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From: PJcocoa@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} First Impressions [4] {Gary} (ScFi, Mf, nosex)
Date: Sun,  7 Oct 2001 21:10:02 -0400
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Gary's First Impressions [4]

First Impressions
Chapter 4

By Gary

(ScFi, Mf, Nosex)
Copyright 2001

My not so standard disclaimer:  If you aren't supposed to be
reading this because of your age, or where you live, then I don't
want you to read this, either.  It isn't that I believe 'minors'
don't have prurient thoughts or engage in 'adult' activities.  I
know damned well that they do.  It IS that there are laws which
could get both of us (but mainly ME) in trouble.
My apologies for the lack of sex in this short chapter - but even
the horniest people need a break, sometimes.  I promise they won't
make a habit of it.
If you have specific suggestions for this or subsequent chapters,
feel free to contact me by clicking on the link above or sending e-
mail to Pjcocoa@aol.com.  I like regular feedback, too.  It's the
only payment I get.  Let me extend my gratitude to those who have
written and to Denny, my editor (and assistant muse), without whom
this story would not exist.

First Impressions - Chapter 4

Among the problems posed by working the midnight shift is the
complete upset of one's diurnal rhythms.  During the work week, you
choose a time to sleep between shifts - I usually slept in the
evening.  But during your days off, you tend to re-orient to normal
patterns, to accommodate Life As We Know It.  As a result, your (my)
body has no idea what normal is anymore. I fell asleep while
reading and waiting for Elaine to find an excuse to talk to me.

I woke at 4 A.M.  The house was quiet, and except for the lamp
next to my bed and the nightlight in the bathroom, dark as well.  I
left Pat and Julie on my pillow and prowled a bit.

Jay's door was open and her room unoccupied, which meant that the
living room was covered with sleeping bags, air mattresses, and
sleeping teens.  Elaine had evidently found no opportunity to knock
on my door, or had been caught up in the joy of sharing teenage
camaraderie, for which I would never fault her.  I dug out the
pajamas I never wear, donned them and a bathrobe, and made my way
to the kitchen for a raid on the refrigerator.

As I halfway expected, the sleepover had made serious inroads into
the snack and drink supplies.  Of course, that's what they're their
for, but it always surprises me to find my Diet Coke stash more
heavily hit than the Coke, root beer, Sprite and ice tea.  I'd long
since given up on mixing Kool-Aid or similar drinks; they just
weren't as popular today as when I was that age.  Come to think of
it, they weren't all that popular when I was a teen, if a
carbonated alternative was permitted.  I snagged a Diet Coke from
the fridge and a rolled-up partial bag of Fritos from the counter
and headed back to my room.

I paused in the living room and tried to identify the bodies in
what little streetlight filtered through blinds and curtains, and
reflected into the room from the nightlight.  Jay was curled up on
the demi-sofa under her mother's afghan.  I wasn't sure who
occupied the sofa, nor the air mattress stretched before its
length; their heads faced away, and in this light hair color was
indistinguishable.  The chair with ottoman contained Kimberly -
bronze Chandler identified her more surely than any feature of
hers.  The remaining sleeping bag was shadowed from all light, and
could be anyone.

I sighed softly to myself.  I had the means at *hand* to stimulate
Elaine to wakefulness, but without knowing its effect on the
others, I was reluctant to use it.  In all truth, I felt I'd made a
statement yesterday about mutual consent, and any such action on my
part would be hypocritical and... rude.  Our talk would wait.

On that thought, I returned to my room and picked up where I'd
left off in my second reading of _The Skies of Pern_.

~

I heard the first stirrings at about seven.  Left to their own
devices (and based on past experience) the girls would have slept
until noon after keeping themselves awake until the wee hours.  Now
they woke whether they wanted to or not in response to the pangs of
hunger from six red-eyed flits.  I donned robe once more and rushed
to the kitchen.  I fetched two packages of chuck steak from the
freezer to replace the thawed meat which I removed from the
refrigerator, and moved the thawed packages to the cutting board,
where I began slicing meat into short thin strips.  Every ten
slices, I diverted strips to the greedy maws creeling on my
shoulders.  As soon as I had a platter, I moved it to the microwave
for a minute and returned to the cutting board.

The '*ding*' of the microwave coincided with the appearance of
Brenda in the kitchen, and I nodded and indicated for her to take
the meat into the living room while I finished up.  Pat and Julie
elected to stay with me, despite the aroma of the warmed meat in
Brenda's hands, and despite the fact that they only received two
strips out of ten between them.

I popped the second platter in the microwave and again hit the
minute timer.  The edge was off their hunger, but both of my
dependents peered through the door as the platter rotated on the
carousel.  I think the average fire lizard could consume half its
weight in red meat, twice each day.  I actually began to worry that
one of my ladies might try to go *between* into the microwave and
took the trouble to picture the inside and convey "danger".  When
the timer '*dinged*' again, Pat and Julie disappeared - not quite
the reaction I wanted or anticipated.

Carrying the platter to the living room, I saw nary a flit in
sight.  I had been too effective in making my point.  I found not
two nor three, but all six fire lizards in my bed, eyes swirling in
various degrees of alarm and hunger.  I called down the hallway to
the girls to bring the meat.

Having four teenagers sitting cross-legged on my bed with me
prompted a _Penthouse Forum_ thought, the kind that starts, "I
never thought this would happen to me, but...", and I had the
predictable reaction until I caught Elaine's sidelong grin.  No one
else seemed to notice, and I managed to suppress further thoughts
down that slope.  I noted Elaine's smirk for that as well.

At least the fire lizards' hungers were sated.  To prevent any
other embarrassing reactions on my part, I offered to make
breakfast for everyone.  Hunger won over sleep, and we adjourned to
the kitchen, where four girls adorned with sleeping fire lizards
'helped' me prepare sausage, scrambled eggs, and toast the way a
cat helps you walk.  I managed to get them all seated with plates
and cutlery, while serving eggs straight from my Texas skillet
(the largest).  The sausage they helped themselves to, still
sizzling on the broiler pan atop a hot pad.

Jay woke up in time to rescue her share, but missed out on her
orange juice.  She settled for milk this once.  The girls discussed
their plans for today around mouthfuls.  I was relieved to learn
that Brenda's mother would be picking up both Brenda and Kimberly
within the hour, and Jessica was expected home shortly after (she
drove herself).  Elaine had no set time.  It looked like we might
have time to talk after all. I retired to my room to dress for the
day.

~

I got to meet Brenda's Mom when she arrived.  Claire was an
attractive redhead, with the characteristic freckles that say,
"This ain't no dye job."  I may have flirted a bit.  I felt a stab
of jealousy from an unexpected quarter, and pled other
responsibilities to cut the introduction shorter than it might have
been otherwise.  The girls said goodbye in the driveway while I
returned inside.

Inside the house once again, the girls were talking about Brenda's
Mom.  Jessica said that she loved Claire's complexion and hair
color, but would hate to have that many freckles.

I asked, "You don't think she was offended by my flirting, do you?
It's just part of my nature to flirt with attractive women."  I
added that for Elaine's benefit, but I didn't know if the feelings
of guilt were mine or hers.  Jessica assured me that Claire flirted
with all her friends' fathers, and no one took it seriously.  It
was her nature, too.

I thought I could attribute the increase in guilt properly; I'd
expected feelings of relief instead.

Jessica took her leave minutes later, with hugs for everyone,
including me.  At last, it was time for a talk.

I surprised myself when I said, "Elaine, would you mind if I spoke
to Jay alone for a bit?"

I surprised Elaine as well, but she said, "No, of course not. 
I'll just watch TV until you're done."

I led Jay back to her room and closed the door.  Without preamble,
I started, "Jay, I think you and I need to have an honest adult
discussion."

Even without my emotional amplifiers, I could feel walls coming up
and doors closing.  "Dad, we already had this talk, remember?  I
know about birth control, I know how you feel about waiting for the
right boy, I know all about the birds and bees from you and from
school.  Can't this wait?  I have company."

"*We* have company, and if I thought this talk could wait, it
would have waited."  I took a breath.  "Look, we had a
father/daughter talk, and I said all the father things while you
closed your mind and nodded a lot.  I'm not asking for a repeat of
that.  What I'm offering is a chance to talk honestly, adult to
adult.  You get a get-out-of-jail free card - nothing you tell me
now will ever be held against you."

Jay looked at me dubiously, not sure where this was going.  That
was okay - neither was I.  We stared at one another, and I looked -
really looked at the young woman I had raised.  Her hair was
currently Clairol Mahogany.  She hadn't liked it when the blonde
locks she had flaunted until puberty had darkened, and was a
charter member of the color of the month club.  My own blue eyes
looked back at me through longer, darker lashes.  Was she wearing
makeup, or was that natural?

I did *not* look at her bust - I was uncomfortably aware that she
had her mother's genes, too, and might forever have trouble finding
a boy who would look her in the eyes.  I wondered if her height had
changed from the five-three mark on the closet door.  She had grown
up and out and the time for treating her as 'my little girl' was
past.  I broke the silence.

"Look, sweetie, I've always approached these talks as a parent - a
Dad, concerned about his daughter.  I know that makes you
defensive.  What I'm saying now, is that I'm going to treat you
like another adult.  I'm not telling you not to smoke, not to
drink, not to have sex.  The *Dad* in me doesn't want those things
for his little girl, he wants to protect and shield her.  But the
*adult* in me realizes that you can't be protected from yourself.

"I've lately been reminded that teenaged girls have hormones, too.
The boys aren't the only ones who want to get their jollies."  I
thought I'd lost her there, but her eye-roll was only for my
antiquated phrasing.

"You really want the truth?" she asked. "No punishment for truth? 
You've always said that, but..." She paused, then looked me in the
eyes.  "Dad, I haven't been a virgin for over a year."  She waited
for the explosion.

Hey, my view of the universe had been altered repeatedly over the
last month.  Was I going to get upset over a little thing like some
fumbling dirtbag stealing my baby's virginity? Not after I fumbled
with the internal Dad-mode switch.  I curbed my first impulse to
ask who and instead asked if it had hurt, and if she had used
protection.  It had and she had.  I allowed as how it got better
with practice and she agreed, nearly tripping the Dad circuit
breaker back in.

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't see what the big deal is.  It's
fun, and it feels good, but I could live without it.

I had to smile.  "Sweetheart, if you do it with someone you like,
because *you* want to and *not* just because *he* wants to, and you
take your time and do it right, you'll find out what the big deal
is."

She looked doubtful again, but I wasn't prepared to discuss
technique yet.  We chatted pleasantly, if hesitantly about orgasms,
protection, drugs (Dad mode: Oh No, Not Pot!), alcohol (how can you
drink those disgusting wine coolers?) and boys in general.  I
didn't like the fact that she had lost her virginity to a 20 year-
old, and said so, but I also admitted that the age thing made me
feel like a hypocrite again.

"Why would that make you feel like a hypocrite?" she asked.  Then
her eyes twinkled.  "Dad!  are you seeing a younger woman?"  She
broke out in a grin, the first since this heart-to-heart began.

It wasn't actually the ideal segue into the other topic I wanted
to discuss with my daughter, but I had nothing better planned, so I
told her.  Everything, leaving out the graphic details, from the
last sleepover up through last night.  After the initial jaw-
dropping incredulity, I must say she took it rather well.

"So you've been having sex with my best friend for two weeks," she
finally observed.  "No wonder you're ready to treat me like an
adult."

"Not sex, sweetie, we've just been..."

"What is this," she interrupted, "a Bill Clinton moment? You've
been *making love* to Elaine, or she's been *making love* to you!" 
Her brows knit.  "The fact that you were never in the same room
doesn't matter, from what you said."  Then she dimpled. "I think
you found the safest way to make love since abstamince."

I laughed with her, as much for her mangling of 'abstinence' as
for the observation.  Teens.  They can't even say it - how could
they ever practice it?

Then she turned serious.  "Are you going to keep making love with
Elaine?"

I turned serious as well.  I had just been asked, 'What are your
intentions toward my' in this case friend, and since I hadn't
thought of it as making love until my own daughter rubbed my nose
in it, I didn't have an answer ready.  I said so.

"Well, I think I can tell you how Elaine feels about it.  I never
did it more than once or twice with anyone I didn't want to be with
for a long time."

I hugged Jay and thanked her for the talk and her insights, even
though my life just got more complicated than I'd ever believed
possible.  Now, I had to talk to Elaine.

Jay announced (in the living room) that she was taking a walk to
the store for orange juice and Diet Coke, and would I keep her Best
Friend entertained until she got back? I assured her that I would
and put a twenty in her palm to finance the expedition.

Elaine and I were alone.

She looked at me, as though I knew what to say.  I looked at her,
hoping she would say something, anything, that I could respond to. 
I had no idea at this point how she felt about me, and if Jay were
right - I was rapidly coming to that view - I wasn't entirely sure
how I felt about her, either.  Someone had to say something.

"Would you like something to drink?"  My mouth was as dry as
sheetrock.  Which was odd, since my palms were like sponges.  Being
squeezed.

"Yes, please," she rasped, and cleared her throat.  At least I
wasn't the only one.

I gestured to a chair at the dining room table.  "What would you
like?"

She took the seat and replied, "Whatever you're having."

I nodded, and proceeded to add to my criminal record.  I got two
glasses, shared a coke between them, and reached around behind the
corn flour mason jar where I had hidden an un-opened half-pint of
Jack Daniel's "for medicinal purposes." I splashed a bit in both
glasses.  I wondered about the penalty for providing alcohol to a
minor, not that it would stop me.

I set her glass before her on the table, sat, and raised mine to
my lips, tipping a healthy amount down my throat.  Elaine lifted
hers and did the same.

When the coughing slowed down, I stopped slapping her on the back
and resumed my seat.  I lifted my glass and took another healthy
gulp.

She coughed one last time before sipping from hers.  "You could
have warned me," she accused.  "I wasn't expecting Blackjack, I was
expecting Diet Coke."

Some small part of me noted that she recognized the flavor.  The
rest said, "Another surprise in a couple of months that have been
full of them, especially the last few weeks."  Well, that was one
way to break the ice.  "Are there other things you expect from me
that have come as a surprise?"

"What do you mean?" Her face took on a guarded expression.  What I
*felt* was a little touch of fear, or maybe anxiety, mixed with
confusion.

"Elaine, what do you expect from me?" I asked, wanting to get it
out in the open.  "What do you see happening between us, you and
me?"  Was Jay right?

She took another swig before answering.  "Why are you so afraid of
the answer?" she asked.

"Am I afraid?  Do you read my emotions so much better than the
emotions I get from you?" That was an interesting thought, and
reinforcement for one of my hypotheses.

"I think so.  I pick up little vibes from you all day long. 
Sometimes last night I watched your face to see if you caught
things that I felt and there was no reaction unless I *sent* it to
you or it took me by surprise and sort of leaked out."  She sipped
again, and looked into the glass. "The stronger stuff I can't hide
from you,  I know you feel that stuff, mostly."

I hadn't realized the exchange was quite so one-sided, and said
so.  "Elaine..." I struggled with what to say, and how to say it. 
On an impulse, I chose a different tack entirely.  "Elaine, how do
I feel about you, and about 'us'."  I relaxed; she probably knew
better than I did.

I could tell it wasn't the question she expected - an unguarded
thrill tickled my spine. She looked me in the eye. "You are very,
very fond of me," she said softly.  "You're attracted to me, but
you fight it.  That hurts, a little, but I know why."  She sipped
again, and looked into the glass.  "I'm too young.  You want
someone like *Claire*"

There was no doubt how *she* felt about *that*.  The jealousy was
a slap.

"Elaine!  Look at me!" The sharp tone startled her, and she once
more made eye contact.  "Claire means nothing to me - it was
harmless flirtation.  If your own emotions didn't get in the way,
you'd know that."

Something occurred to me.  "This morning, in my bedroom, when
everyone was sitting on my bed and I started to get aroused, I
didn't feel that twinge of jealousy - why not?"

She dimpled.  "That's easy.  They all like you, but I'm the only
one who... likes you as much as I do," she finished lamely, her
eyes once more lowered to her now-empty glass.

"And I like them, but you're the only one that I..." I left it
hanging deliberately,  watching her.  There is more than one way to
read a mind, if you're old enough to read the signs.

She looked up at me, her eyes widening and nostrils flaring
slightly.  "Do you really?" she cried softly.  A barrier came down
and I was washed over with feelings of longing, tenderness, lust,
and yes, love.  Jay was right, and I found myself returning those
feelings without shame.

This girl's - no, this woman's happiness was important to me,
maybe more important than my own, and I'd felt that way about only
one other person since her mother had died.  There was a sense of
relief in the knowledge, shared, of how we felt.  There was new
tension and fear as well, not least of which was that certain
knowledge that I was going to hell.

Elaine started to rise.  "Sit!" I barked gruffly.  She sat
abruptly, and I felt the hurt.  Hurt feelings, not hurt fundament. 
Whatever her feelings, whatever *my* feelings, Elaine was still an
*underaged* woman.  I needed her to understand that rejecting
physical intimacy at this point was not rejecting *her*.

I took her nearer hand. She looked at our hands, then at me. "Can
we set this discussion aside for a few minutes?  There are other
things to discuss besides our future, and I need us to think
clearly while we talk about them."

Her eyes were shining from the moment I said "our future", but I
felt the struggle as the emotional atmosphere became less intense. 
"Okay.  What are we going to talk about?"  She radiated calm
detachment.  Maybe it was a reflection, because that's what I was
trying to achieve, too.

"I've been thinking about how you, and I and the others, and all
our fire lizards interact and relate.  I asked you to note whether
any of the other girls reacted to, um, stimulation last night.  Did
you forget?"

"No, I didn't forget." She blushed prettily.

"You also didn't watch very long," I teased.

"Whose fault was that?" she teased back.  "Anyway, Brenda and Jess
fidgeted a little about the time I got up, but nothing more than
that.  Kimmy didn't even react that much."

"Did you manage to find out if anyone else is aware of the times
that we (I paused a second - might as well say it) made love?"

The phrasing didn't disturb her in the least. "Sort of.  We played
truth or dare, and I asked some questions that  made us all blush,
but no-one admitted to feeling anything like that."  The blush was
back.  "I think all my friends think I'm some kind of sex pervert
now."

Her embarrassment was contagious, or she was broadcasting.  Still,
"That falls in line with my leading hypothesis.  You remember when
I said if you were on Pern, you'd impress a queen and talk to
dragons?" She nodded, pleased with that image.  Rightfully so, I
thought. "You, my dear, are a xenotelepath. Or at the very least, a
telempath," I amended. "Have you ever heard thoughts as words?"

She shook her head, still digesting what I'd said. "How is a
xenotelepath different from a telepath?"

"A xenotelepath would be someone who can read the thoughts of an
alien or non-human species, but not the thoughts of their own kind.
If the fire lizards thought in words instead of images, you could
'talk' with them."  I let her digest that. "Can you see the
feelings of the others' fire lizards?"

She nodded, thinking about it.  "I usually try to block it out,
because it's too distracting."

"Them, you block.  Me, you read constantly and try to distract." 
I snorted. "If I didn't know how you felt about me before, that
would give it away."

"Oops," she grinned and blushed again, unrepentant.

I released her hand and got up, waving her to remain seated.  I
went to the kitchen, and returned with another Coke and the bottle
of Jack.  Once again, I split the soda and added a liberal dose.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No.  Adults talking about subjects as deep as ours often apply a
little tongue loosener.  It makes it easier to tell the truth, I
think."

"I wouldn't lie to you," she said, very mildly offended.

"I don't want to lie to you, either," I replied. "But I might lie
to myself, and tell that to you.  This makes it less likely, I
think.  *In vino veritas*.  Latin for 'booze is truth serum'."

She reached over and added the rest of the bottle to my glass.  We
both laughed, and drank.

Now for the hard part.  "Elaine, you realize that what we have
done, um, apart, is all we can do together?"

Her jaw dropped - not to the table, she caught it before that and
seemed to be trying to say something that wouldn't come out.  It
finally manifested in, "*Why*?"  Any parent of a teen has heard
that "why".  It seemed to have two syllables, with emphasis on the
first plaintively wailed and stressed part.  It was the kind of
"why?" that begs an equally emotional "Because *I* said so", which
I could *not* use here.  Here, only cold logic would do.

"You are under the legal age of consent.  If we had a physical
relationship, I could end up behind the fence where I work, for a
long, long...."

"That's bullshit!  Half the girls I know are with boys four or
five years...."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're only...."

"No one has arrested any of them and half the town knows...."

"The law isn't as fussy when there's only a few years...."

"You just don't want...."

"The law says we can't and your parents...."

"I don't care what any stupid law says and I don't care what my...."

"We can't and we are not going...."

"But why can't we...."

"Because I said so!"  

If human eyes were multifaceted, ours would
be swirling redly.  Others in the room certainly were.

In the heat of the argument we had risen from our seats; in the
heat of that passion we had stood, toe to toe, she facing up to me
and I glaring down, not letting the other finish a sentence because
the thought was already conveyed; in the heat of that moment I had
crushed her to me and kissed her, and she had returned that kiss
with equal fervor or more. When I pictured my comfortable bed,
Elaine had raced me (and our fire lizards) down the hallway, a
shove to my chest allowing enough head start to secure that victory.



Continued in Chapter 5

Let me know what you thought at Gary (pjcocoa@aol.com)

My stories (more like this) can be found at Gary's Erotica 
Lazeez lets me link there from Stories Online, as well.


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