What Has Gone Before

Lenora Lynn Gardner, was first seen by the protagonist of this story, David McHenry, at an Arizona grocery store. David is a successful and wealthy CPA (Certified Public Accountant) whose marriage to an immensely rich heiress was on the very edge of amicable dissolution.

"Leni," as David now calls her, unbeknown to her, entranced David because he noticed the vibrations her breasts imparted to her shirt, a worn, long-sleeved, cotton fabric. In addition to being impressed with her tits, he is also impelled to try to sneak a photograph of her because she is petite, strangely pretty, and equipped by nature with the previously alluded beautiful pair of tits. Not that he can see them, but being observant to such things, even under her loose fitting, well-worn shirt, he can see that Mother Nature had been generous to the tiny, slightly different-looking, but very pretty little girl. Despite sensing that there was something about the girl that was different, maybe even abnormal, David is thoroughly spellbound by her. His interest in a girl so young is uncharacteristic of him, and the fact that he's so physically attracted to her both surprises and confuses him. He tries, and miserably fails, to get a picture of the girl with his phone's little built-in camera.

He approaches her "Mom", who is initially somewhat confused by his interest in a girl so young, and asks if she'll allow him to photograph them. Following a rather lengthy, and thoroughly terrifying and surprising exchange with the older woman, to his continuing amazement, he ends up in a motel room with Lenora ("Leni"), determined to enjoy her in ways that, if discovered and reported to any law enforcement, or child protective agency, will land him in prison with the legendary and notorious "Bubba" as his cell-mate.

David reasonably fears that the girl's Mom will rat him out to the police but his fascination with, and his lust for, the little girl has ensnared him. If his illegal activities with little Leni are revealed, he knows that his comfortable life will be lost and he'll end up in prison, possibly in a cell with the infamous "Bubba." David is certain that, if he does end up with "Bubba," the relationship between them will not be one of his choosing and not only will he not enjoy it, he may not even survive it. The very thought terrified him the entire night he spent with Lenora (Leni), but the police did not show up to haul him off to jail. Instead events beyond his influence, or even his imagination, transpire. He feels as out of control as a leaf in a tornado.

Everything in his life is suddenly turned upside down, partially because of his involvement with Leni, but also because of things sometimes well beyond his control. Although, some of those things he can't control, in some cases, he might have avoided them if he really wanted to.

That notwithstanding, 'things' happened, and his conscience and sense of decency, as well as his growing affection for Leni, ... and also as his unabated lust for her, lead him to decide to become her legal guardian. What flows from this decision is the subject of this continuation of the original narrative.

His enchantment with her has not lessened but, in fact, has actually deepened having become greatly enriched by his steadily growing love of her as a person, not just a strange and sexy little girl, a sex plaything of short duration and little concern.

Things had definitely changed in that regard. He had come to know that his love and concern for her was real and lasting. Even if she'd been trying, and she had not, she could not have done a more complete job of wrapping him around whichever of her tiny fingers she chose. He was hers, and he knew it.

This sequel to "One Hell of a Week!" now continues in the saga of David and Leni.

Chapter 1

The phone call from Tom Brewer, one of my attorneys ? well, one of the two former attorneys of both my wife and I until her recent death in an automobile accident, awakened me to the fact that my life continued to be in a state of flux. "Flux?" Maybe the stronger phrase, 'turmoil,' might be a more accurate descriptor.

Although I was more than comfortably well-off without Ann, since she had died before divorcing me, and had not yet changed either her will or even her attorney, her vast and considerable estate devolved to me.

Although it may be difficult to believe, such a huge windfall had not been something I'd ever imagined. Nor, now that she had died, did it seem any more likely to be true. It just didn't seem to fit into the "real world." Such things didn't happen, "p.e.r.i.o.d."!!! This was one of those things, but . . . it had happened.

Ann had been considerably younger than I and was much more fastidious than I about maintaining a healthful lifestyle. Everything she did focused on healthful habits and living style. While I, to the contrary, was a bit overweight despite the time I spent several days of each week at the gym under the guidance of a personal fitness trainer. I also liked my bacon and eggs, and occasionally beer, wine, or a good Bourbon whiskey . . . and let us not forget the aristocratic and delicate peat-moss flavors of Lagavulin whiskey from the Isle of Islay, Scotland, land of my ancient, hardy ancestors. Unfortunately I looked like neither of Hollywood's "Braveheart," or Robert "Rob Roy MacGregor, so dreams of dressing up in full Scottish regalia, kilt, sporran and all the rest, and learning to play the bagpipes was never even a pipe-dream. . . pardon, if you will, the poor pun.

Now, with Ann's death, and my new role as the legal guardian of a young girl not yet into her teens, I decided to change my living habits. I wouldn't be drinking any more . . . or less, for all of that, but I decided to get off my ass and get into shape. The bacon and eggsd? Well, hell, that's not even a question worth bothering with; no unbuttered toast breakfasts for me, by golly!

My new attitude towards health habit improvements had already begun since the young girl in question had already become my lover. That is to say, I'd taken her to my bed, enjoyed her young, developing body, and proved myself to be a child molester of the first magnitude.

I'd enjoyed her so thoroughly that I'd fallen in love with her and, not only did I feel no remorse whatsoever, I devoutly wanted to continue to have sex with her. And, since we're on the subject of admitting things, the more the better.

I'd already had the freedom to do pretty much whatever I wanted to with my life. Ann and I had lived almost entirely off of her considerable wealth and I had been free to invest my own respectable income in stocks, properties, and other investments. I was wealthy enough even without Ann's considerable affluence, but having inherited her estate, which, in her own turn she'd inherited from her parents, I was now rich beyond my ability to imagine. A reading of the will would probably change that, but I wondered if improving on my knowledge would help imagining it all.

Yeah, I know.....that's a story so ridiculously unlikely that it's not even interesting. Even so, my inability to absorb the magnitude of change in my life did nothing to undo it. There it was; it had happened, I was one very rich, middle-aged son of a bitch.

Chapter 2

My partners in our accounting firm bought me out, including the building which had been my property, and which our partnership had used for the past nearly three years while paying me a below-market rental. At 39 years of age, I was retired. I now owned nothing except a few remote acres with a small house in the mountains, and a large, elegant, and almost palatial home in Phoenix which was listed for sale with one of my fellow Rotarians who had his own real estate company.

Several banks loved me. The IRS had me in their sights and was undoubtedly salivating at the prospects of relieving me of more money than I had ever even dreamed of having, but still leaving me with a huge amount. I had turned the entire estate tax/income tax free-for-all following Ann's death, over to my attorneys, Tom Brewster and Jerry O'Dell, and my very competent former partners in the CPA firm with which I had formerly been affiliated.

My attitude was basically, 'Whatever!' I'm no fan of big government and even less of the IRS, but I simply wanted it all over with and to get on with my life without ever having to bother with such matters again. A burgeoning business tycoon I certainly was NOT. As a matter of fact, I wanted as little to do with business and its time consuming responsibilities as possible.

Leni and I remained in our apartment suite on the 5th floor of a large luxury apartment building. The penthouse suites above were both occupied, but one occupant had given notice and I had quickly indicated my interest in relocating into it to the building's management.

It was now 8 months since the deaths of my wife, Ann, and Leni's Aunt Charlotte. I'd gotten a wonderful retired school teacher to "home school" Leni, and from her reports, Leni was doing extremely well. She suggested that I take Leni to see a neurologist.

The very suggestion that Leni may need such a physician's services awakened in me a sense that the tutor may have hit on something and the possibilities terrified me. Leni's gait had worsened a slight bit so I didn't delay at all. I immediately made an appointment with one of the best doctors in Phoenix, a nationally respected neurologist at the highly regarded Barrow Neurological Institute.

After about 3 weeks of an unbelievable series of tests, examinations and consultations, a preliminary diagnosis was that Leni suffered from a form of neurologically based ataxia that was causing her lack of muscular coordination. The expectation was that it would only get worse. Based on imaging studies of her brain, as well as a complete and comprehensive battery of tests, most of which were well outside of anything I had ever heard of, it was thought that the neurological condition was hormonally caused. More specifically Leni was thought to be suffering from a form of hypothyroidism with the unlikely possibility of a brain tumor affecting the pituitary gland not being completely ruled out either. All sorts of sophisticated scans, "imaging," and a variety of other tests hadn't found anything within her brain, but it was still kept on as a possibility, however unlikely.

She was immediately put on a regimen of thyroid hormone replacement. The improvements were almost immediate and significantly noticeable. She would probably have to remain on medication to maintain her improved condition, but that was a minor thing when viewed in the overall context of her health and wellbeing.

I was overjoyed, and completely relieved.

One day Mrs. Chopra, Leni's tutor came to me with a puzzled expression on her face, "Has Leni ever been taught mathematics?" She asked.

"Not that I know of, Mrs. Chopra; why do you ask?"

"Well, when I first started her program, I found that she was already well versed in basic arithmetic skills, but to be sure, I took her through what would be considered advanced arithmetic. Her performance was dazzling."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, "how good are your math skills, Mr. McHenry?"

"Pretty good," I answered. "Before I retired, I was an accountant . . . a C.P.A." I was a senior partner in McHenry, Gordon, Begay, and Wilson in Phoenix. My minor subject of studies as an undergraduate was mathematics."

"Oh," She said, "That's where the McHenry comes from." (She had just made the connection and recognized the name of my former firm.)

"Well, let me show you what I mean," she said and handed me a sheet of paper with a math problem on it.

The problem said to multiply by 8, then add 6, and subtract 9. The result of that was to be divided by 3 rendering an answer of 23. Given these steps and that result, what was the original number?

Of course, just by looking at the problem, without sitting down to work it out, I had no idea of the answer.

"Did she get it?" I asked.

"Can you figure it out?" She answered

"Yes."

Glancing at her wrist watch, she handed me a pencil and asked, "Do it, please."

I sat down and, within a very short period of time, handed the paper with my answer on it. Even though I was sadly out of practice in solving such elementary problems, it hadn't taken me very long at all and I was sure Mrs. Chopra would be duly impressed.

"6," She said. Very good. It took you just over a minute to reach the correct answer.

"How long did it take Leni?" I asked.

"Well," she said, "I really don't know."

"Why not? Didn't you time her?"

"She looked at the problem and gave me the answer," Mrs. Chopra said with obvious amazement.

"What do you mean? How did she do that?" I asked.

"I have no idea, but I'm coming to believe that, in her mathematical abilities, she's something special. She looked at it for just a brief moment and just said, 'Six.'"

"Good, Lord," I murmured.

"That isn't all," she almost whispered. Clearly, she was in a state of excitement mixed with other emotions, incredulity, and maybe even a little fear. At the very least, I could see that she was significantly impressed.

"What else?"

"Well," she began. I'm not a mathematician but I know of a trick problem that's basically elementary calculus, but simple logic can solve it without any need to resort to complicated mathematics. I posed the math puzzle to Leni, and again without hesitation, maybe 10, or 12 seconds at the most, she figured it out!"

Throughout this comment, Mrs. Chopra's voice had risen almost reaching a level of barely controlled hysteria.

"Did she solve it with pencil and paper or with logic? I asked.

"She just looked at it and told me the answer. Mr. McHenry, she's some kind of special child and has been given a gift by the gods!"

I was really taken aback by her intensity. She was quite emotional and that level of passion can sometimes be contagious. It was in this case, and I began to feel very excited myself.

"Show me the puzzle," I said.

The Puzzle:

Aliens, or some advanced scientists, have created a car that can accelerate at the rate of infinity minus 1 relative to the speed of light, ?-1. The car has an integrated anti-gravity system installed so as to protect the driver from the compressively lethal results of accelerating at its maximum potential. (Otherwise, that level of acceleration would be just as fatal as hitting a brick wall in an instantaneous moment of complete deceleration.)

The test driver of this car is told to drive the car from point A, on a two mile track, to Point C. Point A is the starting line, and point C is the finish line, two miles distant from point A. Midway between these two points, one mile distant from both A and B, is point C. In driving these two miles, the driver is told that he must average 60 miles per hour, exactly!

The driver, being somewhat fearful of a car that can theoretically drive at just short of the speed of light, and get to that speed almost instantly, is fearfully cautious, so he drives the first mile, from point A to point B averaging exactly 30 miles per hour.

The problem is: How fast must he drive the remaining mile, from point B to point C, in order to average 60 miles per hour for the entire two miles?

I looked at this for a moment thinking it through. "Hmmm, well, there are three factors here, time, distance, and rate. Driving two miles with an average speed of 60 miles an hour would take two minutes. But, he starts out slower than that and averages 30 miles an hour for the first mile. Hmmm.

"Ok, so driving one mile at 60 mph takes one minute, driving half as fast would double that time so driving one mile at 30 mph would take two minutes.

"If he has to average 60 mph for two miles and uses up 100 percent of that time driving only one mile, then it's impossible for him to finish the two mile course averaging 60 mph because he can't just instantly, without any time lapse, go from one point to another." This was true because of the rate of acceleration is limited by the minus one (-1) proviso in the problem. The mathematical method is a bit different, but the ultimate answer remains unchanged, logically or mathematically, it can't be done.

Having reasoned out the logic of this clever, but simple problem, I gave Mrs. Chopra my answer. "Well, the average person would say that the driver would have to complete the second mile at an average speed of 90 miles thinking that would satisfy the 60 mph average requirement, but that's not correct is it? Driving one mile at 90 miles an hour would take 40 seconds. Since he already used up his entire two minutes driving the first mile, completing the second mile at 90 mph would have taken him a total time of 2 minutes and 40 seconds, well over his allotted time. The answer is that it can't be done."

"Correct," she said, the same perturbed expression still on her face.

"What was Leni's answer?" I asked.

"The very same answer, Mr. McHenry. And she figured it out even faster than you did, Sir!"

In just a few minutes I'd gone from being pleasantly impressed to completely overwhelmed. "Goddamn. She's a fucking genius," I silently thought to myself.

"How is she doing in her other subjects, I asked." This was only Leni's third week with Mrs. Chopra. . . . No! This was Monday, the first day of her third week. She'd only been under Mrs. Chopra tutelage for two weeks! The reason I'd asked, is that I'd heard of people called "idiot savants" who could do amazing calculations but were bereft of any intellectual abilities beyond that strange, unexplainable ability. I knew Leni wasn't an idiot and, in fact, as I learned more about her, was much, much more intelligent than I'd been led to believe.

"Quite well," she answered. "I haven't yet tested her on any of the lessons she's been given, but on first hearing she seems to remember everything I have told her. That's quite unusual. I was going to wait until this Friday to test her progress, but I think I'll do it earlier"

"Whatever you think best, but I'm extremely interested in how she's doing and very excited by what you've told me this morning."

We parted as she went to the area we'd set up as a home school.

I called the principal who had replaced my wife, Ann, when she left to be with a fellow she'd been seeing before our divorce. All that's another story, though.

I wanted to know if they'd test Leni to see what grade level her home schooling and native intelligence had gotten her.

After learning that I was the former principal's husband, he was very cordial. He said he'd known Ann well and, as one of the youngest principals in the state, that she had been highly regarded. Of course, he mentioned how sad her untimely death was and extended his condolences to me. He had liked her and had been impressed with the improvements she'd made in the school's standing as its principal.

He said, "Sure, give us a call whenever you're ready and we'll set up a test for her."

I said that I thought we were ready any time he could take us in.

Chapter 3

The principal, Charles Goodman, came in to the waiting area in the main office. I'd been there for several hours enjoying the various situations students came in to deal with. Their dress habits were also interesting, but strange to an ol' guy like me. I was considerably relieved to note that, although a number of pretty little girls came into the office area, none of them had elicited in me any sexual excitement whatever. Not that several of them weren't drop dead beautiful and very sexy, they just didn't have any effect on my state of non-arousal.

Oh, well, that notwithstanding, I was well aware that I was a confirmed pedophile. If it weren't for Leni, and one of these sexy little critters was in my bed eager to find out what men and women commonly do there together, I wouldn't hesitate an instant to show them, again ,and again, and again if possi .... I mean, if necessary.

I'm sure that this would be true of the majority of normal heterosexual males; if one of these hot little numbers suddenly hopped into his bed and started kissing and cuddling him, he'd have a hell of a difficult time bringing himself to kick her out of bed. The deciding issue wouldn't be any behavioral standard society may have imposed on him; her sweet, firm, little female body, perfect in her youthfulness, would immediately render her age a non issue whether morally or just legally.

That's a given fact and you can take it to the bank! I think it's an instinctive thing imposed on us men by nature over tens of thousands of years. We may be rotten bastards, but that's just what Ma Nature intended for us to be. We are programmed to be sperm donators, and the more sperm we donate to any number of nubile females, the better nature likes it. Of course, young females being more likely to become impregnated, the more desirable they are compared to older versions of their gender. Mother Nature at work, right? Sheer genius. Anyway, that's my theory, and I'm not likely to change it.

"Mr. McHenry, come into my office please." I did. He held the door open for me as I entered and went directly to his desk setting some papers before him on his desk.

"How old did you say Lenora is?" He asked.

"Well, she'll be 12 in a few months."

"Did you bring her birth certificate, as we requested?"

"Yes." I handed it to him.

He spent a moment or two going over the document. "You haven't provided any school documentation, do you have that with you?"

"No, sir." I answered, "She's never attended school. The only schooling she's had has been in my home since I've been appointed her guardian. She's being taught by a Mrs. Amrita Chopra." I paused. " Just over two weeks now," I awkwardly amended.

"I know of Mrs. Chopra," he said. "Before she retired, she and I taught together at another school . . . our rooms were just across the hall. When she retired, and we all hated to see her go, the students themselves organized, paid for, and hosted a huge party for her in the Gymnasium. She and most of the students were crying their eyes out. I have to admit that even I felt quite emotional about it. The daily schedule had just gotten to be more than she wanted to deal with at her age."

"Yes, that's what she told me." I said. "But she didn't mention the party."

He nodded; my last comment wasn't as funny as I'd intended. "Mr. McHenry, is there more to this story than you're telling me?" He asked.

"What a cryptic question." I thought to myself. I answered him, "No, but why would you ask me that? I don't think I understand."

"Mrs. Chopra, was a natural science teacher; she didn't have the mathematical background to teach even plane geometry. She occasionally substituted for first semester algebra, but that was about it."

"Ok, but why are you telling me this?" I blurted that out before he was finished. This was strange but very interesting to me.

"Leni fairly well torpedoed the math assessment tests we gave her."

"Do you mean she failed them? She's never had any mathematics, but I wouldn't have thought she'd do that poorly, especially given what Mrs. Chopra has told me about her abilities in that area."

"No, Mr. McHenry, you haven't taken my meaning; she didn't fail, she did very well, so well that her scores were off the charts. She blew the doors off the tests and, we'd like to know how she did it."

"Beats the devil out of me," I said. Can I have a few minutes with her alone, I'd like to find out myself, but, until recently, she's had a hell of a tough life and I'd like to avoid asking or saying anything that would upset her. Is that ok?"

"Of course."

He left his office and a few minutes later, Leni walked in, with Mr. Goodman standing by the door.

"Just let me know when you're ready," he said. "I'll be just outside with my secretary.

He closed the door as I nodded affirmatively.

Leni looked concerned, but not afraid. I did want to ask her how she learned her math skills, but I could easily have done that in his presence. What I really wanted to do, since this was the first time she'd really been in a position to be questioned about any part of her earlier life, including whatever sex she'd experienced before I met her, and most importantly, *since* I'd met her, I wanted to prepare her to be very, very discreet. Jail still wasn't out of the question for me.

"Leni, Honey, who taught you how to use numbers and figure out math things?"

"Daddy Jack, when he wasn't drinking, and when someone else was awake in the house with us. He used to be a teacher, he said."

"Do you know what he taught?" I asked.

"No. Maybe arithmetic?"

"Hmmm, ok. Don't say anything to Mr. Goodman about the other things he did with you, ok?"

"No, I wouldn't. That's private stuff, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's no one's business but your own and very private." I answered her feeling much reassured. With that simple statement from her, I knew she would be even more careful to keep my own sins and crimes to herself. I was by now convinced that, not only was she not retarded, she was actually very smart and very perceptive. Her quietness and extreme shyness belied those things, however, and no one had ever bothered to really get to understand her feelings and why she had developed such regressive defense mechanisms.

I went to the door and let Mr. Goodman know he should come in.

"Mr. Goodman, you're free to ask her anything you'd like. Leni will tell you the things you want to know, won't you Honey?"

She simply nodded her head to agree.

"Lenora, where did you learn Algebra?"

"My God," I thought to myself, "She knows algebra?" Then I remembered that I'd once teased her about that and she'd said that she liked algebra. I'd thought little of it at the time, and eventually forgot about it ..... Until now, that is.

"Daddy Jack said substituting letters for numbers was algebra. He showed me." Mr. Goodman and I were both surprised down to our shoes. "He liked showing me things with numbers and how to use letters for numbers."

"Your father taught you then?"

"No, 'Daddy Jack' did. My father died and I never knew him."

"Have you ever gone to school to study any number things, arithmetic, or algebra? Or, if you haven't, was your Daddy Jack the only one who ever taught you these things."

"Just Daddy Jack. I don't go to school."

"Remarkable!" This said quietly, mostly to himself. "How are your reading skills?"

"I read goo ..... I read well. Reading is wonderful, and David buys me any books I want."

"I see," he said. "Remarkable," again said quietly as he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Really remarkable."

"Mr. McHenry, I think I can safely tell you that you just may have a child genius on your hands here. Would you be willing to drive down to Tucson? I have a very good friend there, a professor of mathematics at the University of Arizona, and I'd like for him to be able to interview Lenora. If not, I'm sure, with your permission of course, given what I'm going to tell him, that he'd be more than happy to drive to Phoenix to interview her here. Actually, with what he's about to hear, I don't think I could stop him from hitch-hiking to see her if that was the only way he could get here."

"Fine," I said. I'm retired and Leni would enjoy a little road trip, even though the drive between here and Tucson isn't all that scenic, we like to drive to different places together, don't we, Honey?"

"You bet!" She answered cheerfully, clearly very pleased, and using a phrase I've been trying to teach myself to use less. Little word habits, you know? The fact that she was cheerful in her answer was more important to me than the expected agreement. She was slowly, but definitely, coming out of her protective shell of shyness and being as non-verbal as possible. Things were just getting better and better for her. I was a very happy man.

Mr. Goodman immediately picked up the phone and, referring to something on his screen, probably a list of phone numbers, made the call to his friend in Tucson.

"Hi, this is Dr. Goodman at the Superstition Legends Elementary school. I'd like to speak to Dr. Franks, if he's available. Tell him I have a young lady and her fath, mmm her guardian here and I have some very remarkable things to tell him. Tell him, please, that we'll all be on the speaker phone with him."

A pause.

"Thanks," he said and pushed a button on his telephone set. A minute or two passed, during which, we all waited quietly.

"Hi, Tom, how are you? I understand you have guests with us, then?"

"That's right Art. With me are Lenora Lynn Gardner and Mr. McHenry, her guardian. Lenora is 11 years old. Mr. McHenry, Lenora, this is Dr. Art Franks of the University of Arizona's Department of Mathematics. He's Chairman of that department, and is on the Governor's Advisory Board of Educational Standards Testing.

"Hello, Mr. McHenry, Hi Lenora. I'm happy to meet you even if we can't see one another.

"What are we talking about here, Chuck?"

"Well, Art, as you know I haven't yet gotten approval from the school board to use the math evaluation tests you sent last year, right? I meet again with the Board of Education about them next month."

"Right, so, is this about the tests?"

"Well, partially, but also about Lenora, here."

"How so? Did you administer the tests to her?"

"Yes, I did."

"Which ones, those for pre-high schoolers, I assume?"

"No, Art, all of them. Clear through high school algebra."

"Why would you do that, Chuck? You know how closely keyed they are to grade-level skills."

"Art, you'd really better be sitting down for this; she aced them!"

"Really? "How well did she do, then? Obviously, you're about to tell me that she did really well."

"Art, she positively murdered them, all of them."

A pause, no comments locally or from Art in Tucson.

"Chuck, what were her scores?"

"100%"

"Wow, that's wonderful! For how many of the problems? What percent did she answer?"

"All of them. One hundred percent."

"All the way through high school algebra!? One hundred percent on all of them? That's not possible, Chuck! I wrote those tests to make sure that such a thing would not be possible! If the tests were taken within the prescribed time limits, there's no way she could have finished the entire battery of questions."

"Yeah, Art, I know; maybe you should rewrite them for kids like Lenora." He chuckled a little as he shook his head.

"We gave those tests to a number of second year grad students in the department, none of them finished and only a couple of them made no errors while doing their best to answer ALL of the questions as quickly as they could. Most of them couldn't believe we'd give them a test for kids in the lower grades, and felt a little insulted."

No one said anything to that. We just sat there, quietly listening to whatever Professor Franks might say next.

"You know that this is difficult to believe, don't you . . . no offense meant to you, Lenora and Mr. McHenry . . . I'm just sort of flummoxed at the moment . . . stunned really. Absolutely floored."

"Test her yourself, Art," Dr. Goodman challenged, his voice almost cracking with poorly contained humor. It was obvious that these two guys were very good friends. (College roommates, I later found out.)

"Can we arrange a meeting so that I can meet and talk to Lenora, maybe ask her some questions?"

I nodded a yes to Mr. Goodman and said aloud, "Yes. When would you like to see us?"

"Well he said, I have a department meeting scheduled tomorrow, but I'm the Department Chairman and I can postpone it, if tomorrow would be ok?"

I looked at Mr. Goodman, raising my eyebrows and nodding my head to see if what I was about to say would work for him, too. "Well, anytime actually. We have nothing planned during the entire day. We can meet as early as you like. This is so important to me that we're completely at your disposal, Sir."

"Good, I'll leave within an hour or two. Possibly," (there was a long pause) "...... could we all meet for breakfast tomorrow morning, then, and begin the day early?"

"Sure, that's ok with us, huh, Leni?" She nodded with a little smile. She was gorgeous, cute as anything and my heart almost burst from just looking at her with that little smile. Strangely, although, in my excitement, I only thought of this later, there was the slightest hint that Leni wasn't as happy as she was trying to make me think. I learned more about that, later.

"Do we meet here at the school, Dr. Goodman?"

"You can, but, unfortunately, I have to be at a school district principal's meeting and I don't have the luxury of postponing it."

"Dr. Franks, I said, meeting here at the school is fine, but Leni and I have an apartment suite at the Phoenix Lariat Towers and we can either meet in our apartment or I can arrange for a conference room. They have a very fine restaurant and concierge service and we can have luncheon served and refreshments as needed. I'm sure I can arrange for a guest room for you tonight there also, if that's ok?"

"No, no! That's not necessary; for something like this, the university will be more than happy to pay for all of it ? this entire trip and much more, unless I miss my guess very badly."

"Well, actually, if there isn't a more strenuous objection than that, to be honest with you Dr. Franks, I'd prefer to do it as I suggested. So, with your permission, I'll arrange things and we'll see you at the Lariat; just be sure to call me when you first get into town." I gave him our telephone numbers for home and mobile phones.

He agreed, with obvious reluctance to accept my determination to pay for his lodging, but with obvious excitement at meeting the child who had scored so highly on his tests.

Leni and I left for lunch. Mexican food, always my favorite, and rapidly becoming Leni's as well. Rosita's, an excellent, small, family-owned restaurant in Mesa, a large suburb near Phoenix.

On the way, I called the Lariat concierge and arranged for a guest suite for Dr. Franks, ordered a very nice sea food luncheon that would satisfy most folks and make Leni's entire day. She loved sea food. I'd finally gotten her to eat more of it than just shrimp, which had been the first of such fare she'd tried and was one of her permanent favorites.

Dr. Franks called at 3:30 PM just as he entered the outskirts of metropolitan Phoenix. After getting him set up in a top grade guest suite, we took him to dinner at a small Mexican food restaurant . . . he had earlier indicated that Mexican food was one of his favorites. Leni and I could eat that wonderful stuff 21 times a week, so we took him to Los Dos Molinos, a place, again, coincidentally, in Mesa, that served *very* spicy Mexican food in the fiery New Mexico style.

He was embarrassed that I'd pre-paid everything and that he couldn't use his University of Arizona faculty credit card. I didn't care, this was too important to me, and I told him so.

I did let him pay for dinner at Los Dos Molinos, however. Being courteous sometimes means not forcing unwanted generosity on anyone. This was such a case. He was clearly pleased and I'm pretty sure used one of his own credit cards rather than the one provided to him by the university.

We met for breakfast the next morning in the very upscale restaurant on the ground floor. Being in the heart of Phoenix's business district, it was busy, filled with businessmen and residents too lazy, or too old to cook for themselves, or who were so damn rich they didn't have to cook for themselves.

I took him to our apartment, one of the two penthouse apartments by now, and showed him my office to see if it would be adequate. He said that it would be more than adequate, but asked if the hotel's management could send up an overhead projector. I was sure they could, and would, and they did. All within 15 minutes.

One of the young men and a young lady who had been charged with such tasks quickly brought his several briefcases and his laptop computer bag and we began the day.

Chapter 4

Leni again did well on the tests. In some cases, the professor had to explain a few things before turning her loose on the actual test. In order to do this without divulging anything that she would encounter in the test, he would ask a few questions to see where her learned data left off and where her, apparently, innate skills with mathematics would take her, despite the lack of any preparatory training. There were a number of mathematical symbols that she had not seen before and their meaning and context in a formula had to be explained to her.

After 3 ˝ hours, he called a break and I had the lunch I'd previously ordered sent up to us. Conversation was a surprise to me. It was not about mathematics, but rather about scholarships and what Leni envisioned as her chosen professional field.

It wasn't that I was taken by surprise that she wasn't "retarded" as everyone in her life before had previously thought. Although, from the beginning that was my callously unthinking assumption as well. I'd simply listened to the ill founded opinions of others and accepted them at face value, assuming they knew what they were talking about.

Well, obviously, they hadn't, and it was only gradually, as I spent time with her, that I came at first to suspect that she wasn't retarded, and later to firmly believe that she was very smart. Altogether, the level of attention and respect she had earned from her test scores, and her gift of mathematics had suddenly brought her, had forced me to reevaluate even my later, more optimistic assessments of her intelligence and abilities. To say that I was in a state of shock would not be accurate, but I was still somewhat overwhelmed with the sudden onslaught of recent events.

At the end of the day, Professor Franks said that today had been one of the most interesting, and important days in his career as an academician, an educator, and a mathematician.

Leni's performance on his tests had revealed a number of what he described as design flaws based on a few false assumptions. He also said that, without doubt, Leni gave every evidence of being a truly great math prodigy. Now, this, I will confess, just damn near floored me. Smart, yes. Gifted, undoubtedly. But a great math prodigy? I could find nothing to say, but just sat there, probably with my mouth agape.

Leni simply asked what a "prodigy" was. Talk about irony!

Professor Frank asked a few questions of me regarding the possibility of having Leni study under several alternative schemes. One of his main concerns was her age and the need for someone to look after her in a couple of possible educational settings and venues. I told him that was no problem, I was retired and I'd take her anywhere she needed or wanted to go.

He pointed out that the costs of travel, lodging, and other expenses might, over a long period of time, prove to be a financially burdensome. Of course, I assured him that we could afford whatever might be involved and not to worry about it. Not only was I retired, I said, but had more than adequate funds to allow whatever was necessary to see that Leni received every opportunity to develop her skills to the maximum extent possible.

I don't think he actually believed me, but he did have the courtesy not to question me further on that subject. It wasn't brought up again.

He indicated that, whether we had adequate funding or not, the University of Arizona was immediately, right then and there, offering her a full scholarship, with all expenses paid not only for her B.S. degree, but to whatever level of graduate work she cared to pursue at the University . . . same deal: all expenses and probably a generous academic stipend and additional income as a graduate teaching assistant if she either wanted or needed it.

To me, though, the most impressive thing he said was that, until today's meeting with Leni, he had intended to retire within a year or so. Now, having met Leni, and conditional on her wanting to study mathematics at the U of A, he had no intention of retiring at all. He said he could hardly breathe he was so excited at even the possibility that she might become one of his students. Given that this man had last year won the Leroy P. Steele Prize for Lifetime Achievement Award in Mathematics, and the year previous had been elected by his peers in the field to the office of President of the American Mathematical Society, I was appropriately very impressed.

On his departure, he assured me that we'd be hearing from him and a couple of other University people. He asked what freedom we would allow him to speak of her talents outside of academic circles. I told him that I would appreciate his discretion even within the confines of the school and, outside of that, he had entirely no freedom whatsoever to discuss either Leni, or her mathematical abilities, and that I would hold him accountable for any breach of her privacy resulting from his personal knowledge. I said it nicely, but there was no doubt as to my resolve. Leni was not going to become anyone's pet monkey to "show and tell" and that was all there was going to be about that.

He assured me that he understood completely and promised that he would not disappoint me, or Leni. I thanked him. So did Leni, but I don't know if she really knew what difficulties or troubles I was trying to keep her from encountering.

On his departure, since it was then shortly after 5:00 PM, it was too late to start any home kitchen projects, so we decided to go out for dinner. We decided on simple sandwiches at Subway.

As we left, just as I was buckling my seat belt, Leni asked me, "Will we be going to Tucson, then, David?"

I said that it seemed very likely that we would and asked, "Why?"

"Because," she said, you take showers with me in a motel and then we sleep in the same bed together. We don't do that anymore."

We had done neither since my wife, and her Aunt had died. Leni, had gone to her room, used the bath facilities in her mini suite, and left me to my own devices, including sleeping alone. I had just assumed that was her new preference and accepted it. I had come to accept it as the new, but unwelcome normal for us.

I loved her as much as any father could possibly love his own child because she was that to me, my own child. The fact that she'd also been my lover and that I'd had sex with her several times had nothing, and everything, to do with loving her. I still thought she was the absolutely most beautiful thing I'd ever seen and the very thought of her body still brought me to an instant state of hardness and rampant sexual desire. Honoring her wishes, as I had erroneously perceived them to be, made it fairly easy, if uncomfortable, to keep to my own bed, and not to ask her to join me in mine.

No longer speaking to her as a child, but keeping in mind that that was exactly what she still was I explained this to her.

"So we don't have to go to Tucson to a motel to be together at night?" She asked with a little grin on her face when I'd finished my explanation.

"Nope, not at all. We can do anything we want together. What we do together is only our business."

"And you like to sleep with me in your bed?"

"Yep, Sweetheart, I really do. You're beautiful and I love to be able to wake up and feel you next to me."

"Will you kiss everywhere on me again if I want you to?"

"Only as long as my lips don't fall off, or wear out from kissing you so much," I said not feeling half as foolish as what I'd just said.

That earned one of her best smiles, not just a shy little grin. "Can we do sex stuff again, too, then?"

"Honey, if that's what you want to do, I would love to have sex with you anytime you want to and as often as I'm able. Is that what you want?"

I didn't know seat belts could be unfastened so quickly. She somehow launched herself out of the bucket seat without ever seeming to even touch her seat belt buckle, and was hugging my neck and occluding my vision by kissing me all over my face."

I managed to pull over into a grocery store's parking lot before we caused an accident. No, in case you're wondering, not the same grocery store where I'd first seen her. That would have been far too ironic, even in a story as implausible as my relationship with her has been.

"I'm so happy," she said.

"Me too." And I really was. Despite its occasional sadness, life is good, really, really good.

When we got home, Amrita had prepared a traditional Indian chicken and vegetable curry dish for us and we all ate it together out by the swimming pool. Leni and I both decided that we needed to try more Indian food.

Amrita had mentioned to us her marriage as a child-bride by way of preparing me for a surprise disclosure. While Leni was swimming, Amrita and I sat in the gathering darkness, enjoying the heat of early evening with our feet dangling in the cool water of the hot-tub/turbo jet sitting pool a few feet away from the main pool.

"Mr. McHenry?" She began.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"I don't want to intrude into your personal life, and please stop me if you wish, but I would like to ask a question of you."

"Sure, Amrita. What is it?"

"You know Leni is in love with you, do you not?"

Completely taken by surprise because Leni and I had maintained separate bedrooms since I had contracted with her, I could only raise my gaze to meet hers. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"No, Leni has said nothing to me, Sir. But do not forget, I come from a society where marriages are arranged often between mates of vastly differing ages. Leni, has said nothing, but I know what I see, and I think you share love for her. I want you to know that, if this is true, I wish you the Seven Blessings."

Lacking anything intelligent to say, and not wanting to incriminate myself in any way, I said, "Seven Blessings? What are you talking about, Amrita?"

This turned out to be probably the most sensible thing I could have said.

"In a Hindu marriage the couple is married by a holy man we call a pandit. He pronounces seven traditional blessings upon the couple. They are very simple, beautiful and if listened to, and carefully observed by both man and woman, and then practiced throughout life, they will be happy together."

"I see," I said. I didn't, but that's what I said.

"She is beautiful and will be a good wife and you are a good man. I think you will be happy."

"Amrita," I said, she's a child still."

"And you think, because she is a little girl, that she cannot love you as a woman?"

"I don't know."

"Mr. McHenry, my religion is centuries older than even your Christianity and this is not something new about men and women. It is not changed over thousands of years. In my own life, even though I did not agree with my husband's foolish political views, the Seven Blessings allowed us to be happy together."

Again, especially since I couldn't think of a damn thing to say, silence seemed prudent. I was feeling very 'prudent' at the moment.

"I think you love her as a woman, Mr. McHenry. I think you will be a successful husband and wife together. The laws say it is not possible, but the law does not know everything, nor does it need to, I think."

"That's very nice, Amrita, but any love between us is going to have to wait for a number of years, and who knows what will happen over time?"

"Mr. McHenry, if you will allow me to continue?"

"Well, against my better judgment, Amrita, and only because I know you love Leni and have done a remarkable job teaching her; and also because I value you very much . . . go ahead."

"Mr. McHenry, ........."

"David," I interjected. "Call me David, Amrita. Under the circumstances, let us speak as friends, please."

"It is not proper, but, alright, 'David,'" she said graciously. She nodded her head and turned to me.

"David, you must know that, with your money, you could live in India and be her husband. With freedom to travel, you could live in both countries and be married, even though you must keep secret here what you do. You know this, right?"

"Well, I really hadn't thought about it, Amrita."

"You must think about it, David. How can you both be happy if you always hide?"

It finally occurred that I'd implicitly admitted to more than I'd intended in this conversation, but, at this late juncture, my level of trust with Amrita was virtually boundless.

"Even if you stay here only, and not go to India, you can still join together with her." She was shaking her head as though to say 'no,' but that was clearly not her meaning. "My traditions tell me there is nothing wrong with your relationship with her. There is love; you are a man and she is a woman. What else is necessary?"

"What are the Seven Blessings?" I asked.

"Plentiful resources and help one another always, many comforts. Always strong together and help one another to be strong. Prosperity, and wealth. Eternally happy with one another. Happy family life. Perfect harmony with truth to marriage promises and values. Always be best friends."

"That sounds like more than seven," I said. "But they're all very logical and make great sense."

"Yes, Hindu marriages, when blessings are observed, are very strong. You need this with Leni, David."

"But Leni, we're not Hindu."

"I know pandit who will not care, but understands marriage like this, young girl, older man. Very natural, very logical, the only problem is in this country, very illegal."

I had to laugh at this. I noticed that Amrita's speech patterns had changed, she seemed to be speaking without her usual very proper upper-class-English sounding accent and in a more staccato, even syncopated, kind of rhythm. It sounded somehow as though she had suddenly become less familiar and articulate with English.

"Pandit will marry you with blessings in Hindu manner without being Hindu. Not uncommon, some English in India have ceremonies based on Hindu traditions. Very solemn, very beautiful; not Hindu. You think about it, David. You love Leni. She will make excellent wife for you. She won't find a better man. You think about it."

I sat there. Amrita got up, patted me on the shoulder and walked into the apartment to her room.

I sat there. Leni got out of the pool and came over and sat by me, putting her hand on mine.

"Did you hear any of that?" I asked.

"Some," she said.

We sat together, each thinking our own thoughts.

After sitting there for some time, each of us now holding hands, Leni said, "David, I'm tired and the breeze up here is getting cold. Let's go to bed, ok? I want to be loved and held."

I was beat, myself. We got into bed together, the first time in months and all either of us wanted at the moment was to be close to one another. I took her into my arms kissed her face a number of times, then her mouth. She was soft and felt very cuddly. Sleep was rapidly overtaking us.

"Do you trust her?" I asked. I knew she understood I was asking about Amrita.

I waited for her to answer, and finally, when I was sure she'd gone to sleep, she softly answered me. "Yes, I trust her. She's a very good person."

I nodded my agreement but said nothing. She indicated she'd felt my silent answer by giving me a brief squeeze on the arm I had laid over her little midsection as we closely spooned off to sleep together.

The next morning we awoke in the same position. "Good morning, Sweetheart," I said.

"Good morning," she said snuggling backwards to spoon herself closer to me and taking my arm and pulling it closer around her.

"What are we going to do today?" She asked.

"Well, I think we need to think about a larger place to live; what do you think?"

"I don't know, is Amrita going to stay with us very long?"

"I hope so, I've increased the money we pay her to make sure that she doesn't leave us. I think she's an excellent teacher and she's done a good job so far, don't you think?"

"Yes." She answered, apparently meaning 'all of the above.'"

"And then there's last night."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that."

"What do you think?"

" I don't really want to live in India."

I laughed and she joined in.

"I guess we can think about it," she said.

She then turned her upper body towards me, without moving from our "spooned" position, and kissed me. My dick was already hard from feeling her soft, naked little body next to me. She raised her right leg and reached down for my cock, then placed it in the soft depression between her legs. I pushed gently into her a little bit and then pulled back some.

Repeating this process gradually lubricated my cock as it penetrated deeper and deeper inside of her. She felt wonderful; soft, warm and increasingly wet from our joining, as we continued to enjoy our first lovemaking in quite some time. I tried not to concentrate too much on the snug wet embrace her little pussy was giving my slowly plunging dick. I didn't want to cum too quickly. I reached over her and hefted the weight of her breasts, one after the other. Suddenly, I felt her vagina squeeze me. "Are you cumming, Sweetheart?" I asked.

"No," she said, "I read about some muscles inside me that I could use to squeeze you, does it feel good?"

I'd have answered her but I'd already shot my first stream of cream up inside of her and couldn't answer until I'd finished emptying myself into her. I came so hard my legs were trembling, and my breath was sort of catchy and panting.

She laughed as she put her hand down between her legs and felt the soppy wetness of my sperm flowing heavily from her inundated little pussy. "I guess that it did," she laughed.

"God!" I managed to gasp that out but couldn't find anything else to say, at least for the moment.

Finally, I said, "I love you Leni."

"I love you, too, David."

As it turned out, cumming as soon as I had wasn't all that bad. My rod retained all of its stiffness so I just kept pumping into her, deeply and slowly. Each thrust, as I bottomed out inside her pressed the head of my dick into her soft slick flesh far inside her sex. She felt so good to me.

I pulled myself out of her and turned her so that she lay on her back. I quickly took a position on my knees between her thighs and pulled her body towards me. Since my dick was almost perfectly aimed at her pink little cunt, all I had to do was bend forward slightly to aim directly at it. I pushed forward and her slick, soft lips parted fatly on either side of my cock as I slid smoothly into her tightly gripping little pussy tube. As I did, for the first time, I noticed a few darker hairs just above her pussy. Although that was sexually stimulating to me, the thought occurred to me that, "we'd have to do something about that."

It was certainly true that the further development of her secondary sexual characteristics was exciting, I also knew that the sight of her naked, bald little pussy was the epitome of a sexual turn-on for me. Still, the few little hairs was a further signal that Leni was nubile. She could already be ovulating and fucking her this morning just might be the actual act of pumping a baby into her still maturing little belly.

"Leni," I said, "have you begun your periods yet?" I didn't stop ramming in and out of her as I asked the question looking down at her gorgeous tits as they shook with each inward thrust.

"Yes, last week I started bleeding. Amrita took me to the chemist, er...pharmacy and got me some tampons."

I didn't say anything but the thought, "Jesus!" came to me. She was ready for breeding and I may be fathering a baby on her at this very moment.

"Leni, Sweetheart, I may be putting a baby into you this morning." Her eyes suddenly widened as the thought sank into her thinking processes. She looked down at her belly, at her crotch where my cock was happily sunk into her body and about to soak the entrance to her uterus with spermy semen. "Oh!" She said softly.

Then, she began breathing heavily. Her abdomen and chest swelled with each breath. "Oh, oh, oh. Oh, David! Oh, oh, oh, God! God! David fuck me hard, really hard!"

The whole scenario, the visual impact of her pretty legs, thighs spread wide and draped over mine, my dick plunging deeply into the pretty little cunt at the tops of those thighs, the curvy hips, tiny waist and flat belly, and the thought of my dick deeply embedded up inside that flat little belly, the sexy jiggling of her firm, full breasts and the exotically different, beautiful little face, her long hair, all of that, now combined with the idea that I may be impregnating my little girl triggered a massive convulsion of the muscles in my body that controlled ejaculation. I spurted a massive amount of sperm into her. That injection of semen was followed by several others, each seeming to be so powerful that I'd never be able to fuck again.

Beginning at the first gush into her, I rammed as deeply into her as I could. She was still grunting out little words and mini-phrases as she climaxed. She squeeked as I pushed forcibly into the farthest reaches of her cunt. Suddenly, her legs stiffened and stuck straight out on either side of me, no longer bent over my thighs. She then quickly locked them behind me and squeezed me between her calves and the junction of her thighs. I was as tightly joined with and into her as I could be. She put her hands over her tits and began working them furiously. For the first time, she and I had reached the pinnacle together; our sexual climaxes coincided. Her internal muscles began

"Let's go shower and think about things some more."

She laughed and said, "Yeah, we think really good in there." She quickly got out of bed and was waiting for me when I caught up with her moments later

I turned the water on and adjusted it for temperature. It warmed rapidly and we both got into it. I adjusted each shower head, two on each side and a rain head above us if we wanted. I left it off. Showers had always been a sort of playground for us and this morning wasn't any different.

Leni squeezed a hair shampoo bottle into her hand and began sudsing her hair. I decided to join in and, with hands freshly charged with more shampoo, joined in. With her head piled up with foam, she sort of looked like an ice cream cone. I told her that.

"Leni, you look almost like an ice cream cone with all the suds on you."

"She had a huge grin and said, "Well, if you're going to eat it, don't start with the white stuff on top."

Smart girl. I knelt and began suckling on one, then the other of her gorgeous tits. Whichever of them was not getting tongued was gently fondled with my hand. I hefted and sucked each of her nipples enjoying the firmness of the nipples and the soft weight of each beautiful breast.

I wondered, as I sucked on her breasts, how her milk would taste. My dick, already stiff, suddenly assumed granite-like rigidity. It, and I, decided we wanted nicer quarters.

I picked Leni up and held her so that the water from both of the upper shower heads were spraying her below her face and high enough to let my upwardly pointed dick get a good view of the sweet little pussy it was going to inhabit shortly. I thought about the hundreds and hundreds of thousands of sperm already inside her, swimming around trying to find the entrance to her womb, looking for a little egg to fertilize.

Somehow, even as I held her, I couldn't figure out just how she managed it, but she bent her body and reaching downward aimed my stiff rod at her pussy. I put her up against one of the walls of the shower and lowered her a slight bit to facilitate her efforts to join us.

I felt the head of my dick find the soft, wet nest of the opening of her sex and rammed myself upward, deeply penetrating her as far as was possible. Her pubic bone gave a delicious pressure to the base of my deeply inserted rod. Without any further goings on, we began a slow rhythm of moving my dick deeply into her and then out so that each successive thrust required a complete re-entry into the opening of her vagina. It had been a long dry spell, but Ol' Pete, as I had called him since I had my first boyhood erection, was yet again luxuriating in the sweet, soft, tightly constricting confines of his favorite lodging place. The semen I'd already spurted into her made her little fuck-tube slick and fucking her was somehow frictionless and yet it was an intense, deeply sensate sensation to feel myself go far up inside her and then out, only to again push between her outer lips and into the softly constricting opening to her body. Leni's pussy was living proof that a man didn't need to die to be in heaven.

Obviously, this delightful activity couldn't go on forever and after only about four or five minutes, my passion for her body overtook me. I pressed her against the wall with more force and rammed myself as deep into her little sugar-cup as I could and, at least for a few moments, enjoyed more of heaven than mortal man should be allowed. Each spurt of my semen, injected deep into the little girl I loved, was exquisite.

After the second squirt, her vagina again began a rhythmic, wave-like pulsing that seemed to have the effect of milking my joyfully erupting dick. My sex cream had accumulated inside her to the point that, each time I rammed home into her, semen poured out of her pussy and was washed off of us by the shower water.

I arched my back and, continuing to press her against the wall, lowered my face to allow me to resume sucking her firm, fat titties all the while enjoying the absolutely excruciating pleasure of her vaginal contractions. What she'd been mumbling throughout our fucking, at least until her orgasm overwhelmed her, resumed at a higher volume. "Oh, oh, oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, oh, oh, oh, God, oh God."

Without backing my dick from its deepest point of penetration, she began to rhythmically press her groin tighter against me as though she wanted to somehow pull or push the rest of me into her. She lowered her face and, as I continued to suck her tits, bit the skin at the top of my shoulder. Although it hurt a bit, she couldn't have done anything that I enjoyed more.

Then we both assumed a more vertical position, with me withdrawing from her not even a centimeter, and she began mouthing, nipping and breathing into my ear. It was intensely erotic and I had no humanly possible alternative than to resume shunting my still hard cock as deeply inside her as far as I could. Again, long, slow deep-fucking just seemed natural to me.

After only a few minutes, Leni began, or maybe resumed, her orgasm. I couldn't stop ramming into her so her internal contractions weren't as noticeable as they had been before, but the pleasure of feeling the smooth, gliding of my dick going deeply in and out of her was all I needed at the moment.

Again, she began nuzzling, breathing into, and gently nipping at my ear and again, I spouted my baby seeds far up into the deepest reaches of her firm little belly. The thought reoccurred to me again and again, "I wonder if I'm pumping her full of a baby?" That only increased the intensity of my last couple of seminal injections.

I was finished and felt like it was time again to go to bed and rest. My formerly dependable friend had wilted; Ol' Pete was as wiped out as I felt.

I set Leni's feet back on the shower floor, my defeated warrior limply falling out of her pussy as a veritable deluge of pearly cream oozed out of her. My injected fluids ran onto her inner thighs and was sluiced off her and down the drain. I wondered how many little swimmers were still inside her, not caring whether it was Easter or not as they searched for the only egg potentially available to the ultimate victor among their millions.

We exited the shower, but not until I'd stuck my fingers up inside of her and sluiced out her cunt as much as I could. I wasn't interested in tasting myself if the urge to suck her sweet little pussy took me.

Now almost completely dry, I picked her up and carried her outside to the patio. I picked her up, and with my sperm still flowing from her little cunt, began walking down the steps into the swimming pool. The arm I had supporting her under her legs was slick with the cum steadily leaking from inside her. I shifted her slight weight a bit to enjoy the feeling or her flesh slightly sliding over my pussy-lubricated forearm. Leni just lay in my embrace with her face pressed close to me. I kissed her face as we got deeper into the cool, refreshing water.

"Now, this," I thought to myself, "THIS is THE WAY to live!" The pool water had little strands and globules of semen floating around as they were washed from the continued leaking of Leni's sperm-filled pussy as well as from our skin.

I just held her nearly weightless body in the cool water and slowly walked around in the water enjoying the feel of her wet little body held so closely to me in the cool, really refreshing water. Even though it was still early morning, the thought that a bottle of champagne would sure be nice came to me. No luck with that wish, but, who was complaining, anyway? Not me!

The view from the very top of the building, over a reasonably high protective barrier surrounding us, was remarkable. Early on a summer morning, the air still hot and dry from yesterday's intense heat felt wonderful. It wouldn't last, but for the moment, it was extremely comfortable. Except for Leni's shoulder length hair, we both soon became completely dry of any shower water.

Remembering that we had a boarder, I said, "We'd better get dressed," and carried her into my bedroom. In her room, her bed remained unslept in: evidence of my sexual perfidy in the eyes of the law and most of society and almost completely ignored by us. I had again betrayed the public trust as the legal guardian of a girl not yet into her teens. Her fuck tube was still carrying the evidence of my crime. I didn't give a rat's ass about it. Life was good; I was sexually satisfied, sleepy again, and very happy.

I took Leni back to bed and we left the bed coverings completely off of us, the sliding glass door to the swimming pool wide open and we slept.

Chapter 5

There are a number of advantages to living high above ground level. The city smog is less dense, the breezes more consistent resulting in fewer flying insects including flies and most of the mosquito population that generally stay closer to the ground-level food source necessary to the blood-sucking female portion of that noisome, noxious species.

I can see why God made flies, even though they're disease carriers, they're super carrion cleaners even though they're also attracted to anything else they can use as a food source. But mosquitos? What possible benefit are they to nature? Well, maybe as a food source for birds and a few species of reptiles, but a less sinister little bug could also have taken that role. Too bad I didn't have the powers to make such a beneficial adjustment to Mother Nature's program. Oh, well. Nature had had plenty of time to get things better arranged than I could do. It would be nice to get rid of mosquitos, though. Flies too, for that matter . . . . fuck ecologies "perfect balance" fuck flies!

Haven gotten ourselves dressed, we sat down to a simple, quick breakfast of cereal, milk and some fruit. I really wanted something more substantial, but I had a number of things in mind and time was slipping away. The sun was now completely up and the heat already climbing back into its normal oven-like range for this time of the year. It was going to be another Arizona scorcher of a day.

"Leni, I know we both like it up here, but with Amrita occasionally staying with us, and having her own room, we really need a larger place. What do you think?"

She picked up a succulent slice of Utah peach from her cereal and chewed on it, obviously thinking. That was a quality about her that had not changed, fortunately.

Growing up with everyone around her convinced of her mental disability, her propensity to either say nothing, or methodically think about what she was going to say had given the impression of mental retardation. Now, knowing full well the error of such thinking, I thought that her patiently thoughtful deliberations were charming. When spoken to, she devoted her full attention to the speaker, carefully absorbing and considering what had been said before any answer, if she answered at all. Many comments said to her were duly heard, considered and remembered without comment from her. One needed to learn the courtesy of allowing her to consider an answer to questions put to her. It wasn't being mentally slow, to the contrary, she was very deliberate and thoughtful. Glib or flippant remarks just weren't her style.

She was not garrulous or quick to make an unconsidered comment. Far from being mentally slow, this was one really intelligent little chick. I loved that about her. What a priceless little thing she was!

"Well," she eventually said, having swallowed her bite of peach, "why are you selling your old house? It's really big and has a lot of rooms and even a couple of smaller houses. Amrita could have her own suite of rooms with privacy and with no inconvenience to us."

She'd said her piece, concisely and conclusively. Now, she waited patiently for me to consider the idea. It was obvious that whether I answered, or not, she was content to have planted the seeds of her thinking and to wait for whatever would grow from them. How many people do you know who behave in such a quiet, self-assured, and considerate manner?

Even my sweet, Ann, during the best of our few years together wasn't so patient or considerate. On writing this, that sounds like an invidious distinction that I don't intend to make. I know that I certainly wasn't a role model in this regard.

I felt guilty making even that tiny comparison. Ann and I had been in the process of divorcing. She'd been unfaithful for most of our last year together, and even though I sort of suspected it, we'd drifted so far apart that I gave it neither any concern, nor made any effort to heal the growing rift between us. I still loved her, but no longer was 'in love' with her, nor she with me.

Leni hadn't long to wait for me to answer her.

She was absolutely right, there was no mortgage on the house, it was ridiculously large and offered maximum privacy for us and a fair number of household and grounds-keepers accommodations, and it was already furnished. Better still, it was being cleaned and maintained by an excellent property management company owned by another friend from Rotary Club.

"Good idea, Honey. It's the best solution possible, I should have thought of it. Thanks." Actually, he had thought of it, but not seriously enough to really consider it. Too many memories abided within the walls and grounds for him to feel entirely comfortable there, despite a number of changes he'd made in the place to alter both its look and "feel." Now, however, Leni's entirely sensible suggestion, was making serious inroads into his previously straitened way of thinking, hemming him into a narrow path of comfort with only his unnecessary sense of guilt keeping him there.

She smiled and again devoted her attention to finding another delicious peach-slice in her cereal.

I called my realtor-friend and took the house off the multiple listing offerings. Then I called a friend who was in the property management business and made some rearrangements to how and when things would be done with housekeeping and grounds-keeping.

I called the Lariat building's management and advised them that I planned to move sometime during the following month. I had to reassure them that there was nothing wrong, that we were completely happy, but that our needs required that we move to more spacious quarters.

No question about it, we'd miss many of the aspects of living in a well-run, competently catered environment, with an excellent concierge and a view as good as was possible from any residential building in Phoenix.

We got into my car, an 8 year old SUV and drove to the house I'd inherited from my poor Ann. From there, I called the architect who was designing the new residence on my little rural property and got the name of a reputable company to do some remodeling.

Eight weeks later, Amrita was almost speechless on first seeing it. "You own this?" She asked, incredulous at the size and furnishings of the house.

"Yes, it's what my wife, Ann, and I lived in while she was still alive. It was given to us as a wedding gift before her parents died. Leni and I decided to remodel it some." There were many memories that sort of made me uncomfortable, but with a number of additional changes made by an interior decorator, a bit of remodeling, and a few weeks to get used to it all, it began to feel a little more like home.

"And this area, this suite is to be mine?" She swept her hand in an encompassing gesture taking in the surroundings of the area designated for her living quarters.

"You bet!" Damn, still trying to quit saying that. "If there's anything you'd like changed, I'll arrange it. Just let me know while I still have all these workmen available. Ok?"

"David, what would I change? It's beautiful and even larger than my old apartment. I'm very pleased with it just the way it is. And a private patio and swimming pool, too? What luxury!"

"Ok, good, I'll have the interior decorator come talk to you about anything you might think of or that she might suggest. This area hasn't been changed and, since it could use a makeover, you can talk it over with her."

"Oh, I couldn't! It's gorgeous the way it is."

"Whatever, I'll have her call you. Here is your new phone number. All the calls you make will be taken care of."

"No, David! Sometimes I call my family in Mumbai. We talk and it is not inexpensive."

"Not a problem, Amrita, consider it a deserved perquisite and it comes with the very important position you have in our family. I don't want you running off somewhere to work for someone else, or retire, or whatever. This is your home now."

"You'll have noticed, of course, that there are no kitchen facilities, but I'm going to find a really good cook and I want you to feel completely comfortable eating with us as a family. Also, don't feel that you can't make any use of the kitchen, the main swimming pool, or any of the other areas of the house including the new theatre and music room whenever you like."

"Dhanyavaad, David, dhanyavaad. That is Hindu for thank you and I mean it sincerely from my heart."

"Amrita, you make us happy by sharing your presence with us. Leni and I have come to love and respect you greatly. This is your home, welcome."

Putting her hands together in front of her, she bowed her head slightly and softly said, "Thank you, David; dhanyavaad."

I couldn't resist whether it was acceptable behavior in her culture, or not. I took her in my arms and gave her a hug."

Releasing her, I put both hands on her shoulders and said, "I don't know your customs, but we consider you part of our family, Amrita. Welcome to your home and to our small family."

No tears, no more "thank you" in any language, but her eyes watered and she nodded her acceptance. This elderly woman was the very soul of dignity and grace. I knew Leni would greatly benefit from such a role model. Hopefully, so would I.

"Amrita, there's just one other thing."

"What is it, David?"

What, in your native language, is the word for aunt?"

"Aunt?"

"Yes, if you're to live with us as family, you're Leni's aunt. How do you say that?"

"Thank you, David." Now tears did flow. "It depends on the relationship. Logically, since an aunt is the sibling of the child's parent, it would depend on which sibling. Since you have not yet taken Leni as your spouse, and have not remarried, I suppose the proper usage would flow from a relationship to a brother. If you don't mind, I would be considered an older sister to you, living under your roof, and subject to your status as head of the house. I would be called buaa, aunt to your child." (BooAh).

"Would it be ok, then to either call you "Aunt Amrita" or 'Buaa?' Would you mind being Leni's and my buaa?"

"Of course not. I love her from my heart. Does she think of me that way?"

"Well, why not ask her? She's been standing behind you for a little while, now."

Surprised, but at ease, Amrita turned just in time to take Leni into her embrace as she almost leaped into her arms.

"I love you Auntie Amrita. Please?"

"Of course, dear little bhattiiji. Of course." (Brother's daughter)

The next day, Leni and Amrita decided to have a day of shopping together. This, to me, seemed like an excellent idea because I had to meet with the architect regarding the mountain residence project. I could barely wait until we finished and I could get home to Leni. When I finally was able to return home, the place was empty. That wasn't good! Even with the many changes in appearance and décor, the place still held too many memories.

Leni got home and immediately popped some popcorn. I got her a glass of iced tea and three fingers of Lagavulin Scotch whisky for myself, and we sat and turned on the vintage stereo equipment I had collected over the years. I love the old stuff! Brands now seldom heard of and even less frequently seen fascinated me both for their rich history to audiophiles, but also for the gorgeous, fulsome sounds they produced. McIntosh amplifiers and pre amps, Crown amps. Reel to reel recorders made by Tascam, Revox, TEAC, and Crown. Speakers that weigh more than a loaded freight boxcar and produce base notes that, when you're not sure they're still getting down there in the sound-cellar, start things on your shelves to bouncing around and make your chest feel waves of compression. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. And Eric Clapton's "Double Trouble Blues" had to be heard in the sound theater to be believed. Leni found that her earlier life had predisposed her to have a soft spot for good ol' American-style country music, and even though the band was Canadian, Blue Rodeo's song, "5 days in May," was a sea of sound to swim in.

I was surprised that Leni seemed to like Classical Music as much as she liked country music, or music more consistent with her age group. I'd sometimes hear the soft strains of Pachelbel, or some Kalinnikov, Beethoven, or maybe Holst through the door where Amrita and Leni were studying English or History. Amrita was no longer attempting to teach Leni any mathematics and I was wondering who to call, or what to do about that. Just to point out how deep Auntie Amrita's cultural education went, the Russian composer, Kalinnikov, isn't exactly an obscure composer, but his work is certainly not as well-known as, say, Tchaikovsky, and his first symphony is a treasure. Leni particularly loved the drums featured in Shostakovich's 5th Symphony. Me too!

Since the kind of music I listened to was also what I frequently heard from Leni's and Mrs. Chopra's study area, I wasn't sure if that was my influence on Leni, or if it was the kind of music they both preferred. So I asked. Turns out, they both liked it.

Amrita was a diamond-quality teacher. Maybe she couldn't add to Leni's math skills, but in terms of other things, grammar and proper diction, for instance, but also history, geography, etc., the woman was gem quality. I decided that her salary would immediately double. This would turn out to be one of my more insightful decisions. I was even getting used to her Indian dressing styles, saris, gold bracelets; hell even the ring in her nose was becoming sufficiently familiar to not to jar my admittedly conservative sense of dress standards. On that particular subject, however, she was about to surprise us.

One day, a few months later, I heard them discussing rock music from the '50s, '60s, and '70s. I was so surprised I stood behind a door jam and listened. It wasn't just the music per se that was being discussed, Mrs. Chopra was teaching Leni contemporary American history. This was not just about music, it was about how music had helped shape American ideals and culture. At the conclusion of the lesson, I heard Mrs. Chopra assign Leni music from the 70's, '80s , and '90s., including specific song titles, but also including major current events of the times the assigned songs were popular.

This explained some rather large credit card charges for the purchase of songs downloaded from online music sources, CDs, and even some ultra-high quality vinyl pressings for turntables. There were also billings for very good political and economic intelligence organizations such as Stratfor, ISS, Shadow Government Statistics, and a couple of others, all top notch geo-political information research and economic and political advisory companies. Not only was I impressed, I was ecstatic that Leni was getting such a high level of instruction. I decided to sit in on some of this great stuff for my own edification and enlightenment. And, I did, too.

I went into the room we'd set up for critical music listening and there were literally dozens of recent ultra-high-quality vinyl pressings of classical and jazz music, artists, etc.

I called Amrita into my office and queried her about these things, prefacing my questions with a strong statement of approval so as to avoid any misunderstandings. I'd noticed, without remarking on it, that Amrita had gradually discontinued wearing Indian style saris and other ethnically distinctive clothing. "Interesting," I'd thought she was thoroughly imbued with her native land's culture and fashions. Apparently not. I had no intention of asking her why the change simply out of respect for her privacy. I never did find out what her reason was. The nose ring was the last to go. I didn't miss seeing it.

Amrita indicated that, as long as I had no objection, she intended to broaden Leni's cultural horizons to include all forms of music up to and including hip hop, a form of music that I really do not like. It was interesting to hear that Mrs. Chopra didn't like it either, but that that wasn't the issue. It was part of Leni's education and that would eventually include not only American music, but also the music of other nations. I expected soon to hear recordings of the late, and very great Indian sitar musician, Ravi Shankar, who had only recently died.

Amrita indicated that she and her two children had emigrated from India and regarded their new home as the epitome of human civilization. She deplored multiculturalism, stating that there was no reason we in America should denigrate our own culture in order to respect that of others. Her father had always admired the "melting pot" that had formerly been America. The huddling together of new immigrants into cultural enclaves and ghettos, keeping to the customs and language of their former countries of residence, she was convinced, marked a decline in both American society as well as traditional American values.

She further said that the most important value any immigrant family could adopt was that of being American, not Indonesian, Indian, French or whatever other nation or ethnic background may have been their origins. (Maybe it was this belief that eventually caused her to abandon her Indian fashions of dress? I never asked.) She also told me that she thought the one thing that should bind us together is our nationality, we should look to our commonality, not our differences for our national strength. Her already increased salary immediately tripled, but I didn't mention it to her.

Of course, she wasn't aware of that until her next pay check, which was sent to her by the accounting firm that still bore my name, but with which I had no further professional affiliation.

She came to me to advise me of "a terrible mistake." I asked her what had happened. She told me her check was a big overpayment.

Of course, I told her that it was the correct amount and that, as far as I was concerned, it was not a matter of interest to me other than it didn't adequately reflect her true worth to us.

I considered her a rare bargain and told her so. Her honesty and dignity during those moments even further convinced me that I'd found a life-time tutor and companion for my Leni. Some personality attributes are more valuable than any description can adequately quantify. Such were those of Leni's and my Auntie Amrita. We were lucky to have her with us and I intended to keep her. The value of such a person being Leni's mentor could not be adequately assessed. What value, or price does one put on the quality of character, or loyalty, or love?

After having learned from my own first-hand experience what a wonderful instructor Amrita was, one day, as we were sitting in the dinette area of the kitchen having lunch, I asked her what her educational background was. What I learned in her concise style, expressed in perfect English, of course, and spoken with an upper-class English accent totally caught me by surprise. I mean, I was talking to an elementary school teacher, right?

Amrita had been married in an arranged marriage to a man 30 years her senior 3 weeks after her 9th birthday. Her then husband, was educated first at Nagarjuna University where he Studied at the Centre for Scientific Socialism (B.A). (This university, while not a miserably bad school, is certainly not anywhere close to being one of India's best.) This was during a period of time when India and Russia were very friendly, virtually allies. He then came to the United States, where with his wealthy family's money and political influence assisting his application, he studied Business at Harvard University earning an MBA. From there he went back to India where he married a nine year old girl from another very wealthy, highly traditional Indian family. Her name was (and is) Amrita, now Mrs. Amrita Chopra, or as she had become to us, 'Auntie Amrita'. She showed no pleasure in being nick-named "Aunty-Am," so we quickly stopped calling her that.

Amrita's husband died at age 59 in an automobile accident when she was 23 years old, a young widow with two children. She began studying at Banaras Hindu University where she earned a B.A. Degree in English. (Probably the most elite University in India...top quality academics even by American and European standards.) She then enrolled as a graduate student in Economics earning an M.A. degree. Feeling that her true vocation was teaching children, she studied in the Banaras University College of Education where she earned a second Master's Degree (M.Ed.).

At age 30, after teaching at an English speaking school in New Delhi for a couple of years, she immigrated to the United States with her two children. Her very traditional American values stemmed from the things that were wrong or misguided that she saw in her late husband's political philosophy as well as from her observations once she arrived in the United States. In studying to become a citizen, she contrasted her husband's leftist political ideology with traditional American values and decided that nothing on Earth was as valuable as her religious and economic freedom and she embraced America and America's constitutionally based values as her own.

Her first job was at an elementary school on the Navajo Reservation in Window Rock, Arizona. She said her life there was "for the children." The pervasive presence of governmental agencies, governmental control, and governmental incompetence in general, led her to seek employment in a less "Big Brother" controlled environment. She moved to Phoenix.

How lucky we were to have found this woman!

I'm afraid I went on somewhat about our little family's tutor, but considering the extremely poor learning options Leni had faced up to this time, the strides she would soon make under Amrita's inspired guidance and instruction, as well as learning opportunities not yet mentioned are, I think, necessary to understand how Leni became the person she is.

It was time to consider new living arrangements. As comfortable as our present home was, and despite its overwhelming aura of wealth and opulence, it held too many memories for me to really feel that it was my home. I wanted something that had nothing about it that stirred old memories, or triggered any emotional responses other than pleasure and enjoyment. None of these things described the way this big, expensive house made me feel.

I wanted out of it.

Chapter 6

Jerry O'Dell, my attorney of many years, and a good friend, had given me several names of reputable construction companies. I called the first one on the list of 4 that he'd given me. He'd also given me the name of an architect and recommended him above all others.

I made appointments with both firms. The next day, one of the officers of the construction company and I took a trip to the cabin. I wanted an assessment of costs to complete a large project so far away from any cities. Of course, Leni, accompanied us. I wouldn't have gone anywhere without her.

He pointed out a few things, most of which I'd already identified as problems. Without any drawings or specifications from the architect, all we were really looking at was the terrain, ground composition and distances. Distance from major power lines, telephone lines, construction supply locations and concrete companies. All of these were problems and all of them were easily surmountable as long as there was some money behind the idea.

On the way home, I called a local real estate agent whose sign on our route indicated she dealt with undeveloped land. I told her that I wanted to buy any land contiguous with the few acres I already had and asked if there was anything for sale that she knew of. She said that there was nothing listed that met my sole qualification, but that she'd make some inquiries and get back to me. I immediately told her that she was authorized to disclose my interest in qualifying properties that weren't for sale and would be willing to pay a reasonable premium.

The following week Leni and I met with the architect. After about 4 hours, punctuated only by a lunch break. She and I had pretty well mapped out what we wanted. Now, because of a certain part of the terrain, a part backed up against a sharp rise at the back of the property and adjacent to the National Forest Land, he wanted to see more precisely what he was dealing with.

For Leni and me, it was another thoroughly enjoyable outing. She loved nothing better than to get out of town and go somewhere, anywhere.

A little over a month later, we had the preliminary proposal from the Architect as well as his estimation of costs. It was a rare feeling to have that consideration be the very least of my concerns, but it was. Money for this home-site was to have no cost restrictions.

It was at this last meeting that the architect finally grasped that concept. Leni and I began with all kinds of ideas based on his drawings. The overall scope of the project increased by the minute, until he eventually held up both hands and said, "Stop, for just a moment. Do you two have any idea what all this would cost?

"I'm proposing that we blast a section of the bluff at the back of the property to build a pad for several upper floors as well as shafts into the pad to the lower levels for elevators. You've stipulated several completely private swimming pools for the main house as well as a couple for estate personnel in other residential structures. There's a large garage with space for collectable cars, and 3 separate kitchens including one large enough for a team of chefs to prepare food for I don't even know how many people. All this and you haven't yet given me a budget limit!"

"You forgot the bar-b-que kitchen out by the main swimming pool," I said. He, laughed and shook his head. At that point, he finally got the idea that the final cost wasn't going to be an issue.

I told him that this project was very important to Leni and me and, whatever the costs might be, we'd do our best to meet them and do so in a timely manner. He grinned and said, "Ok, I got it,now."

Going home, Leni asked me, "Do we really have that much money, David?"

Honey, our accountants are going to have a meeting with us in a few days and, since you'll be there, we'll find out, ok? I can tell you already, though, that I'm not worried about the costs. You want a horse, there? Then you'll get a horse, the private swimming pool? No problem. Another deck to see as far as we can? That was a very good idea; we'll get it done. Larger rooms? Same thing. It will be our dream house, Honey. Look forward to it and don't worry. Ok?"

She laughed out loud and, with closed fists, sort of bounced in her seat and thumped her thighs. I had never seen her that completely excited ........ and her laugh! That laugh was everything to me. It was only recently that she'd begun to laugh at all, beginning with small, subdued little chuckles. But not this one, by God, this was a little girl completely overtaken by happiness and she laughed loud and strong.

I could try, but there's no way I could ever tell you how good that made me feel. I'm afraid that my pedophiliac tendencies were also stimulated by her smiles and happy sounds. All that bouncing in the passenger seat probably had a bit to do with that as well. I could hardly keep my eyes on the road.

Chapter 7

Nearly two years later, Leni was now almost 14, we left our happy home at the top of the Lariat in the downtown area of Phoenix and headed off to our new home. It was everything you'd imagine a place to be when money isn't a problem, maybe even more.

Amrita had found a cook for us. She had also come to America from another part of India, and had been a good friend of Amrita since they'd met at a food market in Phoenix.

Her friend had been the former head cook of the school where she had taught was about to retire and wanted a more relaxed life style. At first, I was very concerned that we'd be eating nothing but school cafeteria quality food. "Nope, not with this lady." Amrita had given us Agatha's (a fairly popular female name in India, believe it or not) qualifications, but not actually what could be called a résumé.

Such vetting proved unnecessary, Agatha was a true chef and could handle anything we wanted. Her list of "favorites" included many things I'd never heard of and, having been married to an incredibly wealthy woman who had been accustomed only to going to the finest restaurants, that took something. I decided to leave everything culinary to her excepting only requests Leni occasionally made. Yeah, I was spoiling her, but she didn't act spoiled, just happy, and appreciative. Amrita had a daughter and a son, each of whom were also talented chefs and worked under Amrita's supervision. One, the son, decided to move to the country with us to work with his mother. The daughter wanted to remain in town because she had children in school, but would gladly come out to help with any large projects that might come up. I wasn't anticipating any such thing, but you never know.

Speaking again of Leni, which I'm fond of doing, she was a hard worker. Amrita had long since moved with us and had her own living area. She ate with us, as did Agatha and her son. You cannot imagine a better run food service and this was ours. We were all spoiled. Due to our location, so far away from any towns of any size, there were a number of appurtenant structures, smaller residential buildings for the variety of people, and their families, who are necessary to take care of such a large and diverse residence.

Agatha found an area for a garden to grow spices and vegetables. She came to me for permission to cultivate and plant it. I told her to go for it and suggested that she consider a greenhouse with a skilled gardener to take care of it all. Amrita, strangely enough, just happened to know such a person.

That did it. I called Amrita in and asked her if she'd assume responsibilities of House Steward (majordomo), with full authorities and responsibilities for running the entire household, grounds, and personnel. She said, she would but wanted to know if she could hire an assistant. I said she could, and she did. That was how my home began to take on the appearance of an Indian establishment. The assistant was a young Englishman who had married one of her nieces and currently supervised a large estate in southern France owned by an immensely wealthy Briton. He ended up, not only skilled manager, but also became my favorite fishing companion. Funny how things work out sometimes. We had fresh vegetables and spices without having to drive into town to get them and I never lacked for a buddy to go fishing with. He accepted the relationship I had with Leni as though it was the most normal thing in the world for a man my age to be sleeping with a young teenager. Of course, that was only when we were home, since Leni's continuing education kept us away for extended periods of time.

Since 'Auntie Amrita' was the almost constant companion of Leni and/or the two of us, and lived with us as a family member, she was intimately aware of any concerns we may have had of any aspect of our home, or its surroundings. She knew, and intuitively took care of whatever she learned or found to be in need of attention. Her 'assistant,' the young Scotsman named Bran Brown, had an Indian wife (Meera), and two small children.

Meera became interested in gardening and gradually took over caring for the two fairly large greenhouses that Bran had purchased and had built. Bran, as he was most familiar with the construction of the growing facilities, did whatever maintenance and repairs became necessary, although Meera participated in that as well.

Because of the possibility that some of the house's personnel might have children with them, Amrita had spec'd out what she'd like in the way of classroom facilities, and she said she'd never had such completely equipped teaching facilities. Being as remote as the place was, if children were to live there, educational accommodations were essential. The closest elementary school was 36 miles away and high school an additional 3 miles. It wasn't going to be necessary for us to have to "bus" any of "our" kids to school.

Gradually, other living quarters were filled with people to take care of housekeeping, grounds, electrical and emergency power systems, etc.

It was fantasy land made real.

And we were about to leave it after only a few months.

Chapter 8

Leni had been pre-accepted to school in Tucson at the University of Arizona. After a great summer at our new home, off we went to Tucson. I contacted a real estate agent and he found suitable living arrangements for us but, in order for us to have our much loved Amrita, her friend Agatha and her son Ajay. Given the fairly numerous things we requested the real estate person to look for as well as having sufficient room for those we'd be bringing with us, the agent advised us that perhaps buying a house would be easier and faster. I agreed and asked her to just find something suitable.

I also contacted an architect and asked him to design a house suitable for our needs. Then I looked for land for sale, an undeveloped property, in a location not too far from the U of A, but also in an area that appealed to us. That turned out to be the most difficult of the various strategies to find adequate living accommodations for us.

Lenora began her studies at the U of A. In her first semester she had chosen only from those "general education," or "general studies" class types that are required for graduation. Being a little cautious, she only would be carrying 16 credit hours. She figured that she'd also be going to take a few classes in the summer.

It was a quiet time for all of us. Leni pretty much buried herself in her books and homework. I was worried that she may have overburdened herself given that this was her first formal schooling instead of one on one instruction.

I could have saved myself the worry. At the end of the first semester, she had garnered nothing but 'A' or 'A ' grades. Her most difficult classes, she said, were History and English Literature. Basic English Grammar was easy for her due to the excellent preparations provided by Amrita, who when not flustered or emotional about something, spoke in a manner most usually heard in the company of well educated English aristocrats.

In India, because of the many years of English domination of that country, anything English is considered "upper class." That includes the ability of speaking English properly and without an accent, English afternoon 'Tea,' and English automobiles, with a particular affection for the Range Rover, which is a well-made, very luxurious, four wheel drive able to go just about anywhere a wheeled vehicle can conceivably travel . . . and some places that most people can't even imagine driving to.

Weekends were the best. Leni would have finished her homework by late Friday nights, which left the entire weekend open for all of us to enjoy ourselves. Since the culture of India had already inured out kitchen staff, all of whom we treated as family, no particular concern was shown or felt about my relationship with Lenora. In general public settings, however, we behaved ourselves with the utmost discretion.

One Saturday during her 3rd semester became particularly memorable to me. The phone rang at about 7:00 PM on that particular Saturday the telephone rang. I wasn't expecting any calls, but it was still early enough that it could have been anyone from the valley. It was Dr. Franks from right here in the Tucson area.

"Mr. McHenry?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Franks at the university."

"Hello, Dr. Franks. How are you?"

"Very excited, David, but also a bit chagrinned as well. A few moments ago I just finished a call from a Dr. Phillip Brown at Cambridge University regarding Lenora.

"What!??" I was too stunned to say anything about how upset this made me.

"Yes, Mr. McHenry, I know how angry you must be, but I want to assure you that the disclosure of Lenora's amazing skill did not come from either me or the university."

"Well, Dr. Franks, yes, I'm not a bit happy about this and I do want to know how knowledge of Leni's abilities has spread all the way to England. If you don't mind, that is!" I was furious and the tenor of my anger was made more than clear in my last comment.

"Yes, of course, of course. Do you remember Justin Mabry?"

"Justin Mabry? No! No! And what does h...., wait; yes, maybe I do. What does he have to do with this, anyway?"

Well, Justin, while he was here at the U of A, was on leave from the navy to complete work on his Ph.D. in theoretical mathematics. His work was pure genius; and upon completion of his dissertation, he was invited to Cambridge for post-doctoral work. Because he is a career naval officer, the Navy was happy to have him gain additional knowledge and okayed his leaving for Britain for 10 months. I'm afraid he let it slip in a moment of irritation."

"Irritation? What does his irritation have to do with a single damned thing, Dr. Frank? And wasn't he made aware that Leni's business at the university was to be kept exclusively within your department and with only those other university officials that had a need to know? How could you let this happen?"

"I'm really sorry, and yes, he was fully aware. Perhaps if I explained how it occurred it might help?"

"Well, I hardly see how! Now, how long will it be before the repulsive Arizona Star, favorite news rag of the Democrats begins to call me or run stories about Leni? Hell, no! I won't have it and I'm withdrawing Leni immediately from school. I'm very, very angry and disappointed, Dr. Franks!"

"Mr. McHenry, please, listen to me just a bit more, please!"

I was beyond furious. Leni was not going to be made some sort of prize "show and tell" object by any one or by any school. "I trusted you, Dr. Franks." I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "I trusted you with the privacy of a little girl, a little girl I love with all my heart. How could this happen? How!?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to tell you, Mr. McHenry. Please listen.

Justin is a very patriotic young man. His father is an actively serving Admiral in the U. S. Navy and he, himself, as I've already said, is a career naval officer, despite academic and scientific credentials that would allow him to leave the Navy and pursue an extremely lucrative career at any number of companies or universities."

"So?" I neither saw what this had to do with anything, nor did I expect that it would serve as any part of an explanation.

"Well, it seems that, during a dinner at one of the university don's home, there was some bragging going on about a young man in his teens who had some remarkable skills with mathematics and a statement was made something to the effect that it was unlikely if another such gifted person would be born within the next 20 years or so, and that if there was, the next one would also most likely be a native Briton."

"I can see where this is going, I think."

"Yes, I figured you would."

"He bragged on Leni?"

"Well, yes, and immediately knew he'd blown it. He begged that everyone present would not disclose what he'd unthinkingly divulged in violation of his promises to remain silent on the subject."

"So, what now?"

Well, I've spoken to Dr. Brown, and he assured me that the entire conversation took place over his dinner table during a small gathering of his departmental fellows and that Justin had immediately made them aware of his unthinking transgression, and had extracted from each of them their absolute promise to say nothing further to anyone not present then and there, and even then, only in the most private of surroundings."

I couldn't think of anything to say at the moment. I wasn't at all happy, nor greatly mollified, either, but I wasn't as furious as I had been.

"Justin has asked permission to call you and tender his own apologies as well."

"I'll have to think about that," I said. Ok, now that that's been done, what was it that so "excited" you?"

"At any date and time you choose, they'd be happy to fly you and Lenora to the U. K. to discuss the possibility of her discussing her ideas relating to number theory in their Department of Pure Mathematics."

"What exactly is number theory and what does Leni know of that stuff, anyway?"

"Well, without getting very technical it's about the high-level studies of integers, rational, irrational, and real numbers. It's considered to be profoundly complex arithmetic. I gather, then, that Lenora hasn't mentioned that she's very interested in this field?"

"No, she hasn't. Is that one of her classes?"

"Heaven's no! Mr. McHenry, Leni isn't actually taking any classes in mathematics any longer. Actually, she's only completing the necessary classes necessary to accumulate sufficient semester-hour credits to earn her bachelor of science degree."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Well, it's not exactly that we can't find additional math classes for her to learn in, it's just that she's expressed interest in a few particular areas and has actually posited some highly unusual and interesting ideas . . . new theories, actually . . . we're still working on a couple of them, to be honest. For the rest, from all we've seen, we have no doubts that she'll eventually come around to exploring other areas of math as she progresses."

"So, what is it that I'm not getting here, Dr. Frank?"

"She's a genius, Mr. McHenry, a rare and gifted genius. Her abilities seem entirely limitless. We can't bring ourselves to restrict her education to classes that would most likely only slow her down. She's an insatiable learner . . . an intellectual sponge, so to speak."

"Speechless," hardly came close to describing my condition, not even close.

Leni graduated with her B.S. at the end of her 4th semester and immediately began work on her Ph.Ds. in Mathematics and physics. By her seventeenth birthday, she was Dr. Lenora Gardner, having earned two Ph.D's to her rapidly growing résumé (C.V.).

We took off for New Zealand for a combined vacation, marriage and honeymoon. I was married to Dr. Lenora L. McHenry, and damn proud of it.

"Well, a few years have elapsed since my last entry into what started out to be just a way to entertain me with the story of Leni and me. She's nearly 30 now and we have three children. She had her first one at age 17 and you can't imagine a more beautiful expectant young mother, or one happier to be expectant with her first child.

"For some reason, her pregnancy was incredibly erotic for me. We'd only recently been able to get ourselves legally married, so despite raised eyebrows, and no-telling how much gossip about us, we were no longer concerned about being found out.

Leni is now a full professor of Physics at the University of Arizona and also a frequent consultant to NASA and the Department of Defense. She's written several books that can be understood by very highly educated people. She's spoken all over the world and . . . well, I could go on, but you get the idea. All that, and she's a great Mom, also. No man could have a more beautiful and loving wife. She is full of laughter and happiness seems to follow her wherever she goes. No man has ever been more fortunate than I was to have found her in such unlikely, circumstances. I cannot imagine what my life might have been like without her.

"'Aunty Am,' died just after the second of our children was born . . . (She finally decided that she liked that nickname, but only on condition that we never disclosed it to anyone else. She passed away quietly in her sleep at age 87 years of age. Her death was entirely unexpected as she had always been perfectly healthy. We were devastated with grief at her passing.

"I think I'm going to wait a while to write more of this narrative. I haven't been feeling all that well since late last evening."

Epilogue

He's gone.

Sorry, I'm finishing this narrative of David's on a tape recorder . . . I may transcribe it later to preserve it simply because writing it seemed either necessary or, at least, fulfilling in some way to David. I'll continue. This is Leni; my David has left me to explore whatever becomes of us when we pass from this existence. As a mathematician, I'm more confused about that than you can imagine . . . so many theories, and none of them either confirm or do away with God as The Creator.

I'm rambling. Sorry.

David died unexpectedly of a massive stroke. Apparently he'd had some thrombosis and eventually a blood clot dislodged and caused a massive and fatal stroke.

Except for the three children we had during our wonderful marriage, I don't think I could bear to go on without him. He was my salvation, my lover, my very life even. He gave me the wonderful life I've lived and the three beautiful and intelligent children that grieve his passing with me.

I don't know what else to say. David, I love you. I think I loved you even in the parking lot where you first spoke to me. I never had an unhappy moment with you. You saved me; you raised me from a child, loved me, and gave me our children. Oh, God! I can't say more right now . . . maybe later.

Post Epilogue

"I'm David Jr.

"Mom died last week. I found this in her closet on a shelf near the ceiling. She was nearly 90 years old and never finished it. Or, maybe she did; maybe she had finished with it when she stopped writing. Since it's the story of their life together, I think Mom felt that she'd said all she needed to and now it's time for us, for her children, to write our own stories. I hope we all do. I know, after reading this that I will. I only hope that I have a good . . . I mean a happy story to tell like this one was.

"When I found it, I didn't know whether to burn it or preserve it. I still don't know what I'm going to do with it.

"In some ways, I hesitate to let it continue to exist, but in another sense, it's the love story of my, ...... of our parents. I think, kept within our family, it's a beautiful and priceless family record. Some may differ with that opinion, but that, and they, don't matter. This does, I think."