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Message-ID: <52758asstr$1136279401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Shalon Wood <dstar@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} Prudence, TX Population 1276 16 (rom nosex)
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(Note from Shalon: It is with great embarrassment that I realize I
forgot to send the new chapters to ASSM when updating the webpage and
SOL. So, here are the new chapters -- all four of them. We'll be
updating Prudence twice a week (or one big update, depending on how
the breaks fall) through the end of January at a minimum. Take a look
at our main website, http://playground.pele.cx, for more information.)

Standard disclaimers apply; this story may or may not contain, in any
given part, graphic depictions of lesbianism, homosexuality, group sex,
bdsm, underage (teen) sex, magic, occultism, violence, and biting 
sarcasm.  If you're underage, or if for any other reason it's illegal 
for you to read this, or you're disturbed by the content, please don't 
read it.

Archived at http://prudence.pele.cx, and we've got a web-forum at
http://playground.pele.cx/forums as well, for discussion of both
Prudence and our other stories. Send an email to velvet@pele.cx and
I'll add you to the mailing list to be notified when Prudence
updates. 

Comments *greatly* appreciated.

Enjoy,

Velvet
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Kayla met them at Steven's house the next morning.  Her mother happily
dropped her off for an 'overnight shopping trip to Dallas'.  They
loaded into the car, Steven driving and Mark and the girls in back,
and were on their way by 7 a.m.

The mood in the car was odd.  Kayla was quiet, subdued, and Kristen
radiated nervousness.  Steven was also quiet, seemingly lost deep in
thought.  The longer the silence went on, the more nervous Kristen
became, until Mark couldn't help but start to feel a bit nervous
himself.

Steven took a different exit from last time and headed into downtown
Dallas, stopping at the Galleria.  He handed Kristen a cellphone and
credit card.  "Honey, you girls go have some fun.  Buy yourself
something pretty.  I want to talk to Mark a little bit before we go on
to Judge Aiken's house."

Kristen looked at him worriedly. "Um...okay, Daddy.  Everything's
okay, right?"

"Of course, sweetheart.  Just a few things I want to talk about.
Nothing to worry about at all."

She bit her lip and nodded hesitantly.  Giving Mark a quick kiss, she
slid out of the car with Kayla.  Mark got out as well, to move to the
passenger seat up front.  Once the girls were out and Steven started
the car again, he said quietly, "I promise I'll take care of her,
Steven."

Steven watched the girls walk away, his eyes sad.  "I know.  Coffee?"
Without waiting for an answer, he drove around the parking lot to a
little sidewalk coffee shop.

They acquired coffee . . . espresso for Steven, and a cappuccino for
Mark . . . and sat down at one of the little wicker tables.  Steven
was silent for a long while, turning his cup around and around in his
hands.

Mark sipped his coffee and let him think, not rushing him, and tried
to control his own nervousness.

Finally Steven sighed and looked up.  "I'm not sure about this.  I
should have said something before, but she's been so happy that I just
couldn't."

Mark's throat tightened and he stopped breathing for a moment.  "Why
aren't you?"

"Because it means losing her, son.  And she's my baby. My only reason
for getting out of bed in the mornings for the past fourteen years."

"You aren't losing her, Steven. She's still your baby. And she still
loves you."

"You're a good man, Mark.  A very good man.  But it's damned hard to
trust someone else to protect her."

"I know."  He met Steven's eyes, all of his commitment plain in his
own.  "But I will. With my life, if need be."

Steven looked at him intently, "From herself, too?  From doing things
that she can't live with?"

Mark nodded.  "If I can. I can't protect her from everything, Steven,
or she won't be able to grow up.  And I love her too much for that."
He sipped his cappuccino.  "Is there something in particular that you
are worried about?"

"She loves you.  She'll do anything she thinks will make you happy."

"I know. That's why I'm trying very hard to be careful what I say."
Mark smiled, just a little. "Though you do realize the reverse is
true, as well?"

"Yes.  But _you_ realize that doing something you don't want to _just_
to please her would _not_ make her happy.  And I don't think the
reverse of _that_ is true."

"Hmmm. You might be right."

Steven sighed again.  "She's my daughter.  She's brilliant.  But she
_is_ fourteen. If she was . . . normal . . . there's no _way_ I'd
agree to this, no matter how much she loved you or you her.  Not at
fourteen."

Mark nodded.  "I know."

"She needs more guidance . . . more thought . . . than an older woman
would from her husband.  She cannot be an equal partner, not yet.  Do
you understand, have you thought of these things?" Steven asked.

Mark took a deep breath.  "I have. I've also . . . "  He looked for
the right words.  "I try not to tell her what to do; instead, I try to
ask her questions that lead her to the answer, so that she understands
_why_.  Does that make sense?  But sometimes . . . well, like last
weekend, when I carried her downstairs.  If it comes down to it
. . . I'll make the decision."

"And are you going to be able to _stop_ making the decisions once
she's old enough to make her own?  Or will you always be part lover,
part father to her?"

"I think I'll be able to.  That's my goal, to have her an equal
partner."  He met Steven's eyes.  "I don't want to stay a father
figure to her forever, if that's what you are worried about."

Steven nodded.  "It would be very, very easy for you to mold her into
the perfect little submissive wife, willing to automatically and
without thought do whatever you asked.  She would _happily_ set aside
any of her own goals for yours.  She's fourteen and in love."

"I know.  That's not what I want.  I want a partner, someone who'll
tell me when I'm being an idiot.  Someone who'll tell me when I'm
making mistakes."

Steven smiled slightly.  "Good."  He sighed again and shook his head.
"I'm not just being insulting, Mark, believe it or not.  I _know_ you
want what's best for her.  But if she were your daughter, you'd be
paranoid, too."

Mark smiled.  "I know.  Hell, Steven, if she ends up wanting to have
children herself . . . well, I might _have_ to be paranoid."

"Too true.  Has she mentioned anything like that to you, by the way?"

Mark shook his head.  "No.  And I haven't brought it up because
. . . well, if she _does_, but hasn't thought about it yet . . . no
point in her wanting something she can't have yet."

"Do _you_?"

He shrugged.  "That's a hard question to answer.  I guess the best way
to put it is this: if she wants children, I'd love to have them, but I
won't feel like something is missing if she doesn't."

Steven rubbed his forehead, smiling sadly.  "I guess that's it
then. I'm going to let you have my daughter.  Hopefully you'll take
better care of her than I've managed these past few years."  He
winced.  "The bitch didn't give me any trouble when I fired her, not
after I showed her the pictures.  She admitted everything.
Everything."

"I'm sorry," Mark said quietly, then hesitated. "Was there more than
Kristen said the other day?"

"Nothing . . . big.  Little things.  Nothing blatant, nothing obvious,
but she's been making her miserable for years.  She made it plain that
she'd always tried to keep Kris 'in her place.'  Bitch."

Mark sighed.  "I know.  Kristen will never tell you, but . . . when
she first went to school, someone asked Vanessa if she was her mother.
Vanessa said 'Of course not', and seemed totally offended by the
question.  I suspect it was bad then, and just got worse when
Kristen's . . . appetites showed up."  He paused.  "Mind if I stick my
nose in where it absolutely doesn't belong?"

Steven smiled ironically.  "Most people would say it already was, son,
so you might as well."

Mark chuckled.  "Why don't you try dating women you _could_ fall in
love with?  Kristen didn't like the women you were dating, but I never
got the idea that she disliked the _idea_ of you dating."  He looked
at Steven sympathetically.  "You can't replace her, Steven, but you
can love again."

"No.  I can't.  It would not be fair to the woman, Mark.  She could
never hope to compare.  And with Kris out of the house, I no longer
need a constant . . . outlet for excess energy."

"I understand," Mark said sadly, "For what it's worth . . . I'm
sorry."

"You should be.  You're taking my reason for living."  Steven smiled
to show he was teasing, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Mark looked at Steven sharply. "You wouldn't dare."

Steven shook his head.  "No, son, I wouldn't.  It would break
Kristen's heart.  But . . . "  He shrugged.  "I cannot deny that the
thought is more attractive than waking up for the next fifty years
without her.  If there was no one that it would hurt . . . but there
is, so I won't."

"You are welcome in our home anytime, Steven. _Anytime_."

Steven smiled sadly.  "I know.  Come on, let's fetch your bride and
her pretty little friend."

Mark nodded, a thoughtful look on his face.  "I need to pick up the
ring, and . . . I think I'd like to get her a wedding present.  It's
not normal, I know, but it's not like any others can."

"Hmm.  What did you have in mind?  I'd already intended to do
something for you, just hadn't quite worked out what, yet."

"One of those really nice sketchbooks, the kind with a leather cover."

Steven nodded.  "I think I know where we can find that sort of thing
fairly easily.  As for the ring . . . "  He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a small box.  "These were her mother's.  I thought that
. . . the two of you might like to use them."

In the box was a slender gold band carved with roses and a matching
engagement ring, the stone a gorgeous dark ruby exquisitely carved
into the shape of an open rose.  "Jarai loved roses, and she hated
diamonds.  And, since it was her mother's, Kristen could wear it at
school.  No one would question a child wearing her dead mother's
wedding rings."

Mark looked at the box, then up at Steven.  "You have no idea just how
happy this is going to make her.  She hated the thought that she
couldn't wear her wedding ring to school."

"I know."  Steven smiled.  "Symbols are important to her.  Bad enough
that you can't wear one, but I knew it would hurt her even more to not
be able to wear some symbol of her commitment."

Mark said, "Let's go. I can't wait to put this on her finger."

Steven took him to a very nice, quite expensive art store.  He was
rather surprised at the variety of things available, and after some
deliberation ended up with a pair of high-quality sketchbooks--one in
a sealed, lockable titanium case complete with a carrying compartment
with little sticks of charcoal and a miniature can of fixative, and
another, larger spiral-bound one with a hard cover made of beautifully
polished mahogany with a vine of roses carved up one side.

Steven picked up a set of oil paints and a pack of canvases.  "To make
up for not making sure she had what she needed for her class," he
explained at Mark's inquisitive look.

On the way back, Steven dialed the girls' phone and had them meet them
at the front entrance of the mall.  They were waiting when the men
drove up, both carrying several shopping bags and smiling happily.

Mark helped them put the bags in the trunk, and slid into the back
with the two happy, giggling girls.  Kristen curled up under his arm,
pressing close to his side, and he smiled down at her.  "Hey, love.
Let me see your hand."  He slid the engagement ring on.  "Will you
marry me?"

She stared at the ring, eyes wide in shock.  "Oh!  Oh, Mark . . . I
think I'm going to cry.  Daddy, this is . . . "

Steven nodded.  "She'd want you to have it, baby.  She always did."

Kristen blinked back tears and threw her arms around Mark, kissing him
soundly.

Mark kissed her, then pulled back. "You know, no one would be
surprised that you were wearing your mother's rings to school."

She smiled with pure delight.  "Really?"

He nodded. "Which means..."

"Oh!" Kristen kissed him again. "Thank you thank you thank you!  Both
of you!"

Mark then pulled out the shopping bag. "I know husbands don't usually
buy wedding presents, but I figured this was a special circumstance."
He handed her the bag, the contents still hidden.

Kristen peeked inside, and gasped. "Oh!  How beautiful."  She caressed
the silky wood, then looked at the metal one.  "Um...how do I get it
open?"

Mark showed her how to work and set the lock.

"This is wonderful, love!  I can draw anything I want in this.  Thank
you." She smiled up at him, and said with a blush, "I got you a
present, too, but I want to wait for later to give it to you."

He leaned over and whispered. "Is it something I'll want to take off
of you?"

"Oh, no, that's what Kayla got you," she whispered back.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "I see. Are you going to tell me, or do I have
to wait?"

She grinned at him impishly. "You'll just have to wait," she said,
eliciting a distinct pout and sad puppy-dog eyes.

Kristen planted little kisses on his cheeks and neck and warned, "Be
good, or Kayla will tickle you."

He cowered in mock fear. "Not that!"

Kayla giggled.  "Have patience, then.  You'll see eventually."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you like this, you might want to take a look at Strange Love, an
e-zine of sf/fantasy/paranormal erotica. The first issue is on sale
now for $2 at:

http://strangelove.pele.cx

Take a look!
.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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