Chapter One

THAT FEELING OF DISSATISFACTION came back, unwelcome and distracting. I stopped working and stared out the open dark wood shutters and across the wide veranda. The view, a vista of succulent tropical trees dropping in a carpet of rich glossy green to the startling aqua blue water of the bay, its water so crystal clear I could see the undulating sandy bottom even from this distance, did nothing for me. The lazy ceiling fan stirred hot air with its wide wood blades just enough to cool sweat at the nape of my neck. A sea breeze, fragrant with the scent of blossoms, touched my skin like soft silk.

Trading precious metals may have brought moderate wealth, but it didn't bring happiness or fulfilment. Living in the paradise of Sainte-Lucie, better known as Saint Lucia, had, at first, brought excitement and a sense of accomplishment. Being able to live on my dream island and not yet thirty years old - six months shy of it - should have brought pleasure and a feeling of achievement. It didn't.

I stood, pushing the solid wood chair back from the desk with a slight screech. Restlessness made me itchy and unfocused. Walking out onto the veranda, I leaned on the railing and stared at Paradise - Marigot Bay. Life hadn't panned out as I'd expected. I'd been naive assuming money would fill my need and banish the emptiness inside me.

"J'ai fini, Monsieur Nuit," a musical rich voice said behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder I smiled at Marie. "Trez be-in," I replied, mangling French deliberately.

"Your dinner is in the oven. Don't forget it," she admonished. "À demain," she added, a smile flashing bright white teeth at me before turning and leaving.

Marie was my housekeeper. I'd hired her eighteen months ago, six months after buying the house. My dream of owning a property had dissolved in a complete disaster when keeping the place clean and orderly proved beyond my capabilities, due to either ineptitude or, more likely, a lack of motivation. And, as mess accumulated inside the house and perfect tropical gardens grew out of control, my mood darkened. Martin, a local bar owner, had, when hearing me bemoan my plight over a cool beer, suggested a housekeeper and given me Marie's name. Two days later she was hired. Neatness and cleanliness were restored in my small corner of the world in remarkably short order.

I loved Saint Lucia. It was an interesting island full of history. It had been ruled by both France and Great Britain so the population spoke French, English, and even Creole. Marie spoke them all fluently but a subtle sense of humour had emerged when she heard my name was Sylvan Knight, and, pretending not to understand English, had called me Monsieur Nuit - Mr. Night. It had stuck. Not one to lose, I'd retaliated by mangling French when speaking to her, getting great pleasure from seeing her wince every so often until she caught onto me and understood I was kidding. But it had stuck. It was the way we communicated.

"À demande!" I called after her.

A rich laugh floated back to me and made me smile briefly. The front door closed.

Turning back to the view, I tried to understand my plight. By all rights I should be a happy man. Having graduated from the London School of Economics and finding my calling in margin trading of precious metals, a talent I was remarkably skilled at, I'd achieved my dream of escaping the poverty of Birmingham, the council estate I'd been raised in, and a bleak future as a labourer in some Public Service union. I'd escaped halfway around the world.

The sun blinded me as it slowly dropped towards the horizon, four hours until sunset, and still blazingly hot. Shielding my eyes, I watched pure white yachts sail into the bay after a day-long cruise. Over the distance the faint sound of luxury cruisers motors reached me as they returned to their berths. The tropical breeze cooled perspiration on my forehead.

I was restless. I wanted a beer.

The scent of lamb stew hit me when I walked barefoot into the kitchen. Hardwood flooring cooled my feet. A blast of beautifully cool air washed over me when I tugged the fridge door open and grabbed a Carib beer. The bottle popped and hissed with escaping gas as I pried off the beer cap. Beer gurgled enticingly, a rich amber filling the glass and a head of foam developing as I poured. I paused, contemplating the glass, enjoying the way condensation developed on the outside; a frosty promise of ice-cold hops and malt awaiting me.

Leaning back against the counter, I took the first sip, the perfect sip, foam on my upper lip, cool elixir sliding down my throat, coolness hitting an empty stomach. Flavours of hops and malt and yeast lingered after swallowing. I closed my eyes and sighed; a small pleasure in life.

The second beer was consumed over dinner, eaten on the veranda with a setting sun. The stew was rich and thick, melt-in-your-mouth chunks of lamb spicy and delicious with hints of rosemary, and gravy-soaked hunks of potato. Marie had outdone herself, again. I debated heading down into town. Maybe stop at Chez Jacque, a popular restaurant, bar and dance establishment on the main street. However, surrounding myself with strangers didn't appeal to me.

I wasn't happy. In the lap of luxury, living in Paradise, I was lonely. Loneliness was at the heart of the dissatisfaction that plagued me. Selfish devotion to myself hadn't brought joy. Dedication to the art of creating wealth hadn't brought satisfaction.

Perhaps I was depressed, too.

There were cures: go out, mingle, re-involve myself with island social life, communicate, connect. Yet I'd tried before and bored of it. I could try again and boredom would no doubt follow. It astonished me how different social life was on a Caribbean island when you were a resident not a vacationer. I'd experienced the unique position of being neither. As a resident I had not been welcomed into the social circles - I had no one to introduce me, to be my guide, my entry ticket. As a resident I had no interest in fleeting relationships with single or married women who were seeking temporary validation of their sexual attractiveness while on vacation.

Sighing, cleaning up the dinner plates, I found a book and took it to bed. Had I sacrificed companionship in my all-consuming drive to be independent? Was this all there was in my future?

Morning brought cool breezes through the open veranda double doors. Sun from behind the hill sparkled off the ocean far away. The single sheet over me was soft and cool. Above, in the vaulted ceiling, a lazy fan turned silently, its wide wooden blades circling with a mesmerizing regularity. The pillow was soft under my head. What day was it? Loneliness, my faithful and unwelcome companion, returned.

There was no one to wake up to. No one to look forward to seeing. Nothing exciting to stir my blood or edge my pulse above its morgue-like tempo.

The sound of the front door closing reached me. I listened to the sound of productivity: the rattling of dirty dishes, water running, pots clanking. An aroma of coffee percolating through the air finally made me move. Showered, not shaved, with jeans, bare feet, loose T-shirt - my daily uniform - I entered the kitchen.

"Ah. Enfin. There you are," Marie said with a smile, pouring me a mug of coffee and placing it on the counter in front of me.

I grunted my thanks and sipped, the elixir of wakefulness burning its way down my throat, and studied Marie as she continued washing dishes.

Marie was of East Indian descent; a true islander. She was tall, a few inches short of my height, willowy and slender hipped. She had the most amazing skin colour; a stunning mocha that glowed with a sheen of health. Yet in bone structure she was almost Caucasian. Her nose was small and slender with a slight up-turn, her chin sharp, her eyes an exotic dark mahogany. She had an easy smile that, with her colour, made her teeth look brilliant white, her smile lighting up the room.

I watched her move, her long, mid-shin loose cotton skirt swishing and moving. She had narrow ankles, on the right one a thin gold chain. Her simple leather sandals were flat and open. Her skirt and blouse were a riot of colours, her hair - a long wild mop of very dark brown soft waves - was gathered back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, strands escaping to frame her face. I knew she was about my age, just not her exact age. It wasn't something I was willing to ask, either. It seemed too personal.

Sipping coffee and watching her clean the kitchen was relaxing. I enjoyed her presence. Caffeine slowly seeped into my bloodstream and woke up my lazy heart. A breeze flowed through open windows cooling the interior. I wondered why I hadn't really seen Marie before. She was actually a very beautiful woman. I noticed the sensual swell of her compact rear under the skirt, the shapely curve of her back, her slender arms. She was delicate and almost coltish, yet full of energy and fluidity, moving with the grace of a dancer.

Almost two years and I hadn't actually seen her? Where had I been living?

"Arrêtez, alors. What are you staring at?" Marie asked in a chiding voice, jolting me out of my rather rude inspection.

MARIE TURNED TO LOOK at Sylvan. He was sitting so quietly, unmoving and watching her clean up. While not to-die-for handsome in an Adonis way, Sylvan was unusually attractive, extremely masculine. She hadn't figured it out yet. When she looked at his chin it appeared too large and firm, the cleft too obvious. His nose was slightly too large, his brows heavy. When she studied his wide mouth, his lips seemed slightly too narrow. He had eyes that penetrated, a sky blue, unreadable. His dark tanned complexion and dark, dark hair made his eyes shine bright and disconcert her at times.

Each element of his face, in and of itself, was not particularly handsome, but when put together . . . she wondered if he was aware of how devastating and intimidating it was. Sylvan was intensely male. He was slender and lanky, perhaps three inches taller than she was. That would make him almost six feet tall. He moved lazily, fluidly, as if in no hurry to go anywhere, relaxed. He made her uncomfortable at times when she couldn't read him.

Life on Saint Lucia was far from the paradise people thought it was. Life was hard. Wages were meagre, food expensive. She'd struggled to make ends meet, taking two jobs at once just to afford the tiny apartment. She'd come close to being evicted, too, when one job was eliminated, the bar she was waitressing at folding in bankruptcy.

Sylvan Knight had saved her, even if he didn't know it. For the first time since she'd been a teenager and alone she could breathe. She didn't worry about the rent cheque and could splurge on a nice cut of beef for dinner on the weekend. Every time she paid a bill she said a silent thank you to him. He was a quiet boss, fair and, occasionally, a very funny man. She didn't know what he did for a living and didn't care. She'd found a job she loved. He was an easy man to look after, astute, undemanding, and easy to please.

But.

There were times like now when he'd have a lost look in his eyes. She didn't understand why. He had everything; a beautiful house in the hills overlooking the bay, a crystal clear swimming pool, lush tropical gardens, food on the table, money . . . freedom. By all rights he should be happy, have a girlfriend, party the nights away and suffer hangovers. She knew he was a year older than she was, twenty-nine. That was still young, so why wasn't he all those things?

"Vous êtes . . ." She paused. "You're still staring at me," she said.

I LOOKED AT MARIE. "Sorry. Did you know you're a beautiful lady?" I asked.

She frowned at me. "Now you're joking?"

"No," I insisted. "You really are quite exceptionally beautiful."

She snorted in derision. "Are you feeling ill? Where did this come from? Ce qui se passe?"

"Nothing. Rien. Thanks for the coffee," I said, slipping off the stool and retreating to my home office, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so personal with her.

Work absorbed my morning. Gold dropped to below USD $1,350. Good. I bought six-month options. The price would climb as Syria proved difficult in eliminating chemical weapons. By buying now I was playing the spread, betting the actual price of gold would be higher than the future price quoted, the difference between the two pure profit.

Absorbed in tracking my trades, Marie's interruption when she called me for lunch surprised me. But, what surprised me even more was myself. Sitting on the large veranda at an outside dining table, shaded by the overhanging roof, when Marie placed a plate of cold cuts and cheeses in front of me and a basket of fresh-baked bread, I glanced up at her.

"Have you had lunch?" I asked.

"Non. Not yet," she replied, laying cutlery next to my plate.

"Would you eat with me?" I asked.

She looked shocked for a moment. I'd never invited her before, but loneliness was haunting me. "S'il vous plaît?" I added when she hesitated.

Her smile was warm and bright. "D'accord. If you're sure."

"I'm very sure," I insisted. I wanted company.

Rising, while Marie fetched lunch for herself, I found a bottle of ice-cold white Chablis in the fridge and uncorked it, pouring two glasses just as she returned. She glanced at the wine, then at me.

Lunch started out a tad stiff, neither of us having dined together before. Relationships, boss and employee, were hurdles the wine slowly eroded with every sip and I discovered a perfectly charming woman underneath. Her laughter was deep and husky and heart-felt. She talked about growing up on the island, the class differences between native Saint Lucians and tourists, and other small inconsequential things. I lost myself in her sparkling, exotic mahogany eyes and the dainty way she ate, small mouthfuls carefully chewed as if relishing every bite. She was a graceful woman.

She asked questions and I answered, honestly. And somehow lunch dragged on into afternoon until, with an exclamation of shock, Marie noticed it was five o'clock, her normal finishing time.

"Ah! Mon Dieu! Look at the time! I haven't even done the laundry," she exclaimed, jumping up from the table.

"Forget it. I have lots of clothes," I said, not wanting the magical moment to end. "Would you let me buy you dinner in town?"

Marie paused, bent over while collecting plates. Dark eyes studied me. She smiled ruefully. "I'd like to but I can't."

"Sure you can," I insisted. "Just leave the plates and we'll go."

"Sorry. I really can't. My daughter is waiting for me."

That brought me up short. I'd never known she had a daughter. "Who's looking after her?" I asked, picturing a five-year-old girl.

"She is. Sophie can look after herself."

"Her name's Sophie?" Man what a stupid question I thought immediately after blurting it out. To cover, I suggested Sophie join us for a casual dinner.

Tropical evenings in Saint Lucia were full of dark skies and stars and sounds of busy streets and tourists and music spilling out from bars. There are two types of evenings: one full of charm and relaxation when the evenings are shared, the other lonely in the midst of crowds when alone. I was used to the latter so experiencing the former was thrilling.

We picked Sophie up in my Moke, an ancient British Motor Corporation contraption that one could only describe as a Land Rover re-envisioned by the makers of the tiny Mini Cooper and interbred with a dune buggy. It lacked doors, comfortable seats, working springs, and power; it was the perfect vehicle for island transportation.

Dinner was eaten outside on the patio behind Chez Jacques overlooking the bay. Moonlight reflected off small waves and a gentle breeze cooled. Christmas lights were strung up around the patio in a chintzy effort at adding charm. It didn't matter. Food was excellent and very French.

Dinner started slightly stilted. Some of the magic I'd had with Marie was lost in the trip. But another bottle of a bright and fruity Chablis helped. Marie's daughter, Sophie, was perfectly charming. She was a young Marie, slender and coltish, taller than I'd have expected a twelve-year-old to be, with the same stunning mocha skin, the same exotically shaped eyes of dark mahogany that, at night, appeared almost black. The only difference was a couple of dimples that emerged with each bright smile.

We chatted. But it was Sophie's open questions that brought easy comfort to our dinner. It started with a remarkable comment.

"Maman says you live alone. What do you do?" Sophie asked.

I smiled and answered, "I trade precious metals."

Fully expecting her to ask what that meant, I prepared my answer.

"You're handsome," she said. "Are you and Maman lovers?"

"Sophie!" Marie gasped.

Sophie, exhibiting no discomfort at all, said, "Quoi? He's handsome and you don't have a boyfriend."

"Sophie! He's my employer."

"So? You said you thought he's handsome." Sophie tilted her head and studied me. "He really is, too."

I never explained what trading precious metals involved. Dinner arrived providing a welcome distraction. Yet I noticed Marie's slight smile and it looked good on her. I also watched a rather remarkable relationship. Marie chatted with her daughter as if Sophie was an adult. She never talked down to her, dismissed her, or ignored her. The result was evident. Sophie was amazingly articulate with no shyness or hesitancy. She contributed to the conversation and made me smile, then laugh.

Through it all, Marie's eyes kept drifting towards me. When my eyes met hers she smiled gently, pleasure dancing in her eyes.

It was a wonderful dinner, perhaps the best I'd had in years. Without realizing it I was happy. But it was more than that. Attraction is a strange phenomenon. It starts with a separate part of your brain that processes things differently. While carrying on a conversation, participating and laughing, that part of your brain notices small things.

Mine did. I noticed how beautiful Marie's smile was and how it was reflected in her eyes. I liked it. I noticed her subtle smile, too. It was a soft curl of lips, a private smile knowing I was studying her. I noticed how long her fingers were and how they moved with elegance, her well cared for nails free of nail polish.

I noticed the small interlocking dolphins ring on her finger. I noticed how her silky top, a multi-coloured print, draped on her revealing very small breasts that seemed to suit her slender body.

Under the dark tropical sky, with music floating to us from inside the restaurant, and a view of the moonlit bay, with wonderful food and marvellous company, I had the best time I'd had since moving to Saint Lucia. It was magical.

She filled my mind when I woke up, morning sun bright. I was up, showered and shaved, when Marie let herself in the front door. The shyness I felt when I emerged from the bedroom surprised me.

"Bon jour, Monsieur Nuit," Marie greeted me with a smile, turning the coffee maker on. "Thank you again for last night. Sophie really enjoyed it."

"Did you?" I asked, climbing onto the stool at the counter.

"Mais oui! It was wonderful not to have to cook dinner."

Disappointment at her comment vanished when I saw her smile. She was having me on. I grinned. "Then, we must do it again sometime."

Over the next two weeks Marie and I entered into a strange relationship. We were still employer and employee but a friendship emerged. I found myself seeking her out during the day and chatting with her. Marie took to eating lunch with me every day and our conversations were wide-ranging; world events, island politics, raising a child. We talked about Sophie, and Marie's pleasure and pride was evident when I told her how impressed I was with her daughter.

Things evolved. It wasn't blatant. Over time we stood slightly closer to each other. There was no awkwardness when either of us would brush against the other when manoeuvring in the small kitchen. Marie's laughter was freely given, deep and contagious. Her hand would occasionally touch my forearm like a butterfly when making a point or drawing my attention.

Over those two weeks I became conscious of her. She wore a subtle jasmine perfume that seemed to touch my nose when she moved. Her colourful blouses and patterned mid-calf skirts hinted at her gazelle-like stature. Her skin glowed with health, a beautiful mocha, silky and flawless.

It took me two weeks to build up the courage to ask her out to dinner again, pre-empting her refusal by including Sophie in the invitation.

Marie studied me with her beautiful eyes, her expression neutral. Her lack of an immediate response wasn't good. But she knew. This time it wasn't an employer asking an employee to eat dinner together. This time it was a guy asking a remarkably attractive woman out; a woman he found fascinating. This time it was different, there was an implicit romantic aspect to the invitation. This time I was asking her out on a date.

Nerves built with each passing second of her silence. Then she graced me with a broad, bright smile.

"D'accord. I think I'd like that."

I was to pick her and Sophie up at seven.

----------

MARIE STUDIED HERSELF IN the bathroom mirror, condensation still coating the edges from her shower. She smoothed her hand over her cheeks and searched for wrinkles with an eagle eye.

"Maman, where is my blue skirt?" Sophie yelled.

"In your closet," Marie called out, studying tiny crow's feet.

"No it isn . . . Oh. Got it."

Marie smiled and turned the hair drier on, drying her hair with practiced precision. Her mind played over the past few weeks with Sylvan. He was such an unusual man, unlike those she'd known before. He was so gentle and relaxed in his skin.

It wasn't a weakness. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted. He wasn't shy about asking her to do something and was firm with the gardeners when he noticed something being overlooked. But his manner was gentle, considerate. She couldn't remember him treating her with anything but respect.

She pictured his blue eyes. To her it felt like he could read her, see inside her. They were very sexy. Marie's little voice sounded alarm bells. Sylvan could seriously hurt her if she let him close.

So what am I doing going out with him?! Am I folle? Crazy?

Yet, in his easy, laconic way Sylvan was very attractive. She just knew he'd never deliberately hurt her and that's what would hurt. He'd be too easy to fall for.

With her hair dry, Marie started adding a trace of makeup to her eyes. Getting involved with Sylvan, she decided, was too risky. She'd tell him tonight and steer the relationship back to a formal one before it was too late.

"So, what do you think?" Sophie asked from the bathroom door, striking a pose.

Marie studied her daughter, the simple pleated blue skirt, colourful blouse, hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Tres belle," she said with a smile. "I have competition."

Sophie laughed with pleasure. "Hurry up. It's almost time. Is Sylvan taking us to the same restaurant?"

----------

THE HOUSE WAS DARK. A gentle breeze wafted through the open windows and across me. The cotton sheet felt light and soft on my body. An owl hooted. Despite the late hour faint sounds of music and laughter floated up to me from the town below.

My mind was full and busy. I'd been treated to another wonderful dinner under the stars, full of easy laughter and sparkling eyes. I'd been charmed by a twelve-year-old who possessed the awareness and intellect of a young lady much older than she was.

I'd been gifted to watch Marie and Sophie jest and chide and joke; an amazing relationship. And I'd seen soft smiles from Marie when I'd laughed with Sophie. Throughout one of the best dinners I'd ever had, Marie's eyes had assessed me.

But, perhaps best of all, when dropping them off, that moment had arrived; the moment when things end or progress, the moment of statements, of intent, acceptance there was more to the attraction or not enough.

After Sophie climbed out of the Moke, I'd leaned over towards Marie. Marie didn't ease away, her beautiful mahogany eyes sparkling in the night, dark, exotic, and full of mystery. Some sort of decision was made. She leaned towards me with a gentle smile and our lips brushed against each other. Her jasmine perfume filled my senses. Her lips were silky and warm and soft.

"Bon nuit, Sylvan," she whispered, her hand caressing my cheek. "Thank you for a wonderful dinner."

"À domani," I said as she slipped from the car.

"Ooh-la-la!" she exclaimed. "Demain, not domani!"

Sophie's peal of laughter followed me as I drove away with a big smile on my face.

I stared up at the dark ceiling, the circulating fan barely discernible. Where was this relationship going? Was it even going? Could it? I felt like Marie had made a decision during dinner but what decision? And had that kiss been a "you're a nice guy but sorry" kiss? It had been so long since I'd done this I couldn't remember what the signals meant. What if I misinterpreted and embarrassed her? How awkward would that be!

Sleep was slow in arriving and restless in its visit.

MARIE SAT ON THE decrepit bus as it made its way up the steep road, her purse in her lap. The engine complained, straining, gears crunching as the driver downshifted. It was already warm, the breeze fresh.

Her nerves tingled, heart beating slightly faster. Last night she'd found herself relaxing and simply enjoying Sylvan's company. She loved his easy-going way with Sophie and noticed how happy her daughter was. Somehow that simple relationship made Sylvan even more attractive. Why?

She'd planned to discourage Sylvan and everything had backfired. Somehow she'd not just let him kiss her, but that gentle brush of lips had struck her hard. She'd felt it deeply and all her plans to steer their relationship back onto an impersonal track vanished.

What now?

The bus slowed. She stood and, when it came to a halt, Marie stepped down. She walked up the final fifty yards to his house, her mind wondering what she should do.

"Bon jour!" she called out as she entered his house. Out of habit she dropped her purse on the hall table and glanced around, immediately planning her day. The hall needed a vacuum. She should do the living room too.

Entering the kitchen, she measured coffee grinds and started brewing. With no dirty plates to clean she puttered around. An omelette today.

The scrape of a stool made her turn. Sylvan smiled quietly, his hair damp from the shower, bright blue eyes searching hers. Awkwardness emerged. "Bon jour. Comment allez-vous?" she asked.

Sylvan nodded as if thinking. "Okay, I think."

"Would you like an omelette for breakfast?" Marie asked.

"Okay."

Awkwardness was a physical presence in the kitchen. Marie studied Sylvan and knew. She understood his hesitancy wasn't driven by a lack of desire. The twit was worried about how she'd react or concerned he'd do something wrong. Maybe he didn't understand her implicit message last night.

Either way, this was too awkward. She couldn't stand it.

"Bon," she exclaimed. Walking around the counter to his side, she turned his face towards her. His blue eyes were watchful as she brought her mouth to his. He watched her as her lips touched his. She saw them soften and twinkle, her lips pressing harder. She liked his expression - delight.

Somehow he turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands caressing her back. Somehow he drew her in, her body pressed to his. Then the kiss deepened.

Marie tilted her head, her arms slipping around his neck. She felt the tip of his tongue touch her lips and, with an unheard moan, her tongue touched his. Dizziness set in, tongues teasing lightly. Her nipples tingled, arousal flowing in.

Ending the kiss, she rested her cheek on his shoulder briefly. It was too much, too fast, the power of her response to him too strong. Disengaging herself from his gentle hug, she turned her attention to making breakfast, her heart racing. It made her smile. She felt like a sixteen-year-old again and boy did he know how to kiss!

I WATCHED MARIE MAKING an omelette. My erection was still strong, tightly confined in jeans. My lips still tingled from the kiss, my senses still full of her clean scent and her jasmine perfume. I could still feel how slender and wonderful she'd felt in my arms. I could still feel where her breath had wafted against my neck when the kiss ended and she'd rested her head on my shoulder.

Marie moved fluidly, competent and at ease. There was a brightness and bounce in her that made me smile. I'd done that. I'd made her smile so brightly. It felt good.

"You'll eat with me?" I asked, sipping coffee.

"Non. Merci. I ate breakfast with Sophie."

"I like your daughter. She's a mini you; just as pretty and with the same sense of humour."

Marie smiled. "She likes you, too." Taking a plate, she slipped the omelette onto it, added buttered toast and slid it across the counter to me.

I ate and watched Marie begin washing dishes. She gazed out the window, water running into the sink. I studied her closely. My mind teased me, wondering what the swell of her compact rear would feel like to caress. I wondered what her lovely mocha skin would taste like and what her small breasts looked like. What type of lingerie did she wear? Plain? Sexy lace? The fork paused as I tried to picture her in a bra and panties with an apron on washing those dishes. My erection strained.

I knew what I wanted - to kiss her again and tumble into bed, get hot and sweaty with her and shower together. My imagination was inventive and very visual, my desire exquisite in its intensity. Yet I didn't know how to proceed.

Should I grab her and kiss her? Would that be too forward, too soon? Did she want me to initiate actions? Was she waiting for me to move or was she happy with the promise in the air between us, that yearning ache and excitement at possibilities?

Whatever it was, I decided to take no chances. I didn't want to derail our budding relationship. It was too exciting, something I hadn't felt in a long, long time. Besides, I was feeling a bit insecure.

Work occupied me through the morning. Time passed quickly. When Marie called me for lunch it felt like only minutes had passed since breakfast. She'd prepared a cold cuts lunch, fresh baguette, and a chilled black bean salad. It was wonderful. Conversation flowed as we ate. We covered everything and anything except our developing closeness.

To me it was something physical in the air, as if nature was holding its breath. The change in our relationship was on the cusp, interest ready to become familiarity and intimacy. That possibility hung there. I thought it might be only me feeling it, but when Marie placed her glass of water down and stood, instead of clearing the table she moved to my side.

It was the most natural thing in the world. I guided her into my lap sitting sideways. She dazzled me with a sensual smile and sparkling dark eyes. She was surprisingly light in my lap. I loved how her soft, cool hand cupped the side of my face. My hands found her back and her waist. Her head bent.

The kiss was stunning. It was slow and gentle, lips parting, tongues caressing, exploring, probing. It was intense and beautiful and arousing. And when I stood, lifting her with ease, Marie nestled her face to my neck. Her hand caressed my jaw. Her breath was warm and clean. Jasmine perfume wafted at me.

In the bedroom, windows open, a breeze bringing coolness and the scent of flowering blooms, I put her down. We stood holding each other. My body trembled. Intimacy had been a long ago memory to me.

"Are you sure, Sylvan?" she asked, her arms around my waist, her slender body pressed to mine.

I liked that she asked. "Yes. Positive," I replied.

There was no frenzy, no desperation, no stripping and tumbling into bed. My hands slipped up under her blouse when we kissed again, gliding up her slender back to touch her bra and shoulder blades. Marie's hands slipped down from my shoulders, down my back and onto my butt. Her tongue became frisky as she pulled my groin to hers, pressing against the lump in my jeans.

When I started lifting her blouse our kiss broke. Marie smiled, exotic eyes shining, and lifted her arms for me. The blouse fell from my fingers. I looked down. It was lacy blue, a half-cup bra. Mocha swells mounded gently, her breasts small, sensual, and beautiful.

I raised my arms for her, the Polo shirt pulled up and off and dropped to the floor. She studied my chest, fingertips trailing through fine, sparse chest hair. Drawing her in, her lacy bra pressed to me. We kissed again, soft and sensual, tongues playing. My erection ached.

"Take them off," she urged, unbuttoning the front of my jeans.

While I unzipped and drew them down, Marie unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor collecting at her feet. She stepped out of it. I didn't notice her studying me. I was too wrapped up in her glorious body.

Marie was slender, her hips narrow. Yet she was full of delicate, sexy curves. Her skin glowed silken in the afternoon light. Soft swells filled her bra, petite and alluring. Her stomach wasn't flat. Below her navel it curved slightly in a gentle, feminine way. Blue panties hugged her, the front curved by the press of her mons.

Her legs were breathtaking. They were slender and endlessly long with a sensual gap between them. Thighs curved, slim and silky. A delicate gold chain hung on one ankle. Marie quite took my breath away.

It wasn't until a gentle hand brushed against my tented erection that I looked up. Marie smiled.

"You're spectacular," I said.

"Merci."

"No. I mean you're spectacular," I said again.

"So you said," she replied with a smile. Her hands reached behind her. The demi-tasse bra fell loose. Her arm teasingly held it in place, dark, beautiful eyes studying me.

She waited for me. She waited until I raised my eyes from her chest and looked at her. With a soft smile she dropped her arm. Like a powerful magnet my eyes were drawn back. The sound of my sharp inhalation was loud.

God they were perfect; small yet sensual with perfect shape, seemingly full with dark, almost black areolae and firm nipples. The undersides curved, top sides sloped. Her breasts sat proud and firm. They were perfect.

Moving into her, our bodies touched, her perky breasts pressing against me, my erection pressing against her. We nuzzled and hugged and lips sought each other out. The kiss was intense and insistent and hard. My hand cupped a pantie-clad buttock and we tumbled back onto the bed.

Senses became full and disjointed; the flare of a slender hip, the swell of a succulent buttock, firm and beautiful. A sexy body pressed against me, moving and undulating. Murmurs disoriented me. Panties slipped down to reveal gorgeous, firm buttocks and silky café au lait flesh. Long legs pressed between mine, a knee easing up to press against my groin. A delicate hand eased into my boxers and fingers wrapped around my erection. Her moan washed away all rational thoughts.

It wasn't my best. It wasn't even close.

I was too overwhelmed. Long, long legs caressed my thighs. A hand urgently shoved my boxers off and, somehow naked together, we pressed against each other, my erection aching, her fingers caressing me.

I touched her. Silky, tightly curled dark pubes combed through my fingers. Her legs eased apart and I cupped her pussy, full, a beautiful palmful. She was moist, labia hugging my finger. Our kiss was deep and demanding when my fingertip found her entrance nestled at the base of her cleft. Her hand gripped my erection. Marie's knee edged under my legs. Her hands urged me up and over her, her knees rising to cradle me.

Looking down at her I saw an exotic Goddess, breasts perky, and below, trimmed curly pubic hair covering her mons. Her mocha skin made my erection seem pale. I looked into her eyes.

"You're beautiful," I whispered, bending to kiss her.

Her lips opened to mine. A murmur broke the silence and her hand gently held my shaft. The tip of my erection brushed along her cleft, the sensation making me gasp and end our kiss.

Rising on one arm, my body held off her, I bent and kissed her breast tasting salty perspiration, my tongue feeling the crinkles of her dark areola and her turgid nipple. Sealing my lips to her breast I sucked gently.

Marie moaned, her hand holding the back of my head pressing my mouth to her breast. She curled her pelvis and slipped the tip of my erection along her silken cleft. Labia parted. Moisture, slippery and welcoming, greeted me.

The next moan was mine.

Hunching, a snug, moist, velvet pussy eased over my crown, the feeling exquisite. I couldn't stop my reaction. Groaning, I thrust gently and drowned in the sensation of being taken in, held in a tight grip, surrounded by silken heat. My cock pulsed and throbbed. Marie's pussy nestled into my groin. Thrusting again I was in, buried in perfection.

Her arms pulled me down onto her. We paused. My cock flexed inside her. Her thighs cradled my sides, hands caressing my back.

First time intimacy is hesitant. Each movement is made with delicacy and the partner in mind; does it feel good, does she like it, am I bringing her pleasure? But occasionally, when it's with the right person it can be funny and exciting and worry free. That was how it was with Marie.

It started with me remembering belatedly about birth control.

"We should stop," I said.

"Already?" Marie asked in surprise.

With a smile I said, "I don't have condoms."

"Yes. I can feel it," she replied, giving my erection a little hug with her snug pussy. "It's okay. I'm safe."

"But . . ."

"Shush. We're fine," she insisted.

"Okay."

Smiling, watching her expressive eyes, I kissed her gently. She caressed my back, her hands finding my buttocks and pulling me into her gently. Her hips undulated slightly scraping her clit against me. My erection swelled and strained making her feel tighter, beautiful, pure heaven.

A wave of pleasure washed over me, it felt so damned good to be buried inside her.

"I should mention it's been quite a while since I've done this. I might not last," I warned, another stronger wave of pleasure hitting me.

Marie smiled broadly. "Je sais. I know. I change your sheets. It's been more than a year. It's okay. It's been a long time for me, too."

She curled her hips away, my cock partially withdrawing. Reversing, I sank into her again, deeply penetrating her.

"I just thought you should know that this time might not be representative of my usual stamina," I advised her, and groaned when she laughed, her pussy clenching.

"Mon Dieu! Do you always talk so much?" she asked, her beautiful eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Generally no," I claimed, slowly withdrawing from her warm clasp and, as my crown almost emerged, reversing, slipping smoothly into her, my groin knocking against her clit. "Usually I let my actions speak for themselves, but I'm worried they might send the wrong message this first time."

Marie laughed, deep and amused. She undulated underneath me. My tip nudged into her deepest part, touching her end. When I moved my hips in a circular motion her eyes narrowed. Her pussy gripped me sending shudders of pleasure into me.

Stroking her side, my hand found the sexy curve of one buttock, silky and firm. The thumb of my other hand teased one of her nipples. She moaned quietly.

"Aaah, c'est bon," she murmured, her hips hunching.

Still not stroking into her we teased, rubbing our groins, moving gently against each other. I kissed her again, her breath wafting against my cheek. Tongues played.

Suddenly her hands gripped my buttocks. She snorted as we kissed. Her body jerked lightly and through my erection I experienced her rhythmic clenches, each accompanied by a snort of breath and a body twitch. The kiss broke.

"Sylvan," she gasped quietly.

I felt every part of her sudden climax. I felt her buttock flexing, body undulating and pussy clenching with each wave of pleasure hitting her. I felt her thighs tighten against me and her hands grasping my buttocks. I felt her chest heave as she gasped for breath. And I heard her little cries of pleasure. It was a beautiful climax, thrilling, enchanting.

Like any man I was delighted I'd brought her such pleasure and, for the two minutes of her climax, I completely forgot about my own needs. But, when she calmed, her deep mahogany eyes opened and she gifted me with one of her dazzling smiles.

Mistakenly I thought she was done.

Her hands prevented me from withdrawing. "Non. Now it's your turn," she said, her tight pussy easing off and reversing. She pulled me into her, my erection slipping deep, her pussy moist and snug.

I withdrew and pressed back in, sliding deep, my cock swelling, her velvet grip so erotic. Marie wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down, my face finding her slender neck and ear. I nibbled. She trembled. We fucked slowly, easily. There was no rush, no hurry, just slow deeply pleasurable strokes. Her beautiful pussy welcomed me again and again, moist and sensual, snug and erotic. We moved languidly in the warm afternoon heat, perspiration coating my body. It was fantastic. But then it got better.

"I'm cumming, Sylvan," she whispered. "Cum with me."

This time I recognized the signs and, as she climaxed again my orgasm came thundering towards me. "Oh God," I managed to gasp, pressure building. My erection swelled. Aching started. For one exquisite moment I almost felt pain and then, with a firm thrust into her beautiful pussy, burying myself deeply, I exploded, bliss crashing down over me, semen erupting, pulsing, pleasure, pleasure. Withdrawing, I thrust again, exploding, semen spurting, utter bliss. Eyes closed, panting, I thrust and came, thrust and came spurting deep into Marie, flooding her, straining, aching with pleasure. I chased my climax, hunching and cumming until with a final deep groan, a final agonizing pulse, I collapsed, drained, done, empty, my heart racing.

Stirring, I slipped off Marie to her side. She rolled to face me giving me a smile.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Men!" she exclaimed with a grin. "Of course I am okay. Why wouldn't I be? Sex is wonderful, non?"

With a grin I asked, "Is cuddling good, too?"

Marie moved into my side, her fingers playing with the hair on my chest. I hugged her with one arm, caressing her back, her side, and her amazing buttocks. Above me the ceiling fan turned lazily. My eyes closed.

The next thing I knew Marie was scrambling up. "Mon Dieu! Look at the time!" She dressed quickly, a sexy reverse of how she'd gotten naked in the first place; panties, bra, skirt, blouse. I lounged naked and watched her enjoying the sight of her beautiful slender body, her amazingly perfect skin colour so attractive.

"Don't you want to shower?" I asked.

"No time. I'm late. Sophie will be waiting."

"Can I drive you?"

Marie bent and kissed me. "Non. Merci. À demain."

"Oh river," I called out as she disappeared, my version of 'au revoir', goodbye.

Marie let out a loud laugh, the front door closing behind her.

SOPHIE GLANCED AT HER mother as she made dinner. She was smiling and humming to herself. She'd also been late when she got home giving some lame excuse.

Sophie puzzled the situation. She hadn't seen these signs together before. Humming, yes. Smiling, yes. Lame excuses? No. What was going on? Rising from the small kitchen table she moved close to her mother planning on interrogating her. She picked up a scent. Leaning close she sniffed.

"What are you doing?" Marie asked.

"You smell different," Sophie said taking another sniff.

"Stop it," Marie said. "I'm going to shower before we eat," she added, her cheeks warm.

Sophie sat at the table and pondered the mystery.

IN THE SHOWER MARIE washed herself carefully. She was still blushing at Sophie noticing a different smell. Sex always left a different aroma on your body. It was something to do with pheromones.

She knew she was in trouble. She'd been afraid of it, too. Sylvan was a wonderful lover, funny and sexy and intense and gentle. Yes, she was in trouble. He was going to hurt her deeply.

Marie still couldn't believe she'd cum twice. That had never happened before. And he had a beautiful cock, circumcised, thick, straight and hard, so hard. He fit her perfectly, filling her beautifully.

Blushing, she wondered if it was because he hadn't had sex in so long. He'd had so much semen it had leaked into her panties and even left a damp spot on her skirt when she'd sat in the bus. She loved it.

Rinsing herself, Marie knew she was in trouble. Sylvan had the potential to really hurt her. What should she do? End it now before it was too late? Could she keep the job?

Marie puttered in Sylvan's kitchen. She was nervous. Seeing him after having had sex with him would have been nice except she'd decided the sex had been a mistake. It left her too vulnerable. She was too scared of the hurt. Now she'd have to find a way to go back to how things had been.

"Bon jour, Marie. Comment ça va?"

Turning from the sink her heart thumped. Sylvan had a lazy welcoming smile on his face that she felt all the way to her lower parts. Crystal clear blue eyes smiled at her making her heart skip. He was just so damned handsome.

"Morning. What do you want for breakfast?"

"You."

Marie's resolve wavered. Her light laugh sounded weak in her ears.

"Come," he said extending his hand.

She took it, surprised when Sylvan didn't lead her to the bedroom. He led her out the front door, passing her her handbag. Five minutes later the Moke was carrying them along the rising and plunging road, the Caribbean flashing by on the right, hills rising on the left, tropical trees lining the road.

"Where are we going?" she asked over the loud engine.

Sylvan smiled. "I'm taking you to lunch."

For the next thirty minutes she swayed in the seat as Sylvan negotiated the narrow twisting road. They emerged high above Soufriere Bay and descended into the small town. Parking, he surprised her again, taking her hand and strolling along the waterfront.

He started talking. He asked no questions. He talked about growing up, Birmingham, rain, council estates, hopelessness. He talked about working to put himself through the London School of Economics. He talked about being driven and success and unexpected loneliness.

Holding her hand, walking slowly along the beach front, motorboats and sailing boats at anchor bobbing in the gentle swells, he talked about her, how he felt, his attraction to her, her beauty. And with every word Marie's resolve faded.

Over lunch he had her laughing. Over coffee he had her feeling warm and beautiful and desirable. And by two-thirty she couldn't wait to get back to his house.

Second time sex is always better. Nervousness is gone, your partner's body familiar yet still new, and shyness no longer inhibits actions. Sex with Sylvan was much much better. He brought a rambunctious energy, laughter and naughtiness, and mixed it with adoration that just took her breath away. He was pure, uncomplicated and generous, and the best lover she'd ever had.

His playfulness emerged as soon as she entered the house. He grinned, his eyebrows moving up and down. "Wanna mess around?"

Marie had been carrying horniness with her since lunch, his acute attention a physical caress over the long meal. She'd studied his strong face on the drive back, how he smiled so brightly and without reservation. She'd studied the shape of his mouth and remembered kissing it. She'd admired his lanky, easy way of moving and remembered how wonderful his erection had felt, how it filled her so perfectly and brought so much pleasure.

Marie had physically reacted to Sylvan. Her small breasts felt heavy, full, ripe, her nipples calling out to be caressed. Her pussy ached for a touch. Her body remembered strong orgasms and wanted them again. She was just plain horny.

In answer to his twinkling blue eyes, his offer to mess around, and the boyish grin, Marie set her purse down, smiled and slinked up to him. Her hand found his hip. She leaned in, her lips near his ear. This close she smelled him; the faint trace of soap mingled with an intense male scent. Her other hand brushed against the lump of his erection. She whispered, "Oui, I would very much like to mess around."

His sharp inhalation made her smile. She felt his erection throb through his jeans. She caressed, loving its shape, thick and promising untold pleasure. Still close to him, breathing against his neck, her fingers found the brass button and popped it open. When his hand reached for her breast she brushed it aside.

"Non. Wait."

Marie lowered his zipper and carefully eased her fingers inside, under his boxers, down, seeking and finding his thick erection. "You have a beautiful erection, Sylvan," she whispered, slowly gripping the shaft.

He moaned quietly making her smile.

"I'm very horny," she whispered, her thumb caressing the crown. She shivered when slippery precum spread. Feeling very sneaky she added more briskly, "But I have chores to do. This will have to wait."

She withdrew her hand and held her breath.

Sylvan growled deep in his chest. She smiled when his hand grabbed hers. He dragged her to the bedroom with determination and, when he turned her and pushed her back onto the bed, Marie started laughing.

Her heart skipped at the sight of sparkling blue eyes and a big grin, his jeans partly open. When he drew the hem of her skirt up, brushing her protecting hands aside, she laughed. Her laugh died away at his touch, his hand slipping up her thigh to press against her panties, caressing her mons.

He leaned over the bed, his face close to hers. The kiss was tender, soft, sexy.

"How horny are you?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Very, very horny," she answered, squeezing her thighs together, beautiful pulses of pleasure radiating from her clit. Her arousal was demanding attention. She needed sex, needed to feel him filling her again. She needed to cum badly.

Sylvan surprised her. In a sudden move he flipped her over onto her front as if she was weightless. His hands slipped up under her skirt and along the outside of her thighs. They reached up higher to hold her hips. She felt him pull the waist of her panties and, shaking with raw excitement, she let him pull them down, lifting her hips to make it easy.

Glancing over her shoulder she saw Sylvan grin and shake her pale pink panties at her, a look of silly pride on his handsome face. He dropped them and reached for his jeans. Marie didn't move. She studied his boxers and a wave of heat hit her when his erection popped out, his boxers pushed down. It was just as she remembered, thick, long, rigid, the crown flared. Her pussy pulsed with desire.

Marie didn't stop him when he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back on the bed, her legs falling over the edge. She let him draw her skirt up to her waist and caress her buttocks. She let him bend and kiss each buttock, his fingers teasing her by caressing inside her thighs but not touching her aching pussy. She let him stroke her ass and heard him whisper.

"Magnificent. You have a gorgeous ass."

Horny to start with, when he bent over her, his face next to hers, kissed her cheek and said, "I have some work to do. This will have to wait," she burst into laughter, her whole body shaking.

Serves me right, she thought. Then the slippery tip of his erection grazed the valley of her buttocks teasingly. Arousal slammed into her. Laughter died. Her heart raced. She tried to reach behind her and Sylvan grabbed her wrists, holding them to the bed and preventing her from moving.

Determined, she wiggled her butt, teasing the tip of his erection, and smiled with success when he moaned.

No words were spoken. Sylvan pressed his erection at her, the tip pressing between her buttocks, still holding her wrists pinned to the bed. Marie moaned and wiggled her butt, moving so the moist tip slipped down to nestle against her cleft.

Sylvan pressed his erection at her again. She sighed, sparks of pleasure beginning.

She felt herself. She felt her labia, slippery and moist, slowly part to welcome his thick crown, her heart beat hard. She wiggled her butt again, shuddering as his erection eased deeper to touch her entrance. Marie was wet, very wet. She eased her legs apart, angled her butt and whispered, "Now, Sylvan."

Sylvan's face was next to her cheek, his breath hot. Her eyes closed at the exquisite sensation of being stretched, of being penetrated, his cock so wonderfully thick.

She squeezed her buttocks then arched her back, his erection suddenly slipping into her, stretching her, filling her. With one stroke, one sensational stroke, Sylvan filled her, his cock touching her deep, his groin pressing into her buttocks.

"Mon Dieu, c'est bon," she moaned.

His weight settled on her back, heavy and wonderful as it pressed her to the bed. Their fingers intertwined. For a few moments only hearts moved, Marie lost in the erotic sensation of fullness, her pussy aching, the teasing promise of ecstasy thrilling her.

"You feel fantastic, Marie," he whispered, his cock swelling, pulsing, alive inside her.

"Sylvan," she whispered.

Her gentle clench, buttocks flexing, started the movement. Soft clenches were matched by Sylvan's micro movements, just a teasing hint of a stroke, just his large crown moving deep within her. Marie moved, rubbing her breasts on the bed, sparks of pleasure blossoming in her areolae and nipples. She breathed deeply inhaling his scent.

Micro movements gained strength slowly, teasing her, his big erection titillating her with promises of pleasure. Her body thrummed with desire and need. She clenched her pussy tightly, rewarded by a sharp inhalation and sudden thrust, the tip of his cock nudging against her cervix, pleasure rolling through her body.

The next move was longer, his erection easing out of her pussy leaving a feeling of empty loss, regret, need. He thrust in firmly, her breath exploding, his cock shoved deep, filling her, filling her. Marie clenched her pussy, clit now tingling hard. Sylvan responded, withdrawing slowly and thrusting in again, deep and hard, her buttocks bouncing.

"Oui. Comme cela," she breathed.

Fingers intertwined, his breath hot against her cheek, Sylvan started fucking her, filling her beautifully, empty, filling her, her clit aching. Marie's eyes closed, her world narrowing to the sensation of being fucked, his cock so thick, so wonderful. Perspiration emerged. The bed started jiggling with each solid thrust; harder, deeper.

It came suddenly and viciously. One moment she was drowning in the sensation of being penetrated deeply, filled and stretched, and the next her breathing stopped.

Marie's climax slammed into her with the force of a hurricane. It erupted, her pussy clenching uncontrollably. Pleasure radiated up to burst inside her. She grunted as a full body cramp assailed her, her body freezing. Sylvan fucked her hard and another wave of ecstasy slammed into her making her body writhe, buttocks clench. She gasped and grunted again, another overwhelming wave of bliss washing over her.

Vaguely she heard Sylvan cry out. She sensed his hard, deep, desperate thrusts and, in the middle of her climax, she felt warmth flood her, her pussy become slippery. Sylvan was cumming!

Short, hard, desperate strokes shook her body. Marie came hard, a full body climax that crashed over her leaving her drained and panting and weak. Sylvan's heavy body settled on her back. Peace arrived, sweet peace.

Marie's guard was down. For the next week and a half she revelled in Sylvan's attention. She truly enjoyed his company, too. He was bright and funny and smart. She loved sex with him. He was a thoughtful lover and let her take charge whenever she wanted. She loved being able to drive him crazy to the point where he'd dominate her, never hurt her, just dominate her and seek pleasure. Marie quite forgot about the potential to be emotionally hurt. But it came back to her on a Friday almost two weeks later.

It was payday and when Sylvan handed her the envelope with her paycheck it hit her. It felt wrong. It felt dirty. Accepting her wages after having a two-week-long affair with him made her feel . . . just awful!

"Sylvan," she said, reaching for his hand. She couldn't do this. Either the affair had to stop or she had to find work somewhere else.

When a sparkle emerged in his clear blue eyes, the sparkle of delight, she was suspicious. When he dug into his jean pocket and withdrew a box of matches she was confused.

I LOOKED AT MARIE. She seemed so down for a moment. Pure confusion animated her beautiful eyes. I wasn't sure if I was in love, never having experienced love before. But I knew without reservation I was a happier man with her in my life. She was a wonderful, inventive lover. But more importantly she was a constant source of pleasure, dryly witty, observant and knowledgeable. I loved her company and wanted more.

That's what the matchbox was - more.

"Here. Before you say anything, please take a moment to think," I said handing it to her.

It rattled.

Long graceful fingers slid the box open. Her confusion grew at the sight of a simple key. Lovely mahogany eyes glanced up at me full of questions.

"Marie, you know how much I like you. I'm alive when you're around. My life is being with you and waiting to see you again, nothing more. I'd like you to move in. Live with me. Sophie can turn the guest room into her own. Please live with me."

Marie looked stricken. "I can't, Sylvan. Sophie doesn't know about us. I don't know how she'd react."

"Ask her," I pleaded. "I want you both here. We'd be a family. Please, Marie."

Her gentle kiss on my cheek before leaving did not reassure me. She looked conflicted.

LOWERING HERSELF INTO THE worn couch, Marie said, "Sophie, turn the television off, please. We need to talk."

"Sophie?" she asked again when her daughter didn't respond.

"Okay, okay," Sophie said, aiming the remote. The television fell silent. She'd put it on mute. "What's up?"

Taking a deep breath, Marie said, "I need to tell you something about Sylvan and . . ."

"What? That you're lovers?" Sophie interrupted. "I've known that for a while."

Shocked, Marie probed and, cheeks warming, her daughter told her about the humming and smiling and that one occasion she'd smelled something different on her. Sophie, all twelve years of her, seemed pleased and, shocking Marie even more, began probing about what sort of lover he was.

The conversation became involved, television ignored. And when Marie mentioned Sylvan inviting them to move in with him, Sophie grinned with delight, enthusiastically agreeing.

". . . and he has that swimming pool. Do you think I could have friends over for a pool party, Maman? Just wait until I tell my friends. They're gonna be so jealous!" Sophie enthused.

Marie was quite shocked that the discussion continued as if the decision had already been made. It hadn't. Not by a long shot.

Being around Sylvan was an all-consuming experience. It left nothing over, no room for anything but pure enjoyment. It wasn't until she was away from him that she became aware of how powerful the experience was. It was being away from him that let her appreciate the potential danger he represented. Marie was falling in love and she didn't want to be in love. She'd been in love once before and, even though she'd had Sophie as a gift of that love, the breakup had almost killed her. Could she really risk that again?

What if it didn't work? What if this was all just a fling, an infatuation?

"Maman? Maman! Where did you go?" Sophie said.

A conversation ensued that went into late evening. Marie was shocked and brimming with pride, too. She talked to her daughter honestly, as if she was a mature young lady, and she was. Sophie stunned her with insights, with strong opinions, and with startling honesty.

In one night Marie's relationship with her daughter completely changed - another example of the power of Sylvan.

Chapter Two

THURSDAY WAS A BIG day. Thursday was a huge day. Thursday was the day Marie and Sophie moved in. It was exciting to see Sophie so full of enthusiasm and her mother smiling with amused pride.

It was amazing how two people completely changed the character of my home. Lonely silence was banished by enthusiastic and loud conversation, by Sophie's eager inspection of everything, and by music she played on the compact stereo.

A simple thing like sitting on the veranda with a beer in hand became pleasurable. Behind me I listened to a mother and daughter having a conversation and couldn't stop smiling. Making room in my dresser and closet was fun. Seeing Marie unpack was wonderful. Studying her gorgeous rump moving under her colorful skirt was arousing.

I still didn't know if I loved her. What was I supposed to feel when in love? Were there signs? However, I knew other things. I knew I trusted Marie completely. I knew how happy she and now Sophie made me. I also wasn't ignorant. I was beginning to understand Marie's unspoken language, how her eyes spoke volumes and silences spoke loudly. I knew she'd agreed to move in even with her doubts. I wanted her to be happy and secure and free to do what she wanted. I had a plan. It was in the envelope in my hand.

With a final sip of beer I called out, "Marie, can you come here for a moment?"

I knew when she approached. I sensed her behind me. Her jasmine scent settled over me followed by Marie settling into my lap, sitting sideways.

"What?" she asked, her hand combing my hair.

"Just a couple of things. One, you're fired," I said casually, her mahogany eyes widening. "And two, here," I added handing her the envelope.

Marie was silent, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine, probing for more information. Breaking eye contact she looked down at the envelope.

The loud, bright sounds of girls laughing and giggling, a pool splashing, and music thumping, reached me in my office as I placed buy orders and sell instructions - silver now showing potential.

While I waited for confirmation I leaned back and studied the view of Marigot Bay. It was busy, boats coming and going.

My thoughts drifted back, three days ago.

Marie had been shocked at the documents. The Scotiabank forms detailed a new joint account in both our names and showed the bank balance, a very large balance. I'd touched the back of her hand and said simply, "What's mine is yours. As I mentioned, you're fired. You're officially unemployed."

That night, making love with Marie, her first night in my home, had been very different. It was full of soft touches and murmurs and limbs intertwining. It was gentle and slow and sexy, kisses and fondling, exploring curves and intimate places. Marie was warm, her pubic hair silky and curly and dark, her folds moist and slippery. She tasted musky and sexy, and her first climax from my tongue was soft and deep. I was hard and aching. We fit together; our bodies fit perfectly against each other. Her small breasts pressed against my chest, her stomach against mine, her leg hooked over my waist. We fit together, her pussy warm and snug and velvety. We moved together, softly, quietly, passionately, our arousal rising, breath heated.

We came together, a quiet explosion of pleasure, ecstasy wrapping us up into a small world of pulsing, spurting, thrusting, sweet release. We climaxed deeply, hunching and moving gently, cock swelling and spurting deep inside her, our bliss cresting and washing away leaving limbs intertwined, racing hearts, sweaty bodies, and peace, peace, beautiful peace.

A loud scream of delight disturbed my musings. I recognized Sophie's voice. Rising, I went to the kitchen, pausing to study Marie. She looked flustered, her face glowing with perspiration as she worked the stove. An intricate early dinner was being prepared, the kitchen replete with spices and the aroma of tender lamb and wine and herbs.

Glancing to the right, through the dining room and out through the living room, through open floor-to-ceiling doors and across the wide veranda, a gaggle of girls swam, floated, sat on the edge of the pool, and laid on towels. It was an interesting mix; white with black, tall with short, slender with cuddly. Some wore one-piece bathing suits, some bikinis. Some showed puberty in full swing, others yet to change, their bodies still childish. But all were animated, all smiling, all involved and having fun. I liked my pool more than ever.

"Vien! Aide-moi," Marie ordered with a smile.

Before I knew it I was conscripted into washing dishes and pots, sweating from the heat and absorbed in Marie's commentary.

"Look at Sophie," she said as she rinsed basmati rice and chopped herbs to add to the rice. "She's so happy."

Sophie, a mirror image of her mother, was standing at the edge of the pool in a bright yellow and blue bikini contrasting with her beautiful mocha skin, her face radiating pleasure, animated, talking to a couple of friends, her hands moving.

"She's beautiful," I said.

"Oui. She is. But she's embarrassed about her body."

I studied Sophie a bit more closely. She was tall for her age, three inches over five feet. Her skin was like her mother's, flawless and silken. Her dark brown hair was damp and tied in a ponytail high on the back of her head, damp tendrils falling to her prominent shoulder blades. As she moved I saw a young girl's body, slender as a reed with no real waist, narrow hip bones, and endlessly long legs. The bikini bra didn't appear to hide anything, no mounding visible. From the side her bottom swelled out filling her bikini with a rather lovely shape. I had the sense that her legs were too long for her body, her arms too long, feet a bit big; as if parts of her body had rushed to grow up but left other parts chasing to catch up.

"Why is she embarrassed?" I asked. "There's not a thing wrong with her."

Marie answered, "She wants boobs like her friends. I told her she'd have to wait. I was thirteen before mine appeared." With a laugh Marie added, "She was not very happy to hear that news."

"I imagine not," I said, turning my attention to the pot in the sink.

With rice boiling, Marie dumped the fragrant herbs into the pot, stirred and set the lid on sealing the contents. She turned the heat to its lowest setting. "Voilà."

I rinsed the last pot and set it on the drainer, wiping my face. "Would you like a beer?" I offered.

"No. A glass of white wine would be nice."

Together we wended our way through the garden. In a shady spot far enough away from the pool to give the girls room, we found chairs and sat. A gentle breeze kept heat at bay. The Carib beer tasted good. Marie sipped her wine. I was inordinately happy.

"You should tell her she's beautiful if you think she is," Marie said.

"Okay."

"She asked me if you were a good lover."

"I am," I said.

Marie chuckled. "Yes. That's what I told her."

We sipped our drinks in comfortable silence, watching the girls have fun.

"When did you first have sex?" Marie asked.

My mind drifted back: Birmingham, school dance, rain, Chrissie. I didn't really like her but she was loose and willing and I was horny and curious. "Fourteen years old," I answered.

"Was it good?"

With a bark of laughter I explained, "It was a disaster and I've tried very hard to forget it." After another sip of beer, I asked, "When was your first?"

Watching the girls, Marie answered. "I was Sophie's age, twelve."

"Really?" I asked. "Isn't that too young?"

"It wasn't at the time," Marie said with a smile.

"Was it good?"

A short silence followed. "I think it would have been better if it had been with someone like you, someone with a bit more experience," she said casually. "I'm getting some more wine. Want another beer?"

"Sure."

Afternoon flowed into early evening. The house was filled with bright chatter and music and laughs and life. Dinner was served, a delicious meal of lamb and rice. I became pleasantly intoxicated, consuming enough beer to make the world soft, make Marie evermore alluring, and make the girls sweetly innocent. Loneliness was banished. My life was full and rich and noisy. I was happy.

I enjoyed hugs from all the girls as they left, accepting their enthusiastic thanks. I enjoyed Sophie's tight hug and quiet thanks, and suggested she should have another pool party. She happily agreed. And, as we all cleaned up, I groped Marie's lovely ass subtly, enjoying her tsk-tsks as she brushed my hand away.

I was horny by the time we hit the sack.

With some alcohol in us we made frisky love. Marie had my number. She dropped her skirt revealing sexy silky white panties that conformed to her body in a very arousing way. With a sexy smile she ordered me to strip and sit on the edge of the bed.

Bending, she leaned in and whispered into my ear, "I want to taste you." Her warm hand curled around my shaft. "You have a beautiful erection, Sylvan."

My excitement grew when she knelt in front of me. She eased my knees apart, her hand caressing my shaft. Silken lips kissed the tip, warm and teasing. My cock swelled.

Marie's tongue caressed the crown sending shivers through me. "I can taste you," she whispered, her lips kissing my crown, parting, and slowly oozing over. A moist mouth engulfed my crown, tongue caressing, her hand gently stroking my shaft.

My moan broke the silence, brought on by her other hand cupping my balls. She sucked. I swelled. Horniness and alcohol was addling my brain. Moving her mouth slowly, Marie took more and more of my erection in. It touched the back of her mouth, then I felt the tight squeeze as she swallowed me, her throat taking me in, her lips slipping down my shaft to nestle into pubic hair. The return withdrawal was exquisite, her mouth making a popping sound as I slipped out. She kissed the tip.

"How was that?" she asked, studying my straining, glistening erection.

"Uh," I grunted, my voice temporarily lost.

She caressed my shaft casually. Her thumb spreading precum across the tip distracted me when she spoke. "Sophie wants to experience sex."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, my eyes locked on her caressing hand. Her lips slipped over my crown, moist warmth enveloped me. She eased my erection into her throat, taking me completely, a mind-emptying swallow. The return journey was exquisite ending with a wet pop and cool air.

"We agreed it would be you, just like I told you this afternoon."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, distracted by a moist mouth slipping over my crown, a tongue caressing with far too much expertise, and a gentle suck that left me breathless. "Wait! No! Hold on a minute!" I exclaimed, pulling her head up and off me.

Beautiful exotic eyes twinkled at me. Damn, Marie was so pretty. I pried her hand off my straining cock.

As she sat back on her heels I took a few deep breaths to clear the fog of horniness. "Okay. Start again," I said.

Marie stood and started removing her blouse. "I said, Sophie wants to experience sex."

"I got that part."

She dropped the blouse on a chair and reached behind her back to open her lacy white bra, shrugging the shoulder straps off and dropping the bra. Her breasts may have been petite but they were perfect. Sensual, sexy and curving up off her chest, her areolae were crinkled and very, very dark, her nipples turgid and proud.

"She wants you to be her first. I agreed. I told you this afternoon."

"No you didn't. The subject never came up."

"Mais oui. It did. I told you my first time would have been better if it had been with you."

"But that has nothing to do with Sophie," I claimed.

Marie gave a sexy wiggle and white silky panties dropped to the floor. I almost lost track of the conversation, my attention drawn by a silky dark bush and an arousing gap.

"It has everything to do with Sophie. She agreed with me. Besides, you told her she was beautiful."

Now I was lost. "Back the truck up," I said, moving up onto the bed. "Start over, please."

Marie crawled towards me and straddled my thighs, her hand casually touching my erection.

For the next fifteen minutes Marie talked and fondled and somehow my body betrayed me. She talked about young love, sex at twelve years old, the yearning to be mature and sexy, hormones raging, and sexual desire strong yet sexually insecure. She fondled me and talked about her own first time, about loving her daughter, about wanting Sophie's first time to be the best not some fumbling in the back of some yard with an inexperienced, uncaring boy.

Marie used feminine logic to convince me it was the right thing to do, a reasonable request, and, for a few minutes I actually believed her. In fact, I believed her all the way through our making love, Marie rising to slip my crown through her cleft, settling down on me, taking my aching erection deep into her moist pussy. I believed her as she undulated, her pussy pressed to my groin, my crown massaged deep inside her. I believed her as she rose and fell, stroking my erection with her velvety snug hug, as she bent forward and offered her beautiful breasts to my mouth, as I sucked and nipped, and held two beautiful buttocks. I believed her as she climaxed with sexy clinches and exciting grunts and body shaking. I believed her as I came, swelling and exploding, semen erupting deep inside her, thrusting and cumming, semen spurting with beautiful pleasure. I believed her as I came hard, completely, exquisitely. And then I didn't.

Drained, erection softening, peace arriving, with her relaxing on top of me and her legs to my sides, I caressed her back and thought rationally.

"No," I said softly. Twelve years old? No.

MARIE NEGOTIATED THE MOKE through town traffic and around groups of loudly dressed tourists, making her way to the Hillsdale Girls School to pick up Sophie. Having finished a long lunch with her girlfriends and been cross-examined by them wanting to know everything about Sylvan, she was feeling good.

The last nine weeks seemed almost like a dream. Her friends were split fifty/fifty, half suspicious about the whole situation, the other half envious. They'd all been stunned when she told them Sylvan suggested she hire a new housekeeper. It had been her only argument with Sylvan. Marie saw nothing wrong with looking after a home she was beginning to think of as her own. Sylvan insisted she shouldn't have to.

Marie smiled to herself. He just didn't get it. She liked taking care of him. Sylvan, despite his occasional stubbornness, was just about the most considerate person she'd ever met. He was even treating Sophie as an adult, not a child, listening to her and actually changing his mind based on her point of view.

But his stubbornness showed in his refusal to consider what Sophie wanted; to experience sex. Marie would feel his determination waver when they were both aroused and making love, but it always returned after orgasms faded.

She pulled up in front of the school just as girls rushed out, all wearing bright white blouses and pleated navy skirts, knee-high socks and, oddly, sneakers.

Sophie waved to her and, turning to a companion, said something before running to the Moke.

"What's up?" she asked sliding into the passenger seat.

"A new plan. Shopping. We're dialling up the pressure," Marie answered with a smile.

Sophie nodded in approval. "Bon. He's stubborn, non? What's the plan?"

Marie asked her daughter, "Are you still sure?"

"Yup. Even more."

"In that case, I'm going to teach you the art of tease."

The late afternoon was spent laughing, mother and daughter caught up in the excitement of naughty plans. Marie talked and Sophie listened, giggling at times, eyes wide in amazement at other comments.

They moved from shop to shop, tried on clothes, discarding some, buying others. It was late when they got home, the plan made; a slow escalating series of accidents.

I DECIDED IDEAS ARE foreign entities, not a part of you. Ideas are not like bending elbows or breathing or blinking, all done with no awareness. Ideas are sentient aliens. They worm their way into our brains and sit, observant and aware, waiting to whisper to you at odd times. You can't ignore them, dismiss them, or forget them. They haunt.

Marie had placed an idea in my head about Sophie and sex and I couldn't get rid of it. It changed things. I just couldn't see Sophie the same way. I'd never really noticed how a preteen would wander around almost naked, but she did . . . frequently.

I'd been sitting at the kitchen eat-on counter watching Marie cook when Sophie called out.

"Maman, where are my panties?"

The nature of the question was enough to make me turn my head and there she was, a bath towel wrapped around her slender body and acres of silky, firm mocha skin. She smiled brightly at me, hair a damp, scraggly beautiful mess.

Marie answered, "In the laundry."

"Bon. Thanks."

When Sophie turned and walked away I couldn't help but see the bare bottoms of two compact little buttocks. That idea inside my head whispered, 'how beautiful and petite, imagine what they'd feel like'.

"Marie, you should talk to Sophie about walking around naked," I suggested.

"What was she supposed to do? She had no panties," Marie argued.

I had no comeback.

The sight stayed with me and preyed on my mind. Sophie started losing all sorts of clothing, too. She wandered into the living room wearing a camisole and little panties asking where her jeans were. Her mother seemed casual, answering her. But I wasn't. Sophie had a rather succulent pussy mounding her little panties with a rather enticing hint of a camel toe. When she smiled brightly at me and turned to leave I watched a beautiful compact little bum moving in a very adult way under those panties, the fold of her panties outlining her bum crack.

Questioning Marie, she responded, "What was she supposed to do? She couldn't find her jeans."

I seemed to become hypersensitive to Sophie's state of dress and somehow, God knows how, I began to recognize all her undies; the tight silky white ones, the soft loose cotton ones, a rather shocking pair of blue lacy things that seemed to show a bald mons if I looked hard enough, and a heart-stopping g-string scrap of cloth that revealed two little buttocks in wonderful glory.

Maybe I would have survived if I hadn't had this damned idea in my head constantly whispering to me, 'look at that, just beautiful'.

Sophie was a wonderful girl. She was bright and polite and a natural extrovert with the same forcefulness her mother exhibited. But she became all huggy and touchy-feely, thanking me for things, flopping onto the couch next to me to show me cute photos from Pinterest on her iPhone while snuggling tightly to my side.

I might have resisted had I realized it was a careful plan of attack. But I didn't. I was naive, an innocent, underestimating the wiles of two females. And I began to react, too. It started with too many sightings of her in sexy panties. I began to associate her delectable bum with the sighting of her naked buttocks, small and compact.

Like a Pavlovian dog I became sensitive to the sound of the shower and started anticipating Sophie's emergence with a short bath towel wrapped around her coltish body, flawless café au lait skin, and a large, bright smile.

Marie didn't help at all. When we made love she'd drop comments about her daughter; how mature she was, how much she liked me.

And then, one Friday night when I was at my morally weakest point - horny as Hell, in bed with a naked Marie fondling me - she whispered, "Wouldn't it be exciting to have Sophie join us in bed? Can you just imagine, Sylvan?"

It was the fatal straw. I groaned, my erection strained and horniness inadvertently agreed, "God yes."

All movement stopped. Her hand paused. She stared at me, a smile emerging. "Finally," she whispered. "Don't move."

Marie slipped naked from the bed and left. I lay quietly, listening. My erection throbbed. I wondered at what I'd just done, what I'd just let myself in for. I was scared at the illicitness, her youth, at actually having sex with such a young girl. But I was excited by the illicitness, by her youth, by the thought of actually having sex with Sophie.

Soft feet padded in the hall. Embarrassed, I drew the sheet over my waist and held my breath.

Marie entered first, naked and glorious, a soft, loving smile on her beautiful face. Her hand drew Sophie in and my heart stopped. Large, dark mahogany eyes looked at me with such shy expectation. In them I saw insecurity and desire and hope. Sophie was naked and glorious in her youth. Mother and daughter stood, Marie smiling, Sophie waiting, both slender and willowy, one with beautiful small breasts, one with slightly mounded dark brown areolae.

Mother and daughter stood letting me inspect, Marie with a trimmed, dense, curly pubic bush, Sophie completely hairless, a succulent mound showing an achingly sexy little cleft and sensual gap between her legs.

I found them both utterly sexy and spoke. "Without doubt, two of the most beautiful, sexiest ladies in the world."

Marie's smile broadened, white teeth flashing. Sophie blushed and smiled slightly, a complete contrast to the personality I knew and loved. I needed to relax her.

"Sophie, if your mom's okay with it, I think some kissing and cuddling is in order."

Sophie was cute, glancing up at her mother as if asking for permission. Marie smiled and nodded and a coltish young girl slipped into bed, into my welcoming arms. A petite body pressed to me. Exotic eyes opened wide when my erection pressed to her tummy.

I groped a succulent little buttock, pulled her body to me and groaned at how sexy she was, all little girl, sweet and pretty.

The bed dipped behind me. Marie's hand stroked my arm. "Kiss her," she whispered.

I did. Kissing Sophie was nothing like kissing her mother. Sophie was innocent and eager at the same time, pressing her lips to mine, her eyes closed, hands clutching at me. She paused, her body going still when my tongue touched her lips. Her eyes opened, dark, deep and beautiful. As if she suddenly relaxed, Sophie closed her eyes, tilted her head, her lips parted and the tip of her small tongue touched mine accompanied by a soft moan.

She pressed her slender body against my erection, trembling slightly. Caressing her spectacular young bum, my tongue probed carefully, easing between her lips to touch her teeth. She opened her mouth for me. My erection swelled. Precum oozed out between us and I broke the kiss, rolling onto my back, my heart racing.

"What happened?" Sophie asked in surprise.

"I . . . uh, I . . ."

Contrary to anything I'd imagined, holding a gorgeous naked Sophie, kissing her, and feeling her sexy young body against mine, so petite and adorable, I'd experienced a strong pulse inside me, a harbinger of an orgasm. I'd almost cum! It was supposed to be the other way around.

"What's wrong, Sylvan," Marie asked quietly, her hand caressing my arm, beautiful eyes staring at me.

I did not appreciate her laughter when I explained what almost happened. She should not have been so amused. And Sophie's delighted giggles didn't help my male ego, either. But somehow it broke the ice; Sophie relaxed and grinning with pride, Marie congratulating her for reasons only females would understand.

I would liked to have claimed top honours - the stud of the year award for sexually satisfying two girls in one night. It might have happened . . . in my dreams, anyway. But it turns out I didn't have sex with both. My demise began with Marie reaching across me to take her daughter's hand. She guided it to my straining erection.

"You should become comfortable with a guy's body before you have sex, Chère," Marie said. "Don't jump to intercourse."

"Why?" Sophie asked. "It's warm," she observed, squeezing my shaft tentatively.

"Knowing how he reacts will help you get more pleasure." Marie's hand joined her daughter's. "See how it pulses?"

"Uh-huh."

"When a man is very horny it does that. It means he's getting close to cumming."

"So Sylvan's gonna cum now?" Sophie asked, rising up on her elbow to study my cock.

"You can ask me," I suggested. "I'm right here."

"Shush," Marie said. "This is a girl thing."

"It is not a girl thing at all," I claimed, flexing my erection.

Both burst into laughter. "Hush," Marie said with a big smile. "Ici. Feel here, Sophie. These are his testicles. They're as sensitive as you've heard about so be gentle."

"They're heavy, Maman."

"Yup. Now, this," she said guiding her daughter's hand, "is his precum. Feel it."

Sophie rubbed her fingertip on the top of my erection. I pulsed, my cock jerking. Agony, that's what these two were, the embodiment of agony.

"It's slippery. I felt this on my stomach when we were hugging."

"It's a sign of his arousal. Sylvan is very turned on by you," Marie said softly.

"Ya think?" I asked, my cock flexing again.

"Oh-la-la. Arrêt! Stop interrupting, Sylvan," Marie said.

Sophie giggled with pure pleasure.

"Now, hold the shaft gently but firmly."

"Like this?" Sophie asked, squeezing softly, her fingertips not meeting her thumb.

"Oui. Stroke him gently, comme ça," Marie whispered, guiding her daughter's hand up and down my aching erection.

"Marie," I warned.

Instead of stopping, Marie leaned over me and kissed the tip of my cock gently. Sophie's eyes opened wide. "Let me try," she whispered.

My night of passionate intercourse with a preteen ended when Sophie leaned over, her silky soft lips gently kissing my slippery crown, her hand stroking me.

My cock swelled. Pressure released, the teasing too much. Thick white semen erupted to spurt over Sophie's mouth. She gasped in shock and the second agonizing pulse erupted, a long rope of cum spurting into her open mouth. Pleasure thundered in. My body cramped. Marie slipped her mouth over my crown and I came again, a huge load erupting into her mouth. She swallowed. I came. She swallowed. I came, aching, hips thrusting up. My climax was dizzying and powerful and over too soon, pulses weakening, fading, heart racing.

Sophie, after watching her mother, glanced at my face. She had white semen on her chin and a shocked expression. Suddenly a huge grin emerged. Her hand wiped her chin. "That was crazy!" she exclaimed before slipping out of bed.

Marie settled to my side, her hand caressing my chest. "You came fast," she said casually.

Water ran in the bathroom.

"Your fault. I tried to warn you," I said, an image of Sophie kissing my erection still vivid.

Marie smiled. "Make her feel good when she comes back, Sylvan."

A naked little twelve-year-old with mocha skin, and dark, glittering, exotic eyes slipped into bed. Rolling away from Marie, I pressed Sophia onto her back, rising, looming over her.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Your turn."

Her eyes widened. I bent and kissed her small mouth, inhaled her breath, kissed her cheek. Her arms rose to circle my neck. My hand slipped up her slender body, across silky skin and, with her expressive eyes narrowing, I caressed the tiny mound of her areola. When I kissed her again she responded with surprising passion, lips pressed, tongue probing. Under my hand her chest pressed up seeking more.

Straddling her thighs, I laid a trail of kisses in a meandering pattern. Light kisses started on her cheek. My lips nibbled a delicate earlobe before kissing her slender neck, her scent of fresh soap and some light lemony perfume filling my senses.

Her arms fell from my neck as I kissed her shoulder and, after a slight pause to shuffle down, I kissed her swollen areola, a small nub against my lips.

Sophie's body trembled lightly when I sucked and teased with my tongue. The pad of my finger replaced my mouth and I moved on to the twin. Her nipple hardened under suction.

Shuffling down I kissed her flat stomach, caressing the sides of her body. On her back her bottom swelled out against the bed.

Movement caught my eye. Marie edged close to her daughter and reached out to caress Sophie's cheek. She leaned in and whispered something to her daughter. Sophie nodded.

I kissed her navel and used my knees to urge her legs apart. She responded and, shuffling down, I teased myself by closing my eyes and kissing her below her navel, and lower, and lower. The third time my lips pressed to the softest mound, silky smooth and hairless, just stunning.

Her scent teased my nose, a faint musk, light and exciting. When she moaned I opened my eyes. The sight shocked me. Marie was caressing her areola and gently kissing her shoulder. Marie's eyes caught mine and twinkled, a half smile emerging. I'd just learned something about her; she liked girls, too; or maybe just her daughter.

Sophie was beautiful, stretched out naked, her long wavy dark hair spread on the pillow, her slender body so delicate, so young, so excitingly immature. I looked down finally and inhaled sharply.

There at the confluence of slim thighs was Sophie's pussy. It was a thick pad mounding up and tapering down sensually to plunge down into her crotch. Her flawless mocha skin formed two plump little labia, the labia forming a sexy cleft beginning high on her mons. Cuddled between her labia was a long darker clitoral hood forming a cowl at the tip, her clit nestled within. Legs apart, her cleft was open revealing small, undeveloped inner labia and pink; the moist pink interior of her cleft.

A shudder shook me at the sight of a small, dark opening at the base of her cleft; her entrance, her vagina. It was astonishingly small. Sophie had a beautiful pussy, simply beautiful.

I teased myself by caressing her silken thighs, my palm rising to press her plump mons. I rubbed her clit carefully with my thumb and earned a soft moan. Glancing up I was greeted by the sight of Sophie's eyes closed and her mother kissing her cheek while teasing her areola. Sophie's nose flared as she inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling.

I settled to the bed between her legs and traced the edges of her labia, down one side to below her cleft, touching her cum crack and back up along the other side where her folds met her thighs, up and over the top to pause and squeeze her plump mons gently. She moaned softly again and pressed her pussy up as if seeking more contact, more stimulation.

Rubbing the tip of her clit with my finger, I eased my other hand under her to hold a small buttock. My finger traced her cleft down, pressing gently to slip into her slit and touch her smooth insides, warm and moist. Drawing my fingertip down I touched the tiny entrance to her vagina and pressed lightly. It yielded accepting the tip in a moist hug. Life returned to my cock.

Unable to resist, I kissed her clit gently, then pressed my mouth to her pussy. It was stunningly sexy, small, silky, warm. Smooth, hairless skin tasted tart. Her cleft was glassy smooth against my tongue. Sophie gasped when I sucked her clit, her thigh muscles trembling.

I started sucking and caressing her entire cleft, focusing on her clit, my fingertip held inside her in a velvet, moist hug. Over the peak of her mons I watched Marie lean over and kiss her daughter on her mouth. A shudder of arousal hit me, the sight of a mother kissing a daughter intimately stunningly sexy.

Sophie's hands curled into fists gripping the sheet, her eyes tightly closed. She drew her knees up, her thighs pressing to the sides of my head. I sucked and caressed her pussy and she responded. It started with a gentle hunch and relax. Her stomach muscles strained and she began humping my mouth. A gasp sounded; a quiet expulsion of air.

In the silence I heard Sophie whisper, "Oh, Maman," just before her small body jerked, thighs clamping against my head. I recognized the grunt, just like her mother's but lighter, and smiled into Sophie's pussy. Another suck, harder this time and Sophie slipped off the cliff.

She grunted with each hard body jerk, her hips curling up to hump my mouth. She grunted and jerked, bliss washing over her, humping, jerking, thighs clamping. Her cute grunts ended with a painful sounding cry, her body freezing. Then Sophie collapsed, her body shaking, limp, legs relaxing, knees hitting the bed.

Moving, I eased her legs together, and slipped up the bed to the far side of Marie. She was caressing her daughter and murmuring something to her. Sophie's orgasm had been stunning in its purity. I wasn't surprised in the least by the return of my erection.

With Marie on her side comforting her daughter, unintelligible murmurs breaking the silence, I cuddled up to her from behind. She raised one leg and my erection slipped between. Marie trapped my cock when she lowered her leg. I pressed myself against her back and reached around to cup her small breast, teasing her turgid nipple.

"Regard, look," she whispered, squeezing her thighs, "Sophie's asleep. She came so hard."

Marie was right. Sophie had turned onto her side facing us, her arm up under the pillow, her legs curled. She was asleep, breathing softly, her beautiful face at peace.

"Isn't she pretty," Marie whispered, her voice so full of pride.

"She's gorgeous," I replied.

Marie's hand covered mine as I caressed her small breast. She curled her butt sliding her pussy along my shaft. I thrust back through her cleft. We repeated the move, a slightly longer move this time and slippery precum mixed with her moist arousal, her labia caressing my crown.

Another stroke followed, then another, everything becoming slippery. It was unstated. Marie tilted her hips. I tilted mine, and breathing harder, I penetrated her, her silken labia parting and velvet warmth wrapping around my erection.

"Look how peacefully she sleeps. Like an angel," Marie whispered.

I thrust slowly and penetrated her fully, her buttocks resting in my groin. She responded with a slight clench of her vagina. I teased her firm nipple.

"I think that was the hardest climax she's ever had. It was beautiful," Marie whispered, fucking back at me gently.

"It was," I answered.

We fucked slowly, long withdrawals, slow penetrations, exquisite sex, her vagina snug and moist and velvety.

Marie asked, "How did she taste?"

My erection swelled. "Like a delicate version of her mother, sweet and musky and delicious," I said, withdrawing and thrusting into her.

Marie was silent for the next few minutes. She undulated her butt, taking me deep, slipping off, taking me deep. We watched Sophie sleep, fucking quietly. It was an intense and remarkably erotic experience. Then Marie spoke and took us over the top.

"I wish I could taste her," she said.

"You can. She'll let you. I know she'd let you," I said, thrusting slightly faster. Letting her small breast go I reached for Marie's hip, holding it firmly and pulling her ass back at me. We fucked slightly faster.

"Do you think so? I'd like to taste her with your semen in her. Do you think she'd let me do that?"

"Jesus, Marie," I gasped, my erection swelling.

"I'd like to see your cum leaking out of her," Marie whispered heatedly, her vagina clenching.

Looking at Sophie sleeping so peacefully, I pictured cumming in her. My orgasm hit, cock swelling and, staring at Sophie, I came in her mother, semen spurting in an explosion of sweet pleasure.

Marie grunted. Her body cramped, her pussy tight on my spurting cock. She trembled and grasped my hand. Another quiet grunt escaped and as I came deep inside her, Marie climaxed, shivering and shaking, quiet grunts announcing each wave of ecstasy hitting her.

Chapter Three

MARIE WOKE SLOWLY, MORNING light brightening the bedroom. Something felt different. A smile emerged when she understood. Behind her Sylvan slept, his hand resting on her hip. But, opening her eyes she saw Sophie sleeping, curled up facing her. Marie studied her daughter's face, relaxed in sleep, innocent and beautiful.

A warm flush of love ran through her. Reaching out she used a finger to push a stray lock of hair out of Sophie's face. Sophie's nose flared gently. Her dark brown eyelashes looked impossibly long and thick against her cheeks. Marie studied her daughter's lips. They were full and lush, sexy. She remembered kissing Sophie last night and a spark of arousal hit her.

Since puberty Marie had been aware of her attraction to girls. She'd explored it with Jenny, a childhood friend who was adventurous but ultimately not interested. And then boys had distracted her. Her attraction to the same sex was muted. It wasn't as all consuming or powerful as her attraction to guys; the right guys. But it had stayed with her.

Then last night, Marie discovered something beautiful and powerful and intense. Sophie. Participating in Sophie`s sexual emergence was incredibly arousing. In her daughter she discovered a strong sexual attraction and kissing her while touching her intimately had made her so horny. Somehow the sexual attraction blended with her motherly feelings, each complimenting the other, intensifying her arousal.

Marie caressed Sophie's bare arm. Sophie opened her eyes slowly. A smile blossomed.

"Bon jour, Maman," she said quietly.

"Morning, Sophie. How do you feel?"

Sophie rolled onto her back and stretched, the sheet slipping down to reveal dark areolae slightly raised, her breasts almost ready to burst into puberty.

"Bon. I feel good," Sophie said, yawning. "Is Sylvan awake?"

"No. Let him sleep. Let's shower," Marie suggested.

Naked, they slipped from the bed carefully. In the master bedroom en suite bathroom Marie turned the shower on, both stepping into the glass enclosure when the water warmed. Marie passed the soap to her daughter and watched her lather up. Her mind drifted, wishing it was her hands washing her daughter's young body. A flare of arousal hit.

Unable to resist, Marie reached out and started washing Sophie's shoulders. Sophie glanced up and smiled. Drawing her daughter back, Sophie's buttocks pressing to Marie, she let her soapy hands wash the front of Sophie's shoulders.

Aroused, Marie slipped her hands lower, washing gently until she was caressing her daughter's little buds. Sophie relaxed, melting back against Marie.

"That feels good, Maman," she said.

"Very good," Marie responded. Marie experienced the flush of arousal, her breasts growing heavy, areolae puckering. She felt her pussy respond, a flush of heat and tingling emerging.

Kissing Sophie's damp crown, Marie let one hand caress lower, Sophie leaning back against her harder. Marie's hand gently washed her daughter's stomach edging lower and lower. A surge of excitement hit when her fingers traced across the beginning rise of Sophie's mons. Holding her breath, Marie carefully slid her hand down and cupped Sophie's hairless pussy.

The surge in arousal from touching her little girl's pussy left her dizzy. But when Sophie sighed and shuffled, parting her feet to give Marie's hand room, Marie's knees weakened.

Memories of Jenny rushed back. But this time it was better, so much better. This was her little girl! With a mother's gentleness Marie explored. Sophie's little pussy was plump and prominent, soft and yielding, the shape alone intoxicating. It mounded out, the sides deep, narrowing to curve down between slender thighs.

Blindly Marie traced the delicate shape, found the crease of her daughter's cleft and traced it lightly from top down, under, deep, to where it merged with rounded buttocks. Her nipples ached. Drawing her finger up, Sophie's little cleft oozed apart to hug her fingertip.

Marie shuddered. Her pussy flushed and cried out to be touched, her breasts screaming for a squeeze. Fondling her daughter was intense, so sexy.

When she felt the tip of Sophie's clitoris, her daughter sagged slightly.

"That feels good, Maman," she whispered.

"Mmm-hmm," Marie agreed.

With her finger pressed into Sophie's plump cleft, Marie caressed her daughter's clit, small circles, strokes, all movements she was familiar with having done it to herself often. Sophie sighed again, her hips twitching. Marie started diddling her daughter, her fingertip moving faster and faster, Sophie moaning. Slowly Sophie started humping her finger. Marie wrapped her arm around Sophie and held her tight, caressing her pussy, teasing, strumming.

Sophie gasped, "Maman!"

Her body shook with her climax, hips twitching. Sophie came grunting and twitching her hands gripping Marie's arm. Slowly her body slowed and came to rest, her chest panting. Marie kissed her daughter's damp crown.

"Are you okay?" Marie asked after a few minutes.

Sophie, leaning against her mother replied, "Uh-huh. I feel goooood. I like sex, Maman."

"So you should," Marie commented with a small smile.

Five minutes later, after Sophie stepped out to dry herself and dress, Marie gave into the painful need and masturbated to an intense climax, her mind replaying every moment of fondling her daughter. At the height of her arousal, she imagined eating her little girl's pussy. When she thought about tasting Sylvan's semen from Sophie's little pussy her climax slammed into her, raging through her leaving her breathless and exhausted and mentally horny.

WE MEN CAN BE so clueless. I'd been ignorant enough to believe, with Sophie coming to our bed, intercourse would be the natural result. I'd not only overcome my initial hesitation but now anticipated making love with her rather eagerly. But intercourse hadn't been the result. Alone in bed I heard the shower - one shower - running. Were Sophie and Marie showering together?

In a moment of confusion over breakfast, I asked for clarification on the whole intercourse thing. Sophie was eating and watching the small kitchen television, Marie fussing over an omelette. I tried to be casual and subtle, project an attitude of nonchalance.

"How come Sophie and I didn't have intercourse? I thought that was the whole idea," I said.

Marie laughed and turned to look at Sophie, shaking her head. Sophie grinned.

"Well?" I added.

"Sylvan, you can be so funny at times," Marie said with a big, amused smile.

"That's not an answer."

"I said she wanted to experience sex, mon Chèr," Marie answered.

"And?"

Marie turned to her daughter. "See? Say sex to guys and they think intercourse automatically. I told you."

Sophie laughed. "It's okay. He's cute."

I retreated into my mug of coffee and pondered the hidden code. By the third cup I'd decoded it. "So intercourse is off the table? Tonto piss," I sighed, utterly mangling "tant pis," French for "too bad".

Marie's hoot of laughter made me smile. Sophie's giggle was charming.

It wasn't all bad news. Marie and I enjoyed a lazy Saturday morning on the veranda, a delicious fuit de mer lunch at Chez Jacques, and a romantic stroll along the beachfront while Sophie was off visiting friends.

Marie hugged my arm as we strolled, her long skirt fluffing in the sea breeze. Lobster-burned tourists in loud clothes flowed by. "Talk to me," I said. "Explain about Sophie."

Marie smiled gently, her beautiful dark eyes sparkling. She leaned against me and glanced away over the sea. "It started because of you," she said.

She continued, "Sophie's a smart girl. Within a week of you and me getting involved she knew. It seemed I started smiling all the time and humming. When I asked her how she felt about moving in with you, my daughter surprised me again.

"She liked how you made me feel. Then she asked about sex and you. That sort of led to a chat about my first time and then her desires and . . . well, she picked you, Sylvan. I didn't suggest it. You know she thinks you're cute. So do her friends. But I think it was the way you made me feel that made up her mind.

"So there you are," Marie finished.

A vision of Marie kissing Sophie last night came back. Since we were being honest, I asked, "What about last night. I noticed you touching Sophie."

I'd never seen Marie blush, but she did, colour dusting her cheeks.

"Ah, oui. Last night. I think I revealed a lot more than I planned," she said.

We turned to stroll back, now facing the town. Buildings were painted a riot of colours making the town full of character. Horns beeped. I waited for Marie to continue.

She didn't.

"It was hugely erotic," I said casually.

"Oui. Pour moi aussi." Marie stopped walking. She looked at me and smiled, another slight blush emerging. "I showered with my little girl this morning for the first time since she was five years old."

"I noticed. Next time will you invite me?"

Marie laughed. "I touched her," she said in a soft voice.

"You washed her?"

"No. I touched her, Sylvan. I gave my little girl a climax in the shower. It was so sexy."

Blood flowed south. I could picture Marie and Sophie in the shower, mother caressing daughter. It was a huge turn on. "As I said, next time please, please invite me."

Marie laughed brightly.

We continued strolling back to town. My pants grew tighter and tighter. "What's the plan with Sophie and sex?" I asked. "I don't want to screw things up, but I really don't know what you're planning."

Marie talked about teaching her daughter about sex, about it being more than just the physical act of intercourse. She talked about the thrill of seduction and the excitement of attraction, how emotions intensified orgasms, touching and caressing, small gestures adding depth to feelings. She talked about teaching Sophie and about letting Sophie experience it all. Marie talked about intercourse being the final step and how yearning for it made it more intense and how a slow seduction made passions peak, raising pain thresholds. She talked about the beauty of making love, how she felt when she was with me, and how she wanted her daughter to experience the same thing.

Marie, in a half hour, revealed the previously unknown world of female sexuality to me. She opened my eyes and what I saw excited me. I loved the idea of seduction, physical and mental, seduction of Sophie and, even more exciting, Sophie's seduction of me.

It was easy to agree with Marie and give her my wholehearted support.

For the next two days I became an equal opportunity, incorrigible, misbehaving letch. I revelled in the sweet pleasure of groping Marie's ass and, at Sophie's amused giggles when her mother complained, I groped Sophie's compact little ass, too, earning shrieks of affronted pleasure.

I cuddled both, kissed both, and caressed bare arms and shoulders lovingly. My life was full of sexy, responsive ladies, one mature and smiling with such pleasure when observing my interaction with her daughter, the other a coltish sprite full of joy and excitement, radiating happiness at me.

Sophie could give as good as her mother, too. She could pinch my ass like no one and, at my indignation, bat eyelids at me and say, "Sorry?" as if it was inadvertent, Marie's quiet laughter only encouraging her daughter.

But I got to hug and kiss and cuddle, too. At night I got to explore with my hands and my mouth. I became intimately familiar with both mother and daughter, their similarities and differences. Marie was soft and sensual and exotic. She could turn me on with a look, have me stupid horny with a soft breath and sexy words into my ear, and was a pro at subtle touches to make me ache for her. Sophie was a little Marie, slightly more rambunctious and free-spirited but equally enthusiastic at teasing me. I truly enjoyed her, and the promise of intercourse with her grew ever more attractive to me.

MARIE SIGHED WITH SATISFACTION. She'd been productive today cleaning out Sylvan's closets and reorganizing them. Suddenly they had more room. She pictured his dopey smile and blush when she'd discovered a lacy bra in one drawer; a forgotten relic of a long ago affair. He was too cute at times.

With Sylvan sent out to buy beer and wine, a half hour trip that would take him an hour once he started inspecting wine bottle labels, and dinner roasting in the oven, the house fragrant with herbs and exotic spices, Marie relaxed on the veranda couch with a glass of cold Mont de Milieu Chablis, a delectable dry white wine. Sun was three hours away from setting and still hot.

Sophie emerged and sat next to her, a can of Coke in her hand. The gurgle of the pool filtering system competed with faint sounds reaching up from the town.

Things with Sophie were going well. But Marie thought some guidelines needed to be defined.

"I want to talk about you and Sylvan," she said, placing her arm around Sophie's shoulders.

"What."

"There are now three rules in effect," Marie said. "If you break any of them everything ends. Do you understand?"

After taking a sip of Coke Sophie asked, "What are the rules?"

"One: you must never do anything you don't want to, don't like, or are afraid of. Two: you must never hurt the other person, physically or emotionally. Three: whatever happens happens in this house, never outside it. Do you agree?"

"Okay. Can I ask something?"

"You can ask anything you want," Marie said with a smile.

"What happens if I'm, like, horny and just want to . . . um . . . like get off?"

"On your own or with help?"

Sophie felt her cheeks get warm. "Um, with help."

"Then ask. Tell the person how you're feeling. Sylvan will jump to help."

Sophie's flush deepened. "What if it was you I was asking, Maman?"

Marie smiled broadly. "I, too, would jump to help."

"Okay."

They sat together silent and comfortable, Marie gently combing her fingers through her daughter's thick dark hair.

"What about fantasies?" Sophie asked, breaking the silence.

"What about them?" Marie asked. "Fantasies are a wonderful way of enjoying a sexual relationship."

"How do you make a fantasy happen?"

"You tell the person. You talk, ask, explain. If it doesn't harm anyone and your partner's okay with it, you try it."

Sophie shifted in the couch. "Um, Maman? I've had this fantasy . . ."

I STRUGGLED TO CARRY the bag of beers and another bag of wine bottles, pleased with my selection. The kitchen was empty and bursting with mouth-watering aromas. With my purchases put away and a beer in hand I went in hunt of Marie.

I saw them before I heard them. Marie was combing her fingers through her daughter's long, thick hair as they sat side by side. I could see Marie was talking quietly, Sophie responding. It looked so intimate I paused and watched.

They talked quietly. Every so often Sophie would look up at her mother and smile, say a few words and listen. I loved their relationship. It was more than a simple mother/daughter one. It had elements of friendship. They truly enjoyed each other's company, their laughter free and easy. At times like this I felt jealous, not for what they had, but for not having experienced anything like it when I grew up.

Marie caught sight of me. She smiled.

"You're back! Vien ici. Sit with us," she called, waving me over.

Dinner was the usual success I was becoming used to. The roasted chicken was superb. The accompanying white, a Kumeu River Hunting Hill Chardonnay from New Zealand, was sharp and crisp and cleansed the palate. Conversation flowed easily and dinner merged into evening, evening into night. It was a perfect end to the day.

Much later, with teeth brushed, I turned the bathroom light off and joined Marie in bed.

"Where's Sophie?" I asked, slipping under the sheet to hug Marie.

She slipped her hand up to the back of my neck drawing my face to hers. We kissed, soft and sensual, and full of promise. Her moist tongue traced across my lips before the kiss ended. Marie brought her mouth to my ear, her breath warm and sweet. "Sophie has decided what she wants," Marie whispered.

"And what is it she wants?" I asked.

Marie's hand slipped down between us. With easy familiarity she found and caressed my erection, her thumb pad rubbing the tip bringing me a surge of pleasure. Exotic, dark, mahogany eyes looked deeply into mine. "She wants you. Tonight."

A wave of excitement hit me. "Where is she?" I asked.

"She's in her own bed."

"Then tell her to join us," I said eagerly.

"Shh! Listen," Marie admonished with a smile. "My little girl has quite the imagination. She wants you to slip away from my bed and sneak into hers. She wants you to make love to her as if you're doing it secretly without me knowing."

"You're kidding," I exclaimed.

Marie's eyes twinkled with amusement. "No. I'm not kidding. Apparently she's had a bit of a fantasy I knew nothing about. It's thrilling, though. Even I find it arousing thinking of you stealing into my little girl's room to make love with her. Here, feel, see?"

Marie guided my hand down to her pussy. Soft silken pubic hair filled my palm. My fingers touched her cleft. She was wet, very wet. Marie was truly aroused by the fantasy!

She groaned quietly when my fingers caressed her clit, reached down and pulled my hand away. "Non. You should go to her," she said.

With a kiss and excitement making my blood race, I slipped out of bed.

The hall was dark. Sophie's door made no sound when I opened it slowly. Moonlight bathed the room in monotone grey, shadows and light. A sheet draped over her. She was curled up facing the large windows, her thick hair held in a loose ponytail. The room was silent. I couldn't hear her breath but saw the sheet rise and fall. Was she asleep?

Closing the door carefully, I moved to the bed. The sheet draped over her outlining her slender form reminding me that, despite her remarkable personality, Sophie was still only a twelve-year-old girl, a preteen, a beautiful little girl.

Lifting the sheet I slipped into her bed, drawing the sheet over me. She stirred and turned, exotic eyes wide and bright. A smile emerged on her pretty face. She opened her mouth to speak and I put my finger on her lips.

"Shh. Your mother's asleep. She doesn't know I'm here."

The smile that burst onto Sophie's face when she understood I was playing her fantasy truly took my breath away. She was simply beautiful.

Sophie eased towards me. On my side I drew her in, soft and sexy and petite, a slender reed of a girl. Her nightie was silky and short and neon white in the moonlight, two little shoulder straps, lacy edgings. It slipped and slid under my hand as I caressed her back. Beautiful eyes drew me close. Her lips looked full and lush and moist.

The kiss was delicate and sweet, intoxicating. Her knee eased between my legs and rose, her hands gently holding my body. She smelled of floral soap and lemony perfume.

My hand slipped lower and felt satiny panties covering a remarkable, petite butt, my hand almost spanning both buttocks. Exploring the shape of perfection, the roundness, the sensual curves, and feeling the dip of her valley had my erection straining. Then Sophie pressed her body to me sandwiching my erection between us.

Our kiss deepened, tongues teasing. I slipped my hand inside her satiny panties to hold her beautiful buttocks. They flexed as she pressed her groin against my erection. A wave of arousal washed through me.

Sophie felt wonderful in my arms. She was petite and delicate and slender; so excitingly young. French kissing a twelve-year-old was a unique experience, too. It aroused with the sensual feel of her mouth and moist tongue, yet I was very conscious of her inexperience. It was the delay, a micro second before she'd respond, and the way she'd follow my actions, not lead.

When the kiss ended there was heavy breathing, passion, Sophie alive in my arms.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" I asked gently.

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

"Promise you won't tell your mother? It'll be our secret?"

Sophie moaned quietly, writhed, pressing her pussy against my erection. "I promise," she whispered.

When I eased her nightie up, Sophie rolled onto her back and raised her arms letting me slip it over and off. The pale moonlight couldn't hide the sensual beauty of her mocha skin and those small swollen areolae. I bent to kiss them, Sophie holding my head and pulling my mouth to her chest. She undulated under me emitting quiet moans as I eased her satiny panties down one narrow hip, and rolled to let me ease the other side down, her legs moving to kick the little panties off.

It looked to me as if her areolae were even puffer after I'd used gentle suction on them. But before I could inspect them Sophie rolled back to me, my erection first poking her stomach before sliding up leaving a slippery trail of precum behind. Sophie trembled and pressed herself to me with almost desperation, her leg rising to hook over my thigh.

We kissed again, hotter, tongues more active. With one arm under her neck and behind her caressing her back, I stroked the silken length of her other thigh resting over mine. From knee to buttock I caressed her silky skin, up and down.

Fingertips eased deeper and found her pussy, smooth and hairless. With one leg raised over my thigh her cleft was partially open and I touched moisture, warm, slippery, Sophie's sexy arousal. She broke our kiss and buried her face against my neck when I caressed her clit, her buttocks flexing uncontrollably.

In the quiet of the night I fondled Sophie's pussy, my cock aching with desire, leaking, slippery. Sophie undulated her pussy at my touch and the very tip of my finger slipped deeper into her moist cleft.

She moaned louder when I touched her entrance, a tiny opening at the base of her folds, hot and arousing. She moved suddenly and her small hand reached down between us to wrap around my heavy erection.

Somehow, both of us panting, Sophie manoeuvred my cock, easing her body away from me, making small almost mewling sounds, and there I was, my crown slipping along her small cleft. She moaned and tilted her pelvis, pressing her pussy onto the very tip of my cock, her hand gripping my shaft.

As if she was driven by need, by intense desire, Sophie humped her pussy against my crown, her buttocks flexing.

"Please," she whispered, a very quiet plea, her pussy pressing, pressing.

I ached with need; need to thrust, to penetrate, to fuck her, to take her. It was hard to restrain myself. Trying to remind myself she was only a young girl, a preteen, and still prepubescent didn't work. It made my desire intensify.

"Slow down, Sophie," I whispered.

Too late. With a little cry of pain, my crown penetrated her. All motion stopped, her hand gripping my shaft hard. She whimpered, her body trembling. My cock swelled. Jesus she was tight.

For the next minute or two we didn't move, both of us trying to adapt to the sensations assaulting us. I'd never felt anything so tight. It was just short of painful. Sophie's hot breath panting against my neck showed her heart was racing. She explored by clenching her vagina bringing even more painful pleasure to me.

I held her, hugging her with one arm, the other holding her naked bottom, her leg hooked over my thigh. "Just relax, Sophie," I whispered and she did the exact opposite, tightening her leg and pressing her little pussy onto my erection.

"Hurts," she moaned into my neck.

"Stop, Honey," I urged, my erection throbbing and pulsing like mad.

I thought she'd heard me when she eased her pussy off slightly, pressure abating. But she reversed, her hand gripping my shaft, and suddenly, in an exquisitely beautiful move, my erection slipped into her, sliding deep in a single move, her vagina gripping me in a tight velvet hug. Her hand released me and grabbed my arm. Another slight easing off and I penetrated Sophie completely, my entire erection buried in her, buried in a twelve-year-old!

Time stood still, my cock ensconced in the tightest pussy I'd ever experienced. Pure ecstasy.

"You're much bigger in me," she whispered.

"You're really tight," I replied. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," Sophie whispered. "But I feel stuffed. You're really big."

I chuckled quietly. "Thank you for the ego boost."

With Sophie impaled on me and holding her compact little ass to stop her from moving, still on our sides, I nuzzled her hair and face until she withdrew her face from my neck. I smiled and kissed her lightly. Dark exotic eyes smiled at me. A spark of pleasure returned to them.

The next kiss lingered, her lips silky and warm. My erection flexing deep inside her ended the kiss.

"I felt that," she whispered. "Do I feel good?"

"God yes," I admitted.

A twinkle emerged in her mesmerizing eyes. "Better than Maman?"

My immediate reaction was to deny. But then I remembered her fantasy. Smiling, I replied, "Yes, Sweetheart, better than your mom."

Sophie sighed. "Kay."

She moved, an experimental move, buttocks tightening as she eased off my erection slightly, buttocks relaxing as she settled back, pressing the inch of my erection back into her. A small excited clench sent pulses of pleasure through me. Damn she was tight.

When my erection swelled and strained inside her in response, Sophie responded with a pleased sigh and a repeat and, just like that, we were fucking each other.

It was the the strangest erotic experience I'd ever had. Sophie's vagina was so tight it felt like I was withdrawing from a vacuum. Her prepubescent body was slender and delicate in my arms, almost fragile, making me cautious. Yet sensual murmurs and sweet curved buttocks and warm breath drove my arousal higher.

We moved together gently, softly, and as we moved, as I throbbed inside her tight pussy, she became slippery. Withdrawal and penetration became easier, still exquisitely snug but easier. We moved together, my aching erection penetrating her, withdrawing, penetrating her, the tip of my cock gently nudging against her end.

My murmurs turned into words, "You feel so good, Sophie," "I love this," "You're so tight."

Sophie murmured with each comment and responded with slightly harder movements, slightly more aggressive, slightly faster movements, actively fucking me.

My erection ached feeling heavy and thick. Holding her slender body in a firm hug, I fucked Sophie gently, deeply, so beautiful, such an intense feeling. We moved in increasing urgency, her arms clasping at me, her pelvis curling and thrusting, taking me deep, deep.

My crown began to thump against her end, Sophie emitting little grunts with each thrust. Perspiration coated us. With a hand on her sexy buttocks I started pulling her to me, thrusting into her tight pussy, withdrawing, pulling her bum, thrusting, the disorientation of arousal settling in.

Pressure grew in my groin. My erection felt huge and hard and painful, her vagina tight and velvety and exquisite. We fucked, the sound of panting now loud. Fucking Sophie drowned me in sensations; a little girl undulating and clutching, sweet snorts of breath, her warm body, her slenderness, her leg hooked over my thigh, her beautiful immature buttocks in my hand.

Worry arrived with the growing threat of an orgasm. Fucking Sophie firmly, long strokes, deep strokes, her pussy so tight, I began to worry about cumming before her. Would she cum? When? How long could I last under the assault of such exquisite pleasure?

I tried to hold off but she felt too good. Thrusting, swelling, on the cusp, I gasped, "Cum with me, Baby."

I fell.

With agony wracking me, pressure, pressure, I thrust into her slender young body, tugged her buttocks hard, buried my erection completely in her tight vagina and groaned loudly, erection swelling. Semen burned up my shaft to explode into her, an agonizing pulse taking my breath away. Withdrawing, I thrust hard, hard, cum exploding deep inside her, warm wetness flooding my crown.

Sophie let out a loud grunt, a familiar sound. Her pussy clenched, leg jerked, arms grasped, and she came with a hard body jerk just as I thrust and exploded into her again, semen spurting in a wave of utter ecstasy.

The full disorienting storm of my orgasm took over. With a racing heart and aching erection, I thrust and came, thrust and came, flooding her, flooding her, cumming until nothing remained, my thrusts fading away, pressure released, calm arriving, empty, need gone, peace and satisfaction rushing in.

Sophie murmured and snuggled.

I almost had a thought but it slipped away, displaced by pure post-orgasmic pleasure.

The next sensation I felt was a sheet being draped over me. It woke me. The bed dipped. Opening my eyes I watched Marie slip under the sheet behind Sophie and cuddle up. Sophie murmured in her sleep and rolled over, snuggling into her mother. Marie's eyes smiled at me. She wrapped her daughter in her arms.

I was drained, utterly exhausted, sleep tugging at my eyelids. I smiled back at Marie. I felt strange, good. Rolling, I spooned Sophie and reached across to hold Marie.

The sound of bright laughter woke me. For a moment I was disoriented. This was Sophie's room. Another peal of pure pleased laughter rolled in. Sophie.

Her laugh made me smile as I rolled out of bed, naked. She had a contagious laugh.

Fifteen minutes later I was showered and dressed. In the kitchen I found Sophie sitting on a stool laughing at her mother.

"He did! Je promets," Sophie insisted.

Marie, looking beautiful with a frown on her face, standing at the stove stirring scrambled eggs, spotted me. Her frown deepened.

"So what do you have to say for yourself, Monsieur Nuit?" she said to me.

Sophie turned in her stool and grinned at me, dimples emerging. "Tell Maman it's true."

I'm not a stupid man. I might be dumb but I'm never stupid. There was nothing about whatever this was that would be a win. I deferred to my standard defence - denial. "I have no opinion," I said.

"Men!" Marie snorted. "Did you tell my daughter she was better in bed than her mother?"

Oh-oh. "I have no opinion," I repeated.

"And did you tell my daughter she kisses better than her mother?" Marie asked, waving a spatula at me.

I glanced sharply at Sophie. I'd never said that. She smiled sheepishly; the imp was fibbing!

"I have no opinion," I tried again.

Marie laughed and walked over to me, her hand cupping my face. She kissed my cheek softly. "C'est bon. It's okay. Besides, my daughter kisses better than you."

"She does?" I asked reflexively.

Both ladies laughed at me. I relaxed and smiled.

Marie returned to the stove chuckling, shaking her head, "I have no opinion? Really?" As she removed the scrambled eggs from the stove, she added, "I was going to ask what you thought about joining Sophie and me in the shower, but since you have no opinion, I guess I won't."

I gave up. I'd met my match . . . two of them. And damn if I wasn't happy.

"You're both evil. I hate you both," I said.

Marie laughed at me. "No you don't. You love us."

"I do not! Where's my coffee?" I exclaimed, but I did. I loved them both.