A story of a daughter's true devotion to Daddy.
He scooted closer to me so we were nearly hip to hip.
"I'm Andrew Carter but everyone calls me Drew," he held out his hand.
I took it and he squeezed just a bit; the feel of his long cool fingers sent shivers up my spine.
"And I'm Sarah; not Ms or ma'am; just plain Sarah Grayson," I smiled back at him shyly.
"Sarah, as us country folk are like to say, you is anything but plain," he said and beamed that smile at me again.
My heart melted at the compliment and I blushed bright red.
We chatted for what seemed like an eternity but it was closer to a half hour. We discussed what subjects we had studied, what books we both liked and what colleges we hoped to get into. He looked at me with his deep blue eyes but I notice they flicked down to my tiny breasts and more often to my legs. Unconsciously I fiddled with the hem of my skirt, pulling it down and smoothing it out. I saw the look of disappointment in his eyes and I was secretly glad. A boy who seemed to like me for my brain and my body; an intellectual jock, we were both different to the rest of seniors but for totally different reasons.
"May I come around to your house and call on you sometime?" he asked as he was about to leave.
He sensed my uneasiness; I had never had anyone around to the house. With Aunt Amanda's gentlemen friends likely to arrive at any time and Sloane's recently found penchant for the life of a slattern; the Grayson house was not conducive to visitors of the genteel kind.
I scrambled around in my pocketbook and found a pen and wrote down our home number on the page of my magazine and tore it off and proffered it to him.
"Call me. We can meet, on shall we say neutral ground," I smiled up at him.
Drew was astute enough to understand my dilemma and he gave me that heart-melting smile. He took the scrap of paper and his fingers touched mine. They lingered as neither of us wanted that fragile touch to end. He looked searchingly into my eyes and his fingers intertwined with mine. He pulled me forward and leant into me and kissed me. It wasn't anything passionate but it wasn't chaste either. He kissed me on the side of my mouth; our lips barely touching. He made to move away and I pulled him back to me and put my arms around him and kissed him.
I kissed him properly, our lips crushed and I let the tip of my tongue slide into his mouth. When he tried to press harder I gently eased him away and as I did I head a loud whoop.
Bing Holthouse Jr and Bobby Fillay where still under that old Elm and were whooping and yahooing when they saw us kiss.
I blushed a deep red and Drew gave me his high-beam smile.
"Sorry ma'am, but you know what them jocks is like," he grinned at me.
"You talk like a cowpoke again Andrew Carter and you may not get another kiss," I smiled back at him.
"Well we can't have that now, can we?" he said getting to his knees.
He kissed the tips of his index and middle fingers and waved me a kiss,
I blushed again as I watched his lithe athlete's body spring to his feet and stroll away. My heart was beating like a racehorse on the home stretch. I could feel my penis had become erect inside my control-top pantyhose and even felt a little wetness there. I liked how that felt but I also so wanted to be a real girl.
I sighed and went back to my magazine; but I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking of Drew Carter and my first real kiss.
The call came the very next day and I was both excited and trepidicious when I heard Drew's voice in the receiver of the telephone.
"So can I see you Sarah, please?" I was thrilled to hear genuine longing in his voice.
The intellectuals who I had repeatedly turned down sounded childlike and whiney compared to Drew's deep masculine drawl.
"Yes but not here. There's an old barn, well its more just a shed really, about half a mile down the track that runs from my back yard," I said.
"I'll pick you up out back of your place," I could sense the exhilaration in his voice.
"No!" I shouted into the mouthpiece.
I took a breath and composed myself.
"That won't be necessar