Lethal Lolita Revisited

By Leslie Schmidt

I guess it should be an object lesson to me. Even the most sweet seeming people can actually be truly dangerous. I was in total shock when I read the articles about the "Lethal Lolita" case in Lansing. It's amazing to me that the wonderful, sexy, and so fun filled little girl I had spent the evening with had murdered a cop in cold blood-one just after she had given me the most exquisite experience of my life.

Well, let me take a couple of steps back. I had gone to Lansing looking for art. The art scene on the coasts and in a few large inland cities is so dominant that what is made in the smaller cities is usually ignored. So, I was looking for a few artists that I could recruit from the heartland. That's really the wrong word, I wanted to see if I could get lucky-show the next big name in art world on the Left Coast.

Donna Massy had a reputation as a dealer with many lesser known painters and sculptures, so I arranged a meeting. Her office is lined with no fewer than 20 works, some quite good, many really bad. When I entered, however, I was immediately struck by a figurine on a side table. It was a bronze of a young girl aiming a bow. She was naked. The artist had gone to great lengths to make her as anatomically correct as possible. Her face was almost life like, her ribs and musculature was worthy of the great renaissance sculptors, even her toe and fingernails were meticulously formed. I didn't say anything but, of course I noticed the careful reproduction of other parts.

Our meeting took more than an hour, she showed me photos of much of the work she had placed in various galleries around the city, she noticed my admiration of the sculpture.

"The model is my daughter, Megan. She was eight when Paul Colt did that work."

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Yes." She paused for a minute, "She's a really pretty girl. She'll be and 'La Emorald' this evening, you can meet her."

The meeting went on, I was really kind of intrigued by some of the works, but I was finishing up a five day, three city trip and was a bit numb from all the paintings people had wanted me to show.

There was, however, a portfolio by Colt with pictures of several of his bronzes. "Young Artemis*" was there, as was another work of a boy with winged feet, "Young Apollo." Included in the portfolio were several pages of the photographs Colt had used in the making of his statues. Apollo did not interest me, but Artemis certainly did. I looked carefully through the pictures of the little girl in various poses, then close ups of her, obviously used in rendering the detail in the sculpture. Some, due to their subject and the close up nature of the photo, could be called pornographic.

*Artemis was the Greek Goddess of the Hunt. Her twin brother was Apollo, the God of prophecy, music, and hunting. She carried a quiver of painless arrows and had a reputation as a lady not to be fucked with.

Donna noticed me looking at the pictures of her daughter. "She's ten now, a little taller but still very much the same."

I was embarrassed that I had been caught. "She's a beautiful young lady," I stammered.

"Lady?-you'd be surprised," she said with some understanding that I really didn't catch at the time. "She's a favorite model for a number of artists."

She brought over a book that had been on the table next to the figurine. It was full of paintings and pictures of Megan, most of them with her undressed. They must have started with her around three, then progressed up to the present day. Several left no doubt that she knew her affect on the artist and the audience. In a few she was obviously pantomiming sex.

"She's very worldly and maybe acts old for her age. I'm sure you'll like her." She paused, "Now, let me show you some works I think will be very popular in LA...." Her meaning was unmistakable.

I had dinner with a different dealer, a real flamer named Jacques whose taste in art is almost as bad as his taste in cologne. I was happy to get out of there before desert and make my way back to waterfront area to meet with Donna.

I'll skip the banal details of my meetings at the gallery. There were a number of the artists there, all trying very hard to impress me. One was John Colt.

"Massy tells me you really liked "Young Artemis."

"Yes, it's remarkable."

"The subject is around here somewhere, let me go find her." He turned and disappeared into the small crowd.

I continued milling, usually trying to avoid conversation. There was a tap in my shoulder. I turned around to face Donna, next to her was Megan.

"Bill, this is my daughter, Megan," she said.

We talked for a few moments, then Donna left us together. Megan was surprisingly up front. "Mom says I should ask you to take me out after the showing."

I was a little taken aback by this, being asked out by a ten year old, but she had earlier said that she wanted to know "Just how big an art dealer I was." Her meanings were unmistakable and, just to emphasize, she kept leaning against me and pushing her pubes against my leg. At one point Donna came up and told Megan to behave and she'd see her in the morning. Then Donna left.

When the show started to break up, we made our way out to the street. It was pretty cool, a little cool for walking so, as we waited for a cab I asked her where she'd like to go.

"Where're you staying?"

"I'm at Colonial Suits."

"Cool! Do you have one of their spa rooms?"

Suddenly the implications made my blood pressure rise, along with another part of me. "Ahhh,...yeah."

"Can you get some pizza from room service?"

"Oh," I said, "I'm sure."

It was a really short ride to the hotel, we really could have walked the six or seven blocks. I shepherded Megan quickly through the lobby, not really wanting to be seen taking a child up to my room. Once there, she turned on the TV and told me she liked Canadian bacon and pineapple.

"The Apprentice" was on, it made for some light entertainment while we waited for the pizza. I rid myself of my tie. Megan, after dropping her coat on a chair, pulled her sweater off. Underneath she had on a red sleeveless top, cotton with spaghetti straps. Her just beginning breasts, just her nipples, were pushing out from the plain of her otherwise completely flat chest, making two sharp points on the light fabric. It took 25 minutes for dinner to arrive during which she interrogated me about life in LA, my family, my house and the like. She opened the fridge and asked if she could open one of the small bottles of red wine. We shared it in plastic cups from the vanity sink.

She inspected the spa, turned on the blowers and gave me an evil look, "I've never done it in one of these before."

I was sitting on the bed and she came over and cuddled up to me. I hadn't held a little girl like that in years, not since my daughter was her age. She looked up at me and smiled, then giggled, then laughed. She had caught me looking down her top at her two flesh cones.

"Don't try to look innocent," she said. "I have a pretty good idea what you want." Then she pulled the top open, giving me a great view of them.

I almost jumped out of my skin when there was a knock on the door. I was seized with fear until I remembered the pizza. Megan jumped up and ran to the door, letting the pizza delivery boy in.

"Pizza's here daddy!" she exclaimed. It wasn't until the next day that I realized that a man and his daughter in a spa suit might raise eyebrows. I paid the bill and gave the kid a $5 tip, Megan was sitting cross legged on the bed munching before I got the door closed.

I went back and took a piece but, frankly, I was too nervous to eat. The adrenaline hadn't cleared my system yet, my heart was still pounding.

"Can I have more wine?" she asked.

"Sure."

I went to the mini bar and took the second bottle of Zinfandel out for her, for myself, I drained a Michelob just after I sat back down. We sat and munched. Megan told me about her place-sounded like quite a spread with horses, tennis courts, and a fancy pool. She also said she had tutors for school, her brother was at a boarding school up state and she would be going there in a couple of years. I asked her if she had any friends and she told me all about other kids who lived near her. Some were in school but most either had private tutors or went to boarding schools.

After she had eaten her third or fourth piece of pizza (I had managed to choke down one and drained two beers, plus the glass of wine), she slid off the bed and walked over to the spa. She looked down at it, then up at me with that wicked smile. Without saying a word she lifted her top over her head and dropped it on the floor.

My pulse rushed in my ears and as my stomach did a couple of summersaults. I hadn't see a girl this age topless for over 10 years. Nickel sized aralias with pointed tops were the only rises on her chest. I flashed back to seeing my daughter at that age, standing in the bathroom after a shower. She had stepped across the room and quietly closed the door when she saw me in the hallway. That was the last time I had seen her naked but I had cherished the mental image for years. Now, here I was alone with another 'tween', this time under decidedly different circumstances.

Now Megan unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. She straightened up, looking at me with an incredibly sultry expression. She was wearing a dark blue thong with lace strings.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said.

I'm afraid I was at a lose for words-I'm sure I had my mouth hanging open.

Without saying anything more, she hooked her thumbs through the strings and pushed the thong panties down, then stood up, facing me.

The blood was a storm raging in my ears as the room took on a foggy look. Only the naked preteen, her flat chest and tummy, straight hips, willowy arms and legs and, oh, clean smooth cleft, pink lips with just a trace of the hood peeking out, was in my world. My breath staggered as my heart felt like it would explode!

She turned and stepped into the spa, sitting down. "Well, come on silly, this place's big enough for two."

I remember I felt silly as I struggled to untie my shoes. I hadn't been so nervous about getting undressed since I was 17 and in the back of my mother's Dart. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was ashamed as I pulled my pants and briefs down, showing my filling cock to the child.

I moved quickly and sat down in the hot, almost too hot, water. In the water, my cock stuck straight up, even though it wasn't quite hard yet. She sort of floated across to me, kneeling in front of me. I watched as her hands wrapped around my dick and started moving up and down. I leaned down and kissed her and was surprised to feel her tongue against my lips. I opened my mouth and was amazed at how good a kisser this little girl was.

She didn't say a word after we broke our kiss. First she smiled, then took a deep breath and went under water. God! The feeling of her mouth closing around my cock head! She bobbed two or three times before coming up for air, then dove again. Her hair spread out on the surface of the water in a dark halo, the back of her head never quite going fully under water. I lifted my hips and brought her up, then watched as she slid my dick in and out of her mouth.

She sensed that I was nearing the edge and lifted up. Her hair was in tendrils across her face and she pulled it off to the side. "My turn now," she said.

She stood up and I was face to face with the most beautiful part of human anatomy, a little girl's clean slit. I was drawn, uncontrollably to it, my tongue explored the slit and the inner folds. Megan thrust her hips forward and squatted down slightly, allowing me to work deeper between her legs. I felt her hands on my head, gently guiding me, telling me what she wanted. She made a couple low squeaking noises.

I just couldn't reach my goal with her standing, bending my neck back uncomfortably. "Sit on the edge," I told her.

Megan backed up, to the other side of the pool and sat down, spreading her little girl pussy for me and leaning back on her hands. Next I was kneeling in front of her, licking and sucking her. She put one of her feet on my shoulder as she started to gasp for breath. I pushed my tongue into the opening and felt her shudder, moaning softly. At the same time there was a rush of slickness as the little girl came. She put one hand on the back of my head and pushed me against her and came again with a loud moan. I raised my head and looked at the panting child. Her skin was flushed pink, her eyes dark.

She moved forward, pushing me back to the seat opposite. Then, without saying a word, she lowered herself on me. Using her right hand she guided my cock against her lips, then she pulled them apart with her fingers and I slid into the child. All this was underwater and I looked down to see. Megan, knowing what I wanted, leaned back so, through the rippling and wavy surface, I could see my cock buried inside her hairless cooch. We fucked for only a couple of minutes before I was overtaken and flooded the immature womb with my sperm. My cumming brought her off and she crushed my head against her chest as I felt her pussy spasm around my cock.

We both sat there, panting for a few minutes, then she stood up, again uncovering her wonderful pussy for me.

"Wow," she said, "I need another drink." She climbed out of the hot tub and I admired her form as she walked to the minibar, leaving wet footprints on the carpet.

"Bring me another beer," I asked.

She made a big splash getting back in the tub, getting water in my eyes. From the tub we could see the TV, so we sat, arm in arm, and watched. After only a couple of minutes I moved my hand across her hip and felt the softness between her legs. She spread her knees and my finger easily slid into her as she grasped my arm, hugging it to her chest. Soon she was humping as I pushed two fingers inside her smooth clam and she came again, this time biting the back of my arm painfully. She relaxed against me, breathing deeply.

I actually sat there in the warm water and dozed off, waking a few minutes later to the sound of the blow drier in the bathroom. Through the door way I could see Megan, wrapped in an enormous white towel, drying her hair. I really had to take a piss and knew it'd be awkward in the bathroom so, after a little consideration, I simply let fly in the tub (I assume the management changes the water every day-at least, I thought with some disgust-I hope they do).

With that thought, I was done for the night with the hot tub and I climbed out. There were towels on a rack next to the tub, so I dried off. As I was doing this, Megan had clicked off the dryer and moved to the bed.

She sat down, facing me, and let the towel fall, spreading her legs. She had that wicked look on her face again as I stared at her open slash, reddish-pink inner lips pulled slightly apart between the pink outer lips. "I want a mustache ride," she said.

Even though I don't have a mustache, I simply couldn't not comply. This time, kneeling on the floor between the ten year olds knees, I had the most marvelous time licking and sucking her smooth hairless clam, pushing my tongue inside her, watching her chest rise and fall. I almost spuged on the side of the bed as I watched her arching her back and shaking with an intense orgasm, making high grunts and digging her fingernails painfully into the back of my head.

She calmed, panting, but I wasn't ready to stop. As she lay there, half conscious, I lifted up and pushed my throbbing dick inside her.

"Oh!" she said is my cock slid all the way in side her. She looked up at me with wide eyes while I relished the sight of my dick buried deeply inside a preteen. I started stroking and she started moving with me.

It being the second time that night, I was slower to build this time and got to watch as she came again, her little clam milking at my cock. Again she relaxed back, panting, and I used the break in the action to lift her, and myself, still coupled, onto the bed, me on top. We rocked again in the missionary position. The feeling of her legs wrapped around my hips was wonderful as she pushed up to meet me, her arms around my neck. She bit my collarbone as I pumped what little sperm I had left inside her. Then, relaxing, I rolled off to the side, bringing her with me.

Sometime later we moved around and got under the covers. In the process, she got up and turned off the lights, then we snuggled comfortably and went to sleep. I was shocked awake later with the sound of the door clicking closed. I looked at the clock, 3:10 AM. I considered pulling on pants and running after her- the least I could do was make sure she got home safely, but then I realized that Megan, for only being 10, had probably done this a few times before.

I scanned the headlines while waiting for my plane to load the next morning. The lead story was about a cop being shot overnight, but I didn't think much about it.