An unforgivable mistake?
Chapter 3
Betrayal and Desperation

In the bathroom, Roger paused to stare at the clothes lying on the counter next to the sink. Her cute little tee shirt, skirt, and stocking lay in a soaking wet pile. What drew his attention, however, were the articles next to it. He had already expected to find her underwear there, but seeing the lacy white bra and little tiny cotton panties was a different experience entirely. He hadn't expected to see sexy lingerie by any means, but somehow this innocent little underwear was even more thrilling. Rather than emphasize her sexual maturity, it emphasized her youth instead. Little Leslie probably wasn't old enough to understand what the sight of a girl's underwear could do to a man. He could hardly believe that he was sitting here looking at something that until recently had been in close contact with the most intimate parts of her body.

It also meant that under the robe, she was completely naked. It would take only a slight loosening of the bow, and then the whole thing would come undone. The only thing standing between him and the sight he had for years longed to see was a little friction on the sash.

It had been hard to keep from staring when she walked into the room like that. In all honesty he had never seen anything so sexy in his entire life. Somehow he had managed to keep his cool. If she even suspected the things going through his mind, she would have dashed out of the house and searched for the nearest police officer, clothes or no clothes.

Worse, that conversation had gone in the entirely wrong direction. What was he thinking, asking if she had a boyfriend? When she said she needed someone older and more experienced, he had just about broken down and pleaded with her to let him be the one. But when she mentioned that she wished her attitude would get her into trouble, he realized that she wasn't talking about him. She obviously meant a boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, who had had a girlfriend before and at the very least knew what not to do. Leslie wasn't talking about sex; not at that age. She probably just meant she wanted to feel close to someone, to have a good friend to spend time with, perhaps to hold hands or snuggle with a little. Her desires were completely innocent.

Not so with his own. When she had mentioned that she wasn't wearing any underwear, he had had to fight down the urge to start drooling. All things considered, he deserved an Oscar for his performance.

I'm going to touch her underwear! he noted with glee. It was just too bad that she wouldn't be wearing them at the time.

No, it was absolutely wrong of him to think that. That should be the furthest thing from his mind. It was just clothes after all. There was nothing magical or special about them just because they had recently been on her body.

He reached out toward her bra, surprised to see his hand trembling. What was the matter with him? It was just a piece of cloth after all. He quickly snatched it up and tossed it onto the pile with the rest of her clothes. Then he did the same with her panties, and bundled the whole thing up.

There. That was all there was to it. He almost laughed at his trepidation, as if the garments would bite him if he touched them. He picked up the bundle and carried it out of the room and down the hall to the washroom. There he tossed the whole thing in the dryer and set the timer. As soon as he heard the familiar hum of it starting up, he turned and exited, still thinking about those two sexy little articles of clothing.

When he returned to the living room, he found Leslie sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. She had left plenty of room for him next to her, but considering the way he had been thinking lately, he figured it was better to take a different chair. She glanced up at him as he crossed the room to his favorite chair in the corner.

"I don't mind you sitting by me," she smiled. "I don't bite."

He hesitated for a moment, considering. It shouldn't have been that difficult of a decision, but considering his growing lust, he knew he should try to stay away from her as much as possible. He might break down and do something he shouldn't, and then she would fear and hate him. She might even tell her parents, which would no doubt lead to him spending some time behind bars as a child molester, not a pleasant thought.

What was he thinking? He was stronger than that. Roger Gardner was no slave to his passions, or he would have made that mistake a long time ago. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to keep his lust under control.

As if to prove the point to himself, he sat down on the couch next to her, earning him another smile from Leslie. She had the cutest, most adorable smile he had ever seen, so warm and inviting. Did she not know what she was doing to him? He could lose himself in that smile easily, bewitched by her charm that she didn't even know she possessed.

She surprised him by wrapping her arm around his. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"No, it's all right," he replied.

"I just don't want you to think I'm being forward or anything."

He laughed. "No, that's fine. You're a really cute girl, you know that, Leslie?"

Where had that come from? He had meant to say that he understood it was just a girlish gesture, not to be taken as anything intimate or flirtatious. But somehow it hadn't come out the way he intended it.

Still, he had managed to keep his tone of voice from betraying his attraction to her. She could easily take it as just an innocent compliment.

"Thanks," she smiled, and he relaxed. So she still didn't suspect. It had turned out all right after all.

The two of them watched the TV, or more accurately, Leslie watched the TV and Roger stared at it without seeing it. His attention was fully occupied by the girl sitting next to him. If someone were to ask him what show was on, he wouldn't be able to answer them even while he looked directly at it.

Leslie looked absolutely adorable, and it felt so nice to sit next to her with her arm in his. After her shower she even smelled nice. There was a certain fragrance about her that really drew him to her. How was he supposed to keep resisting her when she was just so desirable?

Leslie yawned, and he took that opportunity to glance over at her. She flashed him another smile.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just getting a little drowsy."

"I must be boring you," he joked.

"No, it's not that. It just feels so peaceful and tranquil here. I'm surprised; usually I'm pretty nervous around strangers, but you make me feel so comfortable. I'm glad I came over."

"It's the cocoa," he grinned. "It's impossible to feel nervous when drinking cocoa."

She laughed. "Maybe. Whatever it is, I like you."

He smiled and turned his attention back to the television. She felt comfortable with him, she said. She trusted him, and that gave him the will to remain strong. He would never betray that trust.

She stretched then, arching her back, and he couldn't help but notice that the motion had the effect of pulling the two sides of her robe slightly apart. He had a good view of the valley between her breasts. There wasn't much there yet, no cleavage to speak of, but she was showing plenty of skin.

What should he do? Should he tell her to close her robe? Should he just ignore it? If he said anything, maybe it would embarrass her and she wouldn't feel comfortable any more. They would sit in an awkward silence the rest of the time, and then she would say goodbye and never come visit him again. That would be a great tragedy. He needed to be strong until she left, because then her first impression of him as a trustworthy, nice man would be solidified, and she would be willing to come see him again. If he gave her even the tiniest hint of what was going through his mind....

She lay her head back against the top of the couch, closing her eyes with a beautiful, serene expression on her face and just a trace of a smile. He tried to ignore her, but that image before him was just too compelling. Over the next few minutes, he stole glances at her every so often even as he tried to focus on the TV.

It wasn't long before he could hear her breathing growing deeper, and he realized that she had fallen asleep. That put his mind at ease. So far, everything she had done had been sexier than she could possibly imagine, but now she would just remain still for the rest of her time here. He would wake her gently when it was time to put her clothes back on, then everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. Leslie was a restless sleeper, perhaps because she couldn't find a comfortable position. She moved around a lot as she slept, and each motion brought his attention back to her. It seemed that every time she moved, she put herself into a sexier position than the one before, and the gap between the two sides of her robe continued to widen. If she kept this up much longer, it was bound to come undone completely.

Then she did something that completely caught him off his guard. She slid her head down and lay it against his shoulder. He had no idea how to react to that. What did she mean by the gesture? Or did she mean anything at all? Maybe it was just an unconscious motion in her sleep, and she didn't even know what she was doing.

He wanted so much to just put his arm around her and hold her to him. He wanted to pick her up and set her on his lap, where she could press her warm body up against him and lay her head down on his chest. But that much at least was completely out of the question, because she would be sure to feel the bulge under his robe. He hadn't been this hard in ages. Fortunately, the robe was thick enough that it hid it from her eyes.

She moved again, and this time it put her off balance and her head began to slide down his arm. He reached out to catch her; the last thing he wanted was to have her end up with her head on his lap where she could feel him poking her in the cheek. He put one of his arms around her shoulder to steady her while he attempted to push her back upright with the other.

Suddenly her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him with the cutest, sexiest expression he had seen on her face yet. He could barely hold himself back. Her lips were just too inviting. He felt himself leaning forward, down toward the inevitable kiss...

Roger stood up, catching himself before it became obvious what he had planned to do. "Looks like someone needs to take a nap," he smiled. "Tell you what. You just lie down right there and I'll go get you a blanket."

"Thanks," she said. "You're really nice."

"Just trying to be neighborly," he replied, somehow keeping his tone friendly without betraying the burning lust behind it. He walked casually into the bedroom, where he immediately took several deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.

He had nearly done it. He had nearly taken advantage of this innocent young girl. Roger was so near the edge now that a single slip would throw him over, sending him tumbling down into the abyss. Were it only for his own sake, he would give in without a moment's hesitation. One afternoon of bliss with this girl was worth a lifetime of consequences. But he couldn't do that to her. She still had her whole life ahead of her, and this might ruin it for her. Girls that age could be so fragile, so precious, and once broken could never be made whole again.

He opened the closet and withdrew a blanket. He sniffed it once to make sure it didn't retain any of that musty closet smell, then returned to the living room, where he found Leslie lying on her back on the couch, her knees slightly spread and that gap in the robe so wide now that he could easily see the swell of her small breasts. It was a wonder the nipples weren't visible.

Then he gazed at her face, and he sucked in his breath. If he had thought she had looked sweet and kissable before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now. She had her eyes closed again, but this time, her lips were slightly puckered. It wasn't obvious, as if she were actually inviting him to kiss her, but a subtle, probably unconscious expression.

This lovely vision lying on his couch was a goddess. How was he supposed to keep his resolve when she looked so damn fine! Before he knew it, he found himself on his knees, leaning in once again. She had probably fallen back asleep, so now was his chance. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

One kiss. That was all he wanted. Just a taste of this magnificent beauty, with her soft skin, gentle curves, and sweet, luscious lips.

At the last moment he caught himself, remembering how much she trusted him.

Trust. She thought he would never do anything to hurt her. His passion and his honor fought within him, and somehow he came up with a compromise. He lowered his head and kissed her on the forehead.

Then he spread the blanket over her, making sure to cover the parts of her body that she shouldn't be showing him, and headed back into his own bedroom. He dropped backward onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort out his jumble of thoughts.

She trusted him, believing that he would never hurt her. She wasn't opposed to getting all cuddly with him, as evidenced by her laying her head against his shoulder and her complete lack of embarrassment when she woke up in his arms. That led to an obvious conclusion.

She saw him as a father figure. The more he thought of it, the more it made sense. Mrs. Weaver was divorced, so Leslie didn't have an adult man in her life. She was probably reaching out to him because she needed someone to fulfill that role.

If that were the case, he was glad. True, he still wanted to do all kinds of naughty things with her, but he could keep that much under control. Since he couldn't be her lover, he was content to be be a father figure in her life. Maybe an uncle. Uncle Roger. He liked the sound of that. It would give her an excuse to come visit him often. There was nothing wrong with it because he was a friend of the family, someone completely trustworthy and honorable who would take care of her.

Yes, he could adopt that role. It wasn't what he really wanted, but sometimes he had to settle for his second choice.


The frustration that Leslie felt had almost reached the boiling point. How could he be so indifferent to her? He had actually had the audacity to kiss her on the forehead! Like a little girl, a child being tucked in by her daddy.

Was that how he felt about her? Did he want to take that kind of role with her? He had admitted being married once, so maybe he had children that he missed. Maybe he had a daughter that Leslie reminded him of. That would horribly complicate her plans. She might get to the cuddling and snuggling stage, but could take it no further. If he thought of her as his daughter, her cause was hopeless.

She wanted to just run up to him and jump on him. If he didn't make a move soon, she would just have to rape him.

But no, that wouldn't solve anything either. For one thing, he was too strong for her; there was no way she would be able to subdue him by force. For another, the whole reason she wanted to lose her virginity to an older man was because he would be experienced enough to know how to take care of her needs. If he was unwilling, that would spoil it. And finally, he was such a sweet man, she couldn't bear the thought of him hating her. He had looked after her when he could have left her out in the rain. Or worse, he could have demanded something from her in return for the use of his house. She half wished he had, but was surprised to realize that the very fact that he hadn't tried to take advantage of her was what made him so special. A man like that was something more than a conquest; he was worth holding on to.

She had to be patient. It looked like she wouldn't seduce him today, but she still held out hope. In the mean time, she was just happy to enjoy his company.

Maybe having him as a father figure wouldn't be so bad, like an uncle or something. Uncle Roger. She liked the sound of that. Even if they never became lovers, she wouldn't mind having him as a friend.

That was a comforting thought. Soothing even. She was curled up on Uncle Roger's couch, safe and protected. He would watch over her as she slept, standing guard to see that she wasn't disturbed. It was such a pleasant thought that she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.


Still staring up at the ceiling, Roger lay on his bed and let the minutes tick by. He had made his decision, and that gave him the strength to hold out. He really wanted to be with Leslie. He wanted to spend time with her, and it didn't matter what they did together, as long as he could gaze upon her smiling face. So he would be completely trustworthy; the idea that he could ever harm her would be the furthest thing from her mind. He would invite her to come visit him whenever she wanted, to share a cup of hot chocolate or just to talk.

Of course, he would need to make friends with her mother as well. No doubt she wouldn't let Leslie visit him unless she herself felt he could be trusted. Maybe he would give her a call after Leslie went home. He was sure that if he just had a few minutes to talk with her, he could win her over.

For now, though, he would just let Leslie sleep. Let her have peaceful dreams, believing herself to be completely safe in his home. Because she was. Safe. Sleeping there on the couch, so vulnerable yet far from any harm. Roger would watch over her, standing guard to see that she wasn't disturbed.

He could still see her in his mind, that peaceful look on her face, her beautiful eyes closed and those pouty lips slightly puckered. He just had to gaze upon her once more. He rose from the bed and made his way back out to the front room for another look at his sleeping beauty.

There she lay, still asleep. Still beautiful. Still sexy. He could hardly believe this was happening, with this gorgeous young thing napping on his couch. In her sleep she had kicked off the blanket, which now lay on the floor. Her hands lay next to her head and one of her knees was spread wide. It was such an inviting pose, so open and willing.

Willing? No, she wasn't willing. She was asleep. How could she be willing?

He glanced around the room, surprised that he had crossed it without realizing it. Now he stood above the girl, gazing down at that beautiful face and the line of flesh revealed by the opening of the robe. It extended down right to the sash, almost but not quite baring her exquisite mounds to his eyes. It would take hardly anything to move the sides of the robe out of the way, then he would finally have his chance to view her young body. He watched as his hand of its own accord reached out toward the girl.

No! he told himself. What was he he trying to do? Was he actually considering molesting her?

He had told himself over and over again that he wasn't that kind of a man. Roger Gardner was harmless. Any girl, even girls of that age that he found so sexy, was completely safe in his presence. Now he was on the verge of proving himself wrong, of completely betraying his character.

But she was so damn fine! Was it his fault that she had showed up on his doorstep, seeking his shelter and protection? Was it his fault that she lay there asleep and half naked on his couch? He was strong, but never before had he felt such temptation. He could just lift up the robe and take a peek. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Before he knew it, he had grasped one side of the robe and lifted it away, baring her marvelous breast to his eyes. At thirteen, she still had plenty of growing to do, but he couldn't remember ever seeing anything as beautiful as that lovely mound of flesh topped by the most perfect nipple he could ever imagine. He was finally living his fantasy; he was actually looking at a young teenage girl's body.

He felt his body trembling from the excitement of it all, and his heart pounding in his chest. Even his breathing had become shallow and ragged. Not surprisingly, he was as hard as a rock between the legs.

Now that he had taken the first step, it was all too easy to take the next. With his free hand, he reached out and slipped it onto her exposed breast. It was absolutely heavenly. He couldn't believe how warm and soft it felt, so deliciously smooth except for the hardening nipple, which he ever so gently pinched between his fingers. He felt it starting to harden, to his delight.

Roger momentarily withdrew his hands, letting the robe fall back into place. Then he spread it so that both of her breasts were now completely exposed to his view. He glanced down to make sure she was still asleep, then placed both of his hands on her chest and massaged her, enjoying the sensation on his hands.

"Mmm..." Leslie moaned, and he stopped. She had a smile on her lips, but her eyes were still closed. What did that mean? Was she awake or not? In panic, he withdrew his hands and closed the robe back up.

With horror he realized what he had just done. He had sexually molested a girl in her sleep! Everything he had believed about himself had suddenly fallen apart. Roger was not harmless, not if he was willing to do this. The first chance he had to spend some time with a young teenage girl, he had betrayed himself and her by taking advantage of her.

He rose to his feet and hurried back to his bedroom, where he fell to his knees, buried his head in his arms on the bed, and cried like he hadn't cried since he had been a child.


Leslie awoke to the most exquisite feeling. It wasn't the first time she had been aroused the first thing in the morning, but there was something different this time. Somehow it was a little more physical. There was a kind of warm feeling surrounding her, especially her chest.

When she opened her eyes, she glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't her bedroom. Where was she?

Then she remembered. The storm, the shower, the cocoa, and Roger Gardner. She had only meant to fake sleep, to give him one last chance. If he thought she would never know, he might make his move then. Unfortunately, she really had been asleep, so she would never know if he had tried anything or not.

No, it was obvious he hadn't. Not Roger Gardner. He would never do anything like that. Unfortunately.

One thing was for sure, she was very aroused. The tight feeling in her nipples and the stimulation as they rubbed against the fabric of her robe told her that they were hard, probably from some erotic dream she couldn't remember. But it had certainly left its impression on her. She needed to get off again, and soon.

She glanced around but didn't see a clock on the wall, but it was still light outside so most likely her mother wasn't home yet. That meant no privacy for a while. And since her first choice, sex with Roger, was apparently out, it looked like she was in for a rough and frustrating afternoon.

Of course there was still a little hope. She would go find him and strike up another conversation. At the very least, it would give her something to do to pass the time. She really did like him after all.

She yawned and stretched, and the robe finally came completely undone. She laughed quietly and fastened it again. It was a good thing that Roger wasn't there when it happened. By "good," of course, she meant "bad."

Smiling inwardly at the warm glow of arousal that enveloped her, she sat up. It took her a minute or two to let the sluggishness drain away, then she stood up. Slowly moving down the hall, she peeked in the doors until she found his bedroom. He was on his knees by the bed, almost in a praying position.

Could that be the reason why he wasn't interested in her sexually? Was he a devout religious man? Was it some kind of vow of celibacy? No, he had been married once so that could not be it. She felt awkward interrupting him, so she just stood in the doorway and watched him.

A few minutes later he lifted his head. He stared at the wall, still facing away from her and obviously not noticing her there. He wiped his eyes, then turned his head. Only then did he see her there.

"Hi, Roger," she said, beaming him her friendliest smile. He stared at her for a few seconds, and the smile fell from her face. There was something wrong, a kind of despair in his eyes that had not been present earlier.

"Leslie," he said. "Look, I..." It was obvious he wanted to say something to her, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She hoped it was something like pledging his undying love to her, but from the tears in his eyes, it probably wasn't.

Suddenly, he rose to his feet, then grabbed her hand and half-dragged her out of the room, mumbling something about not wanting to be in the bedroom. Of course, that was the exact place where she wanted to be, so it disappointed her to be leaving it so quickly. Something was obviously wrong.

Once out in the front room, he moved the curtain aside and peeked out for a moment, then sighed as he let it fall back into place. It sounded like he was relieved.

"Your clothes should be dry by now," he told her, "and I see Mrs. Sargrove's car in the driveway, so she's home now. I think it would be better if you spent the rest of the afternoon with her."

Leslie was shocked. He was kicking her out? What had she done? She couldn't think of anything she had done that might have warranted that. They had gotten on so well before her nap.

Against her will, tears began to well up in her eyes. This meant she had blown it with him. She was never going to get to visit him again. It shouldn't have bothered her; she should have just accepted it and looked for another man to conquer. But now she realized that there was more to it than just her urges. She had really enjoyed his company, sex or no sex. Here was a man who had been so sweet to take her in, who could have used her in return, but instead he had been friendly, charming, and an all-around nice guy. He had shared a cup of cocoa with her, let her borrow his clothes, and tucked her in when he thought she was sleepy. Not once had he asked for anything in return. But now he was throwing her out of his house. What had happened? What had gone wrong? Her eyes blurred with the tears that threatened to spill out onto her cheeks.

"Oh, Leslie, please don't cry," he said. "I'm so sorry. This isn't your fault; you did nothing wrong. I don't want to hurt you. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I would do it gladly."

She dashed over to him and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest and sobbing into the soft front of his robe. She needed to feel his arms around her, to know that he really did care about her. But he stood there unmoving, not even hugging her back. Did that mean he hated her? Didn't he care for her feelings even enough to reach around and comfort her?

She had to be strong. It was too late to put on a show of bravado, now that she had already cried. But at least she could be gracious and leave his apartment when he asked her. Maybe he didn't like her, but at least she wouldn't make herself a nuisance to him any more.

Leslie drew back and wiped away her tears. Yes, she would be firm. No sense burdening him any longer.

She glanced up into his eyes, and was surprised to see tears there as well. She could see from the expression on his face that she was wrong about him. He really did care about her feelings after all, and that gave her the strength she needed. Whatever had gone wrong, it wasn't that he didn't like her, and that was enough for now.

There was one more thing she wanted to do. Maybe it would simply seal her fate. Maybe after she did it, he would never want to see her again. But it looked like that was about to happen anyway. But she would always regret it if she didn't take the chance.

She reached up and placed her hand behind his head, then pulled him down to her and kissed him on the lips.

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-The Fan

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2009-07-13 14:21:45

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