June 22

Greg arrived at his lawyer's office. At first they covered various minor issues in his legal affairs, including his charitable trust. That sounded more elitist and altruistic than it actually was. Charitable trusts were a bit of a legal tax dodge. Past a certain income threshold it made sense to shelter a portion of your investments in such a vehicle. In doing so you didn't have to pay tax as it was charitable and that allowed any gains to be deemed tax-free. The catch was that each year you had to distribute a certain percentage to legally recognized charitable causes. That total cost worked out to be no more than the tax you would pay on it otherwise and you got to choose what worthy causes got your money.

Greg began: "Alan, I was thinking of endowing a scholarship. Is that permitted through the trust?"

"There are some restrictions naturally but there is no prima fascia legal prohibition."

He took a breath: "I've come to know of a single parent family that is trying to pay for a private school education. The child is quite intelligent and would benefit from a quality education. I would gladly pay myself directly but they are too proud to take it. I want to pay for the education in a manner so that they believe it is for academic excellence and not from me."

His lawyer considered: "Do you wish it to be a one time award or continuing?"

"Continuing: A full scholarship each year, then university."

They began to sort out the general structure of his new endowment

His lawyer summarized; "We approach the school, offering a specific scholarship program sometime before the start of the school year. You can set any qualifications you wish: academic, athletic, economic hardship. They will supply a list of suitable candidates and you or whomever you may designate chooses who will receive the award. In 4 or 5 years you repeat the process for graduating students to receive a university scholarship."

Greg gave him the particulars of the school and the student in question and left before he ended up paying for a third hour at $1200 per.

Sara went shopping. It was the last day so she skipped the last class before lunch in order to go. She wanted to get just the right things. She went from store to store - conscious of the cost as always - trying to find some special clothes. For herself naturally but she also shopped with an eye to what Greg might like. She had noticed the times he had been especially taken with her appearance. But he was a man after all. They were strange creatures. She wondered how anyone could figure out what they were thinking; what might turn their head. And she did want to turn his head. It made her feel warm inside... wanted... desired... special.

Sara wanted to please him. She had never met anyone like him. He was so kind and caring - yet so smart! And funny. Sara thought he was the perfect man for...

Greg was finally, FINALLY about to return home. As the car pulled into the drive he could feel his excitement building. He opened the front door to... silence. Of course! What an idiot he was. This was Sara's last day of school.

He set his bags down and let an excited Belzer out of the garage. The mutt's enthusiasm was nice enough but he found he had been hoping for a different ball of energy. In the kitchen he fed the dog and discovered a note pinned to the fridge.

'Welcome home!

Belzer was wonderful although I think I tired him out. He's such a cutie! I'm sorry I couldn't be there for when you got back, but at least school ends early today. I should be there by 2pm.

Miss you so much!

Love,
Sara'

It was written in Sara's precise hand. She had dotted in the 'i' in 'Miss' with a little heart. Greg traced a finger over the notepaper.

When the bell sounded, Sara fairly flew out the door of her school. "Joy! To never go back!" she exulted in her thoughts. She sprinted most of the way to Greg's house even though her school clothes made it difficult to run.

Greg had unpacked and put everything away. The house was already neat and tidy - he figured Sara must have either been as careful as a church mouse in not making a mess or had taken it upon herself to clean. As 2 pm neared he thought about how best to greet Sara. He remembered how he had felt on his many last days of school. It was before her time but he had an idea of how to welcome her.

Sara raced up to the front door, not bothering to ring the doorbell. Once inside she was greeted by the voice of Alice Cooper singing 'School's out'. Greg was waiting for her inside. Sara dropped her knapsack and ran to him. She literally jumped into his arms. Her hands closed around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He supported her slight weight with both hands on her buttocks. They did not kiss though. She nuzzled her head under his chin. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and the nape of his neck. She could feel the scratchiness of his fresh shave against her skin. A soft murmur of contentment escaped her lips, warming his skin with the wetness of her breath.

Greg had thought he was prepared. But Sara once again nearly bowled him over with the emotion she elicited in him as well as with her physical enthusiasm. When the door flew open he was mesmerized by the red, green, black and white blur. She was wearing the Catholic schoolgirl uniform again. When she leapt into his arms he automatically grabbed her buttocks to support her. His hands naturally slid underneath the tartan skirt so that they were touching the soft, lacy fabric of her underwear. He felt her hands on his neck, her arms encircling him. He could feel every inch of her legs wrapped around his waist, her feet interlacing behind his back as if to prevent him from getting away. He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling the clean fresh scent that was Sara.

They remained locked in their embrace for some, simply enjoying being together again. Eventually though Greg allowed Sara to slide down his body to the floor.

"How come the uniform?" he asked. Sara looked even better in it than the first time, if that were possible. She looked adorable. The green and black plaid of the skirt contrasted with the plain white of the shirt and that gorgeous red hair!

"Oh, that. More alterations, they want to make sure no one made changes to them so that they were too revealing. I guess they want to make sure we're all 'good girls'" she said.

"No, you're not good. You're amazing!" They walked together through the house. His arm encircled her waist; hers were around him. Belzer tagged along at their feet.

Greg sat on the couch, his hand outstretched, holding hers. He gazed at Sara in her uniform. She could see the interest in his eyes, the desire. She curtsied and executed a little pirouette to show herself to him, preening a bit at his rapt attention.

"Do you like? Monsieur?" she asked, affecting a French accent.

Greg was mesmerized. As she turned her skirt flew up slightly, the pleats a blur of motion, showing more of her thighs. He could see that under her dress shirt she was wearing a bra again but it was not the same. It seemed to be more like lingerie than a training bra: one of those lacy frilly things. Her fiery curls tumbled about, framing that beautiful face. He thought she might have used a little make-up. It was just a hint - she needed none really - but she had wanted to make herself pretty for Greg.

"Tres jolie", he said.

Sara sat on to the couch next to him, their hips touching, still holding his hand. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "How was your trip?"

Greg put his arm around her. He related some of the less tedious details of his week. She was truly interested.

"How come you have to go in person? Can't you do it over the Internet?"

"The clients like to, ummm, size me up. See what I'm about. And since they pay me fees to manage their funds they feel they have the right. Most of the research I can do from home but corporations have what they call 'data rooms'. They don't want their competitors to gain access so I have to go to it." Greg leaned back, enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment. Sara snuggled in close to him.

"Oh! I almost forgot." Greg reached over to the end table and picked up a small package. "I thought you might like this."

Sara's eyes glistened as she took the wrapped package. "You didn't have to".

"I didn't. I wanted to. It's not much but I saw it and thought you would like it."

She tore off the wrapping to find a book, bound leather, embossed. "Oh!" she gasped. Opening it she found his inscription: 'For Sara, truly a wonder for the ages'.

The book was a historical novel. He had read it some time ago and had been surprised at how much he enjoyed it. When he thought of the protagonist, he pictured Sara - albeit in a 15th century Venetian setting.

She hugged him, snuggling closer. Coming together they kissed lightly. It was a brief brushing of lips but all the more enticing for that. He inhaled deeply of her fragrance. He thought she might have used a little perfume as well. It was as understated as she was - and just as intoxicating.

"How was your week?" Greg asked her.

Sara regaled him with the major crises and minor catastrophes of the week. Sara, like every other student, had been a veritable seething cauldron of anticipation, waiting out the last week of school. Although this year she felt she had an especially personal reason for wanting the school year to end.

She was proud of her stint as provider for Belzer and keeper of his house as well. He trusted her, respected her maturity. That he relied on her to act responsibly meant so much to her.

"Greg?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking I could make us dinner this evening. I noticed you have everything we need in the kitchen - sort of a welcome home dinner. I know how to make a few dishes." She looked at him timidly.

Greg looked at Sara, his little treasure. She was so eager to do things for him, to please him. His heart melted. "That would be wonderful. I bet you're an awesome cook." He traced a finger along her cheek, her skin so soft. Sara put her hand over his finger and brought to her lips, giving it a little kiss.

"Okay then!" she said jumping up. "You go take it easy and I'll make us dinner!"

Greg watched she dashed into the kitchen and proceeded to bang pots and pans, like a girl possessed. He thought he might as well go for a quick swim. He walked back to his bedroom to change as Belzer tagged along. As he changed he considered his situation. He was not fooling himself. He saw where things were going with Sara and he knew it still gave him pangs of guilt, as if he was taking advantage of her inexperience. Yet still he kept going down that path.

He tried to argue it out with himself - well - with Belzer, who looked at Greg as if to say: "Hey, I'll hump your leg if you give me the chance. You don't want to ask me what I think."

"You're no help!" he said to the confused looking mutt. The thing is he was at once so strongly drawn to Sara but feared giving in to those urges.

Coming from the bedroom he saw Sara bustling in the kitchen. He came up behind her. She was in her sock feet. Her shirt had become untucked. That lovely hair was tied back and she had an apron around her waist.

Greg looked over her shoulder to see what see was preparing. She sensed him behind her and shooed him out of the kitchen. "Go swim! Let me work!"

He did as he was told. As the day's sunlight cast ever-longer shadows, he dove into the pool, swimming leisurely lengths back and forth. He didn't ponder directly on his predicament but rather allowed it to perambulate around in his head. He made strokes for a few more laps then levered himself out of the pool.

Greg padded back into the kitchen to find that Sara had pretty much finished her preparation. The various dishes were being kept warm. She had set the dining room table with candles. He could hear water running in the guest bathroom. He peeked into the pots to see what she had prepared and then went to his bedroom to shower and change.

All showered and dressed, Greg went to see if Sara was ready. Each time he had thought she could not take his breath away, she managed to prove him wrong. Sara was waiting for him in the dining room. She had changed her clothes and put on soft music. He shouldn't have been surprised. She understood beauty of elegant simplicity.

She wore black pumps that made her all of 5'2". They were a mass of straps that showed off her feet, the nails painted a red that matched hair and fingers. She wore a pair of sheer nylons, just a shade darker than her pale skin. They were a filmy gauze that showed every curve of her perfect legs. They disappeared under a black skirt mid way above the knee. The skirt was not especially tight, but it followed the curve of her thighs, and accentuated her hips ever so slightly. Her shirt was white but not the same as before. This was diaphanous work of art, of poetry. Its' sheer elegance gave Greg a glimpse of her burgeoning form beneath. The lacy pattern of the bra accentuated the promise of the woman she was becoming before his very eyes. The neckline dipped between those delicate breasts. A small heart suspended from a gossamer thin silver chain lay against her alabaster skin.

Sara's fiery mane was magnificent. She had taken care to arrange the natural wave of her curls into something any man would ache to touch, to run his hands through, to bury his face in. Her earlobes glittered in the candlelight from two stud earrings. She had used make-up but only with the lightest of touch. It was just enough to blush her soft cheeks, to accentuate her warm, full lips, to highlight those beautiful eyes.

"Sara..." It was barely a whisper, all he could manage to say.

"Do you like it?" she asked in that small, timid voice. The shoes and jewelry belonged to her mother. The rest she had bought that morning. She had never tried to dress for a man before, not even a boy. She wasn't sure if she was arousing him or just looked like a silly girl.

Greg came toward her, hands outstretched; he took her into his arms. Sara's arms reached out to him as well. They embraced. Once again he delighted in the feeling of her soft, slight form, pressing against him. His hands caressed her back, slid across the fabric of her shirt, from her shoulders down to the small of her back and the swell of her buttocks. He could feel the lingerie underneath.

He gazed into her eyes as she looked up into his. She noticed they were a pale blue, almost gray, but more important they showed his caring, his intelligence. "How had she not noticed his lovely eyes before?"

Sara's arms reached up to encircle his neck. "He is so tall!" she thought. She felt safe in his arms. They surrounded her, protected her. They were strong, masculine arms and broad shoulders, without being overdeveloped to the point of oddity. He lowered his lips to hers. She reached up on her toes, even with the heels.

Their lips touched in a slow passionate kiss. Sara could barely hear the music she had put on. She was lost in the immediacy of the moment. Their lips parted, tongues touched. She knew what this was. She was very well read, but Sara had never experienced it. She mirrored him as they explored each other. She ran her hands through his hair as his roamed up and down her back, cupping her buttocks in his large strong hands. They lingered like this for some time, exploring each other's intimacy. How they kissed, how they caressed, how they touched each other's soul.

They swayed slightly - almost but not quite - dancing to the soft music.

Eventually they parted - still in each other's arms. Both drew ragged, trembling breaths, gazing at each other. Greg's voice, almost quavering: "Sara, how can someone so young be so completely a woman?"

She blushed; and then became practical. "We should eat before it gets cold. I hope you like it."

Greg sat at the table as Sara's bustled about getting the dishes from the kitchen. He worked to calm his emotions, his breathing even.

In the kitchen, Sara paused to gain control of her emotions. She felt flushed; her face, her chest, every part of her body where she had felt his touch - and where she so desperately wanted him to touch.

She managed to get all the dishes into the dining room without dropping any. Her hands were trembling still. It wasn't a fancy meal. She had kept it simple. She gave him the garden salad to toss. She used the prepared dressing he had in the fridge, figuring he must like that.

After that the main course was a broiled chicken breast, whole grain rice pilaf, and stir-fry vegetables. Greg 'Mmmmed' and 'Oooohed' over it enthusiastically and he wasn't just being polite. She had worked hard on this dinner and it showed. More importantly and especially endearing to him, she didn't over reach and attempt something too complicated. Once again: she understood the appeal of simplicity.

They talked softly as they ate, of things with absolutely no importance. It was almost as if they were tempering the intensity of their emotions with the light conversation. Sara had included a white wine Greg had in his fridge. She had tasted wine once before - she didn't really see the appeal but the computer said: White wine goes with chicken. She took small sips throughout the meal. By the end of the main course and the glass she could feel a little bit of a glow.

For dessert she brought out coffee and some dessert cake she had bought the day before. She didn't have any coffee herself but assiduously made a cup for Greg. They decided to retire from the dining room and leave the mess for another time. Instead of the front living room they walked to the family room that looked onto the deck in the backyard. Greg preferred it to the formality of the living room. He rarely used the former except when he had company. That was a rare event.

Greg turned out the lights and lit some candles so that they were bathed in the warm flicker of their light. They sat together and Sara snuggled up next to him.

"Sara, that was amazing." He didn't mean just the meal. "I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful evening."

"Me too. It was fun to learn something new, how to cook all those dishes.... for you." She took his hand in hers and pulled his arm around her. "You know I couldn't understand before why people drank." She let out a little hiccup, and then a soft giggle.

"Ok, but no more for you, young lady." Greg said with mock seriousness. With Sara hugging his one arm to her, he allowed his other hand to play with her hair, twirling it through his fingers as they talked softly amongst the flickering shadows of candlelight.

At times they lapsed into silence, basking in the quiet intimacy of each other. At one point Belzer, who seemed to feel left out, put his nose up on Sara's leg. He looked from one to the other as if asking permission to join them.

"Oh, alright, you big suck." Greg said as the mutt climbed up on to the couch and curled up next to Sara.

"Mmmm" Sara murmured. "Now I'm surrounded by handsome men." Belzer's tail wagged in agreement.

Occasionally Greg and Sara leaned towards the other and they would share a long, lingering kiss. Their evening passed like this, exchanging soft words, loving caresses, endless kisses. But as all must their night together must end.

They extricated themselves from their little nest. Greg asked; "Isn't your mother going to wonder where you are?"

"No, she has... a date tonight. But I should get going." The reluctance was heavy in her voice, but then it brightened: "I'll be back tomorrow."

"For sure" he said. "I think I should run tomorrow. I've been slacking off.

"Meet you at our bench?" she asked.

"Our bench... yes that it is" Greg said. "I'll drive you home. It's dark out."

"Why don't we walk?" Sara suggested. "It's a beautiful night. I bet Belzer would like to come along."

They walked through the still summer night, hand in hand, leaning against each other. The humid air seemed to muffle sound. They felt as if they were truly alone in the world. As they drew near her apartment, Sara slowed and turned to face Greg. "Thank you for a wonderful night." She reached up and they shared a soft kiss good night.

Greg watched as she disappeared into the building and then stood in silence for some time as Belzer circled impatiently. On his walk back home he found himself reliving every touch, every scent, every vision of Sara from that night.