Faded Photographs

"I don't think I have to tell you that it was my pleasure. I look forward to getting you started on 'Your garden'," as I made finger quotes in the air. "I'll turn over the soil the day before you come over, and have some flowers in my greenhouse that are about to bud, ready for you to transplant. This way you can water them yourself and watch them bloom into flowers. Just call me a day or two ahead of time when you want to start. That way everything will be ready for you."

"Okay, I'll give you a few days to recuperate before I call. Thanks again Bert." She then leaned over and gave me a nice long kiss, pushed her tits against my chest, and pulled away, saying, "Preview of coming attractions." She giggled, turned and headed to her car.

Once Kayla drove off, I sat at my kitchen table, took a deep breath, and said, "Holy Fuck . . . damn." After sitting there a few minutes, I got up and headed for a much-needed shower, still not believing what actually just happened, and Kayla's, seemingly, laissez-faire attitude regarding casual sex and individual freedoms. "Mitzi constantly discounted the notion of oral sex and wouldn't even discuss the matter . . . This was definitely one area where Mitzi and Kayla diametrically differed. Perhaps there's more interesting differences waiting to be discovered . . . this has the potential of developing into a very interesting and fun summer," I thought aloud while making my way to the shower.

After showering, I put on a light pair of pajama bottoms and a shirt, along with my slippers. It was early evening, and I was not leaving the house before bed. On my way to the kitchen I noticed the throw pillow Kayla had used still on the floor and put it back where it came from. I then concentrated on consuming a slice of Mitzi's cherry pie with a tall, cold glass of milk.

A few hours later, around 8 P.M. I received a call from Mitzi, inquiring if I had enjoyed the cherry pie. I informed her that I did and informed her how delicious it was. She was pleased, and went on, extending the conversation.

"I need to thank you for giving Kayla a wonderful day and meal," Mitzi, went on. "Kayla came home all excited, showering you with praises, and couldn't stop talking about your kindness, sincerity, and what a stabilizing effect you exuded. She is really looking forward to planting and growing flowers in the section of garden you assigned her. Those were her words. Thank you for all you've done and making my baby happy."

"I can't tell you how happy having her here today made me. I'm not sure I deserve all those praises, though," I replied.

"I couldn't disagree more about that. I will say that she was very sincere about everything she said about you. Allow me give you a little history. Do you have a few minutes? This may be somewhat lengthy," she said, then went silent.

I went to my couch, and sat down. I knew, whenever Mitzi began a conversation this way, she was always very comprehensive, and never concise. I got comfortable, prepared for one of her one sided dissertation-like conversations, and said, "If there's anything I have plenty of, since retirement, it's time." She didn't need to inform me that "This may be somewhat lengthy", I already knew that much. Beyond that, what do you say to an ex-college girlfriend whose 22 year old daughter just gave you a blowjob a few hours or so ago?

"I need to go back a bit to help you understand what I'm about to say and make it clear. I'll try to make this short," Mitzi began. "Phyllis, my older daughter, was ten when Kayla was born, so there wasn't much of a sister relationship that ever developed. Kayla was five when my marriage ended in divorce. Phyllis almost immediately began to revolt and act out, which created a larger divide between the two girls. Once Phyllis went off to college the house returned to some semblance of normalcy. I can remember Kayla always telling me that I'd never have to worry about her becoming what her sister had become, and she's held true to that promise. Their father moved out of state shortly after the divorce, so he was no help in disciplining Phyllis, or having any influence on either of them, which created a tremendous void in Kayla's young life. If you prefer not to hear this, or if it's boring you, I'll stop," Mitzi said.

"Not at all . . . go on," I responded.

"As long as you're sure. So, Phyllis got hooked up with this guy during her Junior year at the University and got married shortly after graduation. I had tried to discourage her, and suggested she delay this marriage until she got to know him better, outside of the college environment. He ended up being a selfish loser and the marriage ended after a short three years. I took advantage of Phyllis' failed marriage to emphasize how most men are not usually good spousal candidates while still in their twenties. Being left alone to tend to two young girls, particularly after being married for 18 years, was kind of a culture shock for me as well. That left me less than an advocate for the institution of marriage. I literally preached that notion to Kayla almost daily, especially as she approached college age."

She continued, "I hadn't realized how much Kayla had missed the influence, direction, and mere presence of an older man in her life, until she came home so happy, enthusiastic, displaying the fulfillment one displays when a void they've been deprived of for years, has been suddenly satisfied. I've seen her accomplish many difficult things in her life, and the joy she received from doing so. Nothing compared to the joy and satisfaction that was evident in her today. I suddenly put two and two together and realized that her being in your company all day, in the casual setting of your home and backyard, was something her soul had hungered for and kept silent about all these years. She's adult enough to not be looking for a father figure. She just enjoys the fact that she's spending time in a casual environment with an older man that she's heard so many nice things about while growing up. She feels comfortable and secure, along with feeling a sense of satisfaction with you. Thank you, Bert, for just being there for her."

I interrupted, and said, "The last thing I want to be is a father figure, so thanks for not laying that on me. I truly enjoy having Kayla around very much, and am happy to hear that she feels so fondly of me. That's nice to hear. I look forward to being in her company as many times as she chooses to drop by. There's no need to thank me for anything. This summer will be my pleasure, I'm sure."

"Well, I just thought it only fair that you have a little background into why Kayla may seem overly enthusiastic, possibly even affectionate at times, to very small things that may seem insignificant to you. Okay, I've tied up enough of your time already, so I'll let you go. I must say, before I do, that it's heartwarming to see that you haven't changed, as far as how you always treated people, remaining, the wonderful person I always knew. You are special, and Kayla feels it too. I'll hang up now."

I interrupted once again, and said, "Thanks again for the delicious pie, and don't forget, I owe you a cookout, and I won't accept a refusal the next time."

She giggled, and said, "I look forward to it, and promise to not decline your next invitation, providing you not give me such short notice. Alright, let me let you go now. Goodbye, Bert."

I said, "Goodnight, Mitzi," then we both hung up.

I remained sitting for a few minutes, with my cell phone in my hand, just digesting the conversation Mitzi and I just had, and thought aloud, "That clears a few things up that had entered my mind." I knew it couldn't be my movie star looks or my sculptured, athletic body that brought this sort of conduct out of Kayla, simply because I was not blessed with possessing either. She was simply vulnerable to the attention, and, in her mind, being treated as though she were special or important. She was just subconsciously seeking the approval of a man she saw as a representation of something she had hungered for most of her life. "Very sad, indeed, but extremely fortunate for me," was my first thought. I had to let all of this completely sink in. My second thought, speaking of hungering for something, was of another slice of cherry pie.

I had absolutely no problem falling asleep, and had a most restful night. "So many things I hadn't experienced in a number of years, I experienced all in one day," I thought to myself over my usual strong cup of coffee the next morning.

A couple of days had passed, and on the second evening, my cell rang. It was Kayla.

"Hi Bert! How are you? I hope you're feeling okay," came this energetic, bubbly voice. Her energy always seemed to be contagious to me and always gave me a sudden burst of that energy she naturally projected.

"Hi Kayla! It's so nice to hear from you. I'm fine thanks. What's up?"

"I was just wondering if I could get started working on the garden tomorrow morning, if you feel up to it, of course. I'm just so excited, and have become kind of impatient. I hope I'm not being a pest. I just can't wait to get started," she said, as she let out a quiet little giggle.

I took a quick glance at my watch and saw that it was still early enough to swing up to the Hardware/Garden store, and said, "Yeah, sure, tomorrow is fine. I don't know what time you generally wake up, but I'd suggest you get here as early as possible. You'll be working pretty hard the first day, and it doesn't take long for the sun to get high enough to take its toll when you're doing a little heavy lifting. What time can I expect you? If you drink coffee, I'll have a fresh pot waiting for you. I make a fresh pot every morning anyway."

"I'm an early riser. What time would you suggest I get there? Just give me a time and I'll be there. Oh, and yes, I drink coffee."

"How does eight o'clock sound?" I asked, not wanting to get started much later than that.

"I'll be there. Have the coffee on," she enthusiastically said.

"Great! I'm going to run out right now and pick up a pair of coveralls to fit you. That way you can dress comfortably for your drive here and not have to worry about soiling any good clothes. You'll be getting pretty dirty the first day. Oh, yeah, if you have an old pair of sneakers you don't care about ruining, you might want to bring them along too. And wear sun glasses and maybe something for your head. I have sun block, so don't worry about that. Anything else you might need, I have here. I'll see you tomorrow then, and get ready to do a little manual labor. I have to leave now if I want to get to the store before they close. See you tomorrow . . . Precious."

"Okay. I have all your instructions ingrained in my mind. Mmm, being called precious sounds nice . . . I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then," I responded, before disconnecting.

The following morning Kayla showed up earlier than the 8 A.M. time we'd agreed on, obviously anxious to get started. She came into the house wearing a light weight, pale yellow, one-piece, short-short jumpsuit that buttoned from just below the waist to her neckline, with the two top buttons undone. The thing fit her like it was poured onto her and left nothing underneath to the imagination. Her lovely nipples were on disturbingly vivid display, along with an apparent slight 'camel toe' also visible. I could only imagine what her glorious young ass looked like while she stood facing me directly. "She looks absolutely edible," I thought, as I swiftly admired her. Oh, yeah, she was also wearing that naturally radiant, magnetic smile of hers. Her hair was in the conventional ponytail with a baseball cap covering her head, and the ponytail sticking out the back, between the adjustable snap, I presumed. I wouldn't have noticed the small shopping bag she was carrying had she not brought it to my attention, once she began talking.

Aware that I was carefully scrutinizing her sculptured body, she remained still and silent for a few seconds before ending my examination, by saying, "Hi, Bert! Hope I'm not too early, I just couldn't wait at home any longer. I brought an old pair of sneakers, like you suggested," she stated, as she slightly raised the bag while pointing to it with the opposite hand, then let out a little impish giggle.

My lascivious stares now interrupted, I snapped my head toward where her shopping bag was, and said, "Oh..., Oh yes . . . good." Pointing to the countertop, I said, "And there's your new pair of coveralls, all fresh and folded, awaiting the opportunity to cover and protect that stunning body of yours. I wouldn't wear them over your jumpsuit, however. You're more than likely apt to perspire today, more than you have in some time. It'd be a shame to ruin your lovely suit with stains of perspiration marks."

"Oh, I hadn't even thought of that. May I use your bathroom to change?" sounding very much like a little girl asking permission.

I said, while gesturing to a chair at the table, "Have your morning coffee first. I'm assuming you came here without having one at home. We have plenty of time. Besides, you may need that burst of extra energy coffee provides. Let me get you a cup . . . cream and sugar? If so, both are on the table, I'll get you a spoon, as well . . . Sit, relax, before we get started," I strongly suggested. Besides, I hadn't yet gotten a look at her gorgeous 'Tuchus', wrapped in her lovely fitted jumpsuit.

Before I got her cup and spoon I stepped back, causing her to walk between the table and myself, to assure me an unobstructed perfect closeup of her derriere. As I suspected, the material fit her as if it were another layer of skin. It revealed every luscious detail, from the rounded creases of the lower part of each cheek, to the entire crevice, vertically between them. I had to turn away and hurry to get her cup and spoon, before the beginning of this hard-on developing got out of control. This was not the right time to allow myself to indulge in such a tempting sight.

She sat down and placed her bag containing her sneakers on the floor, as I brought over the cup and poured her coffee, leaving ample room for cream and sugar, and topped off my cup, then sat down across from her. "God, she is exquisitely beautiful," I thought to myself, as she delicately sipped her coffee.

We had some idle chat about what she'd be doing today in the garden, as I explained to her that the plants she would be transplanting today were all late bloomers, but they would all be in full bloom before she headed off to college. She'd be able to see the full results of her efforts. She had numerous questions herself. After maybe, thirty minutes, Kayla finished her coffee, grabbed her sneaker bag, smartly stood up, and said, "Okay, I'm ready to get started, times-a-wastin'. I'll just get my gardening apparel and head for the dressing room. Bathroom is that way, right?"

I chuckled and nodded my head in the affirmative. As I watched her sashay down the hall to the bathroom, I thought to myself, "A sense of humor, to boot . . . the girl's the complete package."

I was standing in front of the kitchen sink, rinsing out our coffee cups and placing them in the dishwasher, when Kayla returned. The coveralls seemed to fit her perfectly. "I'm ready to do 'some plantin', and I'm totally 'Commando'," she bellowed out, as she opened up the top of her coveralls, allowing her firm tits to bounce out to freedom.

Not to be outdone, I said, equally loud, "So am I," as I raised one leg of my shorts, giving her an equally clear look at a portion of my now exposed cock.

She looked down, at my exposed penis, opened her eyes wide and shaped her mouth in the form of the letter "O", as if in shock, and said in a strong southern drawl, "Well I do declare my dear sir, such a shameful display! I must say, however, that is surely one bodacious specimen of manhood you have there." She then placed the back of four fingers of one hand against her forehead, and continued, "Dear sweet Jesus, remove this unholy temptation from my presence and make me turn away . . . You know in my heart I'm completely aghast and mortified by what's before my innocent eyes." She then snapped her head to one side, while closing her eyes, as if in a state of disgust and rejection. Leaving her pretend character, she then burst into a hearty laugh.

I was already laughing at her impersonation of something Scarlett O'Hara might say in the movie "Gone With The Wind", if a southern gentleman were to expose himself to her. "You're too funny, Kayla. But it's time to put the tomfoolery aside and get to work. The sun is getting hotter by the minute. That was a rather impressive southern accent you came up with, however. And, the contrast between your rendition of such a beautiful and sophisticated southern woman attempting to sound flabbergasted. Trying to appear embarrassed by what she'd just been exposed to, yet secretly loving the view. Being dressed in a common laborer's outfit, was quite an impressive sight, and a very humorous display of contradiction and confutation, I must say, . . . Bravo!"

Returning to her southern belle character, she went on, "Much obliged, kind sir. I'm forever indebted to you for those gratuitous venerations. I must say, judging by your exquisite choice of wardrobe, coupled with your eloquent manner of speech, it's rather obvious that you've been raised by a fine, upstanding family of sophistication yourself, . . . with a few exceptions of course."

"Alright, alright. Do you want to learn how to grow flowers, or would you rather go on practicing your impersonation skills? To the yard, young lady," I said, clearly joking, then chuckled aloud.

"Alright. Jeesh, can't a girl be even a little dramatic in this house?" she asked, as she secured the upper snaps of her coveralls, teasingly making a "Tsk" sound, by sucking her teeth with her tongue. She passed me, heading towards the door, then giggled like a small girl who had just gotten away with something she shouldn't have.

We worked on Kayla's garden the remainder of the morning. I instructed Kayla as to what needed to be done and only supervised, with the exception of where she was finding it physically impossible to do herself. How else could she appreciate completely what she'd accomplished and worked so hard at? We stopped only for a light lunch and ended finishing up around 2 P.M. Kayla was a true trooper. I was a little surprised by her commitment and work ethic.

Once finished and admiring her work, she looked like a poorly clothed, dirty child. A "Ragamuffin", if you will. Her coveralls were soiled from head to toe, in various degrees of dirt, grass stains, and mud. She had dirt marks across her forehead and on each cheek. Her hair was a stringy disarray of strands, hanging uncontrollably from all sides of her hat, which was noticeably askew as well, with its bill slightly to one side of her head. The way she looked made me smile, but I was extremely proud of her. She looked at me, blew a strand of hair from her eyes, rubbed her forearm across her forehead, smiled broadly, and asked, "Well, I think I'm done. What do you think?"

"About what? How you look or how the garden looks?" I jokingly asked, and smiled.

She made another one of those "Tsk" sounds, with her tongue and teeth, and acted annoyed. "Oh Bert . . . the garden, silly." She then turned back to her garden.

I looked at her garden, nodded my head, and said, "Yup, I'd say you're done, and it looks great. You did a real fine job. I hope you're proud of what you created. I'm proud of what you've done, and very proud of you personally. You're quite the young woman."

A glow came over her face, and her smile became even more broad upon hearing my words of praise and approval. "Really? Does it look that good to you?"