The Gift

The girl had picked him aside at her birthday party, and she had asked him about it, a bit, blushing, but without so many turns of words. He had been amazed, of course, but he had not lost his self-control. He had told her that for that birthday, she could forget about that, but for the next one, eventually, there were some chances. If she had not changed her mind.

The girl had smiled, nodding, and had left him, to go and talk with her school friends and the other relatives. She would have not changed her mind. She would have just waited.

But at least, the man had bought some time.

The man had seen the girl growing up. He was her uncle, a cousin of her mother. The only male cousin of a single child. And after her divorce, he had become something like a second father for the girl. She was sincerely fond of him. He had all the qualities that her true father had not. That's why her mother had divorced.

He had had an interesting life, working his way round the world, and he knew how to tell stories of distant Countries, of bridges and dams and pipelines to be built, of different people, of women... And she listened to him, while they were walking together. It was a walking adventure book, just his adventures were true. And he was one of the heroes. No vilains to be killed or damsels to be saved. Projects, difficulties to be faced, solutions to be found, precise calculations and well done job. With people of all the races, of all the religions and beneath all the flags. He had worked with black and white and yellow people, Jews and Moslems, Americans and Russians. it doesn't matter whether a cat is white or black, enough that he catches the mice. He had not invented that sentence, of course. But he often repeated it.

Even when she began the puberty, they always kept on strolling together. And he had never laid a finger on her. But she had other curiosities. How were the women in those Countries? Had he ever made love with them? And he, smiling, had answered. The Africans with that strange smell, oily, exciting. The small and delicate Asians,, apparently shy and dignified, but able to abandon themselves to a man as very few others. The beautiful and demanding Russians, especially demanding in bed, but able to repay in full and with the interests the man who succeeded in satisfying them...

He didn't speak very often about the American women, who knows why...

Certainly, a man like him had no need to harass a little girl. He had had enough women to be satiated, and he knew how to get other ones, adult ones, to spend a night with him, making them laugh or seducing them in other ways, if he just wanted. But it was exactly his self confidence which seduced her. Of course she knew she was just a little girl in his eyes, twice untouchable, because she was a "little girl", and because she was his relative, the daughter of his cousin. Not such a close relative to cause him to think about an incest, but the daughter of a woman who blindly trusted in him, and had all the right to do it. Even about her daughter. So he simply could not take advantage of that "little girl". Not on his life!

But she imagined him in bed with those women, of all the possible colors. Fancying to be one night a Mongolian girl, and the next one, a Kenyan or a Kossack one. He didn't go into details, when he told her about his meetings with them. But for this, her imagination was enough. Kisses on the body, his hand between the legs, and then...

Naturally other males had the same fancies about her, starting with her schoolmates. But for her, THEY did not exist. They went around cowboying, but really, they could not tame a pony, maybe not even a rocking horse, for all she saw. Dirty jokes, foolish double senses, obscene graffiti in the loos... And that should be "being cool?" Do they really think a normal girl could wish to "do something" with them? For God's sake, nunnery before that! "Better jailed or gone bust, than subdued to your lust!"

Her uncle, yes, he was a man. Certainly, he too knew the words those boys used ("F" word, "W" word, "S" word, etc.), but he didn't spout them every thirty seconds, as they did, just to show that "they had the balls" (but, did they have them?). Just as that Scottish gentleman he had told her about. "A Scottish gentleman is a gentleman that knows how to play the bagpipe, but he never plays it". Here, he was that kind of man.

That's why she had asked him about that thing, at the party. She had asked him not to tell her mother about her request, and she was sure he did not told her about it.

And she was right. He had thought about it, deciding to keep mum. She trusted him, this was important. To betray her trust would not have been a good idea. It was better off that way. To let her lull herself in that harmless fantasy. Harmless for a year to come, at least.

On the other hand, if he told her mother about the whole story, how could she react? Surely she would have been worried, maybe upset. Psichodramas, maybe a retribution. For something that could even be nothing serious. The crush of a young girl for a father figure, some months, and all could be gone, forgotten for good... A boy smarter and more mature than the other ones, a normal teenage love, maybe some tears to wipe... and the world would have kept turning...

He had mentioned his cousin that her daughter was not a child anymore. that her hormones were doing their job, and this had opened a new front. She had answered that the girl was keeping her head, and she could take care of herself. And it was true. She had raised her well. But the problem was always there.

"How would you react if she had an experience". he had asked her.

"I cannot hold her segregated," her mother had answered. "If she wants to do it, she will do it. I hope she won't get hurt."

He had nodded. Her cousin was right. You cannot defend your children from the world forever. You give him the line, the hints, a place to hide away and heal the wounds, a shoulder to cry on. But as for the rest, they must get by on their own. She was wise. Yes, she had married the wrong man. But, we all make mistakes...

The year passed, and the girl never caused problems. But at the new birthday party, she came to him again, with a smile which didn't allow replies. She had not changed her mind.

And it was too late to backpedal...

"I am not in love with you," the man told her.

"I know it," she said, calmly.

"It will be just one time," he insisted. "A one-off."

"I agree," she smiled.

"Think about it. We can do nothing still."

"I've thought about it all this year. And the last years too."

"I can give you any other gift."

"I know. But I want THIS gift. From YOU"

"You could have it from another man. A man you don't know yet. Better than me. In the future. Within just year or two. You can wait."

"I don't think so. Really don't think so... " she smiled again.

"It's not good," he shook his head.

"Have you told my mother about that?"

"No. And she never has to know."

"And she never will. Not from me."

"Tomorrow? It's Sunday."

"Tomorrow. I will tell mom we go to see a movie," she said. Fast and pragmatic.

And she came back to his friends with the most innocent of smiles.

Twenty-four hours later, he came to pick her up, hoping that she was not waiting for him under at the doorstep of her building, that she had changed her mind at the last moment. He knew that what was going to do was not correct. But she waited for him , with his beautiful false fur, "ecological", as they said. Not made of animal furs, but of pile. Virtually, recycled plastic bottles, he thought, smiling. It seemed sort of plush, soft as the hair of a Husky dog, white and black as a Husky. She looked as she was one decade younger. Yes, still a child. Confident toward of him. The time passes...

She mounted on a car and sat beside him, looking in front. At ease. No sign of hurry.

"We are mistaking everything, maybe," he said.

"Sooner or later it will happen," she said, without looking at him. "And I want it to be with you."

"I have almost been a father for you. I don't like it, now..."

"Yes: "almost". You have been the best "almost-father" of the world. That's why I want to do it with you," she smiled. She turned her face towards him. And she still had those childish eyes, happy, confident. "Let's go."

He turned the engine on. They traveled in silence, without looking at each other. She was all absorbed in her own imaginations, he kept thinking about what was he was going to do. "I hope she won't hurt herself", her sister had said. Sure he had to avoid hurting her, physically or in any other way. He had been clear: it was not love. And she didn't have any illusion, she could not have it. It was only a physical act. But it had to be a good one. He was an expert. He knew how to lead a woman to enjoy. He would have made her enjoy, before making her a woman. And if she had succeeded in enjoying even THEN... Well, so much better. it could happen too.

They got to his house. He disconnected the telephone, and then he thought only about her. It all happened without a word. They stripped each other, then they slipped into his queen size bed, and he started to kiss her, to touch her. She let him do, relaxed already. Everything was just as in her dreams: no hurry, strong, experienced, warm hands... They touched without hurting, held without grabbing, explored without violating. And after his hands, his lips. and among his lips, the tongue... All was more relaxing than the best massage, more stimulating than the most erotic of the novels she had ever read. And then it happened. Her breath shorter and shorter, her heart faster and faster, and her head emptier and emptier, the belly warmer and warmer, wetter and wetter.., Yes, it was really that: the great big "O"! Really great, this time! The ones she had tried doing it by herself were a joke, compared to that! For an instant she really believed to die. But just an instant. Then, it was better...

He let her enjoy all the sensations she got, waited so that she could rest, kissing her between her breasts and her hips. When she started breathing normally again, he looked at her, in her eyes.

"Are you sure you want to go ahead? To do it now?"

She nodded.

She let him lean over her, widening the legs. Closing the eyes, she nodded again and let him do. He entered slowly, expecting to meet a resistance, but if even he met it, it was a pure formality. He sank all into her, making her startled, but without a cry. It was done. She was a woman.

"Go on," she told him. "Go ahead... Go through..."

"Are you sure? Are you not afraid that..."

"No problem". she said, sure, smiling. He nodded: She kept her head clear. She had taken her "precautions"...

He went ahead, slow and sure, going all the way, and she welcomed him with pleasure. They didn't come together, but neither of them minded about it.

"Thanks of the "gift", uncle..."

"Don't mention it, baby. Happy birthday again. Sorry if I did not give you that yesterday."

"The birthday gift can be given even late," she chuckled. "Before, it's bad luck, but later, you can... "

Both of them snorted, and she kissed him on his nose.

Eighteen years...