. I hated vacuuming, though.

What was it about Floridians? Every home had a bloody pool. At least it had seemed that way when I was house hunting. Why did you need a pool when you backed onto a waterway? I didn't like the pool. At one point I had calculated it was costing me $172.50 every time I had a swim, when taking electricity, chemicals and my time into account. That was $17.25 per toe! I had decided to fill it in, until I found out how much that cost. Un-fucking-believable!

I heard Jules calling out something indistinct. Sounded like she was in the kitchen. Now she was nowhere near me, I could think freely. I was in real trouble, I decided. I'd never considered how to control ones thoughts. With the exception of training to defeat lie detector tests, I pretty much let conscious thought flow unrestrained, let it roam freely in the convoluted corridors of my mind. I mean, that's what made life interesting; being outwardly polite when an idiot civil servant suggested something stupendously ridiculous and inwardly thinking evil, snarky thoughts while congratulating the idiot on his or her ridiculous contribution. How did one handle normal social interaction with someone like Jules? I was so used to shielding myself, Jules' ability truly frightened me.

There were some thoughts that should never see the light of day. We all have them, little lies that grease relationships, dark truths that are only let out when alone in the depth of night, and naughty little desires that are highly inappropriate for young ears. Just what was I supposed to do? To top it all off, I never realized how much I swore mentally. It was fucking astonishing!

Oops.

I saw Jules through the sliding glass doors. She smiled and waved. I waved back. Jeez she was a pretty thing. I'd had a secret lust for Kate, Jules' mother, when I first met her and felt absurdly jealous of my brother. She'd been stunningly beautiful, tall and willowy, with perfectly proportioned curves and swells in all the right places. I'd been mesmerized by the contrast of her thick, dark, almost raven mane of hair that tumbled down her slim back and sparkling emerald eyes. I'd never seen anything quite so arresting or beautiful. Seeing Jules was like seeing Kate as a child. The only difference, with the exception of age, was a hint of youthful mischief that Jules seemed to exude at times.

Patting my back pocket, I pulled out a box of Marlboros, lit one, inhaling the smoke deeply, enjoying the rush of nicotine as I slowly vacuumed the pool. It was my one weakness. Four cigarettes a day. Four. No more, no less. It didn't impair my physical fitness in any way. Besides, Phillip Morris had promised it wouldn't harm my health, hadn't they? Yeah, right. I tossed the pack and book of matches on the patio table and took another puff. I had serious problems to work out.

"Why do you smoke?"

I jumped, so preoccupied I hadn't seen Jules step out.

"It's a terrible habit, unhealthy, addictive, expensive and socially unfriendly," I advised.

"So why do you smoke?"

Cuz I like it, I didn't say. "I'm addicted. But, I'm trying to cut down." Not.

Jules stared at me, a thoughtful look on her pretty face. A sudden smile emerged. "Okay. When's dinner? I haven't eaten in ages and I'm hungry."

"It's only four o'clock, Jules. Go get a snack."

"Kay. What's for dinner anyway?"

"Steaks and baked potatoes. Is that okay?" It was the only thing I could think of when I'd made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way back.

"Uh-huh." She wandered off, heading back inside, her gaze turning to the waterway inspecting the tied up boat.

I was preparing the steaks, salt and pepper with some Montreal Steak Spice, my saliva buds working at the sight of inch-and-a-half thick pure steer, when I heard coughing. Sniffing the air, I thought I smelled smoke through the open kitchen window. What the fuck?

Charging out of the sliding glass doors, I spotted Jules trying to hide around the corner, stamping on the ground, wafting smoke away from her face.

"Jules!"

Two bright green eyes looked up, the face of guilt fading behind emerging innocence. "Yeah?" she asked, faint traces of smoke emerging. She coughed. Her hand disappeared behind her back. I caught a flash of red, my Marlboros.

"What the . . ."

"You said you like it. I wanted to try," she interrupted, a grin appearing. "It's yucky. You shouldn't smoke."

Damn, shit and bugger! She'd read my mind!

"And don't swear so much," she added.

Fuck!

"Ooooh, that's a bad one."

"Damn!" I exclaimed.

Turning, I stomped off a safe six feet away and let loose, mentally swearing up a storm and stamping the ground at my lack of control. Her giggles only made me swear harder until she started coughing again. I smiled, suddenly feeling malicious. Serves her right! And then, when I'd calmed down enough, I started laughing. She'd looked so funny, that feigned innocence was quite charming.

"You're not mad, then?" she asked.

"No. Listen, next time you want to try something, just ask, okay? I'm pretty easy going about most stuff."

She grinned, holding out my pack of Marlboros to me. "Deal."

Dinner was a hit for both of us, Jules quite fascinating to me. She was so expressive and inquisitive. I found just absorbing myself in her personality banished all other thoughts from mind. It made it easier when I had no thoughts and just drowned in her, or at least safer.

But, it had been a long day, emotionally trying for both of us. Jules went to bed early. I cleaned up and, with a beer in hand, went and sat on the patio to have another cigarette. The warm Florida evening felt good, crickets chirping, humidity finally receding as a cooling breeze drifted in from the Atlantic. It brought a faintly briny, fishy scent with it that I found particularly pleasing. Maybe I'd take Jules out deep sea fishing. Would she like that?

Stubbing out the cigarette, I swigged the dregs of warm beer from the bottle and headed in, feeling fatigue pulling at me. Sadness appeared, a feeling of loss. Memories of Mike stole back, melancholy on its heels.

After changing and brushing my teeth, I decided to take a quick look in on Jules before going to bed.

JULES FELT SADNESS RETURN, unable to stop it. Nights were the worse. It felt like a black tide flowing in, full of pain, sorrow, and loss. Her chest hurt, constricted and heavy. Don't think, Jules, don't think!

Tears prickled her closed eyes. She rolled onto her side, curling up, hugging her knees, aching inside. Mom, Dad, I miss you so much. She sniffed, nose plugging up. A motorboat chugged past, the gentle noise filtering through her open window.

Stop crying, Jules, she admonished herself. But it hurt so much.

She heard him enter her room, felt the bed dip, her body slipping back. She felt him, his arms slipping around her to envelop her, holding her so gently, wrapping her in care. In the silence of the night, she heard his sorrow for her, heard him wish he could make her feel better, take the pain away. A smile twitched her lips when she heard him think she was a pretty girl. She sighed, comforted by his kindness. A bit of pain went away. Sleep arrived, unconsciousness welcomed.

Chapter Four: Learning to Live With Jules

SUN STREAMING IN THROUGH the window warmed my skin. I shivered. Where was the blanket? I remembered. My body ached. I still had Jules in my arms. I hadn't moved all night. Had she? With infinite care, I removed myself, slipping out of her room.

In the shower I decided it was lucky I had six weeks off. But, what then? Shaving, I concluded I might have to look for a housekeeper. Did they have live-in housekeepers? How much did they cost? Where would I put her anyway with only two bedrooms? Maybe I'd have to sell the Hatteras and move. Damn. Well, if that's what it took. Brushing my teeth, I decided I'd give it three or four weeks before making any decision. The most pressing problem was how to help Jules manage her loss. It hurt me enough losing my only remaining family, and made Jules that much more precious to me. God knows how hard it must be on her.

The coffee tasted wonderful. I loved early mornings in Florida, the first beam of sun beginning to warm my skin, the outside temperature comfortably perfect, humidity a couple of hours away, and the world quiet except for early fishing enthusiasts passing in their burbling boats. I loved the scent of water.

"Morning Harry."

Glancing over my shoulder, Jules, mussed and still sleepy, was stepping out of the kitchen. She looked marvelous, eyes glittering in the light. Her red pajamas looked like flannel, too warm, I decided. I liked her messy hair, though. The memory of how she smelled when she was sleeping suddenly came back strongly. Yes, Jules was a remarkably pretty girl.

"Thanks," she said with a smile.

Shit! I forgot! Oops.

Her giggle was heartwarming.

"So," I began, "what do you want to do today? Aside from shopping, that is."

"What do we need to buy?"

"Food. Have you seen the cupboards?" I asked. "I thought some lighter pajamas, too."

"Oh. Okay."

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

She looked at me and smiled. "Good, really good. But now I feel really tired and ache. How come?"

"Stress. It does that to people."

"Don't like it," she muttered, climbing into one of the patio chairs.

"Want breakfast?"

"Yeah. Bacon and eggs! I'm hungry."

"Sorry. No bacon. Actually, no eggs either." I hadn't shopped properly since returning; just the steaks last night.

"Pancakes?"

"Sorry."

"Cereal?" she asked hopefully.

"What kind?" I asked.

"Apple Cinnamon Cheerios!"

"Sorry."

Jules paused, looked at me as if I was a twit. "If you don't have anything, how come you asked?"

"Well, that's a good question," I replied.

"And?"

"And what?" I asked, trying to hide a grin.

"You're a dope," she grumbled. A smile broke out. "Okay, so let's go."

"Go where?" I tried to look innocent.

"Jeez Harry, skiing, what do you think?"

Shopping was a hoot. I took her to Macy's, too, so she could get more appropriate pajamas for Florida. She chose a couple of red sets. That night I was to learn why red.

Dinner was a very successful meal of hotdogs and fries liberally dipped in Heinz ketchup. We cleaned up and TV time arrived. I was beginning to understand Jules. When she was concentrating on something, she didn't appear to hear me. I also discovered if I totally concentrated on what she was saying, gave her my undivided attention, I didn't have errant thoughts that would embarrass me. I'd never paid so much attention to anyone in my life. It was quite interesting. Jules was a rather likable little girl, full of piss and vinegar . . . in a nice way.

After dinner, she'd gone off to shower and arrived in the den in her new pair of light cotton red pajamas, looking very pleased with herself.

"Nice, huh?" she said posing slightly for me to approve her choice before plunking down on the couch, reaching for the remote control and changing the channel for no apparent reason. Then she hopped up again.

"Forgot."

When she came back into the den, she waved a yellow bag at me. "Peanut M&Ms! Yum!" She plunked down next to me, changed the channel again to some movie and seemed satisfied.

I watched her, sitting next to me on the couch, legs sticking out in front, one eye on the movie, the other carefully removing all the red peanut M&Ms from the bag and setting them aside in her lap. I was intrigued. "What are you doing, Jules?"

She glanced up at me. "I'm sorting," she advised in a tone of voice that told me she thought I was a bit of a dunce again.

"I know that. Why?" I asked.

"I save the best-tasting ones for last."

I was almost hypnotized by her sorting; red, just red peanut M&Ms being carefully selected, other colors popped into her mouth. Absolutely fascinating. "They all taste the same, you know," I told her.

She looked up at me again and, with total seriousness, politely told me they do not. "Red ones taste better." She held her hand out towards me, a precious red peanut M&M in it. "Here, try one."

Jeez, she was serious! How cute was that? It tasted like a peanut M&M to me. She proceeded to explain. She had my complete and utter attention, even though I was straining to withhold a smile.

"Red tastes better, Harry," she started, hands waving in the air. "Like ketchup, and apples, and twizzlers, and . . . watermelon, yum, can we get some? And spaghetti sauce, and chocolate ice cream and . . ."

"Hold on," I interrupted. "Chocolate ice cream isn't red."

She looked at me with pity for my sad ignorance. "It's in a red carton, Harry," she told me. "Can we get some?" she inquired hopefully, green eyes twinkling.

"Sure." Smiling, I wondered what would happen if I put Brussel sprouts in a red bag, would she eat them? Maybe I'd try, as a test.

"No, I wouldn't. So don't," she answered with a giggle.

Bugger! Forgot again.

That night Jules felt the dark tide rolling in as she laid in bed. Remembering how Harry had helped, needing peace, comfort, and the security of someone she liked, she crawled out of bed.

I saw her in my doorway.

"Harry?"

I didn't need to ask. It was all over her pretty face, sorrow, fear, loneliness. Holding up the covers I said, "Come on. Sleep here. I need company. I've been feeling a bit lonely, too."

Her relieved smile shook me with its sad beauty. She ran, jumped in, pulling the covers over her as if hiding from the world and snuggled to my side as I watched TV. I heard her sigh. I felt her press her face into my side as if she was trying to climb inside me. I something inside me changed when I put my arm around her to comfort her. I didn't recognize what it was, but I felt good.

I wasn't aware at that point that she'd never leave my bed again. But, over the next four weeks, Jules charmed me with her personality, her playfulness and a wide streak of pure impishness. Every day she got better, her psyche healing. Every day I got worse.

Chapter Five: The 'Un-hide-able' Truth

I inhaled deeply, drawing smoke into my lungs, enjoying the hit of nicotine, my first cigarette of the day. The late afternoon heat beat down on me. Watching Jules swimming and splashing in the pool, I had to smile. She was as cunning as a fox at times. I never regretted having Jules live with me. Not once. But life was so hard. It had proved so difficult to shield thoughts around her. At first, I took to keeping a safe six plus feet away from her whenever I needed to think. She seemed to think that was really funny, laughing at me and taking a step towards me just so she could see me move.

Then, she'd not react for a while, lulling me into a lapse, and suddenly grinning at my thoughts, some of which she should not have heard at ten years old. She seemed to try to make me swear, giggling when she succeeded, which she did . . . far too often for my comfort.

I found her personality magnetically attractive. She was filling my life, filling a void I'd never been aware of and filling it to excess.

A flush of heat ran through me as I remembered Monday morning, two days ago. It still embarrassed me. I'd woken with Jules cuddled into me, her leg between mine, her face buried in my chest. I'd woken to the feel of her soft sleeping breath gently wafting the hair on my chest. I'd worn pajama bottoms only, as I always did. In that first luxurious phase of consciousness, where worries have yet to appear, I'd basked in the feel of hugging Jules. She'd felt so good in my arms, her soft sleepy scent wafting up to me. She'd felt petite and cuddly and comfortable. I'd stayed quiet, not moving an inch just so I could bask in the emotional warmth she was giving me. She felt so damned good. When I'd imagined her sleeping in her own bed, I'd felt a loss. It didn't surprise me in the least when I realized I was going to miss her sleeping next to me.

"No you won't," she'd murmured, snuggling closer. "I'm staying right here, always."

I'd smiled. The minx was awake. And then she'd moved closer, her leg slipping deeper between mine and an unfortunate reaction occurred.

It may have been the warm bundle in my arms. It may have been the attractiveness of her personality. I didn't know what it was. But I'd reacted in a very unacceptable way; a totally, completely unacceptable way. I jerked out of bed as if I'd been electrocuted, making for the bathroom. Don't think, don't think, for God's sake, don't think! La, la-la-la, la-la-la, mmm, mmm.

From behind the bathroom door, waiting for the embarrassment to subside, I'd heard Jules.

"Don't think what, Harry?"

"None of your business!" I'd yelled back.

"Kay. Hurry up. I need the toilet."

She was a remarkably bright little girl and, under any other circumstances, I'd have been unusually proud of her. But when she turned her smarts to finding out what happened that morning, I didn't appreciate her at all; not at all. With consummate skill she'd waited, demonstrating a cunning I'd never have suspected. She'd waited for several hours to pass, waiting for a moment when I'd be distracted, my guard down.

She'd found it as I'd rinsed down the boat. I'd been preparing to take it out for the first time in three months; bringing it out of hibernation. With the hose spewing fresh water on the foredeck, Jules sitting on the gunwales, feet hanging over the side, leaning back on straight arms, she'd spoken, deceptively calmly.

"Harry? What did you not want to think about this morning?"

I'd immediately remembered getting an erection when her knee pressed into my crotch, her soft warm body cuddled to me.

"Oooh, you did? Really?"

Fuck!

"That's a bad one. You shouldn't swear, Harry."

God damn it!

Her giggles made me angrier with myself. I'd thrown the hose down and retreated to a safe distance, watching to make sure she didn't follow me. Damn! Damn!

"Listen, young lady," I'd started with force, wagging my finger at her. "You can't do that. It's not fair."

"Do what? And what's wrong with getting an erection?"

"Don't you play all innocent with me," I'd said gruffly. "You did this deliberately. It wasn't fair. I should have some privacy . . . And you should be embarrassed."

She'd looked chagrinned but not embarrassed in the least.

I drew another puff of smoke deep into my lungs, the calming narcotic effect of nicotine permeating my body. Watching her splash about in the pool, I smiled. I'd pretty much given up, ceded the battlefield to her. I came to accept it was impossible to live with her and have any privacy. I was even beginning to be less embarrassed at some of my thoughts. I couldn't help it if I thought she was stunningly pretty with that thick dark shoulder-length hair and blazingly attractive green eyes. She was.

It was an impossible situation. The angst and effort of controlling my thoughts was just too difficult. It was unnatural, impossible. So I gave up. On the good side, Jules seemed to be a remarkably relaxed girl, not given to flights of fancy or deep mood swings. I saw her darkness, especially when she was tired. But even that was easing off.

I had to admit I liked her a lot. I was becoming accustomed to rolling over in the morning at the first sign of an erection; accustomed to hearing her giggle behind me. I learned not to swear with such colorful sailor words, settling for a more religious tone. I was sure God wouldn't be upset.

I watched Jules climb up the pool ladder, noting how her one-piece bathing suit stuck to her body like a second skin. She was all beanpole and hair and lovely bum. Then she turned to approach and I noted she was also all . . . Jesus Christ, Harry! Don't think that you twit!

She was also far too skinny, I decided as she neared the table reaching for her towel.

"Am not," she claimed, wrapping a towel around her. It no longer surprised me. I had become used to her joining my mental conversation.

"Tomorrow, Deep Sea fishing, Jules."

"Ooh. Good. Is it fun?"

"Nope. A total bore. But I like drinking beer while I fish. You'll like it, too."

"You're gonna give me beer? Great!" she stated enthusiastically, eyes widening, a spark of interest entering her magnetic eyes.

"No. You'll like me drinking beer while I fish," I answered with a chuckle.

"Dope."

As Jules disappeared into the house, I could still feel the smile on my face. I was really quite enamored with her. She was magnetically attractive. Jules hit my sense of funny perfectly. She had a wry sense of humor, an impish streak a mile wide that I found completely charming, and sass that made me flush with pride for some reason. And yet, within the space of a couple of moments she could change, becoming all cuddly and soft and quiet and cute. I rather liked having her live with me, despite the difficulties and small embarrassments.

Checking my watch, I decided I'd start cooking the yoghurt-marinated chicken pieces on the barbecue.

JULES DROPPED THE POOL towel and headed in to shower. She was looking forward to going out on the boat. Harry had let her explore it and she'd been awed by how luxurious it was inside. It even had bedrooms! From the outside it just looked big and white and sleek with dark windows and two floors.

As she pulled off her swim suit, she thought about Harry. She'd been really ashamed after finding out he got an erection. The idea of him with an erection was fun, but his horror and embarrassment had made her feel bad for tricking him. She realized he was right; it wasn't fair for him to have no privacy. But he didn't understand how much she liked him. She did. A lot. He was so easy to like, a softie.

She stepped into the shower, grabbing the shampoo.

Harry was the kindest person she'd ever met, ever. Even his thoughts were kind. She'd never heard a bad thought, just some very, very funny swearing. And she liked how he kept thinking she was so pretty. He seemed to think it every time he saw her. It made her feel so good, so welcome, so comfortable. She loved how he'd become mesmerized by her eyes and think she was going to be as pretty as Mom had been. In fact, she was beginning to love Harry.

She smiled as she rinsed her hair, remembering Harry taking her for a surprise last week. "You'll like it, Jules," he'd said with a glitter of pleasure in his warm dark brown eyes. He'd taken her hand, leading her into a store, stopping and pointing. "See?" She'd seen a store filled with jars containing candies and candy bars of every sort and color. "Look, there," he'd said pointing to a middle shelf. The jars held peanut M&Ms. But what made them special was they were all sorted by color! By color! She'd left that store with a huge bag of red M&Ms, the best tasting ones, and an aching heart, her eyes riveted on his face, love flushing through her.

Washing her body with soap, she decided, yes, she was beginning to love him a lot. It was impossible not to. He was such a funny goof.

And because she was beginning to love him, she'd started practicing not to hear him. She wanted to give him his privacy. But it was so hard. It took concentration and, when she wasn't concentrating, she found herself just drifting with his thoughts, enjoying him. He was very, very funny at times; at least his thoughts were. But he was also hiding something from her. She didn't know what it was and she wasn't going to try to find out, even though she could if she wanted to. She just knew it was something about her.

Jules rinsed herself, letting water pour down over her head. For the first time in a long time she felt a little spark of arousal, a pleasant ache in her pussy. She smiled. She was feeling better and better all the time, Harry so considerate . . . and cute, too.

As Jules turned the shower off and dried herself, her mind turned to the problem of Harry's erections. Why was he so embarrassed by them? She wasn't. It was cute how he'd turn away from her. It happened every morning. What he didn't seem to realize was he'd get an erection before he'd turn away from her. It was fascinating. He had a big one, too.

She giggled to herself. Listen to me! She'd never even seen an erection, so how would she know if it's big? But it was. At least it felt big when it was pressed to her. She giggled again, remembering carefully reaching behind her to touch it when he was asleep. It was hard, a rod. Feeling naughty, she'd carefully pushed her bum against it, felt it jerk; fascinating. Other times it poked her in her stomach when she was cuddled into him and she'd touched it lightly, a small thrill coursing through her, a tingle of arousal in her pussy.

Drying her hair, she wondered if Harry masturbated, the thought giving her sparks of arousal. She did in the bathroom sometimes. She used to in her bedroom at home, too. Did he?

She could find out easily enough. But, that wouldn't be fair, would it? Maybe she'd just ask. If she was far enough away from him so he knew she wasn't hearing him or tricking him . . . maybe.

"Do you masturbate, Harry?"

THE TRI-PRONGED FORK FELL from my hand onto the barbecue grill, bounced off and hit the ground. Turning, I saw Jules sitting at the patio table, her legs gently swinging back and forth, damp hair and sparkling green eyes assaulting me, a look of inquisitiveness on her beautiful face resting in one hand. Jeez, she was pretty.

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was far enough away not to hear me. "What made you think of that, Jules?" I asked, bending to retrieve the fork, inspecting it for dirt, shrugging and going back to turning the chicken pieces.

"Your erection."

Damn. How could she be so blasé about this stuff? "I beg your pardon, young lady."

"Your erection," she repeated with smile and an attempt at sweet innocence.

"I know what you said. Where did this come from?"

"I was thinking about your erection in the shower and then how I diddle myself and, well, doesn't everyone? I thought. Which made me think of the erections you get in bed and how you got rid of them. So do you? How?"

It was an automatic reaction, though God knows why. But I looked around to see if any neighbor was near enough to hear her, even though we were in my back yard, had an eight-foot privacy fence and no neighbor closer than thirty feet either side. I opened my mouth to automatically deny ever having touched myself or played . . . Oh Hell. She was right. Everyone did it.

"Sure I do, sometimes."

"How? How often? I used to do it almost every night, but not since . . . you know."

She seemed so completely comfortable telling me about her sexuality. I found it odd at first, as if I was hearing something that would get me thrown in jail. But her complete ease and, judging by her expression, her genuine interest gave me pause. Maybe it wasn't odd. I was surprised, though. I'd never considered how old or young girls would be when they started pleasuring themselves.

I shrugged. "Not often."

The meal distracted her, but not me. She'd created a very big problem, placed an indelible thought in my mind. I had to fight to distract myself, to avoid pondering a ten-year-old masturbating. I had a vision of her in her wet bathing suit, the material plastered to her . . .

"Excuse me for a moment," I said, pushing my plate away and leaving the kitchen when I felt self-control slipping. "I'll be right back."

With the safety of distance, sitting in the bathroom, I let that image back, her wet bathing suit plastered to her little pubis, a clear camel toe on her remarkably plump mound. I felt an erection form as I tried to imagine Jules masturbating. How did little girls masturbate? Why did the concept attract me?

Jules was utterly charming, her brash forwardness, impishness, and startling intelligence for her age were offset by a warm, loving, cute and cuddly side. When I'd look into her magnetic green eyes, I felt as though I was looking into her mother's eyes, only better, sweeter, prettier, and much more attractive for some reason. I was finding Jules . . . alluring! Jesus Christ, Harry! She's ten!

It was deeply disturbing was how attractive I found her, how arousing. I frowned. I was uncovering a very, very unpleasant and unacceptable aspect of my personality.

JULES SAT QUIETLY AT the table, a fork poised in the air, forgotten. She'd heard him. She knew what he was hiding. She hadn't listened deliberately, it just happened. But she knew. A tingle of pleasure coursed through her. She felt her nipples tighten. He'd wondered what it would be like to see her diddling herself. And then he'd pictured her pussy in the wet bathing suit. Her heart thumped in her chest. She squeezed her legs together, fidgeting on the chair at the spark of arousal in her pussy.

What would it be like to have Harry watch her? Ooh, or her watch Harry? What would Harry look like naked? What would an erection look like? Oh, imagine Harry kissing her. Now that would be interesting; Harry . . . her first kiss. Yum.

She started eating again, grinning to herself. Yup. She was going to get him to kiss her.

Chapter Six: The Magic of a Boat

I WOKE UP EXHAUSTED.

I'd had very little sleep, my mind acutely aware of the warm, gently breathing young girl next to me. I'd tried to keep my back to her when we went to bed, but she'd snuggled against me, murmured and sighed, her knees pressing against my thighs. Her hand had slipped over my waist and tugged.

"Turn, Harry," she'd urged with a mutter.

I didn't want to. I had an unfortunate condition I wanted to keep private.

"It's okay if you have an erection," she'd murmured sleepily. "I don't mind."

Bugger!

I'd felt her shake with a silent giggle. Too cute by far. I'd rolled onto my back and let her worm herself into my side like a kitten, pulling my arm over her. When I'd heard her little snores, I was in deeper trouble. They were so cute. Each little snore seemed to resonate in my heart . . . and further south. I was falling and I didn't seem to be able to stop myself.

With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, a ray of soft gold bathing the bedroom, I extricated myself from her side and headed to the shower. Today we were taking Miss By-A-Mile out, my Hatteras. I had an erection, a normal morning condition. But, washing myself, an image stole back in; Jules in a one-piece royal-blue bathing suit, wet, water dripping off her as she walked towards the patio table. A memory drifted in, soft little snores, a charming little girl snuggling to my side exuding a delicate attractive scent. I couldn't stop myself. I stroked my erection as I mentally studied a plump pubis, a stark little pussy that seemed far too big for a ten-year-old. I stroked myself, sighing with pleasure as I pictured that incredible little camel toe, the seductive crease in material that disappeared between slender thighs, the sexy V-shape, the surprising fullness of a young, immature pussy.

I came hard, semen exploding in exquisite release as I imagined touching Jules' pussy, cupping it, tracing my finger along that sexy cleft. My hips jerked, semen spurting, pleasure making me dizzy. I came hard imagining caressing that plump pussy, Jules' hand over mine, guiding me, showing me how to touch her, murmuring in my ear, "Mmm, feels so good, Harry. I like you touching me." I came hard, jerking, shuddering in an intense climax.

My heart was pounding, erection softening, the shower raining down on my bent head, one hand on the tiles holding me steady. Like a freight train it hit, hard. It slammed into me with no holding back. I trembled. It tore at me, admonished me, shamed me. Guilt ravaged me so powerfully I found it hard to breathe.

I had overstepped a line. I had let the ugliness inside me out, and sullied a beautiful little girl, a sweet, innocent angel. I felt my heart palpitate, self hate flood in. I felt dirty in the shower.

I felt no cleaner out of it.

"Are we going on the boat today?" Jules asked brightly, emerald eyes sparkling with excitement as she slurped up a bowl of Apple Cinnamon Cheerios.

"Uh-huh." I sipped my mug of coffee, careful not to look into her eyes, not to think. I was a silent Buddha, inscrutable, a bad boy.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Jules asked, wondering why he was so silent.

"Uh-huh."

JULES WAS HAPPIER WHEN they climbed aboard. For a while she'd begun to worry at Harry's mood, he'd seemed so down. She didn't like it. She didn't like seeing him quiet. And worse, he wasn't thinking; no funny thoughts, no fun, no mischief, no Harry. But, once aboard his big boat, he seemed to relax.

She sat at the bow, a big adult-sized life jacket on, smiling at the breeze ruffling her hair, and the smell of salt water in the air. Through her bum she could feel the rumble of engines. Seagulls cawed loudly above. Water slapped against the prow. Harry's boat felt much, much bigger when sitting above water and away from the dock.

Glancing over her shoulder, warmth flooded her. Harry was up top with a silly grin on his face. Jeez, he was handsome. She wondered why her heart beat harder.

As they approached the end of the waterway, she saw the ocean, gentle swells rolling calmly towards shore. Salt scent intensified and something else . . . dead fish. Yuck.

AS WE APPROACHED THE open ocean I yelled, "Come up here, Jules." Despite the life jacket, sitting on the foredeck the way she was was too precarious for my liking. I watched from the flybridge as she scrambled to her feet, her face turning up towards me, a smile appearing. Lordy she was absolutely gorgeous. I frowned. Stop, you twit!

I heard her climb up the ladder behind me as I piloted the boat past the breakwater and out into the open ocean. The Atlantic was calm, the swells gentle, adding a soft rise-and-fall pitching motion as we puttered along.

When Jules was beside me on the flybridge I thrust the twin throttles forward to their stops. Twin CAT C32A Diesels growled, the boat trembled with excitement, prow rose slightly and suddenly sixteen hundred brake horsepower was let loose. Miss By-A-Mile surged forward like a greyhound and Jules went tumbling backward with a screech.

I grinned, reducing engine speed and adjusted the trim so we were planing smoothly through the swells, twin CATs rumbling with pleasure. Jules was muttering behind me. Turning, I extended my hand to help her up. It was fun doing that to her.

Her eyes grew wide. Oops, she heard that.

"You did that on purpose! You . . . You . . . DOPE!"

She ignored my helping hand, her eyes spitting green fire at me. Then she paused, her head tilting slightly as she stared at me. A grin appeared. "Fine."

That was all she had to say as she took off the huge life jacket, tossed it down, and climbed into the co-pilot's seat next to me. I had a tickling suspicion I'd pay for that little prank.

We traveled out into deep water, trawling territory. I explained the boat as we went, telling Jules about proper names, how the boat operated and described deep sea fishing. She was grinning ear-to-ear when I let her pilot the boat.

Setting out one runner line, Jules not interested in fishing, I switched on the autopilot and collision warning system, grabbed a beer and sat in the fighting chair in the aft deck, bare feet up on the gunwale, shirt off, and relaxed, not caring one whit if I caught anything.

Jules watched me for five minutes and passed judgment, "This is boring, Harry. Can I have a beer?"

"No."

"Kay."

Jules promptly disappeared into the cabin.

I was debating whether this was the time for one of my cigarettes when I heard a can pop open behind me. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Jules with a can of Bud in her hand, a Cheshire cat smile on her face and eyes full of mischief.

"Give me that!" I said, reaching and grabbing the can of beer from her hand, beer sloshing onto the deck. What was she thinking of?

"Hey! I want to try a beer."

"You're too young. It's illegal."

"Give it back!"

"No."

I saw eyebrows narrow. Not having seen any warning signs before, I didn't really know what was happening.

And then I just about died when she lost her temper. I'd never seen such a beautiful frown, dark eyebrows knitting together, gorgeous emerald eyes flashing anger at me. And then it got better, two fists placed on non-existent hips!

"Give it back, Harry!!"

My sudden grin was apparently not appreciated, nor my hard, uncontrollable laughter when she stamped a small foot. She let out a humph sound and, after a few seconds, smiled, a dangerous looking smile. I wondered what was going through her mind. Her smile turned into a grin. Damn but Jules was a totally gorgeous girl.

"Fine!" she stated. "Be that way."

"I shall," I said between laughs, wiping my eyes.

Jules smiled sweetly at me, turned and walked up two steps to the salon, shut and locked the glass door. She disappeared for a couple of seconds and reappeared with another Bud in her hands. With a satisfied grin, I saw her pop it open and take a swig.

I started splitting my sides when she choked and frowned at the taste. Damn, she was a hoot! I loved her sass! Absolutely loved it!

JULES SHUDDERED AT THE taste of beer. Gawd, it was horrible. How could Harry like it? She watched him through the glass, laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. Jeez, he was so handsome. That laugh was amazing, and his smile, wow, sexy! Huh, Harry sexy! She liked seeing him happy.

She smiled, unlocked the door, opened it and went out onto the rear deck. "Here," she said, offering the beer to him. He now had three. She sat up under the awning on a bench, letting the gentle movement of the boat flow through her, smiling as Harry chuckled every time he took a sip of beer. With salt, sun and a slow rolling motion, she felt at peace, completely at peace for the first time. Suddenly she realized she was happy, really happy and all thanks to Harry.

It was nice sitting quietly, being able to study him. There was something about Harry that made her feel so good, safe. Jules smiled when she realized she loved Harry, really loved him. He was so good to her. Idly she wondered if he loved her. Maybe she'd ask.

But first.

"I'm hungry, Harry. Is it time for lunch?"

BY THE TIME WE arrived back at the dock, a cooling sun was dipping towards the horizon throwing off reds and bronzes in a spectacular palette. I'd caught nothing but a minor sunburn and a slight hangover from several beers. Jules had announced, "Fishing's boring, Harry. But I like your boat!"

I was pleasantly tired and looking forward to a relaxing evening. Unfortunately, Jules was sparkling, bouncing and full of energy. She only added to my fatigue. With a Machiavellian smile, I weighed her down with a heavy lasagna dinner and we retired to watch TV.

Jules disappeared to take a shower as I watched the back half of the evening news; Syria chaos still ongoing. I didn't like the memory it triggered so I changed channels to a documentary, my favorite type of TV show.

Eventually Jules arrived wearing a red short-sleeved nightshirt type of thing, legs bare, and a bowl of chocolate ice cream in her hand. She grabbed the remote and changed the channel to a sitcom without asking.

It was special the way she raised my arm and pulled it over her small shoulder, snuggling to my side, wriggling to get comfortable as she concentrated on the TV. I felt like a favorite stuffed animal, there to provide comfort and company. I liked it. I was at peace with her next to me.

I could smell shampoo wafting at me from her damp hair and see where she'd forgotten to dry herself, the nightshirt sticking to her here and there with darker red stains. And then Jules proceeded to soothe my soul with laughter and giggles, her unrestrained enjoyment of Tim Taylor so intoxicating. She sat, eating chocolate ice cream loudly, interspersing her giggles with little mmm's. In a commercial break she turned her face up to me, spoon of melting ice cream waving around precariously, "Chocolate, Harry! Yum! Want some?"

I think it was that moment, with her face upturned, pure pleasure in her expression, and her remarkable green eyes sparkling with charm and intelligence, that I realized how much I loved her, how important she'd become in my life over the last few weeks. It may have been seeing Syria on the news, but, at that moment I saw my path ahead. I knew what I had to do. I was going to leave my career in Tactical Support Services, leave it quite willingly. I wanted to spend time with Jules, see her grow, watch her amazing personality develop. I didn't want to miss one second of it or leave it up to someone else to look after her. I loved her charm. I loved her energy. I loved her sass. I loved Jules.

Her eyes grew big, the spoon forgotten. "You do?" she asked softly with a hint of awe. Then she smiled, a sun breaking out in her face. "You do!"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Love me, you dope."

I smiled. I did. It felt good. I took a sip of beer, feeling warm, calm, pleased with my decision.

"We'll have sex," Jules stated with a firm nod of her head, taking another spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

I believe the beer came out of my nose. It was painful. I started choking. That was painful, too.

"Raise your arms, Harry!" Jules yelled, excitedly.

Raise my arms? Raise my arms? Jesus effing Christ!

"Don't swear, Harry!"

When I had finally coughed the beer out of my lungs and cleared it from my nostrils, I frowned at Jules, not taken in by her big, innocent, gorgeous green eyes for one second. My frown slipped a bit when she grinned cheekily at me. I bore down, frowning hard, restraining the inappropriate smile that was tugging at me like a desperate donkey trying to get loose from the reins.

"What?" she asked, all innocence and meekness and sweetness.

Bugger me she was hard to resist.

She grinned.

"We will not," I growled.

"Not what?"

"Have sex. Not now, not ever. You're my niece. You're ten years old for God's sake. You shouldn't even be thinking that stuff."

She turned her attention back to the TV, spoon scooping up more ice cream. "Yes we will."

"No. We won't."

"Yes we will." She took bite of chocolate ice cream. "Yum. Want some?" she asked holding out a spoonful and, a moment later added as an afterthought, "I'm ten-and-three-quarters."

I gave up. Arguing with her was like trying to catch wind in the palm of my hand. It was never going to work. I'd just ignore her.

Chapter Seven: Intimacy, Jules Style

Okay, ignoring her wasn't working. I was quite sure of it when I felt her hand heading south along my stomach. We'd gone to bed. She'd somehow lost her nightshirt along the way, shrugging when I inquired as to its location, and I had an almost naked little nymph playing Dora the Explorer in my bed.

"Don't, Jules," I repeated again, pulling her hand up, again.

She giggled. "Then give me a kiss."

"No."

A small hand headed south.

"Jules!"

"I'll stop if you kiss me," she laughed.

God help me. "Fine," I said. With a grin, I kissed the crown of her head.

She laughed and a small hand headed south. Before I knew it, there was a wrestling bout going on to screams of laughter. And then, at the feel of a petite cotton-clad bottom, I got an erection.

Her hand found the erection. Laughter died, motion stopped. A hand squeezed. I groaned. Damn that felt good.

"Really?"

Shit!

"Don't swear, Harry."

The sheet had slipped down. I looked at Jules, an achingly pretty face smiling at me, green eyes pulling at me, gorgeous mouth so kissable. I looked at Jules, surprised to see two bee-stings on her chest, small pink areolae with soft tiny nipples very slightly mounded. I was even more surprised at how incredibly sexy she was.

"I am?"

Bugger me. Unable to resist her complete charm, I bent, watching intense green eyes widen. I fell into them and shuddered when my lips touched hers, so soft, so sexy, so, so nice.

It was an incredible kiss, one of the best I'd ever had; lips closed, hers feeling so excitingly small, so silky and warm. I moaned when her small hand gently wrapped around my shaft and squeezed so carefully, so softly.

Jules was incredible, perfect.

She broke the gentle kiss. "I am?" she asked with wonder in her voice.

I caressed a soft cheek. "Yes, sweetheart, you're perfect."

Beautiful eyes stared at me. I saw it, the flit of mischief pass through them. I watched a grin appear, felt her hand squeeze. I knew something was coming.

"Told ya we'd have sex," she declared.

"No. We won't, Jules," I said softly.

"Why not? Don'cha want to?"

I couldn't stop the thought before it appeared, couldn't stop myself wondering what it actually might be like.

"Oooh, you do. See?"

I collapsed next to her, pulling her close, hugging her warm, petite body to me. My adult resolve seemed to melt away, the fight too hard, Jules too attractive by far.

"Jules, you're too young to have sex," I said gently, holding her close. "But one day you won't be too young and then, if you still want to, we might make love."

"How do you know I'm too young?" she asked.

I chuckled. "You're holding on to it. You tell me."

"Oh." She grinned. "It's really big," she said with another exquisite squeeze, my eyes almost crossing. How could I find this little girl, my ten-and-three-quarters-year-old niece, so desirable? I didn't understand my reaction to her. She was a child; sexy, but a child. And yet, I felt the urge to . . .

JULES COULD FEEL HER heart beating hard, excitement pulsing though her. Harry's kiss had made her nipples tingle. And that had made her pussy tingle.

Holding his penis, she wasn't convinced it was too big. But, listening to Harry so excited, how sexy he thought she was, and hearing him wonder what it would feel like to touch her and kiss her again, she shuddered. Harry touching her? Now that would be exciting.

Letting his erection go, she reached for his hand. She pulled away, rolling onto her back, taking his big hand with her. She put his hand on her tummy, nice. She smiled at his sexy eyes, liking how they widened. She grinned, hearing him wonder what her pussy felt like.

She parted her legs and guided his hand down. "Go ahead. You can feel. I don't mind."

Jules sighed when his big hand settled on her panties, liking how he enjoyed touching her, loving his awed excitement, how he thought she was so sexy. She reached for his erection sticking out of his pajamas, her hand curling around the hot shaft. It was so thick, hard, but soft, too. Why would Harry be ashamed about getting one of these? It was incredible, really nice, and all because of her!

I FELT SOFT, SOFT cotton. When the seductive mound of Jule's little pussy, a plump full peach, filled the palm of my hand I inhaled sharply, a stab of arousal hitting me. It felt soft, small and delicate, warm. It curved so seductively, filled her between slender legs. I shuddered at the feel of a small camel toe under my fingers, Jules' little cleft. Jesus, so sexy!

Her labia felt rounded and plump under the cotton of her panties. I wondered if her clit was visible, what her camel toe looked like. For the first time in my life I wondered what a prepubescent pussy looked like, what she might look like without panties, smooth, hairless. She'd be spectacular I decided.

Jules started wiggling, her small, warm hand leaving my erection. I saw her smile, pleased, her hand reaching for her panties to tug them off.

"No. Not yet."

She paused, staring at me intently. "Kay."

I pulled my hand from her cotton-clad pussy, a small thrill shaking me. Gently, so gently, I did something incredibly illegal and intensely arousing; I slipped my fingertips under the elastic waist at her tummy. Why did I find this so arousing? Why did the prospect of feeling under her panties make me so excited? Slipping my fingers inside, my breath caught as I felt the rise of her marvelous pudendum. Damn, I was touching her inside her panties and I felt as if I was a teenager, memories rushing back at me, the excitement of touching a girl's privates for the first time in the dark cinema.

I slipped my hand down until I once again had her amazing little pussy in the palm of my hand, completely hairless, soft, silky smooth, so sensual. It was perfect, a perfect pussy, rounded and full and petite and warm. Jules' cleft was short, tightly closed, a line blending seamlessly into her buttocks.

I leaned over her, kissing a bee-sting, her plump little areola. Jules murmured softly, pressing her pussy against my hand. I caressed her pussy and gently sucked her nipple, letting my tongue tease. Jules murmured, squeezed my erection, and pressed her chest up at me, her other hand rising to hold my head.

Man, she was stunningly sexy. I nibbled her little bee-sting, moved across to its twin, played and teased, and then raised myself, planning to kiss her again.

Her expression stopped me in my tracks, her emerald green eyes glittering with love, with arousal, a stunningly gorgeous look. Her smile made my heart ache. With one hand inside her cotton panties cupping her incredible prepubescent pussy, I stared at her beauty, studying every inch of her face, perfect, just perfect. Her attractiveness completely distracted me. What was I going to do?

"You were gonna kiss me," she said softly. "What happened?" she asked with a slight giggle.

Right! Kiss her.

I bent and sucked a delicious lower lip, a full little lip. She let go of my erection, two arms reaching for my neck. Jules gave me a delightful moan, her lips so soft and silky. She undulated her pussy against my hand and my middle finger suddenly slipped between slippery labia.

I broke the kiss with a gasp. Why was I so surprised by her arousal? It shook me it was so sensual, shook me deeply. Jules' moisture, her arousal, was silky smooth and slippery, her small cleft soft and yielding, little labia hugging my finger. She was hot and, as she pressed her incredibly sexy pussy against my finger, I discovered her small clit. Jules trembled slightly and curled her pelvis, the tip of my finger sliding down, passing across her urethra, deeper, passing across her tiny, tiny vaginal entrance, down, slipping across a small rosebud before she groaned and I reversed.

There was no sound except for occasional murmurs for the next few minutes, Jules seductively rubbing her pussy up and down my finger, becoming stunningly slicker with every move. I was thrilled and enthralled with her sexual responses. A ten-year-old! Just incredible! Like nothing I'd ever experienced.

An urge to see overcame me. Rising, extracting my hand from inside her panties, I knelt, collecting the waist of her panties. Jules smiled. A feeling of love and desire hit me hard. She raised her bum off the bed, arching herself. I reached under, panting as I held two perfect little buttocks, my erection pulsing as I slipped soft cotton panties over her marvelous bum. The weak cast-off light from my bedside lamp softened everything, adding shadows that emphasized shapes, mounds, valleys and textures.

My heart pounded as her incredible mons was revealed, soft white virginal cotton panties slipping over her plump mound. I held my breath as it appeared in all its glory. It was better than I had imagined. It was full, a seductive delta-shape, perfectly hairless, intensely sexy. Her small buttocks gained shape as she rested her bum back on the bed, gently swelling out at her sides. I tugged panties down slender legs and off, tossing them to the floor.

I had to pause. I had to stop and admire this angel. Jules was perfect, perfect. The smile that grew on her face tugged at me, so attractive. This sexy girl had curves, a waist, and swells. She wasn't a beanpole in any sense of the word.

I discovered something. Jules, laid out on my bed, not moving and letting me inspect her naked body unashamedly, was the most sexually exciting female I'd ever seen, bar none. She was gorgeous, innocent, virginal, sexy, had an outrageously attractive personality, and I loved her, completely, totally. One day in the future I was going to make love to her. Of that I was absolutely certain. As my eyes trailed down her delicate, petite body, she suddenly moved.

"My turn," she declared with a burst of energy, rolling away and rising to her knees. "Lie down. There," she added pointing her little finger.

I did.

She stared at my erection sticking out of the fly in my pajamas as she straddled my knees.

"Lift your bum, Harry."

I did.

Small hands grabbed the waist of my pajamas and started pulling. I wasn't paying attention, my gaze drawn by how Jules' little pussy had flowered open when she straddled my knees. I could see her rounded labia and between, a long clitoral hood that seemed to take up half of her cleft, below, a dark exciting shadow.

"Ouch!"

"Oops. Sorry."

Jules grinned and reached for my erection that had caught up as she tugged the pajamas down. I went slightly cross-eyed as she grabbed the shaft and started moving and shoving it to get it back inside the fly.

"Ow! Careful, Jules!"

"Oops. Sorry!" Two green eyes twinkled at me, another grin graced a pretty face. "There. All done."

My pajamas were unceremoniously tossed to the floor to join her cotton panties.

JULES STUDIED HARRY. SHE liked his body, big, slim and muscular, really fit. He had nice thighs and a broad chest. She liked the dusting of hair on his chest. His smile made her hurt a bit, so gentle and loving. But, as her eyes traced down his body, she felt a pulse of excitement in her pussy. Harry had a small line of soft hair from his belly button down to his pubic hair, a thick bush. And his erection! Wow! It looked huge, thick, and, as she stared, she saw it pulse and move.

Her pussy ached. She shuddered slightly. Suddenly, when she moved slightly to the side, she felt a nice twinge of arousal from where her pussy was pressed against his leg; a nice twinge, really, really nice twinge. Staring at his large erection, she wondered what it would feel like to push her aching pussy against it. She shuddered at the thought. Huh. Let's try!

"Don't move, Harry," she instructed. Bending, she moved up, every inch making her more excited, anticipation building. She'd humped her pillow before, and her stuffed animals, but what would it be like to hump a real erection, something so hard, so rigid? Her heart raced as she crawled up his body. He reached for her.

"Don't move!" she instructed, afraid he'd change position or try to stop her.

Straddling his waist she rose upright, smiled at the intense look in his sexy eyes. He likes this! Watching Harry's expression closely, every fiber of her tuned to him, she lowered herself. Dizziness hit. She felt his shaft press against her slit, press against her aching clit, warm, thick, Harry's penis, Harry's erection.

A shudder shook her when she heard his thoughts.

I THOUGHT I MIGHT cum spontaneously, something that hadn't happened to me since puberty. My heart thumped, my erection strained, blood pounded. I'd never seen anything like it. I'd never seen anything so sexy, so unbelievably, outrageously erotic. Jules' expression was mesmerizing, arousal, surprise, shy pleasure. The sight of her hairless pussy was hypnotizing, plump, labia gently enveloping my erection like a hotdog bun.

I could feel her heat. Self-control was ebbing away. The sight of my aching erection nestled into her small, immature pussy was so arousing, my crown straining and red. And then it got better. Unbelievably, it got better.

Jules moved.

I moaned, loudly. She slipped her moist pussy down my shaft, shuddered and slid back up.

"Oooh, gooood Harry," she whispered.

God help me. "No. Fantastic, Jules."

She smiled, I ached. Gorgeous emerald eyes glittered. I couldn't believe that, with Jules naked and sitting on my erection, both of us aroused, I saw impishness appear in her eyes!

"Again?" she asked with a grin, pressing down slightly.

I might have gone slightly cross-eyed. Jules giggled and I felt it on my erection. Then she slowly dragged her pussy down my shaft, paused as the crown raised up off my stomach, a pearl of clear precum oozing out, and reversed. Exquisite agony. No woman had ever done this to me.

"Wow. Nice, huh?" she whispered slightly tremulously. "Again?"

God yes!

Her almost non-existent hips felt good in my hands. It brought home just how small she was, just how young, how immature. In the onslaught of arousal it excited me, made what I was experiencing even better, more intense.

Jules' hands held onto my wrists as I held her. She sighed and rubbed her slippery pussy along my erection, her small body shuddering lightly. "Mmmm," she moaned. She moved again, moaned again.

With my hands holding her slender body I guided her, helped set the pace and suddenly Jules was humping my erection in gloriously long strokes. It was better than any hand job I'd ever had, and more exciting than many of my other sexual experiences. This gorgeous little girl, sitting astride me, masturbating herself on my erection, humping me with sexy, arousing little murmurs was incredible!

Then it got better.

Jules' strokes lengthened, her sweet pussy sliding up over my crown. I saw the tip disappear. She froze as it rubbed her clit, her eyes closed, green winking out. Her body shuddered. She sighed and slid her pussy back, taking my precum with her. Suddenly we were very wet, very slippery. Jules slipped her pussy back up and over my crown. I shuddered. My erection swelled. Jules, head suddenly dropped. She moaned.

There was an infinitesimal pause in time, my crown pressed to her little clit.

"So gooood," she groaned, her body trembling.

And that was it. Jules started humping my erection with firm, assured hunches, sliding back and forth, grunting her pleasure. She started panting, eyes tightly closed, humping me, humping me. I felt my penis swell, the sight and feeling of a ten-year-old getting off on me too erotic, so beautiful.

"Close, Harry," she panted, her little pelvis scrubbing back and forth harder, faster.

Jules then gave me the ultimate gift. She let me see a youthful climax and it was stunning, unbelievably sexy, incredibly arousing. She paused, held her breath. There was utter silence in the bedroom, no movement. A rosy flush appeared on her upper chest. A cute, cute frown emerged. Breath exploded from her and she started humping my erection like a wild girl, hips and pelvis moving in a blur. She whined. Her knees clenched to my sides as if she was trying to close her legs, and, under the influence of her incredible orgasm, I came.

I had no control, none. "I'm . . ." I gasped.

I came explosively, my erection swelling painfully, pressure releasing suddenly,semen burning up my shaft to spurt hot, thick, and wet on my stomach. Stars burst. I held Jules slender hips and started a fucking motion, my hips curling up, exploding, semen spurting, pleasure, glorious pleasure. Jules cried out her climax, her small body jerking. She fell forward onto my chest.

Gripping little buttocks with one hand, the other holding her slender back, I hunched and fucked my way to an intense orgasm, spurting thick white semen between us, holding her little body, sliding my erection against her silky tummy, cumming beautifully, cumming strongly, ejaculating with intense, intense pleasure punishing my body until I was cramping.

Sounds slowly returned. Hot semen covered my stomach. Jules was quiet, her chest breathing deeply, her sexy little body warm on top of me. I waited. I waited for it to slam into me like a freight train. I waited for guilt to destroy the intense feelings of pleasure, of peace, of love that suffused my body.

It was agony waiting for the dark train of guilt to thunder in. As seconds stretched into minutes, as I enjoyed the post-orgasmic glow of satisfaction, of sexual release, as I relished a small bundle of pure love on top of me, I said a silent prayer of thanks when it didn't arrive. I felt no guilt. I loved Jules. I loved what we'd just done. I loved what we'd just experienced together.

"Me, too," she murmured, giving me a hug and a little wiggle, spreading semen even more.

Thirty minutes later she was on her front at my side, her arms up under the pillow, breathing softly, long, long eyelashes resting on her cheeks. I'd washed her gently with a moist hand towel, adoring the soft love in her eyes. She'd cuddled at first then fallen asleep, rolling onto her front, her pretty face turned towards me. I was completely besotted with her. She was my angel.

Jules looked totally at peace, a beautiful young girl. I let my gaze sweep down from small slender shoulders, along her curved back, her vertebrae forming a line of stark bumps, down to the base of her spine. I let my gaze appreciate the incredible upsweep of her gorgeous little bottom, two perfect, petite buttocks rising, curving, and dipping to slender little thighs. I was sated, sexually drained, calm, relaxed. But, as drowsiness tugged at me, with the sight of her spectacular bum in my view, I had something I wanted to do.

Moving down carefully, I kissed her incredible bum, letting my mouth press into her small buttock. I fondled the other gently, a perfect mound. I couldn't get over how sexy her little tush was. It felt so small in my palm and that excited me no end. Jules murmured in her sleep. I waited for her to settled, and then I sucked. Carefully, so I wouldn't wake her, I gave her delicious bum a big hickey and admired it with a proud smile. Lovely, lovely, damned lovely.

Drawing the covers up, I settled next to Jules, inhaling her calming scent. At peace, I let sleep take me away, visions of a plump little hairless pussy and a delightful hickey on a seductive buttock playing through my mind.

Chapter Eight: An Enemy Awakens

SIX THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED and fifty-four miles to the east, Syrians hustled through the streets of Damascus, pulling shawls and hats down, tightening coats, the wind bitingly cold with below average temperatures; a chilly thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit.

Shopkeepers hawked their fruits, vegetables, sweet Baklava, and fresh pita, their voices calling out to attract increasingly fewer customers. They worried about the escalating cost of ingredients, an international embargo acting like a hungry boa constrictor on the economy, limiting imports and driving inflation ever higher.

Men and women scuttled through the narrow streets, heads bowed by fear; fear of being unable to feed their family, fear of strangers, fear of a secret police that seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. Fear pressed down on them, their eyes flitting around, making sure no one was noticing them or paying any attention to them. Safety lay in anonymity.

In a large center square in Damascus, a large building took up the entire south side; the Defense Ministry. Inside the ornate sprawling ten-floor edifice, on the top floor, the Mukhabarat occupied almost all the space. Syrian Military Intelligence, for that was what the Mukhabarat was, was headed by Adad Marfuse, in effect the country's Chief of Internal Security. But his mandate did not end at the country's borders, his anger too big to be constrained by Assad's weak orders.

In a vast corner office Adad Marfuse sipped his sweet mint tea, carefully looking at Khaled Safri. Khaled was his hammer, the most dedicated of the Special Guard. He was huge and vicious and talented, possessing a love of brute force and inflicting pain, blending it with a deviated and crafty mind.

Syrian Intelligence had finally discovered who had assassinated Jared Moussavi, Adad's chief aide, his second in command in charge of routing out the trouble-making rebels. Jared's death had created a real problem for the government. They were now on their back feet, reacting, not initiating action any longer. They'd identified Jared's assassin, one Harry Dempsy, American, member of the Tactical Support Services. Adad knew all about the Tactical Support Services, a small shadowy organization hidden within the diplomatic corps. It, under the guise of embassy intelligence gathering and security, had a hand in all the unrest Syria had been experiencing. Their definition of "Tactical Services" was espionage, assassination, political interference, and more. This time, they'd trespassed too far.

"I have a mission for you, Khaled," he said softly. "It will be dangerous, but we shall have revenge."

"Yes sir."

"No foreign service should be able to interfere in our country. They must be taught there are consequences for their actions."

"Yes sir."

Adad picked up a file and tossed it across the coffee table to Khaled. "Read this. It will give you all the background you need. I want you to kill him, Khaled. I want you to look into his eyes when you kill him. I want you to tell him why he's dying. Don't return until you succeed, understand? We need to send a clear message."

"Yes sir," Khaled nodded, a vicious smile appearing, his heartbeat ticking up as his imagination went to work.

Two days later, Khaled, now clean-shaven with short-cropped dark hair, slipped across the border into Lebanon, the first step in a long, convoluted journey to America.

Chapter Nine: Helpless Surrender

WHILE JULES SWAM AND played in the pool, I had time to do some chores. The most important ones were ignored; laundry, cleaning the kitchen, and vacuuming. Instead, in the late afternoon sun, I polished brightwork on Miss By-A-Mile, keeping a close eye on Jules. With a safe distance between us acting as a buffer to the overwhelming charm of her personality, depressing adult responsibilities, not guilt, came back at me.

In the muggy heat, as I polished, perspiration dripping down my back and from my temples, I felt as if this was my last chance to change course with Jules, be a responsible adult. In her presence I became befuddled by her charm, seduced by her impishness and wit, and made stupid by intense emerald green eyes that lanced into me. Sexual contact last night had been amazing. I felt an erection stir just remembering. There was no trace of regret or guilt inside me.

Yet, in the light of day, shouldn't I be the responsible one? Shouldn't I be the one that obeys the law? Jesus, what we'd done last night would get me thrown into jail and then where would Jules be? Had anyone told me I'd enjoy sexual contact with a ten-year-old, I'd have probably killed them. Yet . . .

Polishing a chrome railing, I decided, like it or not, I had to be the responsible adult, the caring guardian, the stern disciplinarian, the enforcer of rules. For Jules own sake I had to behave. She was too precious to risk. I would make her sleep in her own bed. I'd be strong and resolute. I'd regain some measure of control.

And I almost did. Until dinner.

I managed to get her to set the table after she muttered something about slave driver. Dinner was pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy at her request, "and no veggies, Harry!" It was an absorbing experience.

Jules had kept up a constant banter as I cooked, explaining why she liked pot roast, "because of the gravy, Harry," why she liked mashed potatoes, "because of the gravy," and why she'd like to swim again, even though it was dark outside, "I'm hot. The kitchen's hot. How come you don't turn on the air-conditioning?"

And, after serving the meal, I sat at the table unable to eat, completely taken with Jules.

She stared at the heaping plate with what I'd have to describe as the look of a starved crocodile eyeing a lame heron on the shore. I was absolutely absorbed watching her.

Jules stuck her finger into the mashed potatoes, scooped up a bit and tasted it. The same finger went back to dip into the gravy. She tasted that, too. Nodding, with a look of total concentration on her cute face, she picked up her knife and fork and proceeded to mash everything together, stirring dark brown gravy and beef pot roast into the fluffy white potatoes until she had an unrecognizable, completely unappetizing brownish mush on her plate.

"Yum," she declared with satisfaction, and a fork descended.

I ate nothing. I'd completely forgotten my food. I was mesmerized by her as she ate her way through the mush, uttering little mmm's as she ate, nodding her head in satisfaction. Jesus I was taken by her. My heart ached slightly. Jules was just too cute for words.

The fork paused, she smiled. "Thanks."

Bugger me.

Jules pushed her plate away as she finished and took a big slurp of Coke. "Good, Harry. That was goooood!" She burped. "Oops! Sorry."

Any restraint I'd felt earlier in the day started dissolving. I felt it; like sand slipping through my fingers. I found it hard to be dispassionate, be stern, be the adult. I loved her. That was all that mattered. I loved being able to enjoy Jules without worry. I truly enjoyed her intrusions into my thoughts, how she'd naturally respond.

A pair of emerald eyes twinkled. She grinned. Damn. Gorgeous.

"Thanks! Let's swim. It's still hot."

Smoking one of my allowable cigarettes, I sat by the pool watching over her as she splashed around in her new red bikini. Her grin brought back a memory. Just that morning Jules had stirred awake next to me. I'd been awake for half an hour or so enjoying having her next to me, still amazed I'd had sexual contact with her; that I'd climaxed, that she'd climaxed.

Bright eyes had peered at me; her smile had brought light into the bedroom. "Morning, Harry," she'd said.

I'd given her a kiss on her cheek. "Morning, Gorgeous."

"Gotta pee," she'd stated, slipping out of bed.

I'd laughed spontaneously when she left the bed. She had a beautiful hickey on her petite left bum cheek. The memory of putting it there as she slept aroused me, my cock thickening. Jules had glanced over her shoulder at me with a quizzical expression, paused and craned to see her bum.

She gave me a wonderful frown and scooted into the bathroom.

"HEY!" came echoing out. Two emerald eyes had peered round the doorframe and Jules grinned at me. "Very funny."

I'd started laughing, hard.

Leaning back in the patio seat, I felt myself grinning again at the memory. Jules was so . . . lovable; such a personality.

"Harry?" she called from the swimming pool.

"Hmm?"

"Aren'cha going to come in and swim?" Jules invited from the lip of the pool, eyes bright, the underwater light glowing phosphorescent blue in the night.

"No. I'm good."

Those enchanting eyes stared at me. Jeez I loved how expressive they were. I saw cunning then impishness, then saw a glisten of mischief appear; just enchanting. She wiggled around making splashing noises, small waves rippling across the top of the pool refracting white-blue light.

"Sure you don't wanna?" she asked, tossing something at me.

When I held the teeny bottoms of her red bikini in my hands, my mind immediately departed on a journey of its own. I wondered what a prepubescent little pussy would look like in crystal clear water that was lit up like a Christmas tree. So did another part of my body.

I wondered what it would look like to see her swim, maybe the breast-stroke, watching, from behind, two seductive little buttock rolling, legs . . .

"So come in and see!" Jules encouraged with a giggle, eyes glinting with pure impishness. She screamed and shoved off from the side as I stubbed my cigarette out, rose and ran towards the pool.

That's probably how our relationship changed again. I chased, peered, studied and generally behaved quite badly. Jules laughed, giggled and almost drowned when I groped. Within five minutes she'd talked me out of my swim suit and, within fifteen minutes, after some enthusiastic groping on her part, we'd tumbled onto my bed, laughter and giggles filling the air.

I groped her little bum, loving how it fit so well into my hand, relishing how petite and sexy it was. I was about to suggest a repeat of last night when she pushed me away slightly, stared at me, big eyes, big eyes.

"So. You wanna do the other one?"

"Huh? Other what?" I was confused, lost in her eyes.

"My bum, Harry! Don't ya want to give me a hickey on the other one?"

Oh God. Did I ever.

Jules giggled and scrambled out of my hold, laying face down on the bed, head turned towards me, her glorious little glutes rising like seductive twins from the base of her back. Her eyes twinkled. She wiggled her bum.

"Well? Go on."

Jesus. That was it. All that 'responsible adult, caring guardian, stern disciplinarian, enforcer of rules' garbage was tossed out, forgotten, left behind. No one could withstand her charm, no one.

I could feel my heart thumping as I approached that thing of beauty, glorious glutei maximi, peaks of perfection, one sporting a lovely faded pink mark. I could feel a slight tremble in my hand as I caressed her sexy bottom, so delightfully small, firm, the skin slightly cool.

Bending, as my lips approached her sweet buttock, I was overcome with dizziness, a delicate heady scent assaulting me.

Moving down, I straddled her small calves. Jeez, from above and behind, Jules suddenly had glorious sexy curves, her bottom a thing of beauty, truly stunning, succulent.

"Thanks. What does succulent mean?" Jules asked with a slight bum wiggle.

"Juicy, desirable, edible. Sort of like luscious, divine, heavenly . . ."

Jules giggled, twin peaks of perfection jiggling slightly. "Goof. So, ya gonna give me a hickey or what?"

"Ah, in a moment, sweet thing. I feel the need to appreciate first."

Caressing both slender thighs, I moved up to caress her sexy buttocks, so firm, so arousing, so petite, her skin silk under my hands. I thrilled at the slight dents in each butt cheek when she clenched, how youthfully firm her bottom was. I caressed, massaged. And then I lost a bit of time. I knew I lost some time because Jules moved.

"What's wrong? How come you stopped, Harry?"

"I did?"

"Uh-huh."

Perhaps I had. My vision had filled with the most amazing sight; the sight of two little buttocks spreading apart as I caressed them and a stunningly sexy hairless pussy appearing between thighs, a full pubis that seemed to communicate directly with my cock, that seemed far too large for her little body. As I caressed her little glutes, her tightly closed cleft sort of peeled apart, a dark shadow appearing below her rosebud.

And then I saw the tip, just the tip of her clit nestled between plump labia.

"Harry?"

"Hmm? Oh. Hickey."

Bending, her gentle sexy scent teasing my senses, I kissed a perfect bum, a petite bum, a glorious bum. With a hard erection pulsing in my groin, rigid and pointing up, I sucked that buttock, moaning as my lips sank into its youthful perfection. When she giggled I felt it in my lips, a muscle tightening. Damn but Jules bottom was the sexiest bottom I'd ever seen in my life.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"There," I said reluctantly, rising, admiring a beautiful red hickey.

Jules tried to peer over her shoulder unsuccessfully. Somehow that move led to her turning over. And that led to . . .

Jules was all pussy, hip bones, bee-stings, magnetic emerald eyes, and thick dark raven hair as she laid underneath me, her expression one of interest, watching me carefully. God, she was gorgeous, simply gorgeous.

A smile appeared. "Thanks," she whispered, her eyes dipping to stare at my rampant erection. "It's big."

My hand trembled as I caressed her body, slipping up her sides until thumbs rubbed two bee-stings. Jules was so petite, so slender, so young. How could she possibly be that sexy?

She grinned. My heart contracted.

Her hands came up to cover mine, moving them, directing, her mesmerizing eyes softening as she placed my hands over her tiny nipples. I caressed gently. I bent, kissing her lips carefully. I took her sexy lower lip and sucked it gently, then, with a sigh, I tasted her.

Jules moaned and moved under me, her hands hooking around my neck as a small, moist tongue came out to explore.

I met her little tongue with mine, shuddering as we played, touched, teased. When she followed me back into my mouth, I sucked gently. Surprise and delight entered her hypnotic eyes. She grinned as we kissed, and then let me follow her little tongue back into her open mouth. I moaned at how sensual her kiss was. It was the most exciting kiss I'd ever experienced. Kissing Jules was pure heaven.

She grinned again as we kissed.

With a final gentle suck on a now slightly swollen lower lip, I started a journey, a light kiss of her chin, a kiss on her chest.

Glancing up, I asked, "Is this okay?"

"Uh-huh."

I felt her tremble slightly when I took a bee-sting between my lips, so tiny, just the slightest swelling under her areola. I caressed with my tongue, sucked gently, thrilled when her tiny nipple beaded up. Moving to its twin, Jules fingers combed through my hair, guiding me and pulling my mouth against her harder with a sigh.

"Good?" I asked, softly. I loved the arousal in her eyes.

"Uh-huh."

Bending back to my journey, I kissed a sternum and an innie belly-button. I discovered fine baby hair on her lower stomach and once again picked up an aroma, a scent of arousal, intensely exciting. Anticipation building, I moved down to the end of the bed, approaching her from her feet. What would her pussy look like? Would she be aroused? Would I be able to see her arousal? How would I tell?

I shivered. What would her little pussy look like when her legs spread? Would her cleft flower open or stubbornly stay closed waiting for my tongue? Would Jules be aroused? Horny?

"I am," she said softly with a smile. "Look."

Legs parted. Light in the room dimmed, the world went quiet in appreciation of a marvel of nature, a hairless, immature, prepubescent pussy. I shuddered as labia stretched, desperately clinging together to maintain modesty, refusing to reveal the jewels hidden from me. Then, in exquisite slow motion, two plump labia peeled apart. I shook as a long clitoral hood appeared, the nub of her clit at its tip. I shuddered as plump labia continued to peel apart, two undeveloped inner labia appearing, and below, a dark shadow glistened in the light, a sexy sheen glinting, her gorgeous cleft moist.

I don't explicitly remember how I ended up with my head between her slender little legs. But, God, the pout of her smooth hairless pubis cried out to my heart, and my mouth, and my cock. I kissed it, so silky soft, so warm, loving how it seemed to yield endlessly when I pressed against it. Jules had such a delicate aroma, a sweet scent mixed in with chlorine. Her cleft was silky smooth, moist, her arousal the sweetest ambrosia.

With infinite care I kissed her little clitoris, my erection straining when Jules hooked her legs over my shoulders. I felt her cross her ankles as if she was locking me in place. I tasted her with my tongue, sexy, a light, almost floral flavor with a hint of young sex. My erection was weeping as I let my tongue probe the dark shadow below her clit, pressing in until I touched her vaginal entrance, a tiny, tiny opening. God, Jules was so, so sexy.

JULES FELT HER BODY jerk uncontrollably. Her senses were being overwhelmed. Harry seemed to worship her in his mind, loving her body, loving her. She trembled, her pussy pulsing with arousal, pulses she felt all the way to her sore, aching nipples. When he licked her clit gently, stars went off, arousal storming her body. She crossed her ankles wanting to pull him closer, harder, ache crying out, need growing.

Tremors shook her when his tongue probed her vagina. She gasped, twitched, her hands rising to rub her nipples, pleasure building, pressure building. Deep inside her, somewhere in her lower stomach, she could feel an ache, almost a pain or itch needing to be soothed. She curled her bum up, pressing Harry's tongue to her, tremors shaking her. Her body started undulating, gently scrubbing her pussy on his mouth, tingles, tingles, sparks, nice Harry. And, as pressure built to incredible levels, her body tightening, as she lightly pinched her nipples, the pain feeling so good, so good, and as her pussy ached, moisture growing, and her pussy clenched, Harry sucked her sensitive clit and his fingertip pressed against her vaginal opening.

Rockets launched, stars burst, her body heaved up cramping from pleasure and pain. A wave of ecstasy rushed through her. Breath exploded. Jules cried out, "Harry!"

Heaven opened. She grunted, "Uh." Her body jerked, hips curling, bliss crashing. "Uh." Her body jerked, froze, breath held. The gates opened. Pleasure exploded, more stars burst, wave after wave of bliss assaulted her. She cried out again, her fists gripping Harry's hair pulling him tight, body jerking, cumming, cumming, oh God, Harry, I'm cumming!

JULES' CLIMAX TOOK ME by surprise, so intense, surprisingly violent. My erection was weeping, a slick wet spot on the bed as I hunched and stimulated the crown, rejoicing in Jules' climax. Then, when she grunted and heaved up off the bed, my finger that had been gently massaging her vaginal entrance was suddenly pushed in. I felt her cherry yield. The tip of my finger was surrounded by a vise-like silken grip. I came, semen jetting out onto the sheet as I sucked her pussy. I humped the bed to the sounds of a glorious, arousing ten-year-old orgasm, my fingertip held in a tight, tiny vagina. I came hard, spurting, slippery semen covering the sheet, pleasure flooding me, sweet release, sweet release.

Cuddled, relaxing in a post-orgasmic peace, Jules snuggled closer. "That was the best one ever, Harry," she said with complete honesty in her voice.

I looked down into deep green eyes. Damn. I was lost. I knew it.

As she drifted to sleep, as her soft breaths warmed my side and as I held a seductive little bum in my hand, I realized I loved Jules, completely, utterly. She put a smile on my face, and warmth in my heart. She was precious.

"I heard that," she murmured, nuzzling her face closer. "Love you, too," she sighed.

Chapter Ten: Danger Draws Closer

KHALED WALKED THE STREETS just off the Avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris. His trip from Lebanon had gone smoothly, slipping into Cyprus aboard the Cypriot Princess, and taking another ferry to Greece.

The false passport issued by Syrian Intelligence was only good enough to fool the Greeks. In Athens, he had prowled the tourist spots until he found a tourist who looked similar to him. Height wasn't an issue. Very few customs agents ever looked at height or eye-color, relying on the photograph as visual confirmation. Following the tourist had been easy. Knocking on his hotel room door, the idiot had opened it without checking. He'd left Mr. Keith Farnsworth of Montana on his bed, neck broken and missing a valid passport.

The new Mr. Keith Farnsworth took the ferry across to Italy and a train from Calabro to Rome. In Rome, Mr. Keith Farnsworth's identity disappeared down a sewer drain at the side of a road. Khaled's next challenge was to find a rock solid identity that would get him into France, then the United Kingdom and onto a trans-Atlantic plane to Canada.

He found his European identity in the Hotel Fierenza, one Emilio Duarte, a Mexican visiting old family relatives. Emilio never knew how lucky he was, leaving his room unexpectedly. He didn't miss his passport for the duration of his two-week visit either.

Khaled then spotted a largish man, his size with lighter brown hair. An accidental brush up against him, "Excusez-moi," he apologized, and he had a wallet, inside, a photo ID in the form of a driver license.

Khaled smiled and slipped into the Metro, heading for the Eurostar train to London.

Chapter Eleven: Complete, Helpless Capitulation

I WOKE UP TO SUN filtering into the bedroom and soft, moist warmth surrounding my morning erection. It felt familiar, yet different. Then I felt suction. My eyes snapped open. I gasped.

I'd never seen anything so outrageous, so erotic, so damned arousing; Jules kneeling at my side, small mouth open, lips stretched, my crown buried. A hand too small to encompass my shaft, stroked it slowly. I saw cheeks drawn in, felt the suction, felt a tongue tickle the crown. I moaned. She bobbed her head, remarkable eyes glancing at me. Then she smiled! She smiled with my erection in her mouth!

My climax tore towards me like a rogue wave. Reaching down, I gently pulled her mouth off me.

"Hey!"

Semen tore up my shaft. A long, agonizing pulse of cum shot up, exploding from my erection, spurting onto Jules' face, some entering her open mouth. Pleasure washed over me, pressure built and another agonizing pulse hit me. My hips surged up, semen bursting, beautiful pleasure, beautiful pleasure, white cum spurting in a long arc to land in her dark, dark hair.

Jules gripped my shaft hard, a look of fascination appearing on her lovely face as my erection swelled again, cum jetting out to fall on her stroking fist, bliss tearing through me. She stared as I pulsed, swelled, and spurted my way to a strong climax, pleasure making my heart thump, blood race, the sight of Jules holding my spurting erection driving my pleasure higher.

Finally, as stomach muscles started to cramp, my orgasm released me. I collapsed, breathing heavily, heart racing.

Jesus, I almost came in Jules' mouth!

"That's what I was trying to do!" Jules piped up, scrambling from my waist to peer down at me, one hand wiping semen from her chin.

What was she talking about? A serious expression emerged, looking so attractive on her cute face.

"You made me feel good last night. I was just trying to make you feel good, too," she stated. A frown appeared. "You ruined it, Harry."

Fuck me!

"Reeeeeally?" Green eyes popped opened, a smile appearing. "Now?"

Shit! I started laughing.

"No." I grabbed Jules as she tried to straddle me. "That's NOT what I meant, Jules!"

Over breakfast I discovered a new worry, as if I didn't have enough already. It came out in response to my question.

"Jules, why exactly did you decide to give me oral sex? And, how specifically did you know how to do it so well?"

Her face lit up. "Thanks! That's the first time I tried it. It's not hard, you know. But you were," she added with a giggle.

"And?" I put a plate of fried eggs and bacon down in front of her.

"Yum." She picked up her fork and punctured the yolks with enthusiasm, spreading the yellow carefully across the whites, her other hand picking up a piece of crispy bacon.

"And?" I reminded her.

"And what?" She took a bite of bacon, grinned and waved the bacon at me, "Gooood, Harry. You make good bacon. You should have some."

I felt like I was in a maze, slowly getting lost with every word, slipping deeper into the puzzle of Jules with no chance of escape. I wasn't sure if I wanted to smile and laugh at her or yell in frustration. On the one hand I found her frustrating beyond belief, a handful, impossible to control and, on the other, a charming, impish whirlwind with sass and personality oozing out of every pore of her skin. She seemed to do whatever she wanted regardless of my wishes.

"Jules!"

"What!" she yelled back, emerald eyes sparkling.

I laughed. I gave up.

As I was slowly chewing on a piece of bacon ten minutes later, debating if I needed another cup of coffee, Jules casually answered me after swallowing her last bite, regarding the plate with regret for its sad emptiness, as if a cherished friend had gone away.

"You were dreaming about it. That's how I knew."

And there, in one simple answer, a new worry was revealed. How could I control dreams?

"I dunno," Jules answered, reaching for her glass of orange juice, eyeing the last piece of bacon on my plate.

"Here," I passed it to her. Damn. I loved that grin.

Nine thirty in the morning, sky grey with pending rain, I was in the study paying bills on line when Jules wandered in.

"Harry, did you know your boat has bedrooms?"

"They're called staterooms. I'm busy, Jules."

"Kay."

She plunked herself into an armchair. "Do you always have to fish when you go out on the boat?"

"I'm busy, Jules."

"Kay."

Three minutes later, "Have you ever gone out and not fished, Harry?"

"Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"Busy?" I said pointing to the computer.

"Oh. Sorry."

She didn't seem to be. I grinned and, like every time I came face to face with Jules' determination, I gave up and logged out of my account, bills half paid. Turning the chair, I asked, "Okay. What's up? What's with the questions?"

She smiled. "Finished? Good! So how come we don't go for a boat ride and stay out? You know. Overnight? It's got bedrooms, Harry!"

"Staterooms, Jules."

"That's what I said. So how come?"

"Hmm. Hadn't thought about it. Is that what you want to do?"

"Yup. And swim. And maybe snorkel, can we? Are there any reefs and things around here? And can I drive the boat again? That was fun," she added with a firm nod.

"Do you have a diving mask?" I asked.

"Nope."

"Do you have a snorkel?"

"Nope."

Do you have flippers?"

"Nope."

"Then exactly how were you planning on snorkeling, Jules? Holding your nose?"

She grinned. "You'll buy them for me, won't ya? And another bikini, a red one. I like red."

Sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds as we idled away from the dock, the house locked up, twin Cats burbling in happiness behind me. Jules was in the Master stateroom unpacking her acquisitions.

Shopping with Jules was a marvelous adventure. I'd always shied away from shopping. To me, a perfect shopping trip was when I'd walk into the first men's store I'd see and the first pair of pants I'd pick up would fit me. Done. Shopping finished. One store, one stop.

With Jules, I was actually interested in shopping. I liked watching her hunt through bikinis searching for the right red one. She wasn't shy in the least, asking the clerk if it was the right size for her, this after she actually asked me and I'd burst into laughter. As if.

She was decisive, knew what she wanted and, once found, didn't seem interested in hunting further; a very rare trait. She played around with masks at the dive shop and, at the sight of air tanks, suggested scuba diving looked interesting, "Should we try it, Harry? Have you ever done it? What's it like? Will you teach me? Yes? Why are you laughing? I'm serious."

I piloted the Hatteras through the breakwater and turned south, easing the twin throttles forward, adjusting the trim until we were cruising on a plane at a fuel-efficient twenty-two knots. I was completely relaxed. The boat always did that to me. Looking back, I saw the gentle curve of our wake, white in the dark blue ocean. I felt the calming rumble of Diesels through the soles of my feet. That, too, felt good. I checked the GPS, our plotted trip taking us down to the Keys; one overnight stop on the way. There were a couple of interesting coral reefs that Jules might enjoy just off the keys.

"Here," sounded from behind me.

Turning, Jules held out a cold, sweating can of beer to me with a smile. She had a can of Coke in her other hand. "What, no beer?" I asked with a smile as I studied her. In white denim shorts and a red T-shirt, she looked really pretty. Her dark, raven shoulder-length hair was flowing out, fluffing in the wind. Deep emeralds made my heart constrict.

Then she grinned. "Don't like beer, Harry." She tilted her head slightly, inspecting my face. "You're pretty handsome, you know," she declared. Then added with a grin, "Are we there yet?" followed by a heartfelt giggle.

I was in love.

Moored at the Hutchinson Island Marriott at the south end of Hutchinson Island, I locked up Miss By-A-Mile. Jules had dressed up, a deep burgundy-red velvet dress falling to mid thighs. She'd brushed her hair until it seemed to glow jet-black. I was surprised when she kept me waiting. She was so efficient with most things. But when I told her I was taking her to a three-star restaurant for dinner, she'd grown serious and started searching and talking to herself.

I'd been sitting in the salon, relaxed and looking forward to a gourmet dinner when she appeared from below, a gentle smile on her face, expectation, unsure, slightly shy. She'd taken my breath away. I was at a loss for words. Jules looked gorgeous, utterly gorgeous.

"Jules," I'd gasped. "You look. . . You look. . ."

I shut up. I'd never be able to do her sweet beauty justice, no words, no thoughts could approach being enough.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, pleased with my articulate praise. Pleasure suffused her face, a strange look appearing.

My heart was still thumping, pulse racing as I held her small hand walking to the restaurant. Darkness had set. The dock was lit by low lights outlining a wood walkway to shore. Crickets sounded loud. Somewhere off to my right I heard lawn sprinklers start up with a swish, swish. I loved holding Jules' hand.

Ahead, lights glowed; the restaurant. It had a reputation as a culinary delight, a fusion of American Asian tastes. I was quite hungry.

"Me, too, Harry," Jules said with a squeeze of her hand.

The maître d' seemed to take a shine to Jules, fussing over her, selecting a window table overlooking the marina and inland bay, fluffing her cloth napkin for her, and snapping his fingers at a waiter, "Water for the young lady, now."

Jules seemed a bit bemused, her gaze returning to me every so often with questions in her eyes. When she smiled and said thank you to the maître d', I thought he was going to swoon. It was really quite amusing. Then again, I knew firsthand what a devastating impact Jules could have on you; a befuddling experience.

With menus offered, we quietly read them. Jules was completely invisible behind hers they were so large. I glanced at the options, saliva glands awakening, chicken, fresh seared prawns, mmm.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are the hamburgers?"

I put the menu down, trying not to laugh. Two deep green eyes appeared over the top of a menu.

"Don't laugh! It's not funny. There aren't any burgers on the menu."

I opened my mouth to respond. Before I managed to utter a word, the waiter started talking to Jules. One minute later I heard him promise to find a hamburger for her from another restaurant in the hotel. He hustled off without taking my order. Jules gave me a smirk.

I chuckled. There she was, my Jules in all her glory.

As Asian Five Spice Rolled Beef Tenderloin with crispy noodles, drizzled with a reduction of balsamic vinegar, was placed in front of me, sumptuous aromas delighting my nose, a plate of fries and a hamburger were carefully presented to Jules, a bottle of ketchup offered.

Big eyes glistened. "Yum. Thanks!"

The waiter practically floated away on a cloud of pleasure.

I once again became absorbed by Jules and her unique appreciation for food. She studied her plate. I think I actually heard her humming. Reaching for a fry, she took a tentative bite, nodded her satisfaction and reached for the ketchup. Red ketchup was carefully added to her burger and a pool next to her fries.

She took a bite of her burger, nodded her approval, and grinned at me. "Gooood. Wanna try?" She offered her burger in an outstretched arm.

"No thanks." Damn but I loved her. She had the most absorbing personality I'd ever known. Pretty eyes, too.

"Thanks. Aren't you going to eat?"

I did. I drank a nice red wine as well. When Jules asked to have some, I frowned. Remembering the beer incident, I caved quickly, passing her my glass. She sipped, decided I was weird for liking it, "It's pretty awful, Harry," handed it back, and cleared the taste away with a long drink of her Coke.

Walking back to the boat was nice. Evening coolness, a full stomach, Jules' hand in mine, and the scent of ocean in the air made me feel like I was truly on holiday. Then I remembered some rather illegal bedroom activities we'd had and felt an erection develop.

Jules giggled. Damn. I wished I could hear her thoughts for a change.

"I was thinking I was horny, too," she said casually.

"Jesus, Jules!" I looked around, my heart thumping. If anyone heard her . . .

"Don't worry so much, Harry. I checked. We're alone. I liked your kiss, too. When you kissed my . . ."

"Enough! You're going to get me arrested, Jules!"

Her giggles were not appreciated.

I was very, very relieved when she disappeared into the salon aboard our boat. By the time I'd closed up everything, turned the air-conditioner on, lights off, and descended to the Master Stateroom, Jules was in the process of stripping while jumping on the bed.

"Soft! Bouncy! It's nice, Harry!"

A pair of soft red cotton panties hit me in the face, a storm of giggles filled the room, and Jules dived under the covers.

"Did you brush your teeth?" I asked.

"Oops."

I pointed to the head. "Go. Brush."

I took a moment away from undressing, my hands pausing at the lower buttons on my shirt, to admire two remarkably bubbly petite buttocks jiggle their way into the head. My cock admired them as well. In fact, it was at attention when my boxers slipped to the floor. I followed her into the head. Jules stopped brushing, mouth foaming. She stared at my erection, eyes twinkling. Toothbrush in her mouth she nodded at it and grinned.

Foam sprayed onto the counter and mirror when I pinched her sexy little bum.

"HEY!" A gleam appeared in her eyes, pure mischief. She smiled enigmatically at me, rinsed and sashayed out.

I was going to pay for that, I decided, chuckling and replaying the beautiful shock in her face as I brushed my teeth. And, as I entered the stateroom, a low side light casting a gentle glow over the bed, I paused. Two intense green eyes peered out from under the sheet, lower face hidden. They twinkled and beguiled, pulling at my heart, reaching deep, and making me ache. I felt my erection partially subside, lust and arousal displaced by a surge of love. I loved her. A lifetime with her would never be enough, never satisfy me.

I watched large eyes grow larger. I watched as emotions passed through them, fascinated, entranced. I watched those eyes smile.

They followed me as I moved to the bed, raised the sheet and slipped in. They softened as I drew Jules to me, so petite, so perfect. I looked into her beautiful face. She took my hand, staring at me and, with a grin, put it on her bum.

"Nice, huh?"

Bugger me. I squeezed gently. "Nice."

She took my hand, removing it from her bum, turned slightly and put it over her bee-stings.

"Nice, huh?"

Jesus. I caressed gently. "Really nice."

She smiled, a heart-aching smile. She took my hand, removing it from delectable nipples and guided it down between her legs. I saw a shudder pass through her eyes as my hand cupped her. Her pussy was so sexy, small, smooth, delectable, a perfect shape. I shuddered when the tip of my finger found silky, slippery moisture.

"Nice, huh?" she murmured.

Fuck me.

"Kay." It was said softly, almost like a sigh.

A hand gently circled my renewed erection, a soft squeeze made me dizzy. I actually wondered if one could have intercourse with a ten-year-old. Would it be possible to make love to her?

"Ten-and-three-quarters," she said softly, eyes staring into my soul, her hand caressing. "Wanna try?"

Yes. Yes I wanted to try, God help me. I wanted her.

She smiled, a beautiful smile. "Told ya we'd have sex," she said softly, eyes intently studying me.

Those eyes winked out when I kissed her, letting her pussy go, drawing her to me, so petite against me, Jules so slender, so erotically young. I let myself go in her sweet kiss, thrilled by how her little tongue played, how she murmured, how her small hand slipped between us, finding and gently grasping my raging erection.

I moaned into her mouth when she tickled the tip, precum suddenly making it slippery. I needed to touch. I needed to feel her sweet pussy.

Jules rolled onto her back, opened her eyes. "Go ahead, Harry," she whispered, "You can touch," she added, her legs parting.

SHE FELT HER HEART racing. Harry's kiss had been so sexy, gentle at first then hot when she'd held his erection. She could feel her pussy pulsing, moisture slowly leaking. She knew she wasn't supposed to listen to him think, but his awe, his wonder and love made her feel so special. Before now she'd been mostly kidding about having sex. But, the way Harry seemed to adore her made her ache inside. The real love in him hit her hard. She loved Harry even more for it. It was an overwhelming, all-consuming love.

She sighed when his gentle hand squeezed her pussy, tingles starting in her clit, heaviness growing, arousal building.

Reaching with her free hand, as she squeezed his big erection, she pulled on his neck. His eyes burned her. She watched his sexy mouth descend, shuddering as lips touched. Harry was such a good kisser.

Pleasure blossomed. Her body ached, needing, needing. Her tongue thrust at him. Her pussy throbbed, needing, needing, clit aching. She squeezed his beautiful erection hard, broke the kiss. "Harry," she whispered urgently, "Can we? Please?"

A shudder shook her, his fingertip slipping along her slit. Another shudder shook her, his fingertip rubbing her aching clit. Pressure built. "Harry, please," she whispered. Her body shook as his finger teased the opening of her vagina. His excitement and adoration was making her shudder, such love inside him. Jules gasped when he sucked her nipple, her back arching up. "Harry," she pleaded, her body crying out, an ache deep inside needing him.

LORDY, JULES LOOKED SO beautiful, her eyes burning with arousal. She looked so petite, so small, her immature body exciting me beyond belief. I rose, moving between her legs. She parted them wider, a smile appearing on her gorgeous face, her hand reaching up to touch my chest.

I glanced down and shuddered. My erection looked huge, long. It swelled as I pictured it inside her small body. I looked at her sexy pussy, cleft parted, beautiful clitoris inflamed, and below, nestled deep where her labia met, a dark red shadow, Jules' tiny beautiful vagina.

I stared, lust battling inside. I wanted Jules. I wanted her. But, shuddering deeply, arms shaking, doubts assailed me. Jules was too small. I was too big. She'd never take me. I'd hurt her. I couldn't, I couldn't.

"Harry . . . Harry!"

I glanced up at Jules' face, stunningly pretty. She smiled and a flush of warmth hit me. Did she have any idea what her smile did to me? Did she know it made my heart ache, my pulse spike?

"Harry," she whispered. "Please let's try? I want to."

"It'll hurt too much, honey." It would. It must. Just looking at the size difference told me she couldn't.

"S'okay. I wanna try."

Reaching down I held my shaft, pushing my erection down. Moving slightly, the crown kissed her pussy. My erection jerked. The heat of passion descended again, a seductive fog where anything was possible, everything was right. My swollen crown was as big as her small cleft, almost filling the gap between slender thighs. It was intensely erotic, intensely exciting. Gently, I started slipping my crown up and down her delectable cleft, rubbing the tip across her clit, clear precum spreading and making her pussy glisten.

Holding my body above her with one arm, I stared at the amazing sight of an adult erection pressed to a smooth, hairless, plump pussy, a young immature pussy. It was stunningly arousing. I loved how her labia seemed to bulge out and around my crown.

I heard her sigh. Looking up, Jules had her eyes closed, a soft smile on her face. She had one hand softly rubbing her bee-stings, her other holding my forearm. I felt her feet, her heels against my thighs. Jules was stunningly sexy, incredibly desirable. How? Why? God I wanted her,

"Me, too," she whispered with a soft smile.

My worries evaporated under the onslaught of arousal. With my crown pressed to her short cleft, Jules moved, curling up slightly, pressing, encouraging. She backed off, pressure easing. She sighed, curled up, pressing, pressing as I held my rigid erection in place. She backed off. Pressure easing.

I was mesmerized by Jules. She was literally fucking me without penetration. I felt precum ooze into her with every throb of my cock. I felt her slowly pressing, easing, pressing. Each time her little labia bulged out, slipping over my crown a little more, my erection catching at her tiny vaginal entrance. It was an unbelievably erotic sight making my heart race, erection strain and ache. Each time she moved I felt the tip of my erection press against the impossibly tiny opening a bit harder. Her reddened, inflamed clit dipped to press against the flared ridge of my crown with each push. It was agony fighting an urge to shove hard. It was ecstasy watching an immature pussy spread from the onslaught of an adult erection. My heart pounded loudly in my ears. I felt the tiny opening dilate slightly, labia paling from being stretched, my crown losing color from pressure, throbbing, pulsing, oozing.

And then, without warning, as she pressed gently, pressed gently, my crown oozed into her, disappearing into her, labia stretched.

Jules cried out, her pussy clamped down. Agony hit me. So tight, so tight. I desperately tried to hold still, stop my erection from swelling rhythmically. I couldn't. The sight was too, too sexy, too arousing. I wanted to thrust, shove, bury myself in the tightest pussy I'd ever experienced. Blood was pounding through my body from the sight of an adult erection penetrating a smooth, hairless, immature pussy, a monstrous intrusion. I wanted Jules so, so much, her small ten-year-old body so sexy, so desirable.

Yet, I wanted to pull out, ease her pain, soothe her, cuddle her, wait and try again later. I was confused, horny, worried, stuck in a moment in time. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I stared at the amazing, stunningly erotic sight of an adult erection lodged into a gorgeous, sweet pussy. "Pull back!" echoed through my head.

And then her eyes opened. Intense, beautiful emeralds looked deep into me. Calm descended. Jules smiled, hesitant at first then growing radiant like a sun from behind clouds on a dreary day.

"It's in," she whispered. "I can feel you, Harry. You feel much bigger like this."

"Jules, sweetheart," I whispered.

Bending, I kissed her gently, so small, so petite under me. She sighed. Then she squeezed her tight pussy. I moaned, tight, agonizingly tight. My arm began to tremble from the effort of holding my body up. I lowered myself, lying off to her side, her thighs spread to my sides, pressed to the bed. God she was small.

Gently caressing a nipple, Jules sighed again and curled her bum up to me carefully. My erection slipped an inch, into a velvet heaven, held warm and snug and moist, so tight.

"Harry," Jules sighed, her arms trying to hug me. She curled her bum back. I slipped out. She immediately reversed, taking an inch and slightly more, a vise-like sheath of velvet encompassing me, tight, so tight.

"Okay, Jules?" I whispered.

"Uh-huh."

Jules tugged at me. "Hug me, please."

I moved over her, holding my weight off her petite body with my elbows. Bending my head I could only kiss her crown she was so petite. Her small arms held my chest. Her legs curled around my thighs.

I let Jules set the limits to this unbelievable experience, even though every fiber of my being wanted to thrust hard and bury myself. I let Jules undulate, moving her pelvis, bum curling up slowly, gently, my erection edging into her exquisite tightness further and further with each move. I let Jules lead. And gradually her movements gained intensity and firmness. She sighed, moaned, held me, fucking me slowly, taking me deeper and deeper.

I could feel every millimeter of her snug vagina as it caressed my crown, slipped up and down my shaft, silky, smooth, moist and slippery. And, as her moves gained depth, accompanied with little sighs and murmurs, I realized she wasn't in pain. Jules was enjoying this, too! I moved one hand down to hold her delectable little buttock, feeling it flex and move as she fucked me.

"Oh! Gooood, Harry. More."

I glanced down. Jules face was turned up to me, smiling. Jesus. She tugged at me.

"Please?"

Holding her delectable bottom, I started moving, slipping my erection in deeper, tight, God so tight. I pressed, withdrew, pressed deeper, Jules moaning. I gently took over, fucking her, slow strokes, deeper strokes, her ten-year-old pussy so tight.

The fog of need started building, that fog where rational thought gives way to pure carnal lust. As we fucked gently, Jules curling her bum up urgently at my thrusting erection, emitting little moans and groans, I penetrated her immature pussy ever deeper, a velvet sheath gripping my erection hard. And, with a loud grunt from her, I hit her end, my crown thumping against her cervix, her body shoved up the bed slightly.

"Gooood," Jules moaned, suddenly grasping urgently at me.

Jesus. I had five inches buried in her little pussy! My erection swelled. God she was tight. We fucked each other, long and deep and slow, agonizingly slow. Then Jules grunted. "Uh." I felt her twitch. I thrust. She grunted again, "Uh." Her pussy clamped down, tight, tight. I withdrew and shoved firmly, my crown thumping into her cervix.

"Harry!"

I withdrew and shoved firmly again, exquisite pleasure, so perfect.

Jules jerked, her legs flexing. Her pussy gripped my shaft. She froze and, as if releasing the hounds of hell, Jules came, jerking, twitching, crying out. She writhed under me, shoving herself at my erection, her hands grasping.

I heard a growl, surprised to realize it was me. Holding her sweet undulating, jerking bottom firmly, I fucked Jules, stroking in, pulling out, fucking her, fucking her faster, my arousal driving me. Jules grunted under me, her small body jerking with each thrust. I fucked her, desperation building, need for release driving me. I fucked her harder, cock swelling, pressure building, pressure building, wanting to cum in her, needing to cum in her.

With a roar, the dam burst, semen charging up my shaft. "Cumming, Jules," I gasped, shoving deep, pressing my crown against her cervix, pulling her little bum to me. Pleasure bloomed, semen exploded, glorious, glorious. I inhaled once, withdrawing, shoving, massive pressure building, building. I groaned, semen burned up my shaft. A massive load exploded from me into her little womb. Holding my little lover's bottom, ecstasy crashed into me, painful, painful, stomach cramping. The gates opened fully, control gone. I fucked Jules, thrusting, fucking, spurting, cumming hard, cumming desperately, cumming beautifully, cumming Jules, God, cumming!

Chapter Twelve: Lax Security

GREEN FIRS, PINES, AND maples flashed by the motor coach window. Fall colors were spectacular, reds, golds, bronzes and yellows like a patchwork quilt over the treed landscape. Khaled, now Jeffrey Sanderson from Missoula, smiled as he sat filling the window seat, the scenery unseen. Border crossing had been a breeze, Vermont not as vigilant when the group of American tourists crossed back into the States.

He reviewed his plan to acquire a car, any car, as soon as the bus stopped. Another two days and he'd be on site. He smiled. So close. He was relaxed, confident. He'd never failed before. He wouldn't now.

He did not know his cover had sparked a red light with Homeland Security five hours later. Fortunately for him, the inefficient Homeland Security facial recognition system had taken hours to process the border images; the small border crossing not important enough to warrant its own surveillance system. Images were sent to the Buffalo regional office and, by the time alarms were sounded, Khaled was in a stolen Ford Taurus heading south.

In Cape Canaveral, in a nondescript five floor building, a message was passed to Peter Munk, Director of Tactical Support Services. He studied the note. A feeling of dread seeped into him. For a moment he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he mulled over his options.

Harry was his best, never shirking at the worst that had to be done. He was exceptionally talented, a critical asset of the Service. But, he was a complete maverick, unwilling to blindly follow orders. He was smart enough to not trust everything he was told. He was that perfect balance of agents, a strong sense of duty balanced by a remarkable intellect.

Now Peter had to tell him he was a marked man. Syria had sent their retribution in the form of one Khaled Safri, a brute of a man, vicious and dedicated, and Peter had no idea where Khaled was.

He reached for the phone with a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy.

He was surprised to get Harry's voice mail. Leaving an urgent message for Harry to call him ASAP, Peter hung up, checked his contact list and picked the phone up. Now he needed to get the system working to intercept Khaled. He didn't feel confident at all.

Chapter Thirteen: The Real World Intrudes

WE CRUISED SOUTH AT twenty-two knots. The sun was intense, sky a powdery, washed-out blue. Jules giggled, her hair streaming out from the wind, tendrils dancing. She reached behind her and pulled out my hand again.

"Jeez, Harry. You're an octopus!"

Damn I loved her grin. I waited for a couple of minutes practicing my innocent expression. I pointed, "Miami over there," as we passed by and calmly slipped my hand inside her red bikini bottoms to hold a delectable, petite bum cheek.

I loved her giggle.

"Harry!"

Her face turned up, a frown fighting pure delight. God she was pretty.

"Thanks. Now take your hand off my bum."

Grinning, my heart singing, I bent and kissed her gently. "Nope. It's mine."

JULES FELT IT AGAIN, a hard ache. She felt her heart swell, love filling her. Harry was so handsome, so sexy. And, when he became playful, he was completely irresistible. If her pussy wasn't so sore, she knew exactly what she'd be doing right now; parking the boat and . . .

Looking up at his adoring eyes, she felt weak in her knees. Last night had been amazing. She'd never cum so hard, never. It had taken everything out of her, drained her and made her body limp. She'd been able to murmur "Love you," before falling asleep, exhausted, sore, happy. Who knew sex would be so good? She definitely needed more of that! At least, when she wasn't so sore. Maybe tonight?

What she loved, absolutely loved, was Harry's groping. She loved how he was trying to grab a feel all the time. It made her smile knowing he wanted her. How about that! And, when he told her she was sexy she could feel herself melt a bit. Yeah, she loved Harry.

But, the intensity of his feelings, the ones she heard, made her shiver. He loved her completely. She heard his desire, heard his sexy thoughts. She trembled when he started remembering sex with her, his awe. All day she'd been really careful not to remind him she could hear, wanting to give him privacy. She could have deliberately ignored him, but his thoughts were so sexy!

Jules grinned at how he couldn't stop thinking about her, even calling her an angel! Her pussy throbbed at some of his thoughts. She was proud, too. He'd really, really liked sex with her! Her! She'd heard him think it was the best sex he'd ever experienced.

Maybe tonight they could do it again. Jules grinned. Maybe tonight she'd . . .

WE ANCHORED IN THE Waltz Key Basin in the late afternoon. It was hot, the sun still strong.

"Wanna swim, Harry?" Jules asked, smiling as she leaned against the gunwale on the lower deck.

I had a vision of her swimming without her bikini bottoms again, a picture of her in the swimming pool, so sexy.

"Really? Okay!"

Jules gave this sexy wiggle, red bikini bottoms hitting the deck. I was riveted to the sight of her prominent pussy, how her mons seemed so large for her slender body, how incredibly sexy the gap between her thighs was. I had an erection as I ogled her seductive little cleft, plump labia, rounded vulva. And, as I made a grab for that sexy minx, she scrambled away to the opposite side of the deck, bright green eyes studying me, grinning.

Damn she was gorgeous.

Jules grin broadened. She thrust her pelvis out at me. "Wha'cha thinking?"

She knew exactly what I was thinking, the little tease; bend her over the gunwale, drop my swimming trunks and . . .

"Oooh, Harry. That's naughty."

"No it isn't! Besides, how would you know? I didn't even finish the thought."

I watched her eyes. I saw mischief enter them. I saw her sneaky grin. I saw her turn and shove her sexy bum out towards me, bending, her gorgeous pussy looming large below seductive little buttocks.

"Like this, huh?"

Fuck me! Jules was far too sexy, far too alluring. She was just damned gorgeous!

A storm of laughter erupted when I dropped my shorts, a painful erection rising. I saw a flash of white and Jules disappeared. A splash followed. I wasted no time, charging across the deck and diving. Magnificently cool water bathed my heated body. It felt a bit odd swimming with an erection, vaguely liberating, sort of sexy.

When I surfaced, some fifteen feet from the boat, I turned and spotted Jules, sexy eyes bright, smiling. Damn, I was in love. I wanted to kiss that beautiful mouth, hold her close, hug her tight.

"So why don't cha?" she asked softly, drifting towards me slowly.

I swam, wrapped her petite, exciting body in my arms, held her close as we bobbed and floated in the salt water. I kissed those alluring little lips. When Jules' arms wrapped around my neck, when her head tilted and her lips parted, I kissed her deeply, tongue probing into her mouth. I shook with arousal, with the excitement of such sexual kiss with a ten-year-old. It was phenomenal, sexy, brilliant.

When the kiss broke, it got better. Jules' legs slowly circled my waist. Her head dropped to my shoulder with a sigh of pleasure.

"Nice," she murmured, adding, "Ten-and three-quarters, Harry."

Dinner that night was simple and quick. By nine-thirty Jules was cuddled to my side in bed, her small hand gently holding my erection without any movement. I wondered how sore she was.

"Just a bit. Not much," she murmured.

I smiled. Well, this was interesting. I wondered if she'd like to make love again. I would.

"Me, too," she murmured, reinforcing it with a gentle squeeze.

Smiling, I thought it would be a good idea if she straddled me, maybe kissed me, or let me nibble on those marvelous bee-stings.

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh what?" I asked.

She glance up at me from my side, grinning. "It would be a good idea, Harry."

"So? Go on."

Jules grinned. "You didn't say you wanted to, just that it was a good idea."

She giggled softly when I physically pulled her up on top of me. Her giggle intensified when she deliberately kept moving, sliding off to my other side, her leg dragging across my erection.

"Oops."

I wasn't taken in by her attempt at innocence in the slightest. As I reached for her to draw her back up, she stopped me.

"Harry? Remember on deck? You know, thinking of me bent over the edge?"

Oh yes. I remembered very well. "Yeah."

"Wanna try that? Like, from behind?"

Did I? Did I? Jesus. My erection strained painfully at the memory of her beautiful rear, so excitingly compact, petite, rounded. Man, I wanted that.

"So that's a yes?"

I cupped her bottom and pulled her up slightly so I could kiss her. Soft lips touched mine. Her murmur thrilled me. "Yes, honey. I'd love to."

We scrambled around. I piled several pillows up. Jules grinned and bent over them, her legs slightly parted. The sight had my blood pumping hard.

Bending, I kissed each delectable little buttock, caressing them with one hand, appreciating the faded hint of two hickeys. With my other hand I caressed the length of her little cleft, finding silky arousal and spreading it. I let the tip of my finger slip between sexy lips to gently rub her clitoris. She moaned and pushed back at me.

I kissed lower, between her buttocks, kissed her rosebud, moving lower until I could kiss her sexy, sexy pussy. My tongue probed those tightly closed labia. I traced the source of her sensual, erotic moisture, shuddering when the tip of my tongue discovered her tiny, tiny vagina. Suddenly I remembered how tight she was, how beautifully snug her pussy was how intensely erotic it had felt to be buried in her. Desire stormed in.

Rising, erection jutting out, I knelt between her legs, staring at the amazingly sexy sight of a ten-year-old bum and pussy, naked. Jesus, I was excited. Her bum was so small, so compact, the sexiest bum I'd ever seen in my life; simply spectacular.

"Thanks," Jules said, her head turning to peer back at me, a smile appearing.

Fuck.

She grinned and wiggled her bum at me. "Kay."

I was lost. Lost. Grabbing my shaft, I moved close, trembling at the first touch, precum leaking out onto her pussy. My erection looked large. She looked small. It thrilled me. Gently, slowly, I spread slippery precum along her cleft, watching as her sexy labia oozed apart to hug the tip of my crown. So sexy. So damned erotic.

Working slowly, I pressed forward until the tip lodged at the entrance, her sexy lips stretched. I could feel her heat. It was hard to believe she'd taken me inside her last night, I looked so thick, her pussy so deliciously small, such a sweet little bum.

Jules moaned and pushed back. I was stunned at the sight of my crown being squeezed; stunned at the sight of her tiny pussy slowly dilating, oozing over my crown.

JULES WAS LOST, HER senses overwhelmed. She could feel her heart beating hard. Her nipples ached. Inside, deep inside she ached badly, again, almost a pain felt. When Harry's penis slid along her slit and rubbed her clit, a surge of arousal stormed her, a sharp spike going from her pussy to her nipples. She could feel little tremors in her body. And Harry's excitement thrilled her!

Then, it got better. Harry's erection started pressing against her pussy. She felt it try to burrow into her. She felt her pussy slowly stretch, stretch, and stretch more. An ache started and, just as the ache began to hurt, his penis slipped in, pressure abating. Harry was in. She tested, squeezing her pussy slightly, smiling when Harry groaned.

He felt so big in her, huge, stretching her beautifully. But, as he held still, the ache returned, an ache deep in her pussy. She remembered how his penis massaged the ache before and she wanted it again. She needed Harry to ease the ache, make her feel that incredible pleasure again.

"More," she whispered, trembling, wanting, needing his erection all the way inside. She sighed when Harry pressed slightly, a spike of pleasure coursing through her as her clit rubbed on his shaft. "Again. More," she instructed.

Jules felt his large, warm hands hold her waist and hips gently. She held her breath.

Oh God, yessss. She felt every millimeter of his thick erection slip in, stretching her insides, slowly filling her. So full. She felt him hold her hips firmly, press in harder, withdraw slightly and press in harder, deeper.

"More," she whispered, her body now shaking. Almost there, almost at the spot that aches.

"Uh." Yessssss. A surge of pleasure ripped through her when the tip of his erection pressed into the ache.

Moaning at the loss, the emptiness as he withdrew, she groaned when her pussy was stretched again, taking him in deep. She grunted when he hit the ache deep inside her. So full, stuffed so full.

Jules moaned again at the loss, sighed at his return, faster now. She grunted with pleasure when his erection pressed against the ache, nipples hard, nipples sore. More, Harry. Her hands closed, fists gripping the sheet. "Uh." Oh God, oh God. She squeezed her pussy as a sharp lance of pleasure hit, her clit scraping along his penis, full, so full. "Hurry," she whispered as pressure started to build, "Faster!"

She felt his passion in his grip, holding her hips more firmly. She felt his passion in his thrusts, harder, longer, deeper. She thought she felt him get even bigger, stretching her pussy, beautiful pleasure. She heard the wonder and desire in his thoughts. And then it hit. She felt his groin pressed into her bottom, his penis completely, totally buried in her, the large tip pressing hard against the ache. Pleasure bloomed, pressure released, she gasped and her climax slammed into her, body jerking violently. She cried out her bliss, body shaking, cumming Harry!

Sound faded. She felt Harry swell inside her, thrusting, thrusting hard. She felt him freeze, heard his grunt, hot wetness flooded her, flooding the aching spot. She trembled, Harry cumming! Another wave hit her hard, bliss, bliss, Harry spurting, hot, hot. She shook, pleasure exploding, stars bursting, clit pulsing, Harry spurting deep, shoving his erection in hard, spurting.

She heard him faintly, "Cumming Jules, God I'm cumming."

She gasped, her body arched cumming hard, body hurting, hot, so wet, cumming Harry, cumming!

Consciousness returned slowly. She felt Harry's arms around her holding her gently. She felt the rise and fall of his broad chest against her back, heard his soft breaths. She could smell him, a manly scent mixed in with something else. Sex? Senses expanded. She felt his large hand on her tummy. Gentle motion reminded her she was on a boat. Then a pulse of excitement hit. She still had Harry's penis inside her pussy. It felt soft, but still big. It felt good, really good. Jules smiled and tried to press back push his penis deeper. She sighed, totally happy, totally at peace. This, she decided, having Harry's penis inside her, filling her after sex, was the best feeling ever.

A smile stayed on her face when sleep returned. She loved Harry a lot. Mine, he's all mine.

Chapter Fourteen: Danger Arrives

KHALED DROVE PAST THE smallish bungalow. In the early evening light it seemed well maintained yet empty of life. It had taken a visit to the county records to find Harry Dempsy, 1179 Kerry Street South. While he studied, he wondered where Harry was, why he wasn't home. Was he working late? When would he be back?

Khaled returned at one in the morning, slipping soundlessly around to the back. The house seemed empty still. Quietly he picked the lock and slipped inside. Pulling a knife from inside his jacket, he moved room to room. The house was empty. But why were there girls' clothes in a bedroom? He didn't have a daughter.

Prowling around, Khaled learning nothing, until he was entered the study. Glancing though paperwork, he noticed an invoice for an anchor. Did Harry Dempsy have a boat? Could that be where he was?

As Khaled slipped from the house, he decided to bide his time, keep a careful watch in the house. There was no rush. Harry would be back, eventually.

Chapter Fifteen: Confluence

JULES TWISTED HER BODY, giggling, "Jeez, Harry, Stop!"

She loved it! Harry couldn't keep his hands off her, constantly groping her, "Nice bum, Jules," or slipping his hand down the back of her bikini bottoms to grab a bum cheek, "Very sexy, Jules," or caressing her hip, trying to slide her bikini bottoms down.

She tugged his hand out of her bikini yet again and pulled them back up. "Haaarrrrry!"

LIFTING MY HAND AWAY from her I said, "Fine, Jules. Want to pilot the boat?" I adored her giggles. Actually, I adored her bum, too. It was exceptionally fun groping her. I loved how she'd let me get a hand almost fully into her bikini before yanking it out. Such a sexy tease.

We were headed back to Cape Canaveral, the ocean calm. Having started early in the morning, I was sure we'd be home just after nightfall if I could maintain the thirty-two knots we were flying at.

I let Jules stand in front of me and take the wheel. For a few minutes everything was calm, the boat surging ahead, gently rising and thumping down, a powerful rhythmic movement that brought peace, wind keeping us refreshingly cool. Hugging her small body to steady her, I thanked my good fortune. Jules was a gem, a jewel, a sparkling personality that I loved rather desperately. And God was she a sexy little kitten!

"Thanks," she said, glancing back up at me briefly with a smile.

Yes. Sexy as hell. I loved every inch of her. Smiling, I let my hand slip down her soft tummy. She wiggled slightly when my fingertips slipped under a waistband.

"Harry!"

As my fingers slipped up over a sexy, sexy smooth pubis, a mound of pure sensuality, Jules crossed her legs and ankles.

"Harry!"

"What?"

I tried to probe between tightly clenched thighs with no luck, chuckling at how Jules squirmed and bent slightly while trying to steer. This was fun, I decided. She couldn't protect both her pussy and her bum at the same time, could she? Let's see.

An impish face turned back to me, a smile appearing, eyes twinkling with mischief. Jules grinned as, with one hand inside the front of her bikini, I made a move for her lovely bottom. She yanked on the helm wheel and suddenly we were tumbling to the deck, Miss By-A-Mile canted over at a steep angle and carving a sharp turn in the ocean at thirty-two knots.

Fuck me! I scrambled up and wrenched the wheel the other way before we capsized, in my excitement overcorrecting. Miss By-A-Mile churned into an opposite turn, bow plowing into the ocean, salt water spraying up in a twinkling curtain over the bow, deck canting at a steep angle. Jules, with a scream of laughter went tumbling across the deck to the other side. I straightened the boat, my heart pounding. That had been rather dangerous; thrilling, too.

"Jules!" I started.

"WHAT?!"

Two emeralds peered up at me, dark, raven hair a mess, legs akimbo, bikini stretched tight to her crotch, a camel toe clear as day and a huge grin on an achingly gorgeous face.

I started laughing. Too damned cute by a mile! Why did I even try to be stern?

Three hours later we arrived. Home.

I knew it immediately. I knew as soon as I stepped into the house. Someone had been there. I don't know why or how. I just knew. Glancing around, I made my way through the house, absentmindedly paying part attention to Jules as she thumped around, the shower starting.

I saw the red blinking light in my study, a message on the answering machine. Flicking the study light on, checking the corners, I pressed play.

"Harry, listen. I know you've still got a couple more weeks off, but you need to talk to me now, and I mean now. Call me. You hear? Call me Harry. Where the hell are you?"

I recognized Peter's voice and the unusual urgency in it. Picking up the receiver, I dialed.

"It's Harry," I said as the phone was answered.

"Harry, you need to come in now. I have some news to discuss and it's urgent," Peter said. "By the way, where the hell were you?"

"On the boat. What's the rush?"

"Syrians have responded."

I looked at my watch. Seven-twenty. "I'll come in tomorrow. I'm not leaving Julie here alone."

"No. Now, Harry. I'll send a couple of guys out to keep an eye on her. Get your butt in here."

Silence followed. Peter had ended the call. Twenty odd minutes later, Jules came into the kitchen, jeans, red T-shirt, damp hair, bare feet, and sexy eyes. She smiled. It hurt.

"Listen . . ."

Knocking at the front door interrupted me. "Hold on."

I opened the door. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum stood at the door. They were local guys assigned to headquarters. Both were nice enough, but they looked like brothers, both with dour faces, sad eyes, the weight of the world on their shoulders. They both sported red ties with light grey suits.

"Greg, Jerry," I said with a nod of greeting.

"Hey, Harry. We'll be outside until you get back," Greg said, and nodded to Jerry, "He'll take the back."

"Okay. Thanks. If anything happens to her, you're dead. Got it?"

Two wry smiles were the only acknowledgement I received.

"How long will you be?" Jules asked, eyes wide as I explained that I needed to pop into the office. There was a hint of fear in them. We hadn't been apart for almost five weeks. "Can't I come, too?"

"Jules," I said softly, taking her face in my hand, my thumb rubbing her soft cheek, "Watch a sitcom or two and I'll be back." I smiled and emptied my mind.

Jules studied me. "Kay."

It didn't sound okay to me, her voice subdued. Large green eyes watched as I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

Jumping into my perfectly average, reliable Camry, I took off. I knew I was going to tell Peter I was through, done with the Service, finito. This was the right time to quit. What was so important about Syria that I needed to meet with him so quickly?

DARKNESS FELL. A PAIR of eyes watched two men carefully. Khaled was of two minds. He'd been planning on going in and dealing with Harry. But a few things had changed his plans. The first, Harry had some child with him, a girl. The second was two men turning up at his door and Harry leaving in a hurry. The third, and most important, was he felt like punishing Harry. Simply killing him would not be enough. He needed to do more; humiliation, vengeance . . . punishment.

As he debated, a new plan evolved, a better plan; a more satisfying plan. Getting Harry out of his territory made sense. A lure made sense, some incentive for Harry to behave, take orders. The two guys protecting his home were no use to Khaled at all. But the girl . . .

JULES SAT ON THE couch watching Friends, a sense of unease permeating her. Harry had been worried, something about Syria. He'd suddenly seemed different, cooler, harder, a Harry she didn't know, until he held her face. She'd flushed inside at the strength of his look, his love burning her. But she sensed fear, too. Why?

Vaguely the sound of a scuffle and thump reached her. Jules heart skipped. She walked quietly to the living room and peeked out. Dark. Nothing.

Back on the couch, she was restless, nervous. The TV no longer held her interest, distracted by a gnawing sense of bad. She jumped when she heard a grunt from the back yard. She sneaked to the side of the glass doors peeking out. Nothing. Darkness. The pool light off.

Holding herself, she returned to the couch, now jumpy. Every sound, no matter how small or familiar, sounded wrong to her. Every creak sounded new and scary. It felt like the house wasn't empty any more. And then fear froze her. She heard him, someone, behind, "She can't see me. Just stay still little girl. A quick tap on the head ought to do it."

Jules screamed and jumped up. Blackness descended. She felt herself falling, unable to stop.

I WAS HAVING A hard time grasping what Peter was saying, the implications too significant. My attention deisted slightly as he finished.

". . . he slipped though from Canada before our system picked him up."

Open mouthed, I stared at Peter. "Why didn't you tell me Khaled Safri was here? When did he arrive? Where is he now?"

Peter answered quietly. "I just told you. Four days ago. We don't know where he is."

"How do you know he's after me?"

"A leak in Syria. They've cleaned up your local network. They're all dead, Harry. Khaled has been spotted twice. Both times suggests he's heading here. He's after you, Harry."

"Fuck! Is he in town?"

"We don't know."

I fumed. Shit! Jules! "I'm out, Peter. Like I said, I'm done. I can't kill any more. I have responsibilities now. Jesus Christ!" I pointed a finger at him, jabbing the air. "You should have told me on the phone. I left Jules alone, for Christ sake!"

Peter regarded me calmly. We'd known each other for fifteen years. "Harry, take all the time away from the service you need. We'll add more protection on you until Khaled is found and detained. After that, we'll talk about your future, okay?"

I didn't bother answering, just turned and left. Tendrils of fear undulated like oily worms inside me. I knew Khaled Safri well. He was a brute, vicious, strong, amoral, and had a sly intelligence that made him truly threatening.

Preoccupied, I drove home. I'd send Jules away. No chances, no risk. I couldn't afford it. Jesus, I couldn't even imagine anything happening to her. My heart ached. Yeah, send her away. Four weeks or so might be enough. I could . . .

The thought fell away as I turned into the drive, headlights sweeping over the lawn, a crumpled body lying face down. Dread flushed through me. Springing from the car, I slipped around to the back yard silently wishing I had a gun. I saw Tweedle Dum slumped at the side of the pool. Stepping close, I saw the pool of blood looking black in the night, his throat slit.

Silently I entered the house. Blackness descended in my soul. It was empty, sounded empty, felt empty. I was shaking as I searched, panic rising. Empty. FUCK! EMPTY!!

Back in the kitchen I saw it; a cell phone on the table. I watched my hand tremble as I picked it up. Clam shell. Flipping it open, a screen lit up. "You have one text message" greeted me. I clicked on it. Sounds fell away, time stopped. I felt dead inside.

"I have her. Come. 2930 Lafayette Park. Be Alone. Unarmed. Don't test me."

For one moment a deep tremor shook me, fear at its worst, most destructive, flowed through me. I inhaled. Calm descended; a cold dispassionate calm. Pocketing the phone, I moved. In the study I dialed Peter.

"Yeah?"

"Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are dead. Khaled's here. You better have someone come clean up the mess."

"What hap . . ."

I hung up on him.

The road was deserted, street lamps flashing by, pools of light, dark, light; a strobe-like effect, almost hypnotic. Entering the old business section, large empty warehouses lined Lafayette Park, weeds sprouted between cracks in the concrete, my mind, now ice cold, turned to the problem of Khaled. He was a brute, huge and much stronger than I was. Unarmed I was at a severe disadvantage. Glancing at the glove compartment I wondered whether I dared take the gun. No. But the knife?

Leaning over, I pulled out the Becker KA-BAR ESSE Eskabar; light, small, deadly. Pulling over, I switched the car off and stepped out. The silence was total. It was a deserted area, dead, left lifeless by the rush to outsource to Asia. Warehouse after warehouse lined the road, small street lights barely illuminating the road. Wire fences sagged, in places cut to give access to junkies and thrill-seeking teenagers. Wind-blown litter collected against the fences.

I walked quietly, the knife in my hand, held properly, blade down. 2930 was across the street. It was empty, a colossal warehouse with doors hanging partially open, high glass windows shattered with stones thrown by wayward kids having fun. It loomed dark and ominous.

Quietly I approached, with each step a deeper calm descending over me. It was simple. I had to get him away from Jules, distract him, wear him down. Yeah, simple my ass.

Slipping through the doors I smelled decay, rotting food and rodent droppings. Far off in the corner a light glowed.

"Harry. You came alone?"

The voice was deep, heavily accented, echoing in the vast emptiness.

"Harry!"

A scream followed the sharp sound of a slap. My heart rate dropped, steel cool descending. I was going to kill him for that. Moving from support post to support post I made my way towards the glow while Khaled casually talked to me.

"Just you and me, Harry. Adad Marfuse sends his regards." There was a chuckle. "Perhaps not his regards. You should not have interfered, Harry. You should not have killed Jared. You must pay; you and this little girl. You know that."

I didn't give a shit what he thought, just that he talked, led the way, revealed himself. He must have supreme confidence in his abilities, I thought. "Jared was a pig," I said, moving silently closer.

I saw him. Fuck he was big. I saw Jules on the floor, hands taped up behind her back, eyelids flickering, a dark bruise on her cheek.

Moving into the light, I let my fist and arm hide the knife.

"Ah. He arrives," Khaled said with a sneer. "You're smaller than I thought." He laughed, a deep rumble from a huge chest.

I waited for him to move away from Jules. He did, edging towards me. Calm descended, heart rate slowing. I bent my knees slightly, turned and extended my hand, the KA-BAR becoming visible. Khaled smiled and chuckled as he moved closer, his expression one of interest, not a flicker of fear or concern.

Suddenly a fist lashed out. I ducked. Wrong. Pain tore through my hand. It went numb as the knife went flying, clattering to the floor ten feet away.

Khaled frowned. "I said unarmed, Harry. For that I'm going to fuck your little girl before I kill her."

Pain radiated up my left arm. I moved closer. Jesus he was quick for such a large man. I saw his fist flashing towards my head. Bending slightly it bounced off me, a glancing blow. But he didn't know that. Another fist came, aimed for my side, a paralyzing kidney hit. Twisting slightly, it hit, glancing across my back; painful, but not debilitating.

I threw a few hits his way. It was a useless gesture, eliciting no more than a grunt. Sounds filled the warehouse, scuffling feet, grunting breaths expelled, the dull thud of fists landing. I toyed, made him work for it. Every so often I'd throw a punch to keep him focused and angry. Every so often he'd land one and agony would lance through me. I began to worry I wouldn`t last.

I started tiring, the effort to twist and turn taking its toll. Khaled was like a Goddamned machine, pounding away, a vicious grin of satisfaction on his face. I didn't like it. I threw a punch at his eye. It landed.

Khaled scowled and started raining blows on me. God, it had better be soon, I thought, my strength fading under the assault. I heard Jules yell, the fear in her voice distracting me for a moment.

His fist slammed into my stomach driving me down onto a knee, air exploding from my lungs. I heard her scream my name as knuckles powered into my chin, stars erupting, pain flashing through my head. Not yet. Not yet.

She screamed my name again, pure fear in her voice. I waited, absorbing another achingly painful hit to my shoulder, my left arm going numb to the fingertips. He was close to six eight; three hundred plus pounds of pure experienced bruiser and that hit felt like it had every bit of him in it. In a straight fight I was destined to lose, every time. So I waited, absorbing the punishment. Then I heard it, a gasp for breath; the bruiser tiring, thank God. This was the moment, his guard weakened, reactions slowing.

Exploding up from my knee, dropping my shoulder and twisting my body to add force, my right fist found the weak spot in his diaphragm, just below the rib cage. I felt his body shudder physically at the severe shock, internal muscles tearing and compressive force slamming into his heart. He bellowed in rage, his last sound. Stepping back and spinning, my right leg shot out as I bent at the waist, a heel catching him on his chin. I heard the break, felt the power of my kick as a stab of pain lancing through my foot. Landing in a crouch, I powered upright again driving the heel of my hand up into his nose, leveraging my full body momentum to deliver maximum impact. The effect was immediate and shocking and raw. He froze as if a .45 caliber bullet had hit his brain.

I saw life leave his dark vicious eyes. Like a large tree trunk felled in the forest, he slowly toppled backward, the ground shaking when three-hundred-odd pounds of dead weight slammed into concrete, dust puffing out from his sides and swirling in the glow of a weak wall lamp. Residual nerve impulses made his dead body twitch like a marionette; his body not yet aware it was dead.

Silence crashed in, an unusual silence after the fury and sound of fighting. Into the silence small noises started filtering in; my heavy breathing, a hollow echo of water dripping somewhere nearby, my heart thumping, someone breathing behind me, feet scuffling.

"Harry?"

The side of my face ached where he'd hit me. I was going to have a purple bruise on my jaw. In fact, I could feel the swelling already. There were four . . . no five . . . no, six spots on my torso that were going to turn purple as well. My kidney was tender. The heel of my palm hurt. My left arm was tingling unpleasantly as feeling slowly returned. I felt grumpy. I didn't like hurting.

"Harry!"

Taking my eyes off Khaled Safri, the big dead brute, I looked behind me. She was still there; hands tied behind her back with duct tape, laying on the ground, her raven hair messy and dusty, a pair of achingly beautiful emerald green eyes watching me with curiosity. Then she grinned. That hurt, too. But I liked that hurt.

"So? Aren'cha going to untie me?" she asked, flexing her arms to show me they were taped together, as if I didn't know.

I felt mean, and naughty now she was safe. I hurt. "Nope. I think I prefer you tied up."

Her grin broadened. "You pervert. Come on, untie me."

"I don't think so."

Jules laughed, a stress release laugh. "Uncle Harry! Fine! If you untie me I'll . . ."

I studied her sprawled on the concrete floor. "You'll what?" I asked those enchanting emerald green eyes.

She smiled, a sweet innocent little smile I found rather attractive. "I'll let you tie me up in the bedroom!"

Well bugger me. "Done," I said, bending to her. "I'm looking forward to finally having the upper hand, Jules," I said with a sneaky grin.

JULES LAUGHED, ROLLING ON her side to give Harry access to her wrists. He'd never have the upper hand, she thought. Then again, as he neared her, she heard some of those ideas of his. Hmm, rather sexy and exciting. Maybe she should let him.

Epilogue

Jules grinned. She tried desperately not to laugh. Harry was just so funny as he gently tied her wrist to the bedpost. He was so worried he'd tied her too tight, she might hurt, how sexy she was, "I'm gonna kiss her when she can't move, maybe tickle her, too."

As he straightened from tying her ankles to the outside legs of the bed, she couldn't hold back the laughter. It was too much. "Jeez, Harry!" she laughed, tears coming to her eyes.

"What? What's so funny? You're the one tied up."

Her sides hurt as she laughed. "YOU GOOF!"

"What?" I thought she looked rather delicious tied up for my pleasure.

"Jesus Harry. I'm still wearing all my clothes!"

Her screams of laughter made me smile. "Oops."