The Lonely Doll -pedo / by JANUS

Please note: All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.

Please keep in mind the difference between fantasy and reality.

Time. There was so much of it. Seconds, minutes, hours… all neatly standing like dominoes. One domino falls, followed by another. And another. And another. Only these dominoes are stacked to infinity. And the falling never ends.

Richard struck a long wooden match against the rough stone of the fireplace mantel. The smell of sulphur briefly stung his nostrils as the bright flame whispered to life. He carefully lit two tall candles that rested on either side of the long shelf. Placing a cupped hand protectively around the flame, he swiftly moved to light a small series of votive candles that surrounded a glass case in the center of the otherwise spartan mantel.

It was unusually chilly for a spring night, even for Arizona. The desert had a tendency for extremes though. Through his window Richard could see the sky going from dusty orange to a lonely blue as the sun continued its journey in the west. Among the sandy blankness were a handful of small houses, the only interruption aside from the scraggly growth of hardy desert plants. A few windows were glowing softly with light, the only hint of others' presence. But they were few. Oracle was a small town.

His darkened living room was now glowing warmly from the orange light of the flames. Inside the glass case, Richard could now clearly see a doll. Her hair was a dusty brown that had been cut into a fashionably short coif that framed her face. She wore a long-sleeved black dress with a plain velvet bodice and sleeves. Below was likewise black velvet, but it was decorated with a delicate gold holiday print that wove across the full skirt of the dress. Her bouffant full slip, peeking out at the hem, showed a prim lace ruffle and made the skirt spread out like a budding flower. Richard loved the small accent details on the doll, like the gold sash waist with its blood-orange chrysanthemum and the tassel black front ballerina shoes. He wistfully admired the doll's rounded face. Even though her lips were curved upward in the slightest of smiles, Richard couldn't help but feel sad every time he looked into her face.

He was startled from his reverie by a low and solemn chime that rang from across the room. Twelve mournful tones sounded from the grandfather clock behind him. Midnight. May 8 was only a few seconds old now.

Twenty-five years. It happened twenty-five years ago. Why did it feel so short and so long?

He removed a key from his pocket and carefully fitted it into the lock on the glass case containing the doll. The metal key turned smoothly, giving a reassuring click as a bolt sprung within the lock mechanism. The door of the glass case opened. Richard could hardly believe this was the twenty-fifth time he had done this. Moving slowly, with a somber sense of ceremony, he removed the doll from the case.

He set her down on an oak drafting table where a small white sheet lay waiting, its clean cotton perfectly ironed and its edges adorned with a delicate lace. Richard removed a second key from his pocket and unlocked a heavy door just off the living room. He had unlocked this door exactly twenty-five times as well, he mused.

The flickering candlelight did not reach the dark space behind the door. He reached out blindly with his hand, grasping, searching, until his fingers closed on a dangling string. He pulled it. A single light bulb now illuminated the small closet. There was shelving on either side of him but it was empty. The closet contained nothing except a great wooden trunk that rested against the far wall from the door.

He removed a third key from his pocket. The two lock clasps clapped open one by one as he inserted and turned the key. With a bit of effort, he slowly lifted the lid of the oversized trunk. It was so large that he could have easily fit inside it if he curled into a fetal position. He let the lid lean against the wall as his sad eyes examined the contents which he knew by heart.

Across the inside of the lid, seven dolls were arranged neatly in a row, each one carefully attached with a securely tied ribbon. Richard unclasped another latch, allowing the front and sides of the trunk to gently open. Four wooden bars extended and each one held hanger after hanger of lovingly arranged doll clothes. There were jumpers and dresses, slacks and sweaters, warm winter skirts and light summer frocks. Nearly every hue and tint of the spectrum was present, yet instead of clashing wildly they all blended smoothly into a glorious rainbow of color. Impulsively, Richard caressed the fabrics, letting his hand delight in the assortment of wool, silk, cotton, and velvet.

The sight and touch of the doll clothes awakened sleeping memories. He remembered shopping with his wife for the dark blue jumper with its box-like Russian styling. The prairie dress, with its delicate gingham pattern, elicited thoughts of his wife hunched over her sewing table while perusing hand- written mail-order catalogs for dress patterns. Her smiling face suddenly appeared, so bright and so alive, even on the morning before the car accident.

Richard hadn't realized how long he had been crouching there until he felt his leg stiffen, his aging muscles protesting the strain. His eyes were wet so he dabbed them with his shirt sleeve. Twenty- five years ago. A long, long time to be alone.

Behind the rows of dresses, he spied a box made of beautifully grained cherry wood. A dull twinge shot across his heart. Slowly, he retrieved it from its hiding place behind all the doll clothes. The lacquered box felt smooth against his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he gently opened the silver clasps and lifted the lid.

His wife's favorite doll. After her death, Richard was so overwhelmed that he couldn't even bear to look at it so he had carefully laid it away and then hidden it in the chest of doll clothes. He had forgotten how beautiful this doll was with her golden blond hair and graceful face. Seeing it now brought back more memories, but time had dulled the sharp edge of these thoughts.

He took the doll, box and all, out this living room and laid it on his table. The brown haired doll was admired one last time before being joining the others in the closet chest. Twenty- five years. With a resolute heart, Richard decided that he would dress and display his wife's favorite doll this year as a special commemoration. He was deep in thought, already mentally planning the outfit. Perhaps the red velvet dress? Or the schoolgirl outfit with matching saddle shoes?

He lifted the doll from the lined cherry box and set it on the table. Richard was about to close the lid when he noticed a slight bulge beneath the dark blue velvet lining of the box. He thought he was imaging it. But when he touched the bulge, it did not flatten as he expected. Instead his fingers closed against a misshapen object.

With great care, Richard reached behind the velvet lining and fished with his finger until he was able to pull out the item. He turned on the light at his drafting table to inspect it: a small box wrapped neatly in plain paper. His heart leapt when he saw the words on the brown paper, written in a familiar handwriting.

His hands trembled a bit as he unwrapped the heavy brown paper. Inside was a felt covered jewel box, the kind a person might receive from a jeweler when buying a ring. On the underside, written by the same hand, he read the words, "Christmas 1962". His heart fell, then pounded mightily, then burst in an explosion.

She had died in October. This was her last Christmas gift for him, hidden away in her special place until the holiday season.

Richard again felt overwhelmed. For him, love and sadness had been intertwined for a great many years and he could feel their familiar knots tightening within him once more. Holding his breath, he opened the small jewel box.

Inside lay a doll-sized necklace made of tiny pearls. Their milky ivory gleamed, casting an elegant radiance in the dim light. The perfectly round pearls felt cool as he ran a finger along them. They were so smooth that even the sandpaper skin of his fingers, weathered from years of the dry desert air, felt soothed. He set the box down on the table, leaving the lid open so he could admire it.

Spinning on his heel, Richard hurried to the doll chest. He knew exactly what clothes he wanted. It only took him a few minutes to find them in the massive doll chest. Hurrying back to his work desk, Richard carefully laid out a dress with a black velvet bodice, puffy gold lame short sleeves, and a matching gold crepe skirt with metallic trim.

Before he could put these clothes on the doll, however, it was first necessary to dress her in the appropriate underwear. He gently pulled her arms through a plain white training bra, followed by a poofy pair of white underpants with layers of ruffles on the back and lace trim at the leg holes. Richard smiled to himself when he remembered how his wife always laughed at the technical term for this underwear: rhumba-style or ruffle- butt panties. He fastidiously arranged the doll's underwear before adding a full petticoat to give the skirt some lift.

When he was finished dressing the doll, Richard took a moment to admire his handiwork. The black velvet contrasted beautifully with the doll's brilliant blond hair while the gold gave her a distinct air of royalty. He completed the look with lace- trimmed anklet socks and sparkly gold Mary Janes.

Satisfied, he was ready to move on to the crowning touch. Removing the pearl necklace from its box, he gently clasped it around the doll's neck. The moment he did so, however, Richard felt a strange wave of euphoria that clenched his spine, twirling higher until it exploded in his head. The room spun for a moment.

Richard glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 am. No wonder. A great wave of fatigue replaced the giddiness. His eyes half open now, Richard carried the newly dressed doll to the fireplace mantel, returning her to her new home in the glass case. Just as he was about to close the case, a thought occurred to him. The doll looked so lonely and isolated in the glass case.

He re-inserted the key and quickly opened the case. Before he could rationalize it any further, Richard removed the doll and carried it with him to his bed. Feeling a little foolish, he laid the doll on the pillow next to his own. It wouldn't be the first time, he reasoned since this was his wife's childhood doll. Too tired to undress, Richard then slipped under the covers himself and turned out the light.

He fell asleep instantly. It was a slow-moving and disoriented sleep in which Richard felt his mind continuously churning in darkness. Nothingness weighed heavily in his subconscious. It was a curious feeling, as if he had crossed in between realms of existence and non-existence, as if all his senses had been stripped yet he felt more keenly aware of something.

At long last a hazy image coalesced from the darkness and Richard realized he was dreaming. He saw her face first, unforgettable as always. His wife smiled at him, her youthful face free of the wrinkles and lines that had appeared on his own. He felt a deep twinge of regret over what had been left behind. Then the rest of her body freed itself of his hazy mind and her figure came sharply came into focus. She was naked. The graceful curve of her breasts and the creamy skin of her legs elicited a primal reaction from him.

Captivated, Richard stared longingly at his lost wife. Still smiling, she beckoned him closer. She had something in her hand, he noticed. A necklace. A pearl necklace. Lightly holding the glimmering chain of beads in her fingers, she moved her hands behind her neck to attach the clasp. The movement made her firm breasts rise enticingly. Unable to help himself, Richard stepped close to take her in his arms. For only the briefest moment, he felt her soft skin and blissfully warm body before she began to dissolve in a haze again.

Richard's eyes snapped open. He inhaled sharply, tasting the cool desert air in mouth. A dream. The same dream, for twenty- five years now. Closing his eyes, Richard rested a hand against his damp forehead. He exhaled wearily, a disappointed sigh from deep within his body.

It was a soft noise, the gentlest sound of breath like the cooing of a dove. Was he hearing things? His hand still covered his eyes but Richard now sensed something warm lying near his left side under the cotton sheets. He wondered if he was imagining this as well until his mattress swayed ever-so- slightly. It was the telltale sensation of someone shifting in a shared bed.

To his amazement, a young girl was laying next to him in his bed, nestled under the blankets. Her blond hair flung haphazardly onto the pillowcase, framing her face that resembled a sleepy golden swan. Just as his jaw fell to the ground, the girl's eyes flitted open. Her lips parted in a small smile as she saw him.

His heart pounding, Richard recovered enough from his shock to scoot out of the bed and stand up. His feet felt leaden and clumsy. Surely he was dreaming?

"Richard?" the girl asked with uncertainty. She knew his name. Though he never drank, he wondered if he had consumed some alcohol last night. He searched her face for a clue but the girl's eyes betrayed nothing except a firm hint of familiarity. "Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Aghh… ichhh…" Richard found himself unable to speak. The girl cocked her head at him. "I… umm…" Her eyes were laughing at him now and Richard was starting to feel more than a little foolish.

"I must have been very tired if I fell asleep in my clothes," the girl said, looking down at herself. She stood up and moved to a full length mirror in the corner of the room. Richard couldn't believe his eyes. She was wearing the exact same clothing that he had used to dress the doll, except it was now perfectly proportioned for a young girl. The black bodice modestly hid her slender chest while the gold lame detailing sparkled as brightly as her blond hair.

"Do you have something I could change into for breakfast?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply, the girl bounded out of bed and opened his closet door. She rooted through his hangers for a moment before settling on a clean, white dress shirt.

"This will do," she decided, moving behind a folding Japanese screen arranged in the corner of his bedroom. Certain he was dreaming, Richard expected her to dissolve into a haze the moment she vanished from his sight but instead he could clearly see her shadow outlined against the translucent privacy screen.

The rising sun cast a glorious ray of light that backlit her girlish figure. He watched the shadow undress as it wiggled out of the dress and tugged off her petticoat, shoes and anklets. Flummoxed, Richard began to make the bed but a slight movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. The floor length mirror in the corner of the room was reflecting the area behind the changing screen. Richard was momentarily transfixed at the sight of the little girl dressed in nothing but white panties and a bra.

It wasn't just any regular underwear though. He recognized it as the fancy, old-fashioned underwear that he had been using to dress his dolls for years. The white panties had a cascading layer of ruffles on the rear that hid the young girl's barely perceptible curves. Her white bra was a plain halter that likewise covered nothing but a perfectly flat chest.

Realizing that he was staring, Richard blushed. He forced himself to look away and began straightening the sheets. Not a moment later, he heard the girl's speak again.

"Richard? Can you hang these up for me?" Her face poked out from behind the screen. She laughed as she awkwardly threw her clothes at his feet. Her head then disappeared behind the screen again.

Richard stooped to pick up the clothes. They still felt warm to the touch. His finger caressing the black fabric, Richard turned to his closet to look for a hanger. It was amazing. He knew this outfit inside and out. It was as if a master tailor had perfectly reproduced the doll clothes into life-size dimensions. It seemed impossible but he could recognize every fine detail, from the puffy sleeves to the embroidery adorning the anklet socks. He did notice however that there was now a neat row of buttons at the back instead of velcro.

Was someone playing a trick on him? He glanced again at the girl's silhouette behind the Japanese screen. If so, it was an incredibly elaborate ruse. Surely it wasn't possible that… Richard thought of a way to test his theory. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall the name his wife had given the doll. Was it Melly? Or Wendy? It was…

It came to him in a bolt. Deciding to play along, he cleared his throat. "Willow?" he asked, feeling foolish.

She responded without a moment's hesitation. "What?" Her head reappeared from the edge of the screen.

"Um," Richard stammered. He hadn't truly expected her to answer. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"All right, I'll go get started in the kitchen," Richard croaked. But he didn't move. His spinning mind simply could not wrap itself around what was unfolding. Willow reappeared, clothed in his white dress shirt and rolling up the sleeves.

"What's the matter, Richard?" she asked. "We don't have to eat waffles if you don't want to."

"No," he answered. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. "No, it's fine," he repeated, stumbling from the room. "I'll go get breakfast ready."

Richard moved, trance-like, to the kitchen where he robotically cleared off the dinner table and retrieved the newspaper from the porch. He measured coffee beans, ground them, and dumped the fragrant mess into the coffeemaker. While he worked, he could hear the sounds of water running in the bathroom. "I'm dreaming," Richard told himself as he whisked together eggs and milk and flour. He located the waffle iron and plugged it in. He heard the sound of a toilet flush.

The coffee was perking and the first batch of waffle batter was browning nicely when Willow appeared in the kitchen. "Smells good!" she said, sniffing the air. His too-big dress shirt hung loosely on her small frame as she padded across the kitchen, her bare legs jutting like sticks from the boxy cotton material. "This floor is cold!" She tiptoed the last steps across the linoleum before leaping into a chair, folding her legs beneath her before sitting down.

"Yes, please," Willow answered, letting her teeth chatter loudly. Richard couldn't help but laugh as she stuck her tongue out at him. He retrieved a dark green flannel blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her grateful shoulders as she began reading the comics section in the newspaper.

He opened the drapes in the kitchen, letting in the bright desert sun. The sky appeared extra crisp this morning, the azure blue sky contrasting magnificently with the burnished orange desert scenery. The warm sunrays acted as a sort of spotlight on Willow, lending a glow to her fair-skinned face and backlighting her blond hair in a dramatic fashion.

Richard poured himself some coffee before returning his attention to the waffle iron. "Would you like something to drink… Willow?" He still found it difficult to address her. He was speaking to the doll as if it were a real, live person. It made him feel silly, yet here she was. He had no choice but to accept the obvious conclusion. Not only was she responding to the doll's name, not only had she been wearing the doll's clothes, but even her features resembled that of the doll. Her brilliantly golden blond hair was the exact same shade and exactly the same length. Or at least it had been, for Willow had rearranged her long tresses into a compact bun before coming to the breakfast table.

"How about coffee?" she nodded. Mutely, Richard took a mug from the cupboard and filled it. Only when he placed it in front of Willow did he notice her amused expression.

"Milk, please," Willow said, shaking her head. She returned to reading comics. He poured her a glass of milk and set it on the table. Without lifting an eye from the newspaper, Willow picked up the glass and took several sips. Richard surreptitiously watched with wonderment as this living doll drank her milk.

Richard deftly turned out the crisp waffles and poured in more batter. He heated some maple syrup on the stove and set out the bright yellow butter in a small dish. Willow remained engrossed in her comics as he laid out dishes and silverware on the table. Her eyes lit up however when his spatula slid the first steaming waffle onto her plate.

"Yum! Thanks Richard." Wielding a shiny silver knife, Willow added butter that instantly melted on the hot waffle. She then drowned it in copious amounts of earth-colored maple syrup that pooled inside each little waffle square. Her attention returned to the comics page after she cut the waffle into dainty bites, every so often pausing to take a mouthful of breakfast.

Richard leaned against the countertop and sipped his coffee as he watched her eat. It was fascinating. Now that her golden hair was arranged in a bun, her lithe neck was prominent as she craned it to eat waffles and read comics at the same time. It reminded him of watching a robin peck away at a birdfeeder.

Once her plate was clean, she took a long pull on her milk glass, draining it. "That was so good," she told him, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "So what are we going to do today?"

Richard was surprised. "You… How did you know that?" he asked. "How did you know I write textbooks for a living?"

Willow squinted at him. "Are you not feeling well? You've been acting weird all morning. Of course I know what your job is."

He wondered how she knew. Based upon their other bits and pieces of conversation, it was clear that Willow shared some sort of past with him. Wanting to test her, he asked, "Well, shouldn't you get dressed first?"

"Well… I have a lots of clothes over here." He led her to the closet in the living room. Opening the trunk, he presented her with his collection of doll clothes.

"Do I look like a doll?" She scowled at him. Glaring up and down, she aimed a kick at his shin. "Could a doll do this?"

"Okay! Okay!" Richard yelped, retreating. "Stop it! Sorry. Bad joke, I guess." He rubbed his shin where her kicks had landed. "Wait here, let me check downstairs." He hurried to the basement opened a small door underneath the stairway. He located a pull chain in the darkness, illuminating the small space with a dim yellow glow. When his wife had died, he had put away her belongings here.

Since he rarely ventured to this space, a thin sheen of dust covered everything. He began searching among the sealed boxes, which were unfortunately not labeled. It occurred to him that he normally would have regarded going through his wife's things as a sacred and sad task. Instead, he was more worried about finding something suitable for Willow.

Hidden behind the cardboard boxes at the very base of the stairs, Richard saw a familiar trunk. It appeared identical to the one holding the doll clothes but he knew better. Grasping it by the handles, he lugged it upstairs to the living room but Willow was nowhere in sight.

Finally, Richard thought. Surely all this had been just a dream. A doll that comes alive, he thought ruefully. Richard wondered if he had spent so much time alone that he had developed dementia. He was about to carry the trunk back downstairs when he heard her call from the other room.

The dream apparently was not over. Still carrying the trunk, he followed her voice into the bedroom where he found her rooting through his closet.

"What are you doing in here?" he inquired. He set the trunk down on the floor with a thump.

"I was hoping you'd have something for me in your closet but there's nothing but men's clothing. What's in there?" she asked, pointing at the trunk.

"Just some… old clothes," Richard answered. "I think there should be something suitable for a… um, ten year old girl." He prayed that he guessed correctly, and he must have, for Willow was instead focused on the trunk as he opened the creaky lid.

Despite the fact that the trunk had been locked away for so long, the clothes appeared in relatively good condition aside from a light mustiness. Richard held up a dandelion yellow sundress. "What do you think?"

"This was a popular style in the 1950s," he informed her. "Do you want to try it on?"

She took the dress and disappeared behind the Japanese folding screen. Unable to resist, Richard peered at the mirror in the corner and was treated to another sight of Willow in her ruffled panties and bra. Swallowing, Richard returned his attention to the trunk's contents. He had never seen his wife wearing any of these clothes, but he remembered why she was keeping them. " Maybe one day we'll have a little girl," she had told him, "and she can wear some of these clothes. I hate to throw them away because they're so beautiful."

And they were indeed lovely. There were all manner of dresses stored lovingly in the trunk, each carefully wrapped in tissue paper. All made in the 50s, these clothes were sturdily made from quality fabrics dyed in a complete rainbow of colors and patterns. He held up a navy v-neck dress decorated with merry sky blue polka dots. A lump formed in his throat as he imagined his wife saving these clothes for their unknown future together.

"What do you think?" Willow asked, popping out from behind the changing screen. Richard quickly blinked back the wetness forming in his eyes, grateful for the diversion.

The dress fit beautifully. The halter straps emphasized the smooth and unblemished skin of her bare shoulders. A demure sweetheart neckline and single line of white buttons drew attention away from her flat chest but the flattened pleats of the skirt served as a subtle reminder of her hidden femininity. He realized he was staring when Willow smiled shyly at him.

"It's very pretty," Richard told her earnestly. This was strange. He had dressed many dolls in his lifetime, but never before had one been so bashfully pleased with his praise.

"Do you think I should put my hair up or down?" she asked, tugging at the hair coiled in a bun above her neck. Now freed, her tresses fell past her shoulders. The faded dandelion yellow of the dress made her hair appear a golden wheat color.

Willow took it and disappeared once again. Richard saw a bare arm move beyond the privacy screen to hang the yellow sundress on a wall hook. A moment later, Willow reappeared once again wearing the navy polka dot dress. Impishly, she curtsied and twirled in a circle as he appraised her. A button panel led his eyes from her neckline all the way to the hem of the dress that ended just above her knobby knees. Her slender arms and straight hips were highlighted by the puffy cap sleeves and contrasted dotted belt tied primly in a bow at her back.

Richard couldn't help but break into a smile at the sight of this lovely young girl. "You like it?" Willow asked, twirling again. "Maybe this one would be better with my hair up." She arranged her hair into two rough pigtail braids.

The next several hours were spent trying on all sorts of dresses and skirts and cardigans. By noon, Willow had tried on almost everything in the trunk, including several pairs of shoes that Richard had found packaged in a box at the bottom.

"I'm hungry," Willow announced, rubbing her stomach. She was now wearing a dressy cherry red frock featuring a boat neck collar embellished with lattice detailing across the bodice. The slim fitting dress hugged her flat curves and a simple bow marked the waistband. Black tights and patent leather Mary Janes appropriately completed her look.

"Can I wear this while we have lunch?" Willow requested. She peered into a mirror, adjusting her straight blond hair into a simple part, letting the tresses fall to her shoulder. "I'll be careful not to spill."

After a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, Richard found himself playing cards with his… Friend? Playmate? Doll come to life? He didn't know how to put it, but nor did he care. He was enjoying himself. They had started with Crazy Eights before moving on to gin rummy.

Richard studied his hand for a moment before answering. "It's a hobby, I guess. Not all of these are mine though. Some belonged to my wife."

"Well. She was very young when she died. So was I. We hadn't thought about having kids yet."

Richard shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard meeting people. I guess I don't really get out that much anymore."

They played in silence for several minutes. "You really miss her don't you? Your wife?"

Richard glanced at Willow. Her slate-colored eyes were earnest, worried. "Yes. I miss her."

Richard felt genuinely touched by her concern. "That's true," he said. "I certainly don't mind hanging out with such a pretty girl." Her eyes remained focused on her cards but Richard could tell she liked his praise. She was doing her shy but pleased smile, something he had already come to recognize.

The doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Richard scrambled to his feet. He opened the door to find Dennis the mailman holding a large handful of thick envelopes.

"Howdy, Richard," Dennis greeted him. "How have you been? I had some things that were too big for your mailbox."

"Hello, Dennis," Richard answered, taking the proffered mail. " Thank you. I'm doing fine. Can't complain." Dennis had been his regular mail carrier for as long as he had owned his house. His schedule was so regular that Richard could have set his watch to the mailman's arrival each day.

"Getting some more manuscripts I see," Dennis said. "What are you writing about this time?"

"Ninth grade biology," Richard told him. "My editor is updating the entire high school series this year."

"Oof," Dennis said, adjusting the weathered blue U.S. Post Office hat around his thinning hair, his hands leathery from years of living in the hot, dry desert. "You're not going to be ordering new encyclopedias again, will you? I'm getting a little too old to be delivering those." He laughed.

Richard clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'll do my best to help you this time. Maybe even offer you a glass of water afterward." He laughed too, but he noticed Dennis' gaze travel behind him. Turning, Richard saw Willow craning her neck from where she sat at the kitchen table, curiously sizing up this visitor.

"Oh, um…" Richard suddenly realized he had no way to explain Willow's presence. He groped for a way to excuse himself and close the door. He heard a kitchen chair scrape across the linoleum floor and suddenly Willow was standing next to him at the front door.

"I'm Willow," she answered, standing slightly behind Richard. She surprised him by taking his hand and resting her cheek against his forearm. The heat of her body felt pleasant against his.

"That's quite the pretty dress you're wearing," Dennis told her. Richard felt an inexplicable surge of jealousy as he watched him size up Willow.

"She's a… daughter of an old college friend," Richard offered. He saw Dennis cock his head. Was he skeptical? Richard couldn't tell. The mailman was merely an acquaintance but Oracle was sparsely populated. Even he knew that Richard was a widower who rarely ventured out.

"Pleased to meet you, Willow," Dennis said. "I'd love to stay and chat but I've got lots more mail to deliver. Hopefully you'll be here to help when I deliver those heavy encyclopedias!" Richard tried to laugh again before gratefully closing the door.

"Oh," Richard considered. "Well, sure. But you aren't exactly dressed for it." In her stylish red dress and Mary Janes, she seemed better fit for a fashion runway.

"Let's go see if there's something more suitable for the yard," Richard suggested. Together, they trooped back to the bedroom. Richard dug through the trunk as Willow peered in by his side. He handed her a few things. "Why don't you try these on?"

She dutifully marched behind the changing screen. As she changed, Richard found a pair of child-sized wellies too. He hoped they would fit. He watched her silhouette moving as she put on the new clothes. A doll that dresses itself, Richard reminded himself.

"How does this look?" Willow asked. She was now dressed in dark green knee high socks, a sensible dark gray skirt with pleats, and a cream colored sweater top with 3/4 sleeves.

"Lovely," Richard noted approvingly. He handed her the wellies. They fit perfectly.

"Can you put my hair in a ponytail?" she asked. With great care, Richard did as she asked. Her hair felt thick and luscious in his hands. He fought the urge to run his hands through it. Instead he gathered her golden hair up and pulled it through an elastic band. She now looked like a young English girl ready to explore the rustic moors of the countryside.

"I look great!" Willow declared. "Let's go!" She dashed off, her Wellington boots clomping loudly on the floor.

Richard followed her outside. He wasn't much of a gardener so he had simply let nature run its course. Over the years, the least finicky plants had won out so now his garden was filled with hardy lavenders, wild echinacea, and other moisture-averse plants. Willow took great delight in exploring the plants and sniffing at flowers.

"Mmm, this one smells like chocolate," she announced. "I like these purple ones over here too. Can I pick some flowers?"

Richard assented. He sat down on a shady bench and while Willow prowled his garden beds. This, he imagined, was what it must be like to have children. Even though Willow wasn't his daughter, he felt a certain pride in seeing her so well-dressed and pretty. It occurred to him that it was quite pleasant to sit in the shade and watch her pick daisies to put in her hair.

"I think those are spring peas," he said, taking the pod from her. She leaned in close, her arm against his, to watch as he broke it open. Richard briefly realized how long it had been since he felt a human touch like this. It was reassuring.

"There they are," he said, splitting the pod open to reveal an orderly string of small green peas inside.

She delicately plucked out a pea with her fine fingers and popped it in her mouth. "Mmmm!" She ate another pea. "Can I pick the rest of them?"

"Go ahead," Richard answered. "I planted them a long time ago and now they're growing wild, I think." Willow eagerly spent the next idyllic hour picking peapods. One hand held up the hem of her skirt while the other hunted for peapods to deposit in the makeshift basket formed by her skirt. When she had too many, the peapods were dumped them into a big colander next to Richard. By the fifth trip, the colander was nearly full.

They went inside to shell the peas at the kitchen table. Once Willow got the hang of splitting open peapods, Richard busied himself with the task of dinner. Unfortunately, his cupboards and refrigerator were largely bare so he called the local pizza place. Willow crowed in delight when the steaming pizza was delivered.

After a dinner of pizza, fresh peas, and root beer, they settled in to watch a movie. When Willow squeezed herself into armchair next to him, Richard did not protest. Her warm glow felt so pleasant that he must have fallen asleep. When he awoke, the TV showed nothing but static so he used the remote to turn it off. From the sound of Willow's even breathing, Richard guessed that she had fallen asleep as well, though he couldn't even see her face because she was so well nestled into the crook of his arm.

From the armchair, Richard could see the fading remains of another glorious desert sunset through the living room window. A soft wind whipped gently at the eaves and he sensed a cold draft seeping from an open window. Normally he would have felt cold but Willow's warm body pressed against his warded off the chill.

He felt greatly content, but a small doubt pulled at the back of his mind. A cold lifeless doll had somehow transformed into a warm living being. Was this by the grace of God? A supernatural act beyond human comprehension? Possibly, for pondering these implications made Richard dizzy. Just as he closed his eyes, Willow stirred by his side.

"Hey," he said softly. She turned to stretch her neck and made a small sleepy noise. "It's getting late. Are you ready for bed?" She nodded. "Why don't you go get ready and I'll find you some pajamas or something?"

He sat up, propping her on her feet and holding her steady. The moment he took his hands away, however, Willow fell back into him like a limp noodle. She couldn't help giggling when he caught her.

"Oh, quit fooling around," Richard grumbled, though he was actually quite amused. He stood her up again, only to have Willow teeter for a second before falling on top of him again. She laughed riotously.

"Really," Richard told her. "Last time." He stood her up again. To his surprise, she didn't pretend to collapse again. "Go get ready for bed, will you?" Her blond hair fell across her face but Richard could see her squinting at him in mock fury. Yawning, she shuffled to the bathroom and shut the door.

While Willow splashed water at the bathroom sink, Richard dug through his wife's clothes trunk in search of something suitable for bed. He was unable to locate any suitable pajamas in the trunk, so when Willow returned with freshly scrubbed cheeks, she was handed one of his white button-down shirts. Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly took it.

"You don't have a single t-shirt?" she asked again from behind the Japanese screen.

"No. Believe me, I looked," Richard told her. She stuck her head from screen and rolled her eyes at him. Richard felt defensive. "I'm forty-seven years old, all right? I got rid of all my t- shirts when I turned twenty."

He heard her sigh. She reappeared wearing his shirt. The sight of her gawky legs reminded him of breakfast when she ate like a bird. He spied a necklace under the shirt collar. "Do you want to put away your necklace before bed?" Richard asked.

She nodded. "Can you help me take it off?" Willow asked, holding her hair up from her neck, revealing the clasp of the pearl necklace. He squinted in the dim bedroom light as he fumbled with the steel clasp. "Be careful not to get it stuck in my hair," Willow cautioned.

"I won't," he promised. "Let's see… Here we go." Richard successfully undid the clasp and slipped the pearls from her neck. "Now let's see if we can find someplace safe for these…" Richard turned to his dresser where his eyes landed on an old ashtray that read "Grand Canyon 1960". He hadn't smoked since his late teens but he kept the ashtray since it was a gift from his wife. He cleaned the dust from the ashtray with a sleeve and deposited the pearl necklace in it.

"Safe and sound," he proclaimed. He turned to find his bedroom was empty. "Willow?" He peered across the hallway into the bathroom but it dark and likewise empty. He stopped to listen for a moment but he heard nothing in the kitchen. Returning to his bedroom, Richard was surprised to see his white dress shirt on the floor. He stooped to pick it up when something tumbled from within it.

Car accident victims often report that time slows down at the moment of the crash. They recall seeing the oncoming car approaching in slow-motion moving an inch per second. Similarly, he saw his wife's doll, its hair blond and ever familiar smiling face, fall to the floor as if he were watching an accident unfold. It landed with a gloomy thump.

Stunned, he stared at the forlorn doll lying on the floor. In his hand, the white shirt felt unmistakably warm to the touch. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled and detected the pleasant scent of a young girl. Richard lowered himself weakly until he sat on his bed, his hand between his knees and still clutching the shirt she wore. It was not a dream, Richard told himself. Impossible. It had been real. The clothes Willow had tried on were still flung haphazardly on the Japanese folding screen. He staggered to his feet and shuffled out of the bedroom. The puddles of water she had made washing her face still pooled on the porcelain sink. Here was an extra toothbrush, still wet.

Dazed, he moved from one empty room to the next. An empty pizza box, two paper plates, and two empty cans of root beer still adorned the coffee table. In the kitchen there were dirty dishes waiting to be washed, all in sets of two. Two plates, two mugs, two forks, two spoons.

Troubled, Richard filled the sink with hot, soapy water and rolled up his sleeves. The housework provided him with a familiar and mechanical motion to occupy his hands while his mind tumbled over his strange day. Surely he was too young to be succumbing to dementia. Again, the physical proof of the day's events were clear and present. Near the door lay the oversized boots Willow had worn, still caked with mud. On the kitchen countertop was the bowl of spring peas they had picked together.

He cleaned the boots as best he could in the laundry room sink. The peas were sent to the refrigerator. He tidied the living room, putting away the playing cards and wiping down the coffee table. Starting to feel a little tired, the bathroom was given a quick once-over with a damp sponge. He would clean it properly tomorrow, he vowed.

Once Richard finally restored the house to its familiar order, he sank down in his armchair in the living room. Immediately, he noticed something was off. The doll case. Of course. Atop the mantel, the glass doll case was strikingly empty. It was never like that. Not for… twenty-five years, Richard realized. Not since his wife died.

Lurching to his feet, Richard returned to his bedroom which was still messier than he was accustomed to. His wife's trunk of old clothes was in the middle of the room, still open. Various clothes lay strewn near the changing screen. And Willow, her treasured childhood doll, still laid on the hardwood floor. He picked it up. She was dressed in nothing but plain white panties and a sensible white training bra.

Richard felt an odd twinge of impropriety in seeing Willow in this state of undress. With just a hint of embarrassment, he hurried to the doll clothes trunk in the living room and found an embroidered nightgown suitable for bedtime. He took a moment to carefully brush and smooth her hair. Even this simple act made him realize how lonely he was.

Returning to his bedroom, he set the doll on his bed. Pursing his lips earnestly, he stared at the doll's blue and unblinking eyes, willing it back to life. He was shaking now. It had to happen again. It wasn't fair otherwise. Please, Richard thought. I can't have just one day.

Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the doll coming to life, transforming from cloth and plastic to flesh. Another image shoehorned itself into his mind instead: he saw his wife. It was the same dream from last night's restless sleep. She was beautiful as always. Radiant. Unclothed. Womanly. Wearing nothing but pearls.

Pearls. Richard opened his eyes and they locked onto the ashtray on his dresser. The strand of pearls still lay in the ceramic container, but they were different now. He had deposited a life-sized pearl necklace in the ashtray. Unceremoniously dumping the its contents into his hand, Richard stared. The pearl necklace had also returned to doll size.

His heart beating rapidly, Richard unclasped the necklace. It took a moment because of his trembling fingers but he finally managed to secure the pearls around the doll's neck. "Come back. Come back, Willow," he thought pleadingly. He lay the doll on the bed and stepped back.

He spoke the words this time, barely a whisper. "Please Willow. Please come back." He wearily lay down on the bed next to the doll. "Come back," he whispered again through heavy-lidded eyes. But the doll's face remained frozen in the same expressionless expression of smiling happiness. Richard closed his eyes.

He must have slept. Tonight there was no dream, just an infinite black emptiness. When he finally awoke, he drew a sharp intake of breath. The oxygen seared his lungs. His hand tightened into a fist before relaxing as he opened his eyes. The strengthening morning light was flooding the room in a dim glow.

It felt peaceful. It felt… right. Instinctively, he turned his head on his pillow and saw the most beautiful sight he had ever known. Willow lay next to him, fully formed, her chest rhythmically rising and falling in deep breaths. She opened her eyes, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a smile once her eyes focused on him. A joyous thrill filled Richard from head to toe.

Together, they settled into a routine. While Willow showered each morning, Richard would lay out her clothes for the day. He took great pleasure in this daily routine. Should he dress her in the plaid skirt with knife pleats and matching saddle shoes? Or the sky blue country dress with tiny scarlet mockingbirds embroidered on the collar and cinched waist?

After setting out Willow's outfit for the day, Richard would head to the kitchen to make breakfast. Since his cooking skills were limited, he was gratified to find that Willow was not a picky eater; he never once heard her complain, even being served nothing but plain oatmeal for seven straight days. Afterward, he would settle in for a few hours of work at his typewriter. Willow made herself scarce during this time, either exploring the garden or quietly reading so as not to disturb him.

Lunch was usually something simple, usually leftovers. One memorable day, he had been pecking away at his typewriter when Willow announced she would get lunch ready. Richard was staring at the typewriter keys, lost in thought, when he heard a strange rolling sound behind him. To his surprise, Willow breezed into the room on roller skates and carrying a tray with two sandwiches.

"Ta-dah!" she hummed gaily, twirling in a neat circle on the hardwood floor. From her poise, it occurred to him that this was not her first time on roller skates. She set the tray down beside him. "Lunch is served!" She then skated off to the kitchen. Richard was charmed by the meticulously constructed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that were cut into triangles. Willow returned with two glasses of milk.

"Where did you find those skates?" Richard asked, picking up his sandwich. Though the ankle-high boot skates showed their age, the white leather appeared in good condition, nicely complementing the faded white laces and worn beige wheels.

"In the trunk with all the old clothes," Willow answered. She took a bite of her sandwich and began skating around the room again. She was wearing a prim white polo shirt with short sleeves and a bell collar. A pleated navy skirt completed her look, although the hem was somewhat on the short side. When Willow spun, the skirt twirled outward to reveal her ruffled white panties beneath. Richard did his best to discreetly look away.

"Hey, I don't think it's a good idea to skate and eat at the same time," Richard advised. "Why don't you sit down for lunch?"

Obligingly, she plopped into the chair next to him. "I really like these roller skates," she told him, taking a sip of milk. "You don't mind if I wear them in the house, do you?" Richard nodded assent. He found it difficult to say no to her. His wood floors were already beat up anyway, he reasoned.

After lunch, Richard would try to work a little more. Willow would take care of the dishes and then do her best to be quiet. Now that she had discovered the roller skates though, the sound of her rolling from room to room was not much a distraction as a temptation. Lured away from his work, he and Willow would settle into a board game or go for a walk in the desert. Their meanderings through the empty desert were meditative, their only company being each other and the wild coyotes that prowled the landscape.

During their conversations, Richard avoided any questions about Willow's personal life. When she had displayed a knack for mending clothes, Richard asked if her mother had taught her how to sew. A blankness had settled in Willow's eyes, followed by an odd expression of confusion. It reminded Richard of his aunt who had succumbed to Alzheimer's late in her life. Willow didn't answer but the distraught look on her face was so troubling that Richard remained mindful of his questions from then on.

She was a fascinating girl though. Upon discovering an old set of watercolor paints, Willow demonstrated an amazingly artistic hand, churning out simple yet beautiful paintings of craggy desert trees and rustic wildflowers. When she had presented him with the first painting, Richard could hardly believe his eyes.

"You painted this?" he said in wonderment. It was a lovely painting of a lone cactus at dusk, complete with the moon and artfully rendered sand patches. Having seen scenes like this his entire life, Richard was amazed at her ability to capture the fading desert light.

"It's beautiful." He knew now to watch for her signature shy smile that always happened in response to his praise.

"Why wouldn't I want a painting of a pretty girl?" She looked at the floor again but Richard saw the telltale smile again. It made him smile too.

She devoted the remainder of the day to the painting. As Richard expected, it was beautiful. In the painting, she wore a strapless sundress in a muted shade of purple that reminded him of the clear desert sky at dusk. He framed it and hung it on the bedroom wall, much to Willow's delight.

When he wasn't working, and when Willow wasn't painting or roller skating around the house, their favorite activity, by far, was playing dress-up. She would put together an outfit, model it for him, and ask his opinion. They had located a second trunk of his wife's old clothes in the basement. These clothes were sized for a slightly younger girl but Willow was still able to squeeze herself into most of them. She had an innate sense of color, Richard discovered, and was able to create startlingly original clothing combinations that he himself would not have imagined.

After working up enough nerve to take Willow out in public, Richard had initially been delighted to take his young charge shopping for new clothes. They piled into his dusty Volkswagen and Richard navigated to the shopping mall forty-five miles across town, his hands clenching the steering wheel in anxiety. He wondered if someone would turn him in for… for what? Living with a doll turned real-life girl? He would be mocked as foolish but surely they wouldn't arrest him

Nevertheless, Richard was careful to drive the speed limit during the entire trip. To his surprise, however, upon arriving at the mall Willow reacted with disdain to virtually everything she saw.

"What's wrong? Those colors are awful. I don't even need to try it on to know it's going to fit terribly."

Though he had never noticed it before, Richard realized how garish and ugly modern styles were. He saw other girls who were Willow's age and they were wearing cropped jeans and t-shirts, a far cry from the dainty summer outfit Willow had chosen for the day: a blue-checked cotton romper with shorts on the bottom and straps that were constantly falling off her fine boned shoulders. Richard had caught himself more than once admiring the smooth, creamy skin of her chest since the falling strap drew so much attention.

The top bodice of the romper was decorated with a lacy fan ruffle while an embroidered daisy adorned the the front in a boldly old-fashioned style. Combined with the white t-strap shoes and white lace-trimmed anklets that she had chosen, Willow was a striking vision of a girl out of time. Richard realized he wouldn't have it any other way. It was part of her charm.

They walked through a department store next. Past the racks of skirts, dresses, and sweaters, Richard spied the girls' underwear department. They had found a small cache of girls' bras and pantiess in his wife's clothing trunk but they were from a different era. Richard thought them stodgy and old- fashioned with their ruffles and poofy silhouette. Since Willow had so little underwear at her disposal, Richard found himself doing laundry at least twice a week.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Richard mapped a strategic path to bring them closer to the underwear section. "Um, Willow?" he cleared his throat. "Maybe some more… of these would be nice?" He awkwardly gestured to the hanging rows of bras and panties.

"Underwear?" Her tone of voice indicated that she hadn't even considered it. She began browsing the selection.

"Not really. Why are there all these weird designs and stuff?" Willow picked up a bra decorated with pink and red hearts. She made a face. "Who on earth would want to wear this?" She pointed to a pair of girl's panties with bright green and yellow stripes.

"I like the underwear I already have," Willow informed Richard. A woman sauntered by with her young daughter in tow. Richard suddenly felt very self-conscious. Oblivious to his discomfort, Willow continued, "How come they don't have underwear like I have? They have plain white but they're way too plain. I like how mine are ruffled. Do you think they have something like that, Richard?"

His face very red now, Richard avoided the bemused gaze of the mom. "I don't know," he said gruffly. They left the mall shortly thereafter, empty-handed. That was the last time Richard tried to take Willow out to buy new clothes. If she was happy wearing his wife's old clothes, what did it matter?

On the other hand, Richard took every precaution when it came to her pearl necklace. He even went so far as to order Willow herself never to take it off. He had worried she would disobey him, but found that, much to his relief, this one thing she never questioned. It made him sick to his stomach to remember that first night when he removed her necklace and then found the forlorn doll on the floor.

It had been all so dreamlike at first, but as the days passed Richard began to forget the fact that he was living with a doll come to life. He had been initially anxious that Willow would arbitrarily return to doll state at any moment, but this too began to pass. After three weeks, Richard no longer regarded her as a doll, just someone with whose company he greatly enjoyed.

One evening, they sat on the porch together enjoying ice cream cones. Peppermint chocolate chip was Willow's favorite so Richard had dutifully crammed the freezer with several half- gallons. They sat idly on the porch steps, eating their minty ice cream and breathing the dry desert air.

It was June now and the weather had turned quite warm. Appropriately, Willow had resurrected a vintage summer outfit from the clothing trunk. It was a faded blue and pink plaid pattern with halter straps supporting a fitted bodice that changed into a poofy mushroom shape at the bottom which had elastic leg holes instead of a hem. A large straw hat and white strapped thong sandals were her only other accoutrements, except of course her omnipresent pearl necklace.

They had been sitting in a comfortable silence when Willow spoke. "Richard? If you could have three wishes, what would they be?" Willow carefully tended to her cone as she spoke, keeping an eye out for streaks of melting ice cream that she would quickly lick up. The ice cream on her cone was perfectly manicured into a ball shape from being painstakingly sculpted by her tongue. Richard's ice cream, by contrast, resembled a ragged and misshapen lump from his nibbling.

"Well… I guess I would wish for enough money so I wouldn't have to work anymore. It wouldn't have to be much. Maybe just a million dollars."

"Maybe… a big room with lots of shelves so I can display all the dolls and doll clothes I have."

"I guess hadn't thought of that," Richard answered. "I love her. I think of her. I miss her too but… not in the same way I used to." Willow remained silent. Richard noticed a long streak of green peppermint ice cream was dripping down her cone but she made no move to intercept it. "It was all a long time ago," he said by way of explanation.

They were both quiet for a minute. "You know what I would wish for?" Richard asked. He rearranged his feet on the rickety wooden steps of the porch. "I wish for a master tailor who could sew clothes just the way a certain pretty girl likes her clothes."

Giggling, Willow resumed licking her ice cream cone. Her ears were partially hidden by her blond hair but Richard could see that they were a little red. "How about you?" he asked. "What would your three wishes be?"

"That's easy," Willow said. She had finally reached her cone and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. "I wish for ice cream for every meal."

"I want a big house with smooth floors and lots of rooms and an extra-long hallway I can roller skate down."

"Yes, that sounds like something you would enjoy," Richard said, ruefully thinking of his scuffed up floors. He had finished his ice cream cone and carefully minded his sticky hands as they relaxed on the porch. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, treating them to a masterfully colored sunset. To the east a handful of frosty stars were already visible in the darkening twilight.

Willow popped the last bit of ice cream cone in her mouth, licking her fingers clean. "I'm going to save my last wish," she told him. "That's all I really want right now anyway." She scooted closer to Richard. Resting her head on his shoulder, Willow turned her gaze upward to watch the twinkling stars advance across the sky.

After that day, Richard felt a deep settled feeling in his soul that he hadn't known for a long time. His new life with Willow, a strange arrangement to say the least, was nonetheless simple, carefree, and content.

The only real issue had been the question of beds. Richard owned only a single bed. When his wife had died, the thought of sleeping in a large bed without her was far too distressing so he had downsized to a twin. This worked out fine for the two- and-a-half decades he slept alone but now things were different. The only other possible place to sleep was the armchair and it was not at all comfortable for anything longer than short naps.

The very first night (after Willow had returned to her doll state and back again), Richard had made up the bed for her alone and intended to sleep on the floor in the living room.

"You're sleeping where?" Willow asked, appalled. "It's going to be awful on the hard wooden floor!"

"I know," Richard said earnestly. "But…" He paused, searching for words. He realized he was blushing a bit from embarrassment. "You know… you're a young girl and it's not… proper… to sleep with… I mean sleep next to… you know. A man. Where else would I sleep?"

Rolling her eyes, Willow took his hand and pulled him into the twin bed. After turning off the light, she wrapped his arm around her and snuggled close. "Good night, Richard."

And that was that. Despite his misgivings, Richard had to admit that it felt wonderful to sleep next to Willow. At first, he thought it would be difficult to sleep next to someone in such close quarters but it was not so. The light clicked off, the room would plunge into darkness, and they would lie awake for a short moment listening to the sounds of the desert at night. If it was windy out, they might hear the sage tree brushing against the roof, or the sound of grains of sand being scattered across the wooden porch. Calm nights, by contrast, featured a complete tranquility that made him feel like they were the last two people on earth.

Richard would stay awake until he heard the gentle breathing that told him Willow had fallen asleep. Then he would drift off into a slumber so peaceful that he had thought himself incapable of attaining it. Only occasionally would he rouse in the middle of the night, and these moments were punctuated a deep sense of contentment after a brief disorientation at the gently snoring young girl by his side.

One thing troubled him however… To his great embarrassment, Richard began waking up in the morning and finding himself fully erect with Willow pressed intimately close.

The first time it happened, he had been sleeping on his side when he awoke. Willow was tucked into his sleeping form, her body cupped into a C shape, completely unaware of the hard bulge pressing against her back. It had taken Richard a moment to realize what was happening before his panicked eyes opened wide. He felt embarrassed at first, then deeply ashamed. Not wanting to disturb the young girl, he spent a fruitless sixty seconds trying to will away his erection. With no other choice, he extricated himself from the sleeping girl and crept to bathroom where he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror.

From that moment on, Richard tried to always sleep on his back. He was usually successful in his efforts but at least twice a week he would awaken to find himself spooning Willow with his erection nestled neatly between her legs.

His most private parts were separated from her only by the thin layers of his briefs and pajama bottoms. He had acquired suitable pajamas and nightgowns for Willow, but she eschewed them in favor of his white dress shirts, declaring them more comfortable. Since she only slept in the dress shirt and panties, Richard found it was not uncommon for him to be pressing at her bare back as her shirt had ridden up as she slept. Mortified, Richard would retire to the bathroom for a cold shower.

The situation finally came to a head one fateful morning. He had dreamt that a pond had appeared in his backyard, somehow perfectly blending in with the parched desert. A graceful swan, its feathers blindingly white, floated peaceably in the glassy water. Richard was moving for a closer look when he awoke with a start. Once again he was spooning Willow's snug body, his erection pressing against…

This won't do, Richard told himself. As gently as possible, he rolled away from Willow. His masculinity remained wedged between her legs for an embarrassing moment before snapping free. Now on his back, he was about to get out of bed when Willow rolled over and nestled herself into his side.

"Don't go," she murmured sleepily. "Can't we snuggle some more?" So saying, she took his arm and rolled over onto her side again, forcing him follow suit. Deeply embarrassed, Richard tried to angle his midsection away from her but Willow scooted her bottom close until he pressed against her again.

Willow sighed contentedly. They lay like that for a long moment before Richard tried to furtively ease his hips away from her body again. The ten year old girl immediately sensed what he was doing.

Richard couldn't think of an answer. His penis involuntarily throbbed as if speaking for him, surging against the cotton garments that held it captive. Richard prayed Willow didn't feel it pressing against her. Instead her next words made his heart stop and then pound rapidly.

"I've felt it pressing against me before," she confided. "Sometimes I wake up before you do and I can feel… it. Why is it doing that?"

At a complete loss for words now, Richard extricated himself from the young girl and rolled onto his back. But Willow moved along with him as if she were glued to his side. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him. He could see that she was a little embarrassed too now.

"Sometimes I touch it while you're asleep too. I hope… you're not mad are you?" She was whispering even though it was only the two of them in the room. Richard still couldn't speak. She slipped a hand under the sheets, closing her fingers around him. "When you're sleeping it's soft. But then it gets hard and straight when I touch it." He recognized her shy smile forming on her lips.

"Richard? Are you mad at me?" she prodded. He gave the slightest shake of his head. "I didn't mean to surprise you. I was just curious so…" The young girl trailed off. She seemed embarrassed again. "I don't know why but…" She gave a girlish shake of her head to clear away some stray strands of hair that had fallen to her face. "I kind of like touching you like this," she disclosed self-consciously.

Richard stared into Willow's pale blue eyes as she spoke. Even though he knew it was wrong, her innocent words sparked a smoldering fire inside him. Her fingers were squeezing his shaft in an wholly inexperienced fashion but he found, conversely, that her naïveté was making the fire inside him burn even hotter.

Every fiber of his being screamed that this wrong but he couldn't help himself. "I… I like it too," confessed Richard, "when you… touch me like that." Hearing his encouragement, Willow gave another squeeze before letting her hand stroke the full length of his shaft. Despite the layer of cotton pajama separating her hand from his skin, Richard couldn't stop his erection from throbbing again.

Willow noticed immediately of course. Not missing a beat, she continued stroking him in a full up and down movement of her hand. At every fourth or fifth stroke, she was rewarded with a throb. Richard closed his eyes. It felt good. Then it felt wrong. But good. And wrong. Good. Good. Good.

Richard opened his eyes with a start. He was too far gone to stop now. He stared into Willow's eyes with desperate abandon. She gazed steadily back into his, evidently unsure of what was happening or what was going to happen, but her hand never faltered in its rhythm against his hard flesh.

"Willow… AH! UHHhhh…" Richard couldn't help himself. He closed his eyes again as his orgasm exploded in dizzying intensity. Willow's sure hand felt wonderful as it caressed his pulsing erection. He felt a warm wetness spread across the front of his pajamas but he didn't care. The pounding pleasure echoing in his skull was all that mattered.

After what seemed like an eternity trapped in warm bliss, Richard's orgasm finally began to subside. He became aware of Willow's hand still earnestly working his now sensitive penis. He jerked his hips away, ever so slightly, and Willow understood enough to stop stroking him.

The end of his pleasure, however, signified the beginning of his guilt. Fully comprehending what had just transpired, Richard felt a terrible weight on his shoulders. Fearing the worst, he opened his eyes only to see Willow's pleased yet perplexed expression. "She has no idea what she just did," Richard realized. Feeling simultaneously like a pig and a criminal, Richard smoothly rolled out of bed. Keeping his back to Willow, he quickly pulled on his robe to hide the large, telltale stain on his pajama bottoms.

"Hey." Speaking was difficult. He suddenly remembered how long it had been since he was forced to communicate in a post- orgasmic state. "Willow, I'm gon' take a quick shower." He stumbled toward the bathroom. "What your want fer breakfast?" His jaw simply wouldn't function. "Why don you go make yeself some hot cocoa? Be out in a few minutes."

Humiliated, Richard retreated to the bathroom, not daring to look the ten year old girl in the face. His heart was still beating like a jackhammer and he felt weak in the knees. A sense of dread filled him. Richard could see the headlines already: "LOCAL PEDOPHILE ARRESTED" How could he be so stupid? He wondered if he even had time to shower. Suppose the police were already on their way?

A hundred different scenarios flashed through his head. It was only until he was able to think about it logically that he realized Willow would have to be the one to contact the authorities. He listened carefully but heard nothing but some clinking from the kitchen. The young girl was obviously not old enough to understand what had happened. Perhaps later today they could have a talk and he could explain what happened, apologize profusely for his actions, swear it would never happen again.

Somewhat reassured, Richard turned on the shower. Great plumes of billowing steam made the shower curtain shimmer and sway. He hung up his robe and undressed. The powerful scent of bleach, evidence of his complicity, hit him like a fist when he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. Ashamed, he rolled them up into a ball and tossed them in the hamper.

Richard mechanically went through the rest of his morning routine. By the time he reached the breakfast table, he found Willow perched over the comics page in the newspaper with a mug of cocoa by her side. "So… How about some oatmeal for breakfast?" Richard briskly busied himself in the kitchen.

"Sure," Willow answered as he pretended to hunt for dishes in a lower cabinet. He spied on her out of the corner of his eye as he worked. If she was traumatized, he could not detect it. She appeared to be the same old Willow, sipping her cocoa and smiling wryly at the comics. When he set a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of her, she smiled brightly at him and dug in. All appeared to be normal.

Richard sat in front of his typewriter all morning but found himself unable to string together more than a few wandering sentences. He stared at the open encyclopedia page. Genus. Taxonomy. Phylum. Carl Linnaeus. The words made no sense.

His thoughts inevitably returned to that morning. The way Willow pressed against him. The shy look in her eyes when she told him what she had done while he slept. The feel of her hand touching him… He was chagrined to find himself half-erect just thinking about it all. Wrong, he told himself. Dirty, old man.

He had little appetite for lunch. Afterward, he told Willow he had a headache and went to lie down while she watched TV. He lay in his darkened room for several hours but didn't sleep. What was he going to do? The thought of removing her pearl necklace occurred to him. She would return to being a doll and it would be as if none of this had happened.

It was coldly logical. But also impossible. Could he really live without Willow? The thought of returning to his previous lonely existence made him sick to his stomach. He was trapped. Richard had no clue of what to do but one thing was certain: he couldn't share a bed with Willow anymore.

Dinner was a tedious affair since he wasn't hungry and his mind was preoccupied with how to inform Willow of their new sleeping arrangements. After the dishes were washed, they sat in front of the TV until bedtime. While Willow brushed her teeth, Richard went into the basement to fetch his old sleeping bag. It faintly smelled of mildew but he unrolled it on the living room floor anyway.

"What are you doing, Richard?" he heard a voice behind him. She was standing in the doorway to the living room, her toothbrush still in her mouth as she scrubbed away.

Richard sighed. Time to face the music. "Willow," he said gently, "I… I don't think we should sleep together anymore."

"What?" Her hand stopped moving. She took the toothbrush from her mouth. "Why not?"

"I think you're getting a little too old to be sleeping with me," Richard said steadily.

"Is this about what happened this morning?" Willow said softly though her mouthful of toothpaste. Richard stood very still. " Are you mad at me for… for touching you there?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" Her eyes were shimmering with tears now.

"Willow, please…" Richard started for her but she dashed from the room. The bathroom door slammed. He wanted to follow her but he remained rooted in place. A moment later he heard her exit to the bedroom. He could hear her light sobs despite the closed door. The sound wrenched his heart.

That was all Richard could think while he got ready for bed. It was all he could think as he lay on the hard living room floor in his musty sleeping bag. Surely they could move beyond this.

He lay in the darkness, listening to her cry. The sound of Willow's pitiful whimpers would fade away, only to renew themselves in a few minutes. This cycle continued for more than an hour. Finally, Richard couldn't stand it any longer. He got up.

The bedroom door creaked as he opened it. The room was dark but he knew his own room well enough to navigate without light. He lifted the covers and climbed into bed. Willow instantly shifted into his arms as if a magnetic force moved her. He held her tight against his chest, futilely willing her sobs to end as he felt her hot tears soaking his pajama shirt.

He didn't hesitate. "Yes." He held her until she stopped crying. And then he held her until she fell asleep.

Richard awoke with a sharp breath. He had been dreaming again. He was dreaming… What was it? He was dreaming… He dreamt…

He opened his eyes. Willow was intently watching him as her fingers knowingly explored him. She didn't smile but her pale blue eyes were clearing waiting for him to say something.

He couldn't. He loved her, but not like this. "Willow…" Richard began, moving his hips away from her grasp. He instantly saw the hurt look on her face.

"Then why can't I do this? I… like doing it. And I think you like it too, don't you?"

"Don't you like it?" Willow persisted. "Or are your really mad at me? And you won't tell me?"

Richard was unable to vocalize his thoughts. She took his hesitation for affirmation.

"You are mad," Willow let her head fall sorrowfully. "You said you loved me. But you didn't mean it."

"Then what's true?" Willow asked raising her head to look at him again. The sight of her tear-filled eyes broke Richard's heart. "I don't understand. I must have done something wrong because you're mad at me. You don't want to sleep with me. You don't want me to touch you. I'm so confused! I don't understand any of this at all!" Her face curled, ready to break into a sob, when Richard leaned in and gently kissed Willow on the lips.

A look of astonishment broke out on her face. He could almost see her sob being reeled back in, like watching an explosion in reverse, although she couldn't keep a tear from rolling down her cheek.

Throwing his caution to the wind, Richard reached under the covers. She still wore his white dress shirt to bed but his fingers easily navigated past it. He carefully lifted the elastic waistband of her white underwear and let his hand slip between her legs.

Willow reacted with an expression of further surprise but she didn't close her legs. He reveled in the sensation of her soft, hairless skin before plunging a finger into the nether regions of her slit. Willow's lips parted in a silent breath as his made contact with her tiny clitoris.

"Wait," Richard murmured. He quickly removed his hand and licked a finger before returning it under the covers. Now moistened with his saliva, Richard's finger easily parted her hairless slit before locating her girlish bump again. Now lubricated, Richard experimentally traced some lazy circles. He was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath from Willow. Her eyes were wide.

He continued fondling the ten year old girl. Occasionally he would dip lower past her clitoris, his finger gliding against her immature lips before making contact with a growing moisture. His finger would then return upward to her clit that, even in its fully swollen state, still felt tiny to his adult finger. After several repetitions, he was gliding against her girlhood like smooth butter.

"It's… it's all wet," Willow said confidentially. "Is it supposed to be like that?"

Willow gave a conspiratorial nod. She had begun subtly moving her hips in time with his touch. Under the crisp collar of the white dress shirt, Richard could see a flush spreading across her chest. Richard himself was now fully erect as well, his penis once again straining against his cotton pajamas, but it remained hidden from view under the covers.

"Richard…" He saw Willow clench her hands into fists at her side. "Richard?" Her pale blue eyes were staring into his now but he wasn't sure they saw him.

"Richard… it feels… It feels… something is happening… Um… Uh, Richard… RICHARD!" The ten year old girl's eyes went wide as Richard gave her her first orgasm. Absolutely captivated, he watched Willow succumb to the overpowering sensations. First, her hips bucked several times in violent spasms. Her spine arched slightly, lifting her off the bed. Her pink and hairless slit felt impossibly wet now but he never lost contact with the engorged bud of her clitoris.

"Oh! OH!" Willow moaned, unable to stay quiet as her body felt heretofore unknown amounts of pleasure. She writhed for several long seconds before her orgasm began to fade. Richard slowed his touching according to her rhythm before stopping completely. Finally spent, the young girl lay on the bed with her eyes half closed. Drops of sweat appeared on her forehead.

"That… that felt really… nice," Willow murmured at last. "What was it, Richard?"

"Or… or-gasm," Willow repeated. She was exhausted. "Why did it feel like that?"

"It's what happens when someone touches you down there," he told her. "It's how you made me feel yesterday morning."

She perked up at this. "I did that… to you too?" she said, a pleased smile breaking across her face. "Did you like it too?"

Richard nodded. Willow closed her eyes again, her cheeks and forehead flushed with color now. She was perfectly at peace. Richard, on the other hand, found himself at the complete opposite end of the spectrum. His erection was almost painful inside his furiously tenting pajamas. Any guilt, any misgivings, any self-doubt he may have felt had been replaced by a singular male imperative.

Watching the ten year old girl in the throes of sexual ecstasy had awakened a primal instinct. His desire was so powerful that he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. Richard wanted nothing more than to tear her clothes off and penetrate her. He needed to be inside her. He needed to spray her with his seed. He needed to…

Richard stopped. He swallowed hard. Willow was still laying angelically on the bed while his mind raced with wild hedonism. He quickly got out of bed. "You rest for a while, all right? I'll be right back."

Richard hurried to the bathroom and closed the door. He hadn't felt this hormonal since he was a teenager. He quickly surveyed his options. A cold shower? He felt too far gone for that. There was only one way to relieve the pressure growing inside him.

Richard regretted not having a lockable bathroom door. Living alone, there hadn't much been a point for a lock. What if Willow walked in on him? What if she heard? Richard ruefully realized he hadn't faced these worries since being a teenager as well.

He turned on the shower to provide some white noise. It wouldn't take long anyway, he reasoned. He fished a small bottle of K-Y lubricant from the medicine cabinet and pulled down his pajama bottoms.

Richard felt a bit silly. Here he was, a forty-seven year old man, standing in his bathroom and masturbating. But he craved release so badly that he knew there was not much other choice. Besides, Willow seemed quite open about what just happened. Maybe eventually he could teach her other things…

Closing his eyes, Richard leaned against the wall and imagined what else he and Willow might do together. He was so focused on his own pleasure that he didn't even hear the bathroom door open. A familiar voice startled him from his fantasy.

Richard froze. Caught with his pants down. It really was like being a teenager again.

Willow stood in the doorway, still wearing his white dress shirt. Her blond hair was perfectly mussed up, her sleeves were rolled up, and her cream-colored legs stuck out from the too-big shirt with an affectionate gawkiness. She stood demurely with her hands clasped as her eyes flicked from his face to the hard erection in his hands. The young girl had a knowing expression on her face, like that of a child who knows she's doing something right.

Richard gave the slightest of nods. She approached him with an awkward combination of bashfulness and sexual awakening. Richard held his breath as she took his penis with her two small hands. She must have watched him masturbate before interrupting. Her fists closed as best they could around his hard tool before stroking the length of his shaft.

It felt heavenly. This time there were no cotton pajamas separating them. The feel of her warm skin on his own felt exquisite. Each glide of her hand pulled him closer to his rapturous destination. As she stroked him, Richard could see the curiosity in her eyes from seeing and touching a man for the first time. She kept her eyes on her work with deliberate concentration, the same expression as when she was engrossed in a watercolor painting.

The thought of ejaculating before her was wickedly appealing. Had he been able to think more clearly, Richard might have realized that the thought of spraying his semen in front of a ten year old girl would have been a repellent notion a mere six weeks ago.

The animal thoughts from earlier returned, untamed and enraged. He wanted Willow to feel his erection throb in her hands. He wanted to see her face when the first shot jetted forth. He wanted her to feel his hot seed on her skin. He wanted to cover her with it. He wanted…

Richard felt his scrotum tense up. "Willow…" he breathed. She looked up at him momentarily, her blue eyes sexually charged with pure innocence. "I'm going to…"

He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence. Richard leaned against a wall, his hand reaching for the towel holder for support as an orgasm even more powerful than yesterday crashed into him. Through the hazy waves of pleasure, Richard breathlessly watched Willow readily milk his erupting erection. Powerful white spurts arched neatly in the air before landing on Willow's wrists and shirt but she didn't stop her fluid motions on his penis.

"Oh god…" Richard moaned. The orgasm seemed to go on forever. His muscles eventually slowed their contractions, however, and he felt his erection deflate ever so slightly. A bit of warm semen was still leaking out from the tip but Willow didn't let go of him.

"Did… Did I do okay?" Willow asked. The edges of her mouth were curled into a shy smile. Recognizing it as the same one she made whenever he praised her, Richard knew she was asking a rhetorical question.

After that morning, things were just the same but brand new. Richard still laid out a fresh set of clothes every day for Willow. They still ate breakfast together. He still typed away at his desk for the middle part of the day. They went for walks among the cacti, played hide-and-seek in the desert, and listened to the prowling coyotes at night. In this sense, nothing had changed.

Other aspects of their relationship, however, took on a completely different tone.

Richard was glumly typing away at his desk one morning, surrounded by open books annotated with bookmarks and piles of loosely arranged notes. Each time he agonized at how little progress he was making, Richard glanced at the coffee table where a shiny new copy of the 9th grade biology book lay awaiting his perusal. He had finally finished it three weeks ago and his publisher had mailed him a mocked up copy for his final approval.

Now he had moved on to 12th grade chemistry, a subject that was decidedly more difficult to cover. He was sighing and rubbing his temples for the umpteenth time when Willow, donning her skates of course, rolled up behind him.

She skated off to the kitchen and returned bearing the coffeepot. As she carefully poured him a cup, Richard amusedly noticed that she even looked like a waitress today. The ten year old girl was wearing a fitted dark blue dress with a contrasting notched white collar and matching white cuff sleeves and white buttons at the front. Her pearl necklace glinted beneath the crisp white collar. Combined with the white tie waist emphasizing her slender frame and her hair piled into a tall bun, the young girl perfectly resembled a 1950s carhop.

"Thank you, Willow," he said, taking a grateful sip of the fragrant hot drink. She nodded and skated off to put away the coffeepot. He picked up a dictionary to look up a word but before he could open it, Willow wheeled back into the living room and stood behind him.

"Um, no. Not now, thanks," Richard said flipping through the pages of the heavy dictionary. He paid no attention as she skated backward, making a big circle around the armchair and coffee table. He sighed. Molecular bonds had always confused him.

"Want some gum?" Willow offered. She was standing at his side again. "You can blow really big bubbles with this kind. See?" She obligingly inflated a large bubble that snapped with a satisfying pop.

Willow skated off again, only to return five minutes later. "Do you think my hair looks better up in this dress? Or should I have it a ponytail, like this?"

Richard sighed and looked up from his work. Willow was impishly gazing at him, awaiting his opinion. "All right, Willow," he said, putting down his pencil. "What is it?"

"You usually do a great job of letting me work in peace." Richard picked up his coffee mug. "How come you keep interrupting me today?"

Willow smiled, her shy smile that he loved so much. She skated up to him and sat sideways on his lap. Bashfully taking his hand, she moved it under the hem of her dress. Between her legs.

"Oh," said Richard, feeling simultaneously foolish and excited as Willow reclined against him. The smooth skin of her slim thighs felt satiny against his hand. His finger made contact with the ruffled cotton of her white panties. He teased her for a moment by caressing the plump flesh beneath the cotton before slipping his hand inside.

"Ahhh…" Willow stiffened in his arms. Richard was surprised to find how smoothly his finger slid along her hairless valley. There was already ample moisture in the cleft of her lips so he dipped down to capture it before returning to her pleasure bump. He was rewarded with another sigh.

He felt his erection growing as he fondled the whimpering nymphet squirming in his lap. Her eyes were closed but her hand wandered near his chest, occasionally gripping tightly at his neatly pressed oxford shirt if an especially intense wave of feeling washed over her. After three weeks of exploration, Richard had learned how the ten year old liked to be pleasured. He primarily used a soft touch but he would randomly throw in a rougher stroke where he would press down hard on Willow's little clit, eliciting a whine and jerk of the hips from the ten year old.

The bulge in his slacks was pressing insistently at her back now. It likely wasn't comfortable but Willow didn't seem to notice. "Oh Richard…" she whispered. She was tugging at his shirt so tightly that a button came undone. "OH!" A high- pitched keening escaped her lips and, just like that, Richard was suddenly watching the young girl have an orgasm.

"Oh Richard! Oh Richard!" she cried, before a making a series of half-gasps and half-grunts of sexual ecstasy. When they had first begun, Richard noticed that Willow had been mostly quiet during her orgasms but she had grown much more vocal since. He saw her legs stick out straight (still wearing roller skates, he noted with affection), trembling with each passing wave of pleasure.

When it was finally over, he cradled Willow's inert form but didn't remove his hand from her underwear. There was a pink hue to her cheeks and a blissful expression on her face now. "Was that what you wanted?" he asked playfully.

She opened her eyes fully now and looked at him with seriousness. "Really? You wouldn't make fun of me?"

Willow mulled this over, twisting a loop of her blond hair in her hand. She took a deep breath. "I want to try… you know. That thing we did last week," the ten year old said shyly. "With my… mouth? I want to do that again."

"All right," Richard answered, somewhat taken aback. He paused. "You mean like right now?"

"Okay," agreed Richard. She stood up, a bit unsteady on her roller skates at first. "Um, maybe you should take off your dress though. It might get, um… We don't want it to get dirty or anything."

Richard swiveled his chair to face her. Despite all the intimacy they had shared, Willow was still inexplicably inhibited when it came to undressing in front of him. She avoided his gaze as she began unbuttoning the long column of white buttons that enclosed her in the dark blue dress. Richard tried not to stare but he couldn't help sneaking glances as inch after inch of her pale skin was revealed.

She slipped the dress from her shoulders. Not wanting to leave it on the floor, Willow moved to the armchair to carefully drape the dress on it before skating back to where Richard still sat. She was wearing only her old-fashioned bra and panties now, which Richard had grown to love. She had been right all along. The cheerful ruffles and delicate pleating on the underwear gave it a touch of class that was decidedly missing from modern undergarments.

She nervously looked him in the eye and then away again. Once Willow realized he was waiting for him to make the first move, she rolled closer. Taking his hands to brace her, she carefully got down on her knees in front of him. Richard wondered if she should take off her roller skates at least but decided to let it go.

Willow glanced at him once more before reaching for his belt. He adored the look of concentration on the young girl's face as she unbuckled it and opened his slacks and zipper. It was impossible to miss his erection beneath his bulging underwear. Richard raised his rear off the chair an inch. With just a hint of self- consciousness, Willow took hold of his pants and underwear and pulled them down to his ankles.

His penis jutted from his lap at an acute angle. Willow eyed it for a moment before taking it in her cool hand. Richard could already feel his precome leaking before she even touched him but this felt even better. She stroked him a few times before opening her mouth wide.

They had tried this last week. Her warm yet tentative mouth had felt extraordinary around him but he noticed Willow's strained expression so he had asked her if she wanted to stop. Not wanting to press the issue, he didn't bring it up again. Richard felt quite elated therefore that Willow had suggested it herself.

He felt her wet tongue on the underside of his erection first, followed by the warm enveloping of her mouth. Her prim lips were now closed around the tip of his penis, a beautiful sight. She paused like that for a moment before pressing her head forward, letting a few more inches of him into her mouth. Richard shivered as her small tongue flicked at him.

Ever perceptive, Willow noticed the effect she was having on him. She withdrew to swallow and take a breath before engulfing him again. The young girl repeated this several times, taking him out of her mouth completely before putting it back and holding the position for a few seconds. The movement made her pearl necklace sway back and forth in a hypnotizing motion. They briefly made eye contact as she orally pleased him. Richard was surprised to see a smoldering fire in the ten year old girl's eyes that he had never seen before.

Another flick of her wet tongue made him fidget. Willow glanced up at him again. The sultriness was still there but this time there was a hint of something else: pride. His erection involuntarily throbbed in her hot mouth. Richard was beside himself with desire. Richard had received oral sex from much more experienced lovers but none matched this young girl in terms of sheer sexual heat.

Willow was too small to take his entire shaft in her mouth so she made up for it by using her hands on the remainder of his erection. Richard groaned softly when she began gently squeezing his sack, another trick he had taught her. He stared wide-eyed at the lovely scene of Willow on her knees, wearing nothing but her underwear and roller skates, as she eagerly pleasured him.

It was too much. The impropriety of receiving oral pleasures from a ten year old girl pushed Richard over the edge. "Willow…" he warned. "I'm getting really close to…" Willow redoubled her efforts before he could finish, squeezing hard on his scrotum while pushing her head even further forward. Richard had just enough time to feel the rubbery tip of his penis making contact with the back of her throat before his orgasm exploded in a frenzied whirl of ecstasy.

"Uhhh…" He made a low, guttural sound of pure delight. His muscles contracted powerfully, his erection grew even harder as thick, ropy strands of semen were jettisoned from his penis. He reached a second level of pleasure from watching Willow concentrate as she timed her swallows to match his spurts. He had fired off three shots in quick succession into her mouth but she had been able to match him for each one. When his orgasm subsided, Willow withdrew him from her mouth. There was no trace of semen at all around her pink and shiny lips.

She stood up and Richard swept her into his arms, roller skates and all. "Good girl," he praised her. "Good girl…"

Richard leaned back from his typewriter with gleeful relief. Triumphantly, he pressed the period key. After four weeks of protons, neutrons, covalent bonding, Faraday, and Rutherford, he was at last finished with the final draft for 12th grade chemistry.

Willow skated into the room. She was wearing a fitted white scoop neck shirt with short sleeves and a black skirt with pink polka dots. "I'm done washing the dinner dishes," she announced.

"And I'm done with my chemistry draft," he told her, pulling the page from the typewriter and adding it to a thick pile of papers.

"That's good," Willow told him. "I'm done reading your biology book too so now I can get started on chemistry."

"Well, mostly I looked at the pictures. I understood some of the reading though."

"12th grade chemistry might be more challenging," he warned her. "And a lot more abstract too."

Willow shrugged. "I know. Can we do something to celebrate now that you're done with your book?"

"I don't know," Richard blearily rubbed his eyes. "What time is it? I'm awfully tired."

"7:30. Do you want me to walk on your back?" Willow persisted. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. After a long day of sitting at the typewriter, Richard's muscles were often tense and sore. The perfect foil, they discovered, was to have Willow walk on his back.

In the bedroom, Richard took off his shirt and laid face down on the bed while Willow took off her roller skates and socks. Then she climbed onto the bed and gingerly stepped on his bare back. She was the perfect weight for such a task. Richard sighed gratefully as he felt her toes digging into his skin. She performed baby steps on his back for fifteen minutes before lying down next to him.

"That felt wonderful, Willow," Richard mumbled. He must have fallen asleep because when he groggily opened his eyes again, the room seemed darker than before. The only light in the room came from the remains of the late summer sunset outside the window. To his surprise, Richard saw a dark form crouched over his midsection.

"Willow?" he murmured. He reached for the bedside lamp. The additional illumination revealed a sheepish Willow sitting astride his legs. His pants were undone. His half-erect penis poked through the fly of his underwear, drooping like a poorly constructed maypole. He then noticed that Willow had was naked except for her bra.

Richard fixed her with an exasperated glare. "I promise I'm not mad. Just tell me. What were you doing?"

"Well…" she fidgeted a moment. "Remember how I was looking at your biology book? There was this part I was reading about… um, stuff… and it said how, uh, a man… you know."

"Um," Willow couldn't look at him as she spoke. Staring at the floor she said, "You know, it said how a man… puts his thing inside. A woman. And then stuff."

Richard was dumbfounded. He remembered very clearly writing the clinical description of intercourse in the human biology section of the textbook. It never occurred to him that Willow would read it.

"So wait," said Richard, "you just thought you could try doing that with me? While I was asleep?"

Willow shrugged. "You're usually a very sound sleeper and you've never woken up before when I've tried other things."

He was stunned (and curious) about the "other things" she had tried while he was asleep. But more importantly… "Did you, um, succeed in putting my 'thing' inside you?" Richard asked as calmly as he could. To his relief, Willow shook her head. He gestured for her to come lie next to him.

"I've told you this before, Willow," he told her earnestly. " But you should really just ask. I wouldn't have gotten mad you know."

"I know," Willow said, snuggling into his arm. "I was just worried that… I didn't know if it would really fit inside me. I would have felt silly if I asked you to do it and it didn't fit inside me."

Richard caressed her hair. Willow could occasionally be wise beyond her years so sometimes he forgot that she was still a young girl. "Come on," he said, sitting her up on the bed. He guided the bemused girl into a straddling position on his chest.

"Did you say you wanted to celebrate?" Richard asked with a glint in his eye. He scooted the ten year old girl forward until her crotch was a mere inches from his face. He could detect the pungent scent of her now: part girl, part woman. It was so intoxicating that he began to harden. Richard savored the sight of her perfectly hairless girlhood before giving her a slow, gentle kiss.

"Mmm… Oh Richard," Willow sighed. Feeling her grasp a handful of his hair, Richard responded by cupping her slim buttocks in both hands and pulling her even closer. Exquisite minutes leisurely passed, the only sound in the room being Willow's intermittent coos of pleasure. Richard's penis, still free from Willow's earlier sneaking, now expanded its full height and girth as he relished the taste of the nectar flowing from the ten year old girl's hairless slit.

Her tugging on his hair became more urgent. Knowing what was imminent, Richard pursed his lips around her tiny protruding clit and gave it an intimate kiss. Her hips jerked in response. He was about to do it again when she interrupted him.

"Richard?" Willow pulled her waist back a bit so she could see him. "Richard, I want you to… Can you try putting your… thing in me?" she timidly requested.

His erection throbbed at the thought. His mind, however, was still able to rationalize and overpower his desire. "Willow," he began, "are you sure? You're still a very young girl and… honestly? Your body might still be too small to do that."

"Like I might have to go to the hospital?" Willow wondered, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest.

"No," Richard conceded. "Probably not that bad. But there might be a little blood. And it might hurt for you to sit and walk for a few days."

"All right," Richard said after the slightest hesitation. He touched Willow's bra. Realizing what he wanted, she raised her arms and let him pull it off. Unable to resist, Richard took a moment to gently caress the pink nipples adorning her flat chest. Then he scooped her up in his arms and sat up. "We can try," he whispered to her.

Her eyes brightened into a smile. Richard tenderly laid her on the bed before wriggling out of his underwear and pants. He hesitated once again, however, when he saw Willow laying naked on his bed, propped up on a pillow as one hand worried at the strand of pearls around her neck. The ten year old girl seemed so small. So fragile…

She must have sensed his reticence because Willow very deliberately spread her legs. Richard felt his entire body pulse with desire at the sight of her very sweet innocence. There was not a single hair to be seen on her unblemished skin. Her lips were immature, invisible really since they were not even formed yet. But, further inside, her delicate pinkness betrayed a sheen of arousal.

Richard retrieved a small bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. As he lightly coated his erection, he said, "I want you to promise me that you'll tell me if it gets to be too much. Okay? If it hurts too much, tell me and we can stop. It's nothing to be ashamed of if we can't do it."

Willow nodded gamely. Richard positioned himself on top of her. Their difference in height made it so the top her head only came up to his chin. Propping himself up with one hand, Richard used the other to guide himself between Willow's legs.

It felt electric when the tip of his penis made contact with delicate lips. Richard felt the wetness of her earlier arousal from his oral ministrations. He probed for a moment until he found her virginal entrance.

He gently pushed forward. At first nothing happened other than feeling of light pressure. Carefully, Richard pressed his hips onward. Still nothing. "She's just too small," he thought. He was ready to give up when Richard sensed an odd feeling, like pulling at a stuck door and being alarmed when it suddenly opens very easily. Very unexpectedly, he glided forward an almost imperceptible amount as Willow simultaneously gasped beneath him.

"Are you all right?" Richard said, remaining perfectly still. He looked down at her but all he could see was the top of her head. "Willow?"

"I… I'm all right," Willow answered. She glanced up at him and Richard's heart moved when he saw the shimmering tears in her eyes. Richard pulled his hips back and inspected his penis for any sign of blood but there was none.

Against his better judgment, Richard resumed his position. He achieved the initial breach much easier this time, eliciting only the slightest squeak from Willow. "Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" he asked again.

Richard eased his hips forward once more. Making no progress, he increased the pressure. Suddenly, he felt the sensation of something tearing. Something giving way. He slid forward a half inch into an intensely tight and warm space. Willow yelped an alarming sound.

Richard peered down at her and found her staring back at him this time. "It doesn't hurt!" she proclaimed, although the tears on her cheeks stated otherwise. "Don't stop! Please! Do it quick! Ow! It doesn't hurt! OW! I swear it doesn't hurt Richard! Ow! Don't stop! Ow! Ow! Oh! Ow! Oh! Oh! OH!"

Doing as she requested, Richard sank several inches of his hard erection at the urging of the young girl. His hormones were raging beyond control now. He secretly realized that he would have penetrated Willow anyway even if she had asked him to stop. It had felt heavenly even when he had only had one inch embedded in her. Thousands of years of evolution had made the male obsession with a virgin too powerful to ignore.

"Does it hurt?" Richard asked, resisting the urge to thrust. It had been a long time since he had been inside a female, child or not. The slippery walls of Willow's vagina felt incredibly sensuous as they adjusted around the intruder.

"Yes… no!" Willow gasped. He saw different feelings play out across her face as she processed this completely new feeling. "I … I can feel it… I can feel YOU! Inside me!" Willow panted. "It feels… really big."

Richard gritted his teeth. Her innocent words only served to fan the flames. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to thrust away without abandon. "I only have a little bit inside you," he told her. "Should I try a little more?" Tentatively, he pushed his hips forward.

"Ohhh!" Willow let out a long moan that he was unable to interpret as pain or ecstasy. He eased into her until he felt an object blocking his path. He experimentally thrust forward anyway, eliciting a wince from Willow.

"Sorry," he told her. He had reached her cervix, yet he barely had half his penis embedded in the ten year old girl. "I think that's as far as it will go."

Willow looked at him with a faint smile. "I did it," she whispered proudly, despite the redness of her eyes and beads of sweat on her forehead. "What now?"

Richard needed to come badly but he still didn't want to hurt the young girl. "I know," he said, gathering inspiration. He took Willow's shoulder in one hand and her hip in the other. Carefully, he guided their bodies to a side-by-side position.

"Just hold on," directed Richard. "We'll do this quick…" With one smooth motion, he rolled onto his back, pulling Willow with him.

"Ahh!" she protested in pain. But they had succeeded in switching positions. Richard now lay on his back as Willow straddled him. They could clearly see each other's faces now. Willow doubled over, craning her neck in an attempt to see him inside her.

"What if we go like this?" Richard held her hips in place as he gently withdrew and plunged back inside. Willow made another face. "I guess not," Richard said, disappointed.

She saw the expression on his face. "Is that what you want to do?" she asked. Experimentally, she moved her hips. Richard gasped at the delicious sensation of her tight wetness gliding on his erection. Seeing his reaction, Willow continued her movements, letting move in and out. Her lips were pursed together in a sour expression though, as if she were sucking a lemon.

"We don't have to do this," Richard told her even though he prayed for her not to stop.

Willow shook her head. Richard wet his finger and reached between her legs. He pink clit was easy to find since she was stretched so far open by his massive erection. Willow shuddered as he made contact with her button. With his free hand, he slowed her hips to a stop, urging her to pause while he manipulated the small nubbin of flesh between his fingers.

He could practically see her unwinding. The young girl's mouth relaxed until her lips were slack. The tears were now gone, replaced by a slow flush rising across her face. After several minutes passed, Richard removed his hand on her hip.

Gazing at him through heavy-lidded eyes, Willow began moving up and down again. Infrequent gasps escaped her lips. Richard could see a mixture of pain and pleasure bearing across her facial expressions. He remained perfectly still, content to let the ten year old girl find her way.

"Ohhh… Ah!" Willow moaned and winced. She began moving her hips a little faster. "Oh… Oh…" She stared at Richard, her blue eyes glassy and distant. "It still hurts a little…" she admitted. "But I don't want to stop."

Her hips were moving very fast now. Her blond hair was swaying back and forth with her rhythm. Richard couldn't believe how wonderful it felt inside the ten year old girl. Her muscles were involuntarily contracting on his erection, to his great delight. She was riding him more fiercely now, with purpose.

"Richard… Richard… Oh Richard!" Willow's eyes went completely wide as she crossed into the throes of orgasm. Richard furiously rubbed at her clit as she bucked and moaned. Unable to contain himself either, Richard threw his head back and groaned as his orgasm landed mere seconds after hers.

As they both shuddered in waves of orgasmic bliss, Richard saw something astonishing happen. Precisely at the moment he ejaculated, Willow's pearl necklace came undone. Not just unclasped, but each pearl detached completely from its neighbor. Stunned, he watched the gleaming pearls scatter in different directions as they rolled down Willow's flat chest.

Despite the shock, he was powerless against his body's physiological workings. Richard gasped as he pulsed uncontrollably inside Willow, each time sending forth a potent spray of his seed to coat her pink walls. The falling pearls bounced off his stomach and chest but he ignored them as his cannon fired again and again. Willow's flushed face, contorted from her own pleasure, stared at him in rapturous awe as she remained impaled on him. He wondered if she could internally feel his eruptions.

"Nuhhhmmm," Willow mewed and collapsed on Richard's chest. "Oh Richard…" he heard her say. With a movement of her hips, Willow freed herself from his softening erection. She gasped slightly at the sensation but then said nothing.

With a start, Richard remembered the horrible sight of the necklace falling apart. His hand touched her neck, groping uselessly at her smooth skin, confirming that the pearl necklace was indeed gone. The sound of her breathing was loud in his ear as he held her tight. What was going to happen now?

"…" Richard couldn't help closing his eyes. Just for a second. Willow wasn't going anywhere. He could still feel her sweet weight on top of him. Her arms wrapped around his midsection. He felt her hair itchy against his arm, her legs intertwined with his, her breathing rhythmically mirroring his own. He could feel the cool wetness of their lovemaking pooling near his belly button. He felt…

Richard dreamt he was outside. His familiar desert scenery was gone, however, replaced by nothing but an endless expanse of flat sand. There were no trees, no cacti, no wildlife. Nothing with which to obtain his bearings. He looked straight up and saw a blazing sun. The warm light burned into his eyes but it felt like salve. He stood like that for a long time.

He awoke abruptly. The dream, swept aside like a house of cards in a hurricane, already was being forgotten by his consciousness. Richard realized a hearty morning sunshine was streaming through his window directly into his face. The clock on the wall indicated it was already 9 am. He rolled over onto his side to avoid the blinding sun. Just as he was about to close his eyes again, he remembered the events of last night.

He sat up straight in bed. With a dreadful dismay, Richard realized he was alone in his bed. Perhaps he had dreamt everything. Absentmindedly, he touched his bare chest. Naked. He was still naked. Peering under the sheets, Richard saw his penis was streaked with dark red stains. He rubbed at the stains a bit. Sniffing, he detected hints of copper and an unmistakable femininity.

A strikingly clear memory came back. Willow, writhing in ecstasy as she rode him, and then her pearl necklace falling apart in to pieces. The necklace. Where was the necklace? Where were the pearls? Richard ran his hands under the sheets expecting to find at least a single pearl. But he found nothing among the soft cotton sheets except more telltale red stains.

He laid a forearm across his eyes. Richard knew he could carry on. But it was disheartening to know the period of blissful contentment had ended as suddenly as it began. He silently thanked his departed wife for gifting him the pearl necklace. Then he silently thanked Willow for reminding him what it meant to…

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange scraping sound. Wheels. Something was rolling across his living room floor.

Richard sat up straight again just as she breezily swept into the room wearing his familiar white dress shirt. "Willow!" he said emotionally. He pulled her tightly into his arms. Relief flooded him. She was here. She was real. She felt the same, smelled the same. He stopped hugging her a moment to look into the face that he knew so well.

"Good morning!" she smiled but he could tell she was bemused by his reaction. He didn't care. He hugged her tight again. " Um. Are you all right, Richard?"

"I'm fine," Richard said softly, not letting go of her. Not wanting to cry, he struggled for a moment to maintain his composure. Then he stood Willow back at arm's length once again. He couldn't remember seeing anything more beautiful than her beautiful face. Seeing a patch of her exposed neck, Richard pulled aside the white collar of her shirt. He wonderingly caressed the creamy skin of her throat.

"Your necklace," Richard said. He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her close. "What happened to it?"

"I don't know," Willow said vaguely. "It must have come off last night when we … you know…" Unable to finish, she smiled shyly and looked at the floor.

Willow shook her head. "I can still roller skate at least." Richard laughed. "I was wondering when you would wake up," Willow told him. "You never sleep this late."

Richard felt like whistling but he wasn't the type who could carry a tune. Instead he bounded out of bed with an energy he hadn't felt in a long time. He quickly showered and shaved. His hair was wet but his robe felt comfortingly soft when he returned to the bedroom where he was pleasantly surprised to find Willow making the bed.

"You know, that would be easier to do if you took off your roller skates," he advised.

"That's what you say about everything," she dismissed, tugging at a sheet. Gesturing with her head, Willow pointed toward the Japanese changing screen. "There's some clean clothes over there for you."

She had laid out a clean shirt, pants, and underwear for him. He self-consciously moved behind the changing screen to dress. When he re-emerged Willow was half-laying on the bed, her arms spread eagle but her skates impatiently tracking back and forth on the floor.

"All right, all right," said Richard. "Come on, I'll make you pancakes." He took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

"Oh, before I forget…" Willow dug in the pocket of her shirt. "I found this when I was making the bed."

Richard stared at the doll-sized pearl necklace she deposited in his hand. Without waiting for him, Willow rolled out of the room to the kitchen. Richard slowly followed her, still gazing at the necklace in his hand. The pearls gleamed as luminously as ever. There was no indication that the necklace had ever been broken, let alone fallen apart completely.

As Richard passed through the living room, he noticed the coffee table was littered with several dolls and various articles of clothing. Willow must have taken them out to play while had been asleep. She had dressed a red-headed doll in a fetching crimson sweater paired with a lovely red/black plaid skirt and white knee socks. Another brown haired doll wore a cheerful pink summer dress with white stars, accented with blue striped puffy sleeves and bloomers.

The sight of the beautifully dressed dolls gave him pause. Smiling, he realized he still held the doll-sized pearl necklace in his hand. Richard absent-mindedly stroked the lustrous strand of pearls before carefully depositing them in his pocket. He was about to start putting the dolls away before deciding against it. Straightening his shirt, Richard went to the kitchen where Willow was waiting for him.

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?
Enter your feedback here: